tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34770029076357801402024-03-13T20:42:25.971-07:00Focused DriveFinding TRACTION to stay motivated and fit—while crossing the lines of personal goals.Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-76104569174513468912023-06-05T11:04:00.024-07:002023-06-08T19:13:18.104-07:006-Months and Not Okay<h3 style="text-align: left;"><b>I read somewhere that the heart knows when to stop grieving. I can't even begin to stop at 6-months and I am waiting on my heart for any inclination that I am going to crawl my way out from beneath this heavy weight. </b> </h3><div>Tears rain down so easily with the slightest memory to trigger me with a song, sunset, sunrise, moon, scent, experience and so on. I can usually hide it beneath glasses and turning away or evacuate the moment. If the eyes are a window—hide them, shut it out, and open it in private. The loss doesn't let up, and is picking up momentum. I am sure it's a cycle and I have a lot to unravel. Maybe it's my mind's way of letting me come through this in segments so I don't completely break beyond ability to function. I tell you, there is no way that one can not love someone when spending 4 - 20+ hours running with them every weekend for the years we did. Runners share a special bond. What is said on the road and experienced together—binds. </div><div><br /></div><div>The loss extends beyond the road and trail…I've missed her at plays, trips, games, and events that she would have attended with or for our family and friends. I've missed her laughter and shenanigans, and the feeling that I could say anything to her without judgement. The vivid woven fiber she was in our lives is nothing but shredded edges now. I can't escape or mend this. My soul/sole sister is forever in memory and gone from my present life and future. 6-months, and I am not okay.<div><div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsAJee7FwEGYIGL5Vq2FzPL2TGznEs7a1Tt47NsBygfzyqW1aqpo2ytE-4WNUtn48vzHfgEnW2M-R5IC8Tnbh1Q1irG60VQd3qp5HqIlmnvGTOKaQsuVSHmBhy5PKhIIaPR5v64Vbgah7uJ3fJXT46c7aZgmo51PiewzXN1EciPlMmMxIr0p_GCCjGg/s640/EBD5611B-72B2-4B75-895D-872EA709B12C.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsAJee7FwEGYIGL5Vq2FzPL2TGznEs7a1Tt47NsBygfzyqW1aqpo2ytE-4WNUtn48vzHfgEnW2M-R5IC8Tnbh1Q1irG60VQd3qp5HqIlmnvGTOKaQsuVSHmBhy5PKhIIaPR5v64Vbgah7uJ3fJXT46c7aZgmo51PiewzXN1EciPlMmMxIr0p_GCCjGg/w615-h461/EBD5611B-72B2-4B75-895D-872EA709B12C.jpeg" width="615" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Gut-wrenching to look at this last Bayshore medal with the yellow and orange ribbon—the color of the sun—that Evie would have had. She had almost every one of the others on my collection rod.<br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoBG3iEenUSM-vhvmljxq_kwYdl4FBwWFpBCJH4jt9a2WiZkbL4xUvRhEmT9nbldcwDB7Y-SXBZAsilRNYU6g8BKAVgtoq-ASc0KWhGssq6GUJ3PM2vkjKq-PDbaNRtZHXg0rqGw1-5RuBMc2ioknjRQ2ILkHWeaf87UF9TlLwP6KMoGx4unxSGGALg/s640/2CF15E21-58F0-4ABB-80AD-AE3F65220DCC.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoBG3iEenUSM-vhvmljxq_kwYdl4FBwWFpBCJH4jt9a2WiZkbL4xUvRhEmT9nbldcwDB7Y-SXBZAsilRNYU6g8BKAVgtoq-ASc0KWhGssq6GUJ3PM2vkjKq-PDbaNRtZHXg0rqGw1-5RuBMc2ioknjRQ2ILkHWeaf87UF9TlLwP6KMoGx4unxSGGALg/w353-h470/2CF15E21-58F0-4ABB-80AD-AE3F65220DCC.jpeg" width="353" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The shirt image that shouldn't be. <br />BeliEVIE</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Last week, a group of around 25 ran/walked together in remembrance of Evie at the Traverse City Bayshore Marathon in different race distances. A race all by its self holding memories for me created with Evie—starting as the first marathon we ran together 11 years ago. I am so glad I wrote about it in this blog to connect again. </div><div><br /></div><div>The existence of a shirt with her face brings me pain that I have to fight my brain every time I see it. It scorches. The image was created from a photo of the two of us. I just can't breathe fully looking at it. </div><div><br /></div><div>My daughter ran her first half marathon for Evie at this race—something she might have never done before we loss of her Aunt Evie. I am proud of her and hopeful that she will find her own love for the run. Evie would laugh and probably shutter that she ran it in basketball shoes, but she would be excited that she did it and in stiff, 2 year old, Nike basketball shoes that gave her major hip pain at mile 8. She had refused to let me get her running shoes. That changed a few days after the race was over and her hips were recovering. I took her to the running shoe store Evie worked at many years ago and had her fitted. We walked out with Hoka Bondi 8s. Probably my personal favorite Bondi's so far. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am looking for any silver lining here to lessen the personal hell of this post. So, maybe my daughter can keep turning it over for her own adventures, and I might run again with hope in my heart and a lighter spirit than I feel today—weaving new memories. </div><div><br /></div><div>FUCK 6-months. </div><div><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9TZ30OLRLd_teqnHj9yitqai0ECOOAxujGUk1-SVyVL_0yXwNVK02WNrYMSN4oo2gI8BgcEPkTmtwjbnmk9Td4e8P1gKVBW74zyGZnq87cHXYU7Bo9_fepwz5L_0SygXyay4XvjJjKUOvdvADQDRmc22CLpJBL4pJ4Hjcr43fuWqHsaRryzvC-1ogA/s640/272CE2F6-1B41-4DE9-AE73-ECA136954C39.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9TZ30OLRLd_teqnHj9yitqai0ECOOAxujGUk1-SVyVL_0yXwNVK02WNrYMSN4oo2gI8BgcEPkTmtwjbnmk9Td4e8P1gKVBW74zyGZnq87cHXYU7Bo9_fepwz5L_0SygXyay4XvjJjKUOvdvADQDRmc22CLpJBL4pJ4Hjcr43fuWqHsaRryzvC-1ogA/w461-h346/272CE2F6-1B41-4DE9-AE73-ECA136954C39.jpeg" width="461" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My daughter's first half marathon--finished for Evie. <br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidqvcPZZfwd9xu72B6thaSTLSnB8JOJ6Up2_iS1G9GvXBLKkyQMq1tGEmgU8ZcYxSXffmaR13bH9WADLbmprXNd4pwhmWLcxqK_yxoOUUUss--Z_H6zeTidGCAM0L9pwQYMyJydBoCpRJYZbGyvq_gm9zcsGhfWSFCYQZqQkokIB3Kdyf-dsNgGbINg/s640/3046C924-D676-4178-9345-94E6FA0C02F9.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><strike><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidqvcPZZfwd9xu72B6thaSTLSnB8JOJ6Up2_iS1G9GvXBLKkyQMq1tGEmgU8ZcYxSXffmaR13bH9WADLbmprXNd4pwhmWLcxqK_yxoOUUUss--Z_H6zeTidGCAM0L9pwQYMyJydBoCpRJYZbGyvq_gm9zcsGhfWSFCYQZqQkokIB3Kdyf-dsNgGbINg/w462-h347/3046C924-D676-4178-9345-94E6FA0C02F9.jpeg" width="462" /></strike></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sue and I trying to feel the sun that was Evie for so many of our runs.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1htVOQr8LYXCReKpAn3UFrb7x7jDKhzGr7Jk8Z9rJ-caurW5KqnAO3xwf-rya_aB1S8LepmzNtPsCGHbEZBaL24DxYWAe-XYCXEs0dzMWIEH2AMtcNu-WSrkc0zVuwug7QrNyNHZt3teKs80vBN_6Pgh45m1XAn0SVOFikg04F4pMzbSBwPmbWfueA/s960/74C7570D-5E58-4BA8-95E5-65CEF87ED8D2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="960" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1htVOQr8LYXCReKpAn3UFrb7x7jDKhzGr7Jk8Z9rJ-caurW5KqnAO3xwf-rya_aB1S8LepmzNtPsCGHbEZBaL24DxYWAe-XYCXEs0dzMWIEH2AMtcNu-WSrkc0zVuwug7QrNyNHZt3teKs80vBN_6Pgh45m1XAn0SVOFikg04F4pMzbSBwPmbWfueA/w475-h270/74C7570D-5E58-4BA8-95E5-65CEF87ED8D2.jpeg" width="475" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Evie Lower and her dog, Jasmine, were killed December 8, 2022 when they were hit by an impaired driver. The driver has yet to be prosecuted. Please do not drive impaired or distracted.</i><br /><div><br style="text-align: left;" /></div></td></tr></tbody></table></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="397" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aBsCR5J3900" width="478" youtube-src-id="aBsCR5J3900"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Coverage regarding the Bayshore Marathon and Evie. Note the pink brush from one of our many runs with things we find on the run. </div></span></div></div>Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-83091804472989750942022-12-26T09:38:00.007-08:002023-08-24T20:13:02.037-07:00The Last Aid Station with Evie Ultra<h3 style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRi9609BuQqxwq2T2p9kw8zhlaCAN1bDgRnGl_mUWykNCAZuHfbPA8aMpu3NRG9WWSApJh3Yt73KWk_pKZa-fUzAnBv81aIgzzxQr-HXUmRq9i_9-B_PR3b7SMyW2AwnoO63Cg4manrFZdWQuS_g79io0dEehqRketLRrxGRvuXpuAXHBf-O4y8XkIg/s798/319691665_878336126697931_5898957560209897752_n-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="731" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRi9609BuQqxwq2T2p9kw8zhlaCAN1bDgRnGl_mUWykNCAZuHfbPA8aMpu3NRG9WWSApJh3Yt73KWk_pKZa-fUzAnBv81aIgzzxQr-HXUmRq9i_9-B_PR3b7SMyW2AwnoO63Cg4manrFZdWQuS_g79io0dEehqRketLRrxGRvuXpuAXHBf-O4y8XkIg/s320/319691665_878336126697931_5898957560209897752_n-1.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Finish line of North Country 2013, 50 miler. I remember when she saw me <br />at the finish running towards me and she starting to cry, saying, "I missed you." <br />But now Evie Ultra, I miss you so much more than words can say.<br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table>I have spoken with my son of the gifts running has given him; speed, endurance, an amazing vertical jump and cross training to other sports, as well as a mental toughness that will not quit when every fiber says he must. </h3><h3 style="text-align: left;">Although I haven't ran in a while due to a bone graft in my ankle, running opened my own life to great adventures and people, but I never thought it would lead me to devastation. It's been two weeks and three days since Evie Ultra (Evelyn Lower) and her dog, Jasmine, were <i><b><span style="color: #800180;">hit and killed by a drunk driver </span></b></i>at around 7:20 in the evening while out on a run. My family and community members that had the pleasure of knowing her has been deeply affected by the loss of this glowing light. I feel sick every time I read her name in print as the woman who died walking her dog. Losing Evie has broken my heart and I don't know how to tread through this course.</h3><p>She was my best friend who I told everything to for 12 years and spent 2-15 hours a day with on weekend runs—sometimes two days in a row—talking about every detail in our lives while training for marathon and ultras. And then there are the countless hours on an ultra trip and course. She was an Auntie to my children, and friend to my family. She was the sun on my face and literally my crew captain several races and through tough moments in my life. We were drawn together to dream, set goals, achieve and basically prove every nay sayer wrong with our running adventures. So many miles, mornings, nights, adverse weather conditions, and adventures. She pulled others into our circle for running meet ups like moths to a flame, and I have more friendships because of her. Evie didn't leave me alone, that is for sure. </p><p>Upon receiving the terrible news, the shock just didn't feel real. When I play it back, it still feels that way. I sent her sister a message in the middle of the night because my mind wouldn't let me connect it to reality. The first week my mind kept thinking it was a fake story and I would have to convince myself she was gone. </p><p>I sob, I can barely catch my breath when her memories flashes next to me. I felt like I was going to lose it at Meijers the other day—as in burst into tears in a grocery isle and call for help! Every morning is a cycle to remind myself that she is gone. Sob first, then pull it together and rise. There are days my eyes don't stop watering and when they just hurt the entire day. If I have a day with less tears, then the next will more than make up for it. I feel like my mind keeps protecting and then rips the bandage off.</p><p>I can't text her and get a response. I can't reminisce about the past years with the one person that was there for it all or run any new idea by her. It's like it never happened and a part of me does not exist. So I came back to this blog, where I wrote about some of it and to write another chapter of this unfamiliar HELL course. </p><p>She was 43 and a blaze when her life was taken and she had big and full plans. She was gearing up to train for the Bayshore half marathon held memorial weekend because it had been a while since her last race, and she was taking charge of every part of her life. I was so very proud of her pushing through some rough patches and committing for herself. I am glad I said it to her—glad I told her she was light. Glad I wasn;t afraid to be real with her. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSJPABJvsIt5kVvs2kFhceNxihdyFiMUHBhwsARI0AhP3dTDyR9UrAaYwapfg_17NnYs-Z4TdMLUsk5U3arwA4n6ZWBhqobNvgSid0Oxm2MSORLRh-XRaAm-ZLO0m1bCFdcWFcsxyCKOt3H3flqE3SnQlxqj9NXiJ3hrr-nn51m6ROyILIWlT0tMbRw/s1440/2022-06-12%2008.54.48.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSJPABJvsIt5kVvs2kFhceNxihdyFiMUHBhwsARI0AhP3dTDyR9UrAaYwapfg_17NnYs-Z4TdMLUsk5U3arwA4n6ZWBhqobNvgSid0Oxm2MSORLRh-XRaAm-ZLO0m1bCFdcWFcsxyCKOt3H3flqE3SnQlxqj9NXiJ3hrr-nn51m6ROyILIWlT0tMbRw/s320/2022-06-12%2008.54.48.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>She had become a massage therapist to help people with their pain, and I know she wasn't charging people sometimes because she knew they were short on funds and wanted to help them. So typical Evie to keep pushing herself. She would laugh that I used that word "typical". She was the purest of heart person I have ever encountered and too good for us to be completely honest. She was always giving money and time to others even when she didn't have it. When people talk of her, they speak of her light and I think it's beautiful that we all saw her that way. She lived as her authentic self. It makes me sad, angry and physically shake that I don't have to worry about her anymore.<p></p><p>Evie had future plans to run Javelina 100 again and get that buckle. I wish my ankle could take it, because I would hit every dream for her just to see if out of some delirium I could see her again. I have for a long time felt she should be running large aid stations since she frequently would abandon her own needs in a race to help someone else on course. We in fact, talked about this... "Need salt, GUs, tape, nut butter, or smashed avocado?" Let her pull it out of her overly weighed-down water pack.<br /></p><p>When I would throw out there that I was going to do something in the immediate future she would reply that she was in and would be joining me. I didn't hav to ask and she could finish many of my sentences. Last June, we worked the last aid station at the Lighthouse 100 in the middle of the night which was the 100 miler we both finished the inaugural year of 2017. I was so lucky she volunteered with me the week of the race. She brought her portable music to jam out and we had a blast and helping runners get back ob the course and encouraging some to NOT GET INTO THAT WARM CAR your crew is trying to put you in. "Finish this last 10 miles." Of course we had some laughs.. and I would have been so bored without her between 9pm and 3am. We talked about running a station next year and extras we could bring. Being Evie she wanted to go get runners coffee from the gas station out of her own pocket. The race has since been cancelled for 2023.</p><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1g6y35Je42zMIrgGGhr8-sTnt4tpNrVZur8yeTj4KPuqONUnD76KM9MeD0uRm3U0ztGuE86DHlC1sis8gYq3ggJbMK6Tmq7oCfBhGMS0gtFqsXM3ovn_Tz1yOIoST6sDjVRlQ7FKkA-KRFIAm2HEKKsy2v4Fbjb67OZg1LUGp4_C6Xb0u4qQDxBeWg/s4032/2022-06-11%2023.23.33.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1g6y35Je42zMIrgGGhr8-sTnt4tpNrVZur8yeTj4KPuqONUnD76KM9MeD0uRm3U0ztGuE86DHlC1sis8gYq3ggJbMK6Tmq7oCfBhGMS0gtFqsXM3ovn_Tz1yOIoST6sDjVRlQ7FKkA-KRFIAm2HEKKsy2v4Fbjb67OZg1LUGp4_C6Xb0u4qQDxBeWg/w400-h300/2022-06-11%2023.23.33.heic" width="400" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7i9fYIXHel16fucSNEKX1lW7HUTGCmmkGTmalpvuZGrxdwKsnDh25QUUvDsZQebLG_d3sQrS9VvMncSKoxr68zsppJXy0cLS9FUgDZvNVUJJ6IMlyEppgB3Y9Fp4KO8J_dIKVQXxiybdgfOiPXt5D7t3QWCptq3DzkR8Z9X8JNTX0PU9CwQRdUMDm0w/s4032/2022-06-11%2022.57.59.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7i9fYIXHel16fucSNEKX1lW7HUTGCmmkGTmalpvuZGrxdwKsnDh25QUUvDsZQebLG_d3sQrS9VvMncSKoxr68zsppJXy0cLS9FUgDZvNVUJJ6IMlyEppgB3Y9Fp4KO8J_dIKVQXxiybdgfOiPXt5D7t3QWCptq3DzkR8Z9X8JNTX0PU9CwQRdUMDm0w/s320/2022-06-11%2022.57.59.heic" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPxA0GKvBr_BJ3TD9W97qbJGMkjvdCubkEEqQXu8zfpgMpKRSioNsRvbc7sWMJnr4kSH4sh7f7uOQwa7oEP_9AQca_LvYvayd-KtZtia9QeoB4C-N9wyQex2g1qpxpgDxbR2wmorCYjtZL31grrBA7bZaW2Z8vRfdhUXHRgS6cC10saoY_f6fAwFXKg/s4032/2022-06-11%2022.58.14.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPxA0GKvBr_BJ3TD9W97qbJGMkjvdCubkEEqQXu8zfpgMpKRSioNsRvbc7sWMJnr4kSH4sh7f7uOQwa7oEP_9AQca_LvYvayd-KtZtia9QeoB4C-N9wyQex2g1qpxpgDxbR2wmorCYjtZL31grrBA7bZaW2Z8vRfdhUXHRgS6cC10saoY_f6fAwFXKg/s320/2022-06-11%2022.58.14.heic" width="240" /></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><p>She was the person that drove with me to the hospital for MRIs, or magically appeared when I was injured getting my knee or leg checked out in the ER. We joked about one day being in a special retirement home together where we could walk in a circle like some looped race courses we have been on. She shook pompoms with me at volleyball games for my daughter, and helped me to create the obnoxious parent section. She was my ride or die. Plans be damned on the night of December 8th, 2022.</p><p>Each day I try to think about what Evie would have wanted for me, and it helps to stop the tears. I know she would want me to take the adventure what ever it may be. To live out loud and dress up in silly outfits at races with friends. Wear our matching outfits again and try to be the best me I can be...but I tell you the thought destroys me in my place. </p><p>She would want me to laugh as much as possible because we laughed alot. It's going to be the most painful course I have ever been on. Trying to fake it 'til I make it all the way. If I could talk to her, I would let her know I am trying, but nothing will compare to her presence and I want to see her at the finish line because this is the course I never wanted to be on without her, and knowing she is there will make me finish.</p><p>I know she would reply..."You're doing it. One foot in front of the other." </p><p><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='505' height='420' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyVLeSyWGnJCrMhj2dbf31smXeERL4mMe6USpaMmjW9Haue9-bqpZDBpp0QOzkMzIx83aepEp5BjvF5gpv57A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-23663970725148554502019-12-27T13:46:00.000-08:002019-12-28T03:17:08.047-08:00Walking the Ledge of Denial and Falling Off<b>Maybe I've listened to too many ultra podcast and have became too much of a David Goggins fan. Somewhere in this ultra running love I have become too use to suffering and learning to deny my mind what my body has been speaking to the point of causing harm that I may not be able to recover from. Denial is beneficial in an ultra. The denial I've developed has become a narrow ledge that I've slipped over. Have I mentioned that I'm scared of heights?</b><br />
<br />
People love the cliche, "What ever doesn't kill you makes you stronger."...Um, or puts you in more pain causing more injury to keep you on a path to making some bigger fucking mistakes.<br />
<br />
I wish I could write a success story of adventure and show a highlight reel of the past year of successes. A little over a year ago I ran Javelina 100 which kept me craving more and fixed my sights on two more 100s for 2019, including a Hardrock qualifier—Run Rabbit Run.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;">Quiz:</span></h3>
My 2019 highlights reel will actually include:<br />
<br />
A) a sad tendonitis story<br />
B) a heel spur hobbling plantar fasciitis tale<br />
C) a thriller of a talus fracture<br />
D) all of the above<br />
<br />
Answer: D<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3siE2nycZ1w/XgZh-qsSj0I/AAAAAAAABHs/o-zRQuF3ndg57LRxtaNDBcPrk8jX_w1mgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/2019-11-18%2B13.10.29-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="1600" height="352" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3siE2nycZ1w/XgZh-qsSj0I/AAAAAAAABHs/o-zRQuF3ndg57LRxtaNDBcPrk8jX_w1mgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/2019-11-18%2B13.10.29-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;">Platelet-rich plasma (</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;">PRP</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;">) </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;">therapy</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;"> injections of my own platelets to accelerate the healing of injured tendons, ligaments, muscles and joints. In this way, </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;">PRP</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: left;"> injections use each individual patient's own healing system to improve musculoskeletal problems.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;">Sometimes the Best Intentions are Still Fucking Wrong</span></h3>
I never dreamed this would happen to me, and now it's hard to imagine running or walking pain-free. I've been sidelined for long stretches over the last 12 months, gone through Physical Therapy for tendonitis which was diagnosed last February, endured Platelet-rich Plasma Therapy (PRP) for that tendonitis, been unable to train as hard as I use to due to pain, was hobbled at one point due to a heel spur and plantar fasciitis which I needed a cortisone shot to calm that down, gained weight and don't resemble an athlete as of late. For further humiliation, while sitting in a dentist chair this fall wearing one of my many race shirts, I was asked if I had run that particular marathon printed on the shirt. The hygienist was shocked that I had. It's really gotten that bad!<br />
<br />
Besides deferring those two 100 mile races, I attempted to follow through on two 50mile races thinking my training could at least muster that. The first ended prematurely at mile 27 due to the trail being mismarked and a sweeper error with a time cutoff to start the second loop. The sweeper started after mile 27 instead of mile 25 or he/she would have seen a group of runners on the course to follow behind, which was the whole point of sweeping on a second loop and meeting the time limit, am I right? Not my fault, and not even so much as an apology from the race director of why runners matter less, and less than the staging of theatrics at a grandstand … another story altogether. In hindsight, the torture in my ankle that day, should have told me this wasn't getting better, and have been a sign that I had a built a callus to deny pain too much as I had practiced for months.<br />
<br />
A month later in another 50 miler I was moving along, but my suffering started at a level 3 in the first mile and was past a level 10 by mile 21. I kept moving from aid station to aid station in hopes that it might get better because that is what ultra runners do. Deny, deny, deny—only denial's sharp edge was swinging the wrong way.<br />
<br />
I dropped at mile 28 right before the next dune run section because I felt like I wasn't going to be able to walk from the trauma going on in my ankle. The agony was like sharp glass cutting around my ankle. I was experiencing 0% joy on a beautifully perfect day—I couldn't find a thread of it for one instant! <br />
<br />
I went back to my doctor that week and was told to ease back on the miles again because of my tendonitis and that this pain may not go away. I was told to come back in if I'm still hurting in 4 weeks, and at that point I could get a cortisone shot to calm things down.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dHqf2Sz-QbQ/XgZ0UJHo8NI/AAAAAAAABIQ/zNlNU_XkZnY70zmtjO7CrvvUGYeHwdyLwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Lucy%2Band%2Bthe%2Bcart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dHqf2Sz-QbQ/XgZ0UJHo8NI/AAAAAAAABIQ/zNlNU_XkZnY70zmtjO7CrvvUGYeHwdyLwCEwYBhgL/s640/Lucy%2Band%2Bthe%2Bcart.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: purple;">My dog resting next to the scooter. </span><span style="color: purple;">A big change from </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: purple;">her </span><span style="color: purple;">running </span><span style="color: purple;">away from me </span><span style="color: purple;">for the </span><span style="color: purple;">first week.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;">Seek a Specialist with Matters of the Feet—</span><span style="color: purple;">Just Do It</span></h3>
After those 4 weeks past into November and I was still in discomfort and not running much,—and after gut checking with other runners—I decided I really needed to see a specialist and forgo any cortisone shot that would only masked the issue. I needed to push back and know if something was missed. This couldn't be all that was left for me. A podiatrist might say I needed surgery, but at this point I still couldn't walk or run without squeezing the blade of that denial sword.<br />
<br />
I found a specialist through another friend who had already gone through great lengths to find him. On the day I saw him thinking I was there for a conversation about tendonitis, he quickly informed me that I had a much bigger problem on my MRI from <b><i>last March</i></b>—that was 7 months old. He informed me that I had a fracture around my talus bone and some deformity as well. This was severe.<br />
<br />
So in fact, I should have been off of this foot 7 months ago! Will this horror show ever end? I wish I could speed through to the good parts of the reel.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3zjJTcZmQmY/Xgcvv9yT9KI/AAAAAAAABIo/elNJRpq_sc48f4AEoqIPeVL39oryS7WNgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Dynamo_Sport_Swings_Crutches-blue_grande.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="235" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3zjJTcZmQmY/Xgcvv9yT9KI/AAAAAAAABIo/elNJRpq_sc48f4AEoqIPeVL39oryS7WNgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Dynamo_Sport_Swings_Crutches-blue_grande.jpg" width="128" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">Swing Crutches are definitely <br />more stable than other crutches <br />but not as safe as a scooter. <br />Especially on ice.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
His treatment started with 4 weeks of no pressure or weight bearing where I have moved around booted on crutches, a scooter, or by crawling. Additionally, I've had three treatments of PRP into the ankle—hope you don't mine needles going all the way in! I just can't watch!<br />
<br />
Followed by 2 weeks (that I've just completed) of being able to bear weight and walk in the boot. Where tomorrow, I am at the start of walking without the boot for the next 2 weeks. At the end, I'll have another MRI. I may need surgery yet.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOJhFz0zW3A/XgZ0R3YTtyI/AAAAAAAABIE/YBhMz7-pp9Y-w4bzzWp96xmkBNsjMbpNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Bear%2BCupcakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOJhFz0zW3A/XgZ0R3YTtyI/AAAAAAAABIE/YBhMz7-pp9Y-w4bzzWp96xmkBNsjMbpNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Bear%2BCupcakes.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">Scooter life is a bottleneck, and </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">everything take 3Xs as long wheeling </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">around and around in one direction. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">I was still able to pull off these cupcakes </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">for my son's birthday. It's a small </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">victory and better than crutches.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was told to have zero exercise for this 8 week span. I am extremely nervous as I go into this next phase of just walking on it. It has been painful at times in the boot just standing or walking around a store. The thought of the 7 months I've had of running on it, physical therapy and strength training makes me cringe at what extra damage may have incurred. The hardest part has not been being unable to run, and free my mind and body since that's been an issue I've been dealing with for a year. I'm very use to things not going as planned. It's the consideration of not running at all in my <i>future</i> and that my dearest hobby and the feeling I get on a trail run may be over after 11 years of knowing it.<br />
<br />
I've made changes during this time span. I cut back this holiday season on my expectations. I didn't throw a big holiday party and that's been alright. I have focused on the things that I have one way of doing, and that's doing them right even if they take much longer. I've made less food all around and have counted on my family to do more chores, prepping, shopping, and fetching me items. I simply can't crawl up and down the stairs all the time getting things I can't drag.<br />
<br />
The current pace I have is moving forward to an unknown destination. I've been focusing on one day, one week, one part of the process at a time and breaking it up going from aid station to aid station. I just don't want to DNF this race.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-69854443236133585972018-11-21T08:29:00.000-08:002018-12-01T04:21:44.739-08:00Javelina Jundred—Let's Get Gritty!<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_DY6hXAN7wI/W-w1OCLFgTI/AAAAAAAAA-0/6lCltd5Jpyk1diDyzG2yU4GqEW1b1EfqQCLcBGAs/s1600/2018_JJ_Logo_v2-01.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_DY6hXAN7wI/W-w1OCLFgTI/AAAAAAAAA-0/6lCltd5Jpyk1diDyzG2yU4GqEW1b1EfqQCLcBGAs/s200/2018_JJ_Logo_v2-01.png" width="200" /></a><b>When polling 100-mile runners </b><b>about which race was the one <i>not to miss</i>, the <span style="color: purple;"><a href="https://aravaiparunning.com/network/javelinajundred/" target="_blank">Javelina Jundred</a></span> kept appearing at the top of the list for the fun and experience factors.</b> It is the largest 100 mile party run in the desert including a disco dance floor and music an Jackass Junction (JJ) aid station (10 miles from the start). Halloween costumes are optional and there is great aid station support staff at all stations (Coyote, Rattlesnake and Jeadquarters).<br />
<br />
Plus, 300 more runners between the 100k race and a newly added boozy Jackass Trail night race which participants have a choice of 1-2 loops of the 19.45 miles with stopping at JJ aid station to hang out and then finish it into the finish for second half.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2weOXHn7bvg/W_VkKb_entI/AAAAAAAABEY/lT0DEPaBGKgRuizjiVOJbhQW5p-A4XQGQCLcBGAs/s1600/camp%2Bvillage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2weOXHn7bvg/W_VkKb_entI/AAAAAAAABEY/lT0DEPaBGKgRuizjiVOJbhQW5p-A4XQGQCLcBGAs/s640/camp%2Bvillage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of tent and canopy set up Friday morning.</td></tr>
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Jeadquarters is a lit-up village creating a bigger celebratory atmosphere made up of music, floating bubbles, quality food, a crew and pacer quarter mile loop with tents, canopies, and an energized staff that makes it seem like they are full throttle every time you see them—which is 5 loops ran washing machine style and 30 hours of go, go, go!<br />
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This was my "A" race for good reasons. Experiencing the desert beauty, trails and multitude of challenges was going to be completely new, and my a run buddy, Evie, was all in as well. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lZ5N_JDFV5M/W_QSGrqCyRI/AAAAAAAABBY/W7putba1LbI9o2E9Kg1UVNb_A36W5yE7wCLcBGAs/s1600/team.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="896" height="443" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lZ5N_JDFV5M/W_QSGrqCyRI/AAAAAAAABBY/W7putba1LbI9o2E9Kg1UVNb_A36W5yE7wCLcBGAs/s640/team.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race start before the swelling … Sharon, Evie, myself, Sue and Hannah</td></tr>
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<br />
<h2>
<span style="background-color: white;">I KNEW THESE FACTS GOING IN:</span></h2>
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">7900 feet </span><span style="font-size: large;">of total ascend and descend</span></span><br />
Which made me shake my head when those that have run it talked about how it is very runnable and relatively flat...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SkRjAV059qQ/W-wzMgsM2LI/AAAAAAAAA-o/kP9M07Nw_m0KXM73oWP0-As8sz2qb7bcACLcBGAs/s1600/Javelina-100-Mile-2016-Elevation-Profile.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="158" data-original-width="1094" height="91" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SkRjAV059qQ/W-wzMgsM2LI/AAAAAAAAA-o/kP9M07Nw_m0KXM73oWP0-As8sz2qb7bcACLcBGAs/s640/Javelina-100-Mile-2016-Elevation-Profile.png" width="640" /></a>Then, where is the elevation coming from? Javelina does take place at McDowell <b>Mountain</b> Regional Park, after all. I prepared myself mentally and physically for more of a kickass course than those with amnesia could remember. I thought of the Kettle Moraine that also is about 7,800 feet, with it's "silent killer" hills that blow out quads slowly and severely punished my IT band over the edge last June being unbendable at mile 50. I spent the summer rehabbing the injury with PT and had worked in the strength training from that experience to prevent that same outcome.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Arizona HEAT </span><span style="font-size: large;">and</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> no shade</span></span><br />
Which is downplayed when people say, "well it's dry heat, not humidity." But this race is notorious for being in the 90s! That is still running in full sun through a day-and-a-half for a middle pack runner like me.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Md_PtDMq8x0/W-wyTrnq2FI/AAAAAAAAA-g/D__GI6fc4Jc90u-dviGaf3gWA7doORwyACLcBGAs/s1600/arm-cooler-warmer-ice-storage-iphone-holder-for-run-and-ride-accessories-orange-mud-llc_881_compact.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="107" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Md_PtDMq8x0/W-wyTrnq2FI/AAAAAAAAA-g/D__GI6fc4Jc90u-dviGaf3gWA7doORwyACLcBGAs/s200/arm-cooler-warmer-ice-storage-iphone-holder-for-run-and-ride-accessories-orange-mud-llc_881_compact.jpg" width="133" /></a>In prepping for the heat and ways to stay cool, I came across <a href="https://www.orangemud.com/products/arm-cooler?variant=8293014929495" target="_blank">Orange Mud Ice Sleeve</a>s as a recommendation from another runner.<b> They were the key to cooling down from aid station to aid station</b> where I would fill the two pockets with ice and the ice would melt completely over the next 4-6 miles. <br />
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Although I had read about the fluid recommendations from loop to loop on the races website, I thought they were too low. I know on a warm day I need 2 liters of fluid for every 20 miles. I needed to be out of water my the time I returned to headquarters or be filling more on course, which I did end up filling on course and drinking 12-14 liters throughout the race.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hm3kb8bKJZ8/W_VcA-AfeDI/AAAAAAAABB0/grsyolmgPpoNh5f3pMxMUIdF9Bb8ntYYwCLcBGAs/s1600/choo%2Bchoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="421" height="223" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hm3kb8bKJZ8/W_VcA-AfeDI/AAAAAAAABB0/grsyolmgPpoNh5f3pMxMUIdF9Bb8ntYYwCLcBGAs/s320/choo%2Bchoo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing our filled ice hats....toot, toot!! </td></tr>
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We also used Ice Caps which are filled with ice through a pocket on the top and closed with a drawstring. Our crew thought we looked like railroad conductors and the jokes kept flying…toot, toot… choo, choo, choo, choo…<br />
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One flaw in this hat is that the ice tends to melt and is absorbed by the brim and then drips off the front instead of on your head. Time to time I would just hold it on my head to feel the cold.<br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Last year, 51% finished</span><br />
That really isn't a great percentage for such a "runnable" race. From the reports I had read and podcasts I listened to, those that had pushed too hard in the first loop and into the second became part of the carnage of very ill, and cramped individuals to be seen in that second loop.<br />
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So many issues can occur with lack of fuel and dehydration including cramping, dizziness, and my nemesis—nausea. After running the Lighthouse 100 in 2017 in Northern Michigan with the temperature in 90s plus high humidity, I was anticipating some major heat issues as well as my feet and hands painfully swelling.<br />
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<br /></div>
The more research I did, the more it became evident that:<br />
• the first 22.3 mile loop I needed to <b><span style="color: purple;">just be steady</span></b> and learn the course<br />
• the second 19.45 mile loop I needed to be <b><span style="color: purple;">slowed down</span></b><br />
• the 3rd and 4th 19.45 mile loops I needed to <b><span style="color: purple;">make up some time</span></b><br />
• the 5th 19.45 mile loop I needed to <b><span style="color: purple;">survive</span></b> and would be in sun again<br />
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Because the the mass of more than 600 runners at the 100 mile start line, this year they set up two waves to alleviate congestion on the trail.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Wave 1:</span></b> would start 10 minutes earlier with the goal of being under 24 hours for a larger belt buckle.<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;"></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: purple;"></span></b>
<b><span style="color: purple;">Wave 2:</span> </b>would be the rest of the bunch. There was no way I was going to even try to hang in that first wave. In my mind, many of these people may be after a 20 hour finish and being around people going out too hard would make me anxious and push myself too hard. Plus, I was going to be out there with Evie, my run buddy also in the race, enjoying the trip around the loops as best we could for at least three of them until we had pacers join in the last two.<br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">I have a history with nausea in 100 milers</span><br />
<b>There are several things that can cause this issue including:</b><br />
<span style="color: orange;">• </span>heat<br />
<span style="color: orange;">•</span> sugar<br />
<span style="color: orange;">• </span>dehydration<br />
<span style="color: orange;">• </span>too much caffeine<br />
<span style="color: orange;">• </span>exertion<br />
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<b>Things I worked in to prevent it:</b><br />
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>low regulated sugar with no caffeine in my water pack using Grape Roctane energy drink (bonus that this year it was at the aid stations with other liquid energy!)<br />
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>avocado on every loop at head quarters from my crew<br />
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="https://www.dropanfbomb.com/collections/nut-butters" target="_blank">FBomb</a> nut packs for fuel<br />
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<div>
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="https://muirenergy.com/collections/energy-products" target="_blank">Muir Energy</a> Almond for fuel (the new batch I received was too bitter, so I only ate 2!)</div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="https://gingerpeople.com/products/ginger-rescue-strong/" target="_blank">ginger tabs</a> which I did use one</div>
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<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>boiled potatoes throughout the race—a complex carb instead of sugars</div>
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<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>bean burrito slices at aid stations </div>
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<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>grilled cheese quarter sandwiches off aid station</div>
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<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="http://saltstick.com/product/saltstick-fastchews/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">SaltStick Fastchews</a> which I carried<br />
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="https://liquid-iv.com/" target="_blank">Liquid IV</a> drank one every 20 miles for 500mg of salt and some sugar </div>
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<div>
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="https://www.advocare.com/130854423/Mobile/Store/ItemDetail.aspx?itemCode=A5091&id=E" target="_blank">SPARK</a> from Advocate drink for caffeine every 20 miles (I did not drink this mile 80 as I was afraid I was getting an irritated stomach. Maybe it would have woke me up more but I didn't want to chance it.)</div>
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<div>
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>JJ drop bag had placed 6 coconut waters and 8 MaMa Chia packs which I consumed all the water plus more each 20 miles<br />
<span style="color: orange;">•</span><span style="color: orange;"> </span>consistently be able to use the restroom to prove I'm not dehydrated </div>
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<div>
<h2>
<span style="background-color: white;"><b>WHAT WAS SURPRISING:</b></span></h2>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Come with your people </span></span><br />
The most grand surprise was that that two of mine and Evie's favorite people and run buddies decided to come with us about a month before the race to crew and pace!! EEK! If you have ever tried to run 100 miles on your own non-assisted or even 20, it can get lonely. And if you cave during a dark moment it can mean a DNF. The mind is so powerful in an ultra to push through suffering to reach a goal and it has to be. But when you have a support crew or pacers, you can change your focus, zero in on your "why" as well as they can remind you when you forget—and honestly is is so much more enjoyable as I learned in Grindstone a couple years ago.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_9OWey4UJp0/W-xEuWrW6ZI/AAAAAAAAA_U/HBcJ87urkK4olZE6btxKcwjQR_8YO1OOACLcBGAs/s1600/36033393_10105372932696825_1250016322733998080_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_9OWey4UJp0/W-xEuWrW6ZI/AAAAAAAAA_U/HBcJ87urkK4olZE6btxKcwjQR_8YO1OOACLcBGAs/s320/36033393_10105372932696825_1250016322733998080_n-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hannah's first Marathon<br />
(Me, Evie, Hannah and Sue)</td></tr>
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We started running on the weekends with Sue and Hannah about a year ago for enjoyment and each with personal goals. We were flexible to run the distance we individually needed and let's face it, its a very social group. Although Sue will tell you that we do runners math too often and say 8 miles which translates to 12 miles. We frequently ran with up to seven women in our area throughout the summer. It made the miles tick by and we enjoyed some laughs. Plus, last year Hannah was going for her first half marathon and we quickly encouraged a larger goal (because she is could do it!) of a full marathon the next month. She achieved it with us there following her progress. Running is contagious, supportive and can be creative.<br />
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Sue invited a new friend along on this Javelina adventure, and with Evie's sister living in Arizona adding two friends, our crew and pace team was looking like the perfect pack set up to succeed.<br />
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<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Not everyone likes to rock out </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z_1ivcTFViQ/W_VkqUjTT5I/AAAAAAAABE0/8otCAlyv3PgP5EtT4ubGv-9YKzpwjUVkgCLcBGAs/s1600/two%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bdesert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z_1ivcTFViQ/W_VkqUjTT5I/AAAAAAAABE0/8otCAlyv3PgP5EtT4ubGv-9YKzpwjUVkgCLcBGAs/s400/two%2Bin%2Bthe%2Bdesert.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loop one after Coyote aid station with my hands still normal.</td></tr>
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During the first loop we were getting to know the course. Leaving headquarters the first loop leads left on a white powder sand that runs along ledges and hidden rocks beneath it. The course rolls in and out of wash out areas that are sometime more fish bowl gravel like and harder to run through at the bottom. Eyes stay on the trail and cacti that is everywhere with breaks of running and walking quickly up short climbs. We took in the beauty on those flat moments and were surprised at how green the desert could be. I kept thinking that this felt like an overgrown golf course in the flattest section. Gradually the course goes up and into a rocky ankle twister section where the ground breaks and one needs to be aware in the last three miles before JJ aid station—the most challenging in the 19.45 mile loop. We clocked about 3 hours to climb to the peak. Then we traversed down in a more runnable section of rolling hills back to headquarters, but not in the first loop which has an added couple miles of delight.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QAvV1BPlcCY/W_WLoPrLn0I/AAAAAAAABFc/gsoL-AGLBRg3FZK9SWZJ_PpxCUhHfKXEQCLcBGAs/s1600/fred.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="920" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QAvV1BPlcCY/W_WLoPrLn0I/AAAAAAAABFc/gsoL-AGLBRg3FZK9SWZJ_PpxCUhHfKXEQCLcBGAs/s200/fred.jpg" width="115" /></a></div>
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It helps me to hear about the course by someone who has ran it while we are running it. I think their memory comes back better being in it again. We briefly met two runners including one who famously dresses as Fred Flintstone. I wish I remembered their names, but I too have amnesia. They relayed that the worse part of the race was going to be the added section with switchbacks in this first loop which would be very rocky and challenging. "You'll be glad when it's over," one of them said before parting ways.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oW5jvsSshjw/W-xPTgIwcsI/AAAAAAAAA_s/tDw-ZahsW0gCr6j_5gUvKHCA1H0BhpM8ACLcBGAs/s1600/44939943_907642932956954_2146111693711736832_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oW5jvsSshjw/W-xPTgIwcsI/AAAAAAAAA_s/tDw-ZahsW0gCr6j_5gUvKHCA1H0BhpM8ACLcBGAs/s320/44939943_907642932956954_2146111693711736832_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
When we entered that section, it was as they had stated—<i>rocky</i>. The trail went up and around some peaks on ledges and spiraled as well. Not really what I call switchbacks. Surprisingly, I absolutely loved it. I imagined this as an easier section of Grindstone or Superior. Wow, runnable!!<br />
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I felt like a kid on a playground and ran through most of it, hiking quickly up the inclines and excited to ask another runner what he thought of it. He relayed that he was NOT ready for this terrain at all and didn't look too well. He later dropped on the second loop. It was around this point I saw a person being carried off the course by medical personnel. This would be one of two people I saw lifted out on a stretcher while on the trail.<br />
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Some of the ledges were smaller and tighter as well and a couple women on bicycles came through fast around the corners not caring at all that people were running in a race. This was the one annoyance of the day time running—fast riders zipping close without even an announcement from behind that they are coming through.<br />
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It was getting hot and I was out of water in the last mile and told myself to keep moving and get into headquarters. Although I had refilled my pack at JJ, it wasn't enough. I noted to myself not to let this happen again. </div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Second loop is a Motha! </span><br />
Evie and I had planned to take the second loop slower with more walking (hiking like a badass when we could), but we still needed to think about time, because we would have to be running down the most technical section after JJ station (mile 10). It was in the 90s (without us being aware of the actual number) and that heat wore on our energy level, as well as those ice sleeves were empty each time we arrived at an aid station. Again the "AHHHH!!" of being able to refill them was refreshing.<br />
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I had a very <span style="text-align: center;">angry set of blisters coming on the outside of my heals by the time we arrived at JJ. I pre-taped them hoping to prevent this from happening, but that just seems to be my story. My feet are going to blister and peel. I was popping them with a pin I brought through the tape that wasn't going to come off without removing the skin. The seats in the station were filling up with runners not looking as cheerful as earlier with some in need of assistance. Evie helped one young man next to me with pickle juice and I gave him some of my <a href="http://saltstick.com/product/saltstick-fastchews/" target="_blank">SaltStick Fastchews</a> because he said he had never been cramped up before in his ankles and calfs—hope he made it out of there.</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Breaking up is hard to do </span><br />
We rolled in from that second loop and the sun was coming down. Evie's sister was able to come out on the 3rd loop instead of the 4th because we were a little behind and since we had 5 pacers instead of 4, we could separate if needed. I led the way out with the intent to make up time. We ultimately separated after the first aid station and I was feeling really good with the sun now down and focusing on getting to Hannah at the end of the next 16 miles so she could come out and play. I have participated in enough races that being prepared for anything and everything is the only way to succeed—just think of the one next task at a time whether its an aid station or a person I need to get to. Prepare to be alone at some point with just a thought to get me to the next point.<br />
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In this loop, the Jackass Night Trail run started and a mob of people wearing decorative lights, and costumes swept by into the JJ station. They were a fun group and the party was happening. One young woman was covered head to toe in sequins like a Solid Gold dancer. Wearing sequins in the 80s, I had to ask her if it itched. She answered that she itched absolutely everywhere! LOL!<br />
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My mission in this party station was to eat, drink coconut water and get out without getting cold or too cooled down. I reminisced about my pacer buddy in Wisconsin to keep me company while in route to Hannah. Darkness can be a friend in the dessert. By this point, I think I was running with the mob of the more sane JJ trail runners that were not drinking in the last 8 miles to headquarters. I met one runner who brought me in the last 3 miles with conversation who was surprised and concerned at how these young runners would make it back safely in this challenging course with cacti everywhere....you and me both!!<br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Liar, Liar… </span><br />
It is incredible to have support out there in a quest like this, even if it's a lie. Hannah said later that the crews in the village matched their runners personality whether they were having fun or completely freaking out and yelling when their runner came in. Mine was there to make me succeed and their energy flowed. They followed the guidelines of happy little angels I had planned out for them; from my fueling needs to how to keep me moving and where their attitudes needed to be in different situations, as well as taking care of themselves through the day and night. Cliff notes so to speak.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4_t6_cwZsn0/W-xnyb2_IKI/AAAAAAAABAU/oqn4BNNDrPEul61pYeb6B9xlWA7cJkrCwCLcBGAs/s1600/the%2Bbook%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="1600" height="222" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4_t6_cwZsn0/W-xnyb2_IKI/AAAAAAAABAU/oqn4BNNDrPEul61pYeb6B9xlWA7cJkrCwCLcBGAs/s400/the%2Bbook%2Bcopy.jpg" width="400" /></a>We laughed about the list of details the night before with Lisa, who was new to this ultra world, and she had pointed out some of the hilariousness of not knowing what I was talking about such as:<br />
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Refill my water pack with Roctane unless I request Tailwind naked, and add ice to <br />
my sleeves, hat and buff in day.</div>
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But I knew this pack had me. When I came in for loop 4, I picked up Hannah and needed to meet the cut-off to be back and on the course with Sue by 8 a.m.. I had banked some time on that 3rd loop and my intent was to keep it moving in the dark since I would be in the heat again on the last loop through.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2AdjLGMlKmk/W_QHno3na2I/AAAAAAAABAs/Jhk13FUWqCo6F6QkyVNS0O4HuaVamwuQgCLcBGAs/s1600/45266925_10217861409073871_7541107533981679616_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2AdjLGMlKmk/W_QHno3na2I/AAAAAAAABAs/Jhk13FUWqCo6F6QkyVNS0O4HuaVamwuQgCLcBGAs/s320/45266925_10217861409073871_7541107533981679616_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race start with Hannah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Though it was quite memorable to see some JJ runners walking sideways and having difficulty stumbling back into headquarters through the desert, I'll remember this adventure more with Hannah and I barreling down rock in the safest manor possible and stepping side to side with lights of other runners coming towards us. It was her first real trail experience and she was in the dark doing it well. Or, maybe faking it for my sake. Running down the rockiest section in the <b>dark</b> made it a whole new experience and like a new trail for me. Every so often, one of us would jam a rock with our foot and just keep on keeping on without a complaint. Hannah convincingly told me something close to this is the <i>best experience of her life</i>. Later she told me how that might have been true, it was also harder than any marathon. There were a few swear words to describe it particularly when she was asked by another crew member right afterwards. See? Perfect little liar.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Nothing to see here </span></div>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3yTnSqVmLKM/W_VexN5duwI/AAAAAAAABCc/VByv_tZuGoQ56RzLnf-sv7lOg62m7fWcwCLcBGAs/s1600/puff%2Bhands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="857" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3yTnSqVmLKM/W_VexN5duwI/AAAAAAAABCc/VByv_tZuGoQ56RzLnf-sv7lOg62m7fWcwCLcBGAs/s320/puff%2Bhands.jpg" width="187" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swelling, swelling, swelling<br />
the further I went...<br />
Hamburger Helper <br />
hands with just a knuckle. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hannah and I ran in that last mile of loop 4 like it was the finish and we were going to win. One other runner was whistling in excitement as we made the turns in passing several runners in. Hannah had been giving me some pacing times and we were running a less than 12 minute miles around the ledges along the powdered sand and hidden rocks. I am not sure where that zip came from, but my legs felt heavy for the first time when I went back on the course with Sue, which may have been from my lack of caffeine. I didn't take in any in before heading back out as my stomach was feeling unsettled with all the pounding of fluids, pickles, bean burrito slices, avocado, Liquid IVs, etc. throughout the day. My hands had swollen to look like the Handburger Helper character from the 80s, and my skin was tight from retaining a lot of fluid. I might have swollen enough to look like I gained 10lbs through out the race.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1KkEJ2qOJ8/W_Vo-9DxPBI/AAAAAAAABFI/lOxZXZ-HfL0SEkF3SJJMqC5-Z2_s9n-fgCLcBGAs/s1600/2018-10-28%2B06.25.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1KkEJ2qOJ8/W_Vo-9DxPBI/AAAAAAAABFI/lOxZXZ-HfL0SEkF3SJJMqC5-Z2_s9n-fgCLcBGAs/s320/2018-10-28%2B06.25.05.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Farewell Tour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sue and I set out to see the sunrise and she took some photos. When she pointed the camera at me at Coyote station, I decided that it would be a farewell tour to say my goodbyes to the course. They were serving pancakes at this time and while it was warm, it was not so tasty. Everything began tasting acidy—even the gingerale and coke at the stations. We proceeded on and decided that the ice sleeves needed to go on at the next station as it was getting hot again. When you're from Michigan and in Arizona running with no shade, it's always hot. Don't do something dumb like leave those ice sleeves at headquarters. I repeat, do not make such dumbass mistakes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIuidbiJXQs/W_VfxwW_zCI/AAAAAAAABCo/0QEuR4QpLZ4stTCRsaUJQVxMcIkbGmTWgCLcBGAs/s1600/2018-10-28%2B06.46.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIuidbiJXQs/W_VfxwW_zCI/AAAAAAAABCo/0QEuR4QpLZ4stTCRsaUJQVxMcIkbGmTWgCLcBGAs/s640/2018-10-28%2B06.46.53.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading to some rocks so I can add some excitement for my pacer and bleed.</td></tr>
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<br />
Moving our way to JJ aid station we were just starting the rocky section at mile 85. Going down hill, my foot finally caught a rock and I went flying forward down to the ground, and for the first time in my life I hit my head on a rock! The blood was instantly in front of me dripping on the dirt, rocks and down my face. I let Sue know that this wasn't going to be good before she could see it. For someone who doesn't do well with the sight of blood, she became a specialist in a matter of minutes. I was so grateful she was there. I had a gash above my eye next to my eyebrow. We applied pressure with her neck gator, and I had remembered the blister kit in my pack was ready to to go. I asked her to access if we could clean with tailwind, use the blister pad and cover this since it wasn't necessary to DNF and I wanted to get through the last two stations unnoticed to finish this. I know it sounds like an immature move, but having trained for months, pass DNFs, and the finish in my grasp, I just couldn't let it go. I was here to finish it and not make excuses. What the heck?! Kiss my arse, DNF rock! I hadn't blacked out, become dizzy or had any concussion signs, and so we agreed that if I felt dizzy we were done. Honestly, there was no way I wanted to hit a cactus next! The blister patch covered the gash and we covered that with my neck gator and hat—looking just a little more dorky at this race was wrapping up well. I didn't think that was possible, but is surely was.<br />
<br />
Arriving at JJ station I cleaned my hands and gator with water, ate a little and Sue helped me wrestle the sleeves on my ginormous club hands which was a struggle. It was like putting on pants two sizes too small, but we did it! I can only imagine a video of seeing someone else do this.<br />
<br />
This day, even more bicyclists were out shredding up the trail and flying by without warning—not a great experience after 90 miles. I began thinking that this event wouldn't be over until I was hit by a bicyclist traveling at full speed or possibly my pacer on the ground in a cactus.<br />
<br />
We were on the last 10 mile stretch and we kept up with our run/walk pattern and started seeing a lot more runners and pacers hiking it in slowly or hobbling with what I imagined was their feet in blister hell. One guy was walking on the heels of the back of his shoes. I knew I must of had a nail come completely off since that toe didn't hurt anymore and a few others were crying out along with my blistered heels still nagging. The pain at the bottom of my feet ached hard and felt like I had been running on rock barefoot for hours. I kept telling myself the same thing thoughout the race, "Get over this shit. Slam through it." Just another piece of me made from other tough races and now this one.<br />
<br />
Sue hinted about the next 100 mile race and I talked about running 50s for the next year. She laughed and later reiterated my crazy thoughts of running 50s after this race. It took 17 hours after the end of this race to want to sign up again. That's a good race!<br />
<br />
About two miles out from the finish a man stood waving the belt buckle and yelling, "This is waiting for you! Go get it!" I looked at Sue and remarked, "That looks tiny and nobody out here persevering for that. It's about the finish of 100 miles." Although I look at a buckle or medal and can reflect on a particular race, it's always the journey, people and finish that makes me feel attached to it—even the volunteers which were so genuinely caring in this race contributed to the vibe. The buckle may be the sign that I finished, but it's never my why to finish and I can discard it too easily. I placed a thought of my kids in my head and knew that they would feel proud when this was accomplished, and finishing would solidify that I indeed "got this" 100 mile race. That "why" was so much stronger and grew which each step.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9H7wQ8fJzKU/W_VgQIguV3I/AAAAAAAABC8/7f2ohbB_kCQuuLCrUOOlhWxJWet03JQmgCLcBGAs/s1600/2018-10-28%2B11.12.12-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1417" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9H7wQ8fJzKU/W_VgQIguV3I/AAAAAAAABC8/7f2ohbB_kCQuuLCrUOOlhWxJWet03JQmgCLcBGAs/s320/2018-10-28%2B11.12.12-2.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High five to Lisa before entering the celebration<br />
finish last quarter mile. And, sporting my stylish <br />
head wrap to cover the damage.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Looking around, most of the runners we saw and passed in that last 10 miles were woman. I don't think it's because we women are slower. I think it's because we survive when things get hard and painful. We bite down, and maybe problem solved this particular race better. Or maybe, those of us still moving forward didn't go out thinking this was happening in under 24hours.<br />
<br />
When we finally approached the entrance to headquarters camp finish line and saw our gang waiting, about 5 bicyclist came flying at us. Surely, I felt this was it. We are not leaving until one of us is hit and on the ground and I am just a quarter mile from the finish line.<br />
<br />
Sue and Evie ran with me for that last time through the camp and to the timers where I crossed the line with the race director still going full party mode and announcing.<br />
<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">100 mile finisher 29:05</span></b><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">2018: 61% finisher rate</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;">When asked what it feels like to finish such an adventure, my mind reflects on how big the picture really is and what it feels like to experience all the pieces </span></span>coming together—not only from this adventure and training session including PT, but all the steps including failures and successes that came before to shape this journey and make it worthy of finishing. Finishing 100 miles is a gritty, grande supreme success!<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UkO68Rs_SQw/W_VggFbv8-I/AAAAAAAABDQ/Eo7yh36efFManeMVMDHRX5BY4ngHsRErACLcBGAs/s1600/2018-10-28%2B11.15.45-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="1600" height="528" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UkO68Rs_SQw/W_VggFbv8-I/AAAAAAAABDQ/Eo7yh36efFManeMVMDHRX5BY4ngHsRErACLcBGAs/s640/2018-10-28%2B11.15.45-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Put your hands in the air like you really do care … running and screaming, that's the only way to finish 100 miles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ueCa-Ogu_xE/W_Vgh3w_-ZI/AAAAAAAABDU/KHnHJGMk2f0eCSY_qLUJ4uyNp2YyPbbLACLcBGAs/s1600/2018-10-28%2B11.44.47-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1358" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ueCa-Ogu_xE/W_Vgh3w_-ZI/AAAAAAAABDU/KHnHJGMk2f0eCSY_qLUJ4uyNp2YyPbbLACLcBGAs/s640/2018-10-28%2B11.44.47-1.jpg" width="537" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100 miles of badass mother runner, a new scar and a trip to Urgent Care to be glued.<br />
<i>Note: </i><i>Not all head wounds are equal. </i><i>I would never keep going in a race if I thought my life was in danger</i>.<i> </i> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K32SYi-vyb4/W_VklN8RMOI/AAAAAAAABE4/vN52vWJfvpEr18zshNUhPb_AOJvdiJCqACEwYBhgL/s1600/2018-10-28%2B20.07.24-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K32SYi-vyb4/W_VklN8RMOI/AAAAAAAABE4/vN52vWJfvpEr18zshNUhPb_AOJvdiJCqACEwYBhgL/s320/2018-10-28%2B20.07.24-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belt buckle to remind me of the many lessons and people of Javelina.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o6JakLlQ2ew/W_VgrlIo-0I/AAAAAAAABDc/vZwOlcZo4Sw2T1bjI_vATolPnY9MR9DnACLcBGAs/s1600/2018-10-28%2B11.38.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o6JakLlQ2ew/W_VgrlIo-0I/AAAAAAAABDc/vZwOlcZo4Sw2T1bjI_vATolPnY9MR9DnACLcBGAs/s320/2018-10-28%2B11.38.14.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">My feet and gators at the end. Gators—another "must" for the desert.</td></tr>
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</div>
<b>
</b>Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-70130690526819162532017-10-16T07:29:00.002-07:002017-10-26T09:26:42.987-07:00Life is a Grindstone<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3VFYm66Gb0/WeTA5IKkJgI/AAAAAAAAA8c/iVpvhZTY_UMyBKmgohu2JZW8ndg7KapWQCLcBGAs/s1600/22221669_10214474665887408_8897032137878771038_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="598" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3VFYm66Gb0/WeTA5IKkJgI/AAAAAAAAA8c/iVpvhZTY_UMyBKmgohu2JZW8ndg7KapWQCLcBGAs/s1600/22221669_10214474665887408_8897032137878771038_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">A friend of mine sent me this message and image before this year's Grindstone100. <br />I'm still an imperfect diamond in the rough and may always be:<br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; letter-spacing: -0.11999999731779099px;"><i>Thinking of you Jill! Remember this quote and remember you're made from the toughest <br />and most badass stuff there is!! You got this!!</i></span></span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Disappointment is difficult.</b><br />
<br />
<b>It is disheartening to train so many hours and miles upon miles, pushing through early dark mornings before anyone else is awake, run strenuous hill repeats and stairs in the evening, climb the Jacob's Ladder a couple days of the week to 3,000 feet, and all part of working relentlessly for a solid goal to finish Grindstone100 during their warmest and most humid race event ever — and yet be so very far away from the goal.</b><br />
<br />
For many, it was possibly their near perfect race. For some of us ... not at all. I was in and out of sickness for 10 hours of the race and missed the hard cut-off by 20 minutes at <i>only 37 miles in and about 8,000 feet ascend</i>. Those numbers suck ass and could break me if all I take in account are those numbers. If I forget just what I was feeling and the hold that really had on me. If I forget the physical limitations that occurred.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FsRiZBcCa0Y/WeS2tMUH7wI/AAAAAAAAA70/u342v3JfueADIR47R2UZvfZ8MMG4H5c0QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="1600" height="135" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FsRiZBcCa0Y/WeS2tMUH7wI/AAAAAAAAA70/u342v3JfueADIR47R2UZvfZ8MMG4H5c0QCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_0143.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from parking area.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>The truth:</b> I was at a slow pace by the time I hit the cutoff and unable to run with gut cramps, and heaving every mile. It was ridiculous. What was wrong with my body?! My calorie intake was a total of 133 calories an hour by the end. I had fallen WAY behind because of the nausea and was gagging on Huma gels. Was this a real WALL I was hitting? Being that the Director announced Tailwind was on the course, I removed my spare bags from my pack so I could carry less. BAD CALL. Stupid, stupid, stupid...they were out of it when I arrive at the second aid station and in need of it. Judging from my pee color later, I was VERY dehydrated as well from sweating and breathing heavily.THIS NEVER HAPPENS TO ME.<br />
<br />
<b>The truth: </b>My breathing had been off for most of the time and it is something <i>I need to take more seriously</i>. My mind went back and forth in its own obstacle course of misery from… "What the hell is going on? I am so sick of being sick! Why the F do I want to do this?" To thoughts in the brief moments of non nausea of… "Hell yeah, I love trail, the woods, lots of rocks and climbs in the moonlight with flickers of headlamps moving ahead of me in the distance, with the sounds of animals in route and leaves snapping. Take in every ounce to enjoy this moment! Maybe I can still make cut-off! These aid station workers were right to put me back out there and I am grateful that they acted as my crew!"<br />
<br />
This year's Grindstone adventure was not the epic adventure I had looked forward to. On one hand it really, really sucked, and yet I had to make lemonade out of it and go for a hike later in the day and enjoy Virginia's mountains with my husband since I had dragged him out there. I didn't cry about the outcome. I was still stunned with the short jaunt through the woods — I mean highly technical rock hell hole that the first 22 miles is and the sluggish next 16 miles. This was my husband and mine first time away together since having kids 11 years ago. My day completely changed unexpectedly and it's something I tell my kids they have to adapt for. It's something that ultra delivers every time.<br />
<br />
I wonder how the man in the fetal position, sick on the side of the trail spent his day. Or, the other two guys who doubled back down the trail hurling felt about their race. I imagine, just as disappointed as me. Sometimes, there is no recovery and waiting it out doesn't work in your time frame.<br />
<br />
Ultra running is my hobby. Yes, this is what I do for fun. Participating is such an endurance demanding sport means not everyday is going to be in my favor, and it's going to be a commitment. It's going to be hard. And the lessons learned sometimes hit me over the head. I am in this for the long haul, not a one and done mindset in the least. I can't even imagine! But I am licking my mental wounds because they are there and real.<br />
<br />
So when I talked to my mountain, it replied back, "Not the way you want it today."<br />
<br />
When I do cross that line again, I am going to appreciate it so much more. I let myself mourn for one week in this disappointment of this race outcome, and today I hit the road again however it grinds me up. Breath in, breath out…with one foot in front of the other.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFuXDur7Zc8/WeSofcbWtzI/AAAAAAAAA7k/uoiaW0Nlhdku6ElsthbeAjIb0qXE_zXawCLcBGAs/s1600/2017-10-07%2B05.18.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFuXDur7Zc8/WeSofcbWtzI/AAAAAAAAA7k/uoiaW0Nlhdku6ElsthbeAjIb0qXE_zXawCLcBGAs/s640/2017-10-07%2B05.18.25.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Larger rock traversing that I actually enjoyed the most between mile 31 and 37. Grateful for this section.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s0ECNmLD9bk/WeS9DaECiUI/AAAAAAAAA8E/jD9SelTQMIcjkkHMXRzZ_aL9J1xPBvcpwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="1600" height="137" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s0ECNmLD9bk/WeS9DaECiUI/AAAAAAAAA8E/jD9SelTQMIcjkkHMXRzZ_aL9J1xPBvcpwCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_0185.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from road heading to Charlottesville on Sunday.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How symbolic: my cracked Grindstone cookie. </td></tr>
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<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-86864664337003067372017-06-20T12:33:00.001-07:002018-01-18T06:09:41.673-08:00Lighthouse100: I AM THE STORM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">From my BAMR (Bad Ass Mother Runner) friend, Freedom.</td></tr>
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<b>I am not sure anything could have prepared me more for running in the <a href="http://www.lighthouse100ultra.com/" target="_blank">Lighthouse100</a>.</b> Maybe if I was running in Florida or somewhere else hot that gets humid as well, I would have been a little more mentally equipped for the surprise heat wave we received in Northern Michigan June 10th and 11th. We originally expected high 60s to low 70s in the day, but it turned out that mother nature had another plan to make sure this race had extra challenges with temps reaching more than 90 degrees and 30-40 mph winds that just blew hot air around. Add on the fact that this course is mostly in full sun and on asphalt, and that heats up at least 120 degrees coming off the pavement, and you have the perfect condition for a DNF served sunny side up.<br />
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But what's really different when every ultra course I have been on asks the same question? "Do you have what it takes to get to the finish line? Can you adapt?"<br />
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Fortunately my run buddy and I had one mission—to finish this <i>Motha</i>. So when Dave Krupski, the race director, warned several times for runners to slow their role during the hottest part of the day (noon to 6p.m.), we knew we already had that speed down and would be doing what was necessary. <i>Finishing is winning </i>in ever sense of the saying when it comes to ultra, especially 1-0-0 miles.<br />
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The Lighthouse100 is a new Michigan race introduced for 2017. It is currently the second 100 mile course in the state—offering a 50 mile option as well. Basically in my backyard, I was ecstatic to see it pop up as I was considering going back to the Kettle Moraine with Evie around the same date. She would be attempting her first 100 miler. With a race this close we figured we could have it crewed or paced easily.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magnet for the crew to tag cars.</td></tr>
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Evie's sister, Sharon, flew in to crew as well as Krista who was with me at Grindstone and had met through Another Mother Runner at Ragnar D.C. We had our two ace crew captains taken care of. This race allows pacers to drop on at <i><span style="color: purple;"><b>any part of the course</b></span></i> which I hadn't encountered before. There was enough interest in participants to start dropping pacers on at mile 10 and having one to two pacers between the two of us the rest of the way — one long party train that's an all-nighter. Our plan was to stay together. We had found great active tanks by <a href="http://fellowflowers.com/" target="_blank">Fellow Flowers </a>with a strength driven poem line I had seen before and decided to call ourselves the <i>Storm Chasers. </i>Our crew would be following and meeting us every five miles. In essence, chasing the storm.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am the STORM: Sharon, Evie, myself and Krista.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave Krupski, race director, shows us the prized buckle pre-race. </td></tr>
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Although I have participated in other 100 mile races, they have always been on trail. This is not the mountain climbing, root and rocky obstacle course like GrindStone or Superior. It's only 3,241 feet ascending compared to 23,000 of a trail race like GrindStone. This opened a whole new world for me. The Lighthouse100 is a road race. Which means more pounding and faster expected times for finishing. This was <i>not </i>part of the appeal for me. A trail race has natural changes in pace and muscle usage from hiking up a hill, running down, running on flats, and maneuvering through areas that are just non-runnable with roots and rocks or on the side of a hill. In order to switch up our muscle use and give ourselves some rest early on, we decide to run it in intervals of 5/1—meaning five minutes of running and one minute of faster walking. We implemented this on our long runs about two and a half months out from the race.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Race Day: Let's get to it</span></h3>
I really can't say I was nervous or on edge about this race. I tried to soak it in the most I could and stay in the moment. After three non-finishes, my nerves don't get the best of me. I even slept pretty well at the <a href="http://petoskey-michigan-hotel.com/" target="_blank">Michigan Inn & Lodge</a> in Petoskey—great price, nice rooms and lots of extras. I think this place is under-rated. It's located about 5 miles from the start. The only downfall was the loud men who carried on a little late outside our room. They were definitely NOT running 100 miles the next day. Thank goodness I had ear plugs with me!<br />
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We started out the race by touching the Petoskey lighthouse, walked back to the start line and waited for the official countdown with 71 runners. Unlike trail races, people were running instead of walking over the start line. Evie and I had met another runner during our training 50 mile run on the Tart Trail in Traverse City. We ended up running with him during the race for about 45 miles. One of the reasons I love ultra races is because kindred spirits run them and conversations are easy between runners. There were no port-a-potties in this race, so we stopped in at a gas station and Flap Jack Shack (which was busy) during that first 20 miles. We kept our pace controlled, and Sharon stepped on the course at about mile 10. With so much talking I decided I needed to play some tunes to keep my own mouth from running and to slow my heart rate. It was going to be a long race and I didn't want to lose too much energy early on.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karen pacing.</td></tr>
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We picked up Karen at mile 20 and it was beginning to get hot with full sun and no shade cover. I had told our crew the day before that I didn't want to hear anything about the temperature. To me anything over 80 is hot, so lets not talk about the temperatures at all. I'll just convince myself the peak is 84 degrees. As much as I had wanted Karen at the end of this race because I know she can push me through rough miles to finish, it worked out well that she was there on some of the more difficult hot miles. We watched as two runners ran up the rolling heated asphalt hills right next to us as we hiked it, and had the same thoughts and mouthed the words, "What the heck?" Not only would I not run up a hill in an ultra race, but not in the heat unless it was a mad dash to the finish to make a cut-off.<br />
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Right on cue, our pace dropped around noon when the heat rose. In my mind, I just knew that some people would want to push too much being a road race and under estimating the humidity and the effects of how ling this journey would be. However, Evie and I knew that our slow run was going to be what ever it had to be to make it through. The heat was rising up from the pavement as well. I sensed the struggle in both Evie and our new running friend. I felt it too. It was now the heat talking for us and we had a little more walk. If we hit any shade at all our pace picked up for that pocket. Although it was windy throughout the race, it blew hot air around and was better than no wind at all. There were reports of 30-40 mph winds.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avocado love: <br />
I must have eaten three of these.</td></tr>
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I was experiencing some shin pain early on — something gifted to me from our asphalt 50 mile training run — and I asked Sharon to look up taping techniques and she tried taping me up when we saw her at the next 5 mile marker. The tape fell off almost immediately, and then again at the next 5 mile marker. The spot she had located was perfect, if only the tape would stay on. It was after the third time that we pulled out the duct-tape on course and wrapped it around my leg. That stuck! So when we pulled back in to the next station we added more which would last the entire journey —visually marking me as the girl with the pink duct-tape leg.<span style="text-align: center;"> </span>At about mile 45, our running friend picked up his pacer and went on, and we exchanged Karen for Sean, whom I knew in college. It's amazing the support we received when we just asked for it. We had put the word out on Facebook (FB) and had quite a few people willing to step in and pace. Torch Lake was a more pleasant run with some shade, lake views and beautiful homes. We caught up in conversation, and he even mentioned that this looked like a race that he might want to consider next year. As we approached the 50 mile aid station we saw a runner walking quite slowly and asked how he was. He said he was dropping. Evie yelled out, "Don't do it!" He indeed did drop though. And judging from the Ironman tattoo on his leg, he was a tough athlete. Bummer. I wish we could have pulled him along to go as far as he could until time ran out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eOtOeUUjy48/WUkd-iW7a7I/AAAAAAAAA3s/EACLzr8XVb0AxWAezgICxOhiji8QbRnDACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_8466%2Bsean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="450" height="259" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eOtOeUUjy48/WUkd-iW7a7I/AAAAAAAAA3s/EACLzr8XVb0AxWAezgICxOhiji8QbRnDACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_8466%2Bsean.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sean stepping on to pace at mile 45.</td></tr>
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At Mile 52 I aided a couple blisters, changed my socks and found that my other shoes would not go on my feet without pain. My feet had swollen too much. I changed my inserts from the other shoes and continued with the shoes that I had been running in. Evie was having some discomfort and retaining from possibly all the Tailwind we had been drinking. The assistant director, Ethan Olds, advised her to switch to water for a while, which worked out well for her. I switch to more water too as I was feeling it too. However, by mile 55 I was feeling a little nauseated. I started eating small Ginger Rescue tablets that I had on me. Here we go, again. The one mantra that had repeatedly crossed my mind in the past came back, "No Surrender."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">My beautiful friend right after she hit<br />
her top mileage at mile 52. Everything<br />
after this is gravy, right?</td></tr>
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Sharon pulled up to hand us our lights and vests since 9pm was approaching. She said there was a surprise waiting at mile 60 for me. With that, I became motivated to move a little faster. I knew my kids and husband must be there in Elk Rapids. I was so happy to see them as we came in and the spark and excitement in their eyes pumped me up. I gave them a stinky, sweaty hug. We had several new people there to greet us. as well Kendra had a pop-up tent waiting for us to change in. It was perfect! We exchanged our wet clothes for dry and headed out with Rachael after fueling again. I hugged my family goodbye until the last couple miles where they would be meeting me. My husband said to have a good night. That's right, time to get through the night.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To change our clothes: sweet pop-up tent via Kendra. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seeing my family at mile 60 and heading out again.<br />
They were beaming.</td></tr>
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As we headed off into the falling sun and darkness, the moon was large and orange. Racheal kept pointing out the qualities of the night, while Evie and I just couldn't cool down and kept moving.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to get moving and rip off these layers because <br />
we keep overheating within a few steps.</td></tr>
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Vehicles were moving particularly fast and roaring their engines with a couple going back and forth which was a little unnerving. We continually moved off the road and into the gravel. By mile 65, I was having stronger nausea. I kept eating Mamma Chia squeezes, raspberry HUMA gels, and avocado. Those things seemed to go down. We drank a <a href="https://www.advocare.com/130854423/Mobile/Store/ItemDetail.aspx?itemCode=A5091&id=E" target="_blank">SPARK</a> every 10 to 20 miles throughout the race for some added vitamins and caffeine. I never really did feel sleepy or tired. Evie told me to go on at some part of the race, and I barked back, "No."<br />
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Our next pacers, Kristi and Casey stepped on with lots of energy and conversation.They kept us on course and entertained in the dark quite well, and had checked out their route before hand. I think their section was a little harder to find the roads, but the course was marked with blinking blue lights to help guide us which was reassuring. By the time we arrived at mile 70, I had Krista join me a little early. I was still feeling ill and wanted her there, which proved to be a good call. I was feeling a little emotional, and she read me messages of encouragement from our BAMRs of our <a href="http://focuseddrive.blogspot.com/2013/12/ragnar-relay-badass-mother-runners.html" target="_blank">Another Mother Ragnar Relay Team</a> and <a href="http://focuseddrive.blogspot.com/2017/02/epic-grindstone100.html" target="_blank">GrindStone SKOCHF</a> (Special Kind of Crazy Hall of Fame) tribe.<br />
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Evie and I looked at each other in the light of the aid station car lights and I could tell that NEITHER of us was about to say anything about dropping. I just kept thinking, "Do not say it! Don't you say it." We kept getting up. <i><span style="color: purple;"><b>No Surrender. </b></span></i><br />
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I knew my feet were becoming liquid blister pads and my big toe was really going to be a sight by the time it was released from this shoe. I just couldn't do anything about it now. I couldn't allow myself to dwell, when everything else was functional ... besides my occasional dry heave on the side of the road. If you want it, you have to slam it down and claim it in pain and be undeniable. That is one thing I have learned from ultra. Faith means unwavering when wanting something this big.<br />
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This is about the same time that when we would sit at the aid station, we would get a chill, and then be sweating within 1/16 of a mile when we got back on the road/path. When we finally hit the Tart Trail in Traverse City it seemed really dark. We saw quite a bit of wildlife including a porcupine (which Krista jump a little on the Tart Trail but enjoyed), deer, fox and I don't know what else, since I had to turn on some tunes to stay motivated and just look ahead as Traverse City slept. Evie and I were running behind Krista and Annalise—who was switching on and off with Dani. Our pacers did an amazing job staying positive, aiding us at stations and even working on our knotted shoulders and necks which hurt in the early morning from carrying 2 liters the entire time. It became hard to determine what things hurt more, and again I didn't want to think about it. That's ultra.<br />
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As we headed closer to the last HARD cut-off on East Bay, I had a feeling of "almost there" with 20 miles to go. My nausea was lifting and the birds were chirping. We would be heading out on to the Bayshore Marathon route and it was a good familiarity. Again, there were no rest rooms and I walked an extra distance to the East Bay park facilities only to find them locked. Inside my mind I was actually on my knees shaking my fists at the sky. "For the love!" In reality. I walked back to the aid station to set out on the official course. My feet were barking.<br />
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Back on course, the sun came up along the beautiful drive of bay and homes. Mile 85 Evie began to slow and was becoming more tired. Her feet were hurting too of course. I don't think either of us were talking much so the pacers held the conversation. She said again to just go on. Sharon said, "You are going to finish. It's just a matter of when."<br />
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That word "when" played in my head. In the next couple miles I started to feel an urgency to see my family soon and my pace picked up a little. Kendra pulled up and let us know that it was about 3 miles to the 91 mile marker at the fire house. One of the Zwitty race workers pulled up and handed us water if we needed it. I felt a surge, and at the same time it was getting hot again. We were in full sun once more. It was the longest 4 miles of rolling road hills, and there is where I lost Evie a ways back with her pacer. The only thing I worried about was heat exhaustion. Actually being physically incapable of finishing. That would stink. The fact that I could think about it, meant that I was alright.<br />
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I reached the firehouse with a real restroom. Hallelujah! I then took care of my fueling, and my family pulled in to find me. Hell yeah, mile 91. Again, pure joy in their faces made me feel a little less of a mess, because this was really happening. I proceeded with my daughter for a little ways and then my son. Run/walk again. I wish I could freeze those movements of excitement on their faces. They were so joyful. By mile 90-something I just wanted it over. This was a feeling I expected would come. No DNF today. I thought about how pissed I would be at myself if I DNFed this race. The death of a dream. People DNF for personal reasons and acts of nature and it's alright. I've been there three times with always a tremendous obstacle. But sore feet and heat was not going to be mine. Slam my foot down again.<br />
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Going by some residential homes, an elder man hobbled out with some waters for Kendra and I. How very sweet. I would have hugged him if I didn't know I was a stinky disaster and he'd regret bringing that water. Other racers were heading home from the finish with their crews of decorated cars with numbers — honking, rolling down their windows to chat up some encouraging words and waving at us. I knew we were some of the last survivors. Finishing is winning in every sense when it comes to an ultra. It isn't a puffed up false to make one feel better. It isn't a participation trophy. It's grit and TRUTH. So no matter where we came in, I wanted to cross that finish line. I knew Evie wouldn't be stopping with me out there. Kendra's husband kept us informed about where we each were.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hm2Iye7qHik/WUkmL53dUMI/AAAAAAAAA4o/9PT1IFJgkm8ANke2KIgKpgaPhGqakgmgACEwYBhgL/s1600/19113835_10213326218576943_7367241365597834229_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hm2Iye7qHik/WUkmL53dUMI/AAAAAAAAA4o/9PT1IFJgkm8ANke2KIgKpgaPhGqakgmgACEwYBhgL/s200/19113835_10213326218576943_7367241365597834229_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dash to the finish with my girl.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Last mile:</span></b> Just where the heck is this finish line?? I could see the little group around a corner—my kids and husband. I switched to the other side of the road where there was some shade and they brought me in, while I kept telling my daughter to get out of the poison ivy. Yep, still a mom and how many times do I have to say it until she stops running in it? Three … three times is the magic number.<br />
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My husband and son ran ahead when we finally got close to the finish. I grabbed my daughter's hand and ran for it. Ethan Olds was waiting there with arms up and the clock was still going. 30 hours / 18 minutes. That is my "Hell yeah, Mother Fucker" moment that I couldn't say out loud because … children.<br />
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Evie came in at 30 hour / 53 minutes. We did it! Evie had told our new runner friend on that training 50 mile run last month when we met him, that he was looking at the last two finishers, and he laughed … we all did. But we were serious and I couldn't be more proud. My feet however, were destroyed with heat rash and blisters. There is no doubt in my mind that more people would have finished if not for the surprise record hottest day of the year.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The buckle award for 100 milers.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">The Stats:</span></b><br />
70 toed the line to start<br />
22 drops<br />
48 finishers<br />
70% overall finish (which is an outstanding percentage)<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Would I do it again?</span></b><br />
Absolutely! The Zwitty team puts on a great race and is very encouraging to see the participants finish. We saw Ethan Olds at several stations throughout the race and he was enthusiastic and helpful with advice. I had emailed Dave Krupski several times prior to the race and he replied within a couple hours and encouraged interaction. <i><b>This race is extremely accessible for crews and pacers—going through several small vacation towns.</b></i> Note: Next year they are reversing the course to end in Petoskey. That could feel all new again and does lend it's self for runners not from the area to quickly make their way to their hotel.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hell yeah! It's an <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> finish of Run or Die.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">With Krista my crew leader that had my back 100% for 100 miles. I am so grateful. <br />I think I am retaining 10 lbs in this photo of fluid. My hands were THICK with the rest of me!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: purple;">Some fun stuff:</span></h3>
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<tr><td><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TbRXt3m-KNk/WUkvOxJiZHI/AAAAAAAAA5k/eugRvVwYfzEQj6eWx2FyMjrcY2kBQcciwCLcBGAs/s1600/18952811_1535834796435890_7723192020678889266_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TbRXt3m-KNk/WUkvOxJiZHI/AAAAAAAAA5k/eugRvVwYfzEQj6eWx2FyMjrcY2kBQcciwCLcBGAs/s400/18952811_1535834796435890_7723192020678889266_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Crew vehicle with banner that followed us<br />
with our numbers (not shown here).</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EM6sRD1bBLk/WUlzBBio5rI/AAAAAAAAA6s/UijvagGPQ6ALWKOlLvfsLCDBWumq18CNQCEwYBhgL/s1600/hat%2B100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EM6sRD1bBLk/WUlzBBio5rI/AAAAAAAAA6s/UijvagGPQ6ALWKOlLvfsLCDBWumq18CNQCEwYBhgL/s200/hat%2B100.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Customized side of hats with<br />
the Lighthouse100</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_qU3mq_qSU/WUlx5LFavKI/AAAAAAAAA6c/t40-pfXzGpsQ4y8_wH2EqPFt_e2ZJPkwgCLcBGAs/s1600/run%2Bdorothy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="833" height="192" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_qU3mq_qSU/WUlx5LFavKI/AAAAAAAAA6c/t40-pfXzGpsQ4y8_wH2EqPFt_e2ZJPkwgCLcBGAs/s200/run%2Bdorothy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Front of our 4 hats with Dorothy running. <br />
She is an adventurer.</td></tr>
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-5173086043899887112017-02-26T13:27:00.000-08:002017-03-20T05:48:36.357-07:00EPIC Grindstone100 I can pop the "P" and click the "C" when I remember Grinstone100 and say, "EPIC!" This was the adventure that I stepped up for knowing that it would be one of, if not the toughest race I'd ever done and I hadn't made it thru a 100 miler yet. But when Aimee suggested we do this race a year ago and team with our Ragnar mother runners from 2013, I knew I had grab onto this one or I would deeply regret it.<br />
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Hurricane Mathew was on the east coast at the time with a prediction of continuous rain and possible storms in the forecast. </div>
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<b>Ultra rules apply: </b><i>We Go.</i></div>
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Grindstone100 is an out and back course in Swoope, Virginia. It has a 38 hour cut off to get through one of the toughest course in the U.S. It's a brutal 23,200ft gain and loss through boulders, rocks, forest trails, steep climbs, and was made particularly narly this year with nearly non-stop rain creating unavoidable extensive swampy areas of water running and slick, thick mud. As one of only 14 Hardrock qualifiers in the U.S., I expected no less. Although, I would have loved to have covered it without the rain and vision stealing fog. The scenic beauty was completely lost this year for me.</div>
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The race starts at 6 p.m. Friday night and ends Sunday morning. I expected a lot of darkness and this was the last thing on my mind when I was just trying to keep my eyes on the trail or trying to find the trail. Although marked well for clear night vision, we found ourselves yelling to other runners if they had seen a pink ribbon to assure we were all on the right trail.<br />
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My finish time was predicted to be 36 to just under 38 hours. I was not disillusioned to think that this course wouldn't be a kick in the teeth. I expected issues to arise. I expected to puke, hurt everywhere and question just why the hell I was doing this. Which is the worse mental fate that I didn't want to succumb to. I mentally kept prepping my mind, which will always be the deal breaker, with the "why" and reasons my body could keep going when I wanted to quit. I expected to want to quit and told two of my pacers that nothing but peeing blood should be an excuse. I wanted this one more than I have ever wanted to finish before <a href="http://focuseddrive.blogspot.com/2016/09/better-than-arrow-in-leg.html" target="_blank">arrow</a> — to be as strong as I could be. I trained particularly hard climbing Jacob's Ladder 3,000 feet twice a week in addition to my high mileage, hill repeats, and had tapered well — even if it was a forced taper by way of</div>
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I flew into the Shenandoah Airport to be as close as I could to the start line and rent a car. I was told it was a similar sized airport compared to Cherry Capital in Traverse City, Michigan. It was more like Traverse City 50 years ago! It's so small I walked right by the luggage claim and didn't know it and I was one 4 passengers on the plane — the only one with luggage. I don't like big cities so this made me more comfortable. I was thrilled to be here. When I stepped off the plane there were sunny skies and I could see the the rolling forest mountain sides around. I felt like I was home. Strange, since the last time I was in Virginia was for Another Mother Ragnar when I met the same women who would be crewing and pacing this dream of mine. And just like that, it felt like time stood still again. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabin entrance as I walked through the door.</td></tr>
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I picked up my rental car and headed to our group cabin and took a scenic drive of rolling hills, surrounded by ranches, cows and horses. My GPS was able to get me to the sweet cabin, however, once I was there, I could only get reception down the road at a convenience store. After a bad nights sleep alone in the cabin with a fire alarm chirping through the night, no hot water and a nightmare where I imagined a "being" holding my hand and sitting by my bedside I was ready to get the hell into the woods where I felt safer.<br />
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The next day I made sure everything was set to go — made a lot of bacon, prepped my avocados and filled my drop bags with HUMA, salty nuts, a few candy bars, (just in case I wanted something sweet) and loaded snack bags of things to help with nausea (because history is a bitch!). I had a bigger bag of clothing in ziplock bags for the crew to bring, which I wore everything and keeping them in plastic was worth the effort. The team ingeniously dried clothing inbetween aid stations which tells you just how great it is to have mother runners as your crew. They kept Aimee and I in motion and ALIVE. <i>We Go.</i><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QXpw2SXroR4/WGvye7j21fI/AAAAAAAAAuI/lnxy8_Xvod0VqK8mK5akv4b1EuIG_fHxACLcB/s1600/14453967_10210698348121824_1725883096_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QXpw2SXroR4/WGvye7j21fI/AAAAAAAAAuI/lnxy8_Xvod0VqK8mK5akv4b1EuIG_fHxACLcB/s200/14453967_10210698348121824_1725883096_o.jpg" width="200" /></a>We all met up — team <i><span style="color: purple;">Special Kind of Crazy </span></i>— at the Boy Scout Camp Shenandoah for the director debriefing, check-in, weight-in (let the body shaming begin! It's really a safety thing), bag drop-off and bib pick-up at about 1 p.m. the day of the race. This race has a free light lunch and the director gave an informative safety speech as well as giving away the most worthy loot I have seen at a race. I ended up with some new wool socks. People were ready to start and overall friendly. Seeing my crew finally after months of planning had come together. I felt calm and just ready.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QdzXFxyE_2o/WGvyQJsBFqI/AAAAAAAAAuE/dPqc6NoGzBcyuQTuEqp8cmOxAgEcnRGEwCLcB/s1600/14407955_10210698352681938_1235365079_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QdzXFxyE_2o/WGvyQJsBFqI/AAAAAAAAAuE/dPqc6NoGzBcyuQTuEqp8cmOxAgEcnRGEwCLcB/s320/14407955_10210698352681938_1235365079_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>Aimee and I had <a href="http://www.bocogear.com/" target="_blank">BOCO</a> relaxed trucker hats created for our team with the image of two moons and one sun which may forever be my favorite hat. This is truly a great company to work with and I LOVE the finished product. My daughter had to have one as well and and I saw her wearing it in her room before I left. I was so much on her mind that she told her class about my trip and she made me a card that they all signed. I get a little teary eyed remembering it.<br />
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I had done everything I felt I could in training and had the best possible team to back me up with each pacer on for different legs for specific reasons. I looked forward to seeing each of them at different parts of the race to give me mental strength and break up the race in segments. I had started these races before, and I knew how it felt to not finish (crushing) and to go through the physical pain that was coming (agony, misery and what I like to just call sufferage which isn't a word). There are always surprises and ultra is <b><span style="color: purple;">adaptation</span></b>. This team would help me adapt as they would too.<br />
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We headed back to the cabin for our own debriefing of what to expect and where we would see them throughout the race and gave final instructions. Their energy was was thick. I made it clear how badly I needed a "hell yeah" by finishing this. I thought of Catra Corbett—nothing short of pissing blood. As we piled into the vehicles I rode with my two pacers for mile 50 and 65. They were full of excitement which actually made me more calm and laugh with Freedom beating the steering wheel hollaring, "%#*#! You're going to do this! You are really about to do this!" Not something I would expect from her, but summed up this mission we were all on. WE were in this together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IuDNHX8-W7k/WGv682o-GII/AAAAAAAAAu4/5SYna5KLGpotcQHVS50pUL-0ETV9e2t9QCLcB/s1600/14502777_10157597181815387_4705242441094568708_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IuDNHX8-W7k/WGv682o-GII/AAAAAAAAAu4/5SYna5KLGpotcQHVS50pUL-0ETV9e2t9QCLcB/s640/14502777_10157597181815387_4705242441094568708_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The team before the race, minus Nicole. Forever my sole sisters. YOU all are the success of this adventure.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WDwHTWHVC7A/WGv7gjJXxmI/AAAAAAAAAu8/S3dKHDRYoGQQLnIZGvrG3IPM9Q_H9mVCACLcB/s640/14573005_10157597181685387_2619924073595157130_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two crazy ultra dreamers. Congratulations to Aimee for a Hardrock qualifier!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WDwHTWHVC7A/WGv7gjJXxmI/AAAAAAAAAu8/S3dKHDRYoGQQLnIZGvrG3IPM9Q_H9mVCACLcB/s1600/14573005_10157597181685387_2619924073595157130_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-58JDV0uxuBc/WGv3BIKpVGI/AAAAAAAAAuY/HL5P5uaF1fIbcrvFSM5rmIcluEncHnFTQCLcB/s1600/14939379_1807390819477295_3078689943755663735_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-58JDV0uxuBc/WGv3BIKpVGI/AAAAAAAAAuY/HL5P5uaF1fIbcrvFSM5rmIcluEncHnFTQCLcB/s400/14939379_1807390819477295_3078689943755663735_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing my <i>fiercely united</i> friendship <br />
flower from Gina in Wisconsin.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off we go in a sea of men.</td></tr>
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<b>And so it begins</b><br />
Aimee and I lined up towards the back of the pack and set off on our journey. Within the first half mile I already felt we were going too fast. And then, we came to a complete stop at the end of the first mile as one by one runners made their way through a narrow rocky creek. We waited there for at least 5 minutes, where I took my long sleeve shirt off from already overheating. A misty rain had started and fog was coming in. We could have really just walked there. After that first passage we entered the woods and with the overcast which made it feel in the day than it was. Aimee was going to hold back for the first half and push more the second. Partly to stay with me, and partly to have a reserve. But even with her holding back I knew she was a more technical, and a faster runner and that we would be separated early on.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tAaVgbwdO38/WLMgWW6mRgI/AAAAAAAAAyI/ONeXfUZMbK8Nrc_VRunc3rDYEqHoYDH_QCLcB/s1600/14884671_1807392466143797_6355875285958797565_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tAaVgbwdO38/WLMgWW6mRgI/AAAAAAAAAyI/ONeXfUZMbK8Nrc_VRunc3rDYEqHoYDH_QCLcB/s320/14884671_1807392466143797_6355875285958797565_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the woods within the first couple miles.</td></tr>
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Being use to climbing steeper hills in New Mexico on a regular basis, she could effortlessly climb and talk through the first several steep climbs that felt ridiculously endless to me. Most runners around us, including myself, felt like our hearts were trying to escape our bodies. I could tell by the hard breathing and a bit of groaning already going on. The climbs in Grindstone, are less up and down and more continuous. I just kept telling myself that if I could get to the top and recover that I am not exerting nearly the energy that I thought. The mind games worked and it was absolutely true.<br />
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There were a lot of people with poles right from the start. I asked one male runner while climbing next to him if they really helped. He replied that you have to practice with them. No time like the present for me, as I was picking mine up at mile 20. I had purchased <span style="color: purple;"><i>Black Diamond Z Poles</i></span> and had practiced one time after watching a video.<br />
<br />
Darkness set in completely and the fog was so thick that it was hard to see a few feet ahead in the haze. I lost Aimee once in the woods and called to her not even able to see headlamps. I completely lost her after mile 10. I couldn't see any headlamps and kept rolling my ankle on the side of the hills and unstable rocks along the trail. There was no one around me. It became hard to just make sure I was on the right trail. The pink ribbons that might have seemed well placed in a normal night were hard to find in the fog. From time to time runners would call out in the dark to anyone out there, and wanted to know if there had been a pink ribbon recently which lead to several pointless back tracking excursions throughout the night, and then turning around again.<br />
<br />
It was before mile 20 and I was thinking this combination of low visibility, constant unstableness on the ground, rocky creek balancing, ankle twists on the side of hills, and large wet rock scaling was going to get me into an accident and end this journey in the ER. My eyes were always on the trail, not that I hadn't expected this kind of focus on this course. For a fleeting few moments I thought about quitting. I really did! Then I thought of my daughter in that Grindstone100 hat. How proud she looked in her room wearing it before I left. I thought of her pride and how she deserved to be proud of me and deserved that I believe now. I didn't leave her for a few days to just quit. Her thought gave me an unexpected strength. I have never ran for anyone before but she was on the front of my mind like a shield. Just move forward until the end. Until, they throw my butt off this course…<i><span style="color: purple;">We go!</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing says "badass mother" like a very<br />
pregnant Joan with determination at mile 20<br />
in the rain, and in the middle of the night. <br />
She's tough and has crewed these ultras before. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plan: <br />
SPARK every 20 miles. <br />
2 at mile 80.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
Oh happy night</h4>
I came into the 20 mile aid station, and there was my wet crew full of positive vibes and Aimee was just leaving. I gave her a wave. Seeing her gave me some relief that I wasn't THAT far behind.They had the chair ready (which I have never sat down in a race before but I think it was a tremendous asset for a quick break off my feet throughout the race), handed me my salty nuts, Huma, fruit bar, half an avocado, warm chicken broth and refilled my bladder. Karyn and Joan gave me some encouragement with solid words. Boom! They were a slick pit crew already. Their energy was contagious. Krista had my <a href="https://www.advocare.com/130854423/Mobile/Store/ItemDetail.aspx?itemCode=A5091&id=E" target="_blank">SPARK</a> ready to chug. I had planned one every 20 miles until mile 80 where I would take two. It was the added caffeine that I needed and I felt my body could benefit from the Vitamins. As I sat in the chair a younger man was next to me telling his crew that he couldn't go on and couldn't stop feeling nauseate. He had tried ginger and tums and nothing had worked. Just then, he leaned over the chair and started hurling. Full out vomiting—manly sound effects and all! I was looking straight at Krista since we had had the conversation earlier that she couldn't handle puke —including the sound effect. She was focused sternly looking away. She made it! I felt grateful already not feeling that way myself.<br />
<br />
They handed me my poles and I headed out. I got less than a quarter mile back down the dark trail and CRASH! It happened. I slammed down to the ground and my poles were collapsed. I was on a pile of rocks. My knee stung with pain and I realized the poles were not locked. Foolish of me not to check them. Last time I slammed my knee like that, it was a giant hematoma which became known as <a href="http://focuseddrive.blogspot.com/2014/09/a-race-worth-trip-if-you-can-get-back-up.html" target="_blank">Sally</a>. I tried to push that idea and the stinging out go my mind. <i><span style="color: purple;">We go!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;"></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">
</span></i> Back up, I started working my poles. I heard these referred to as "cheater poles" at Superior. I quickly found out why. They corrected my balance immediately and gave more directed work to my upper body. They helped me work through the large slippery rock section in the next 15 miles much quicker than I otherwise would have, and I passed people without feeling like I was pushing it. A-MAZ-ING! (Spoiler alert: They also created 4 bloody blisters on my hands throughout the event. I don't think that's avoidable for me unless I wear gloves.) Even though it was raining I was still in short sleeves and comfortable working through this section. I had turned my tunes on and it was golden. Between Katy Perry's <i>Rise, </i>Sia's <i>Greatest </i>and a really catchy song from Jem and the Holograms (cue the "OMG that sounds so cheesy"),<i> </i>I felt like a force through that sea of rocks that just kept me climbing, balancing between them and careful placing my feet quickly and fluidly. I definitely was not running but gained some time here.<br />
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I passed one man who was frustrated that he was three hours behind where he was last year at this time because of the slippery wet rocks and conditions. I just hollered back that he wasn't making me feel better. Moving forward is all anyone can do and not think about time at all. Time will drown your mind. My HOKA Stinson 3 ATR shoes where doing a great job for the most part. But my feet were soaked and I could feel the blisters coming.<br />
<br />
I went through the next aid station where a couple male runners commented that my <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/womens-medieval-capris/" target="_blank">armor legs</a> were BADASS. I thought how I needed all the armor I could get here and that a warrior is what I needed to be — stronger in my mind than a wolf as a wolf might take cover and a warrior goes on. I normally would not have worn purple compression socks with these medieval capris, but I promised my daughter I would.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lQBssU0HSkE/WLNF6lzbKAI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/c-MDJTnr95kDxB7FidhmUIm0cnOCWnRkgCLcB/s1600/15355735_10211396801741435_397776987291985447_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lQBssU0HSkE/WLNF6lzbKAI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/c-MDJTnr95kDxB7FidhmUIm0cnOCWnRkgCLcB/s400/15355735_10211396801741435_397776987291985447_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karyn and Joan ready to keep us moving <br />
like a NASCAR pit crew.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan holds the umbrella for a brief dryness and <br />
I slipped on the Ultimate Direction Ultra Jacket <br />
that ultimately soaked me.<br />
"Waterproof" — my ass.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Further down the trail in more rocks, I met another runner who was attempting this race for the third time with no finish yet. He warned that the toughest part was actually after the 35 mile mark. It would be 4000 feet going up for 8 miles. He said to just get through that. I arrived at the next aid station to start that climb and the crew quickly had my dry socks ready, my pack on refill, SPARK ready to chug, and a warm broth in my hand. It would have been useless to pull out my one pair of dry shoes when I would just be soaked immediately again. I popped a blister that was expanding around my heel. Although I tried to apply duct tape and Trailtoes tape, nothing was sticking in this extreme wetness.The tape slide off. I changed my socks out for the brief dryness. Karyn, Susan, Joan, and Krista had it down to business and had me ready to roll again while Freedom rested up for the run at mile 50. I had my first real coldness coming on and Susan advised me to just get moving up that next climb with one long sleeve and my rain jacket and I would warm up quickly. Being a strong 100 mile veteran, she was right. I was quickly in a sweat in that long climb with switchbacks.<br />
<br />
I worked through the steepest and longest climb following a relentless runner up, up, up. He finally paused to catch his breath and I passed with my tunes pushing me. I kept thinking that I can recover at the top of the endless climb and that THIS was the worse part as that past Grindstone runner had told me. Just get through it. As I passed I heard him gasp "ha-mazzz-ing." Ha-mazing is what were all are on this day I thought.<br />
<br />
During the next stretch I became completely soaked through in the dark and very cold. My Ultimate Direction Jacket was a disaster. The material was clinging to my body and I began to worry about hypothermia and how cold I was becoming after the climb. I needed to get to my 99 cent kiddie poncho stashed in my 50 mile drop bag. The sun was coming up and the fog was less inhibiting. Some lead runners were on their way back already coming down the widened steep trail of slick, brownie-batter like mud. This was really going to be interesting being more of a back of the pack runner when I came back through after 400+ passes would have been already made.<br />
<br />
As I grew colder and colder, I thought of my next plan to beg for a garbage bag at the next aid station. Plastic! I need plastic now to hold in heat! The trail became what would have been more runable if it wasn't for the several inches of water and mud absolutely everywhere. There wasn't any going around this. Just through it in less water filled and slippery mud spots than others. I came upon the next aid station and saw people around the a bonfire. NOOOO!!! There was no way I was about to go near that fire and let it suck this race from me with it's warm alluring bullshit promise that staying there was okay. I quickly found the person in charge and was informed that they had no trash bags. I just looked in his eyes and slowly said, "I-am-sooo-cold." He asked if I had a crew waiting at mile 50. I said, "yes," and he went to a vehicle and gave me his wife's jacket and told me to just bring it back on my return. I thank him and said, "I will be back with my pacer, and since we are only saying good things, I won't tell her about the hell that awaits her." He saved my race in that moment of mercy.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Mile 50</h4>
Heading into the 50 mile aid station my tunes died and I began singing to myself. There is one turn-off before the 50 mile marker that the runner has to punch their bib before going to the aid station. As I turned off that road a few runners heading back out warned that the punch was missing and that we could skip that extra half mile up and down. I didn't see one person do that. Honesty lives amount runners. We were not there to win, but to do something 100% awesome. I pushed on and kept thinking… just get to my pacer. Get to Freedom.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at 50 miles coming into the aid station in the heavy rain.<br />
Check out those puddles getting hit! The color of the day is grey.</td></tr>
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When I arrived at the 50 mile aid station there was a little tarp covering a few seated runners and a man making silver dollar pancakes. The race wasn't weighing anyone since they had more urgent matters with runners coming in completely soaked and dropping from the race due to hypothermic concerns. My crew quickly grabbed my pack and started pulling out my dry clothes. I was so glad that I sealed them in plastic after the tarp gave way and poured rain right into my bag. One of the aid station workers was telling me to just change around the corner from the pancake man and promised none of the men 1-3 feet away would look. Ummmm no, I just couldn't completely undress and redress like that. I hadn't lost my mind yet. Freedom and I went a little further off into the woods where I found a perfect tree canopy without pouring rain. People were in vehicles all around probably debating if they should continue. It would be all over for me if I did anything like sit is a warm car. I imagine that is was all over for their runner as well. I changed clothes, the team worked on warming me up, refueling my pack, taking my units that needed recharging, and handing me food to scarf down. Susan kept slapping those little pancakes in my hand and I kept eating without thinking. I worked on my badly blistered feet and changed my socks again. They hurt — alot. "It won't hurt anymore than it does now," she said. And with that thought, it made it easier to except and just keep repeating down the line.<br />
<br />
As people entered the aid station looking extremely cold, I heard runners dropping from the race. A man sat next to me telling his fellow runners that he was out without any dry clothes to carry on. I was so very lucky to have this team with me. They made my race continue with their support, navigation, and relentless positive spirit. Although I spent too much time at this aid station and needed it — at least an hour — I had no intention of dropping.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fGAa5R7J09E/WLM8Za2IYlI/AAAAAAAAAzU/BOiC-q-NfGkg5IiiyZNwo7or7Hqa8mORQCLcB/s1600/14671192_10210889629703744_6852215006429092079_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fGAa5R7J09E/WLM8Za2IYlI/AAAAAAAAAzU/BOiC-q-NfGkg5IiiyZNwo7or7Hqa8mORQCLcB/s320/14671192_10210889629703744_6852215006429092079_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aimee, slick mud trekking.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Freedom was my first pacer on and I was ready for some companionship! sShe slipped on the jacket I needed to return and I put on the kiddie poncho. A 99 cent life saver! We were off. I felt blessed to have her there sharing those 15 miles. Her genuine enthusiasm and encouragement is contagious and she fed my soul and kept my mind off the blisters that felt like my toenails were coming off at times. It won't hurt any worse but it will keep surging. We chatted going up the first long climb, and we were so into our conversation I didn't notice we went that extra half mile up the hill to that punch station which we weren't suppose to do on the way back. Shit happens and I don't waste time asking why. It was funny at the time because whats another half mile in a 100 mile course? She felt BAD, but honestly, I couldn't be upset. We turned around and hustled back on track. We came into the aid station where I borrowed the jacket, and a party was going on. I could feel the heat from that fire pushing towards us. There was now beer on the table and the workers hustled to cut us some oranges. It was rumored that this party started with shots in the a.m. I thanked the man for helping me and we pressed on scared that the sweepers may be coming soon. In fact they were! We had just gotten down the slickest, thickest muddies section when we heard a woman ask if were on a hike (REALLY?!) and tell us that she was a sweeper. With that, we took off running without turning around. We ran away from them like children playing Ghost in the Graveyard, passing any other runner we came upon telling them the sweepers were coming. We made it in the next aid station with a 40 minute window.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QJGNwfi9BbY/WLMY9NefthI/AAAAAAAAAxg/Uukek3uTuR0CbcML7wi3VjOrqLNfzW2tQCLcB/s1600/14516531_10157597182205387_1790647554642265384_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QJGNwfi9BbY/WLMY9NefthI/AAAAAAAAAxg/Uukek3uTuR0CbcML7wi3VjOrqLNfzW2tQCLcB/s640/14516531_10157597182205387_1790647554642265384_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The crew preparing at the cabin during the middle <br />of the night to keep both Aimee and I going.</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pmAiE1oYeGw/WLMgJoO5u6I/AAAAAAAAAyE/QaquhT9a1aQjqb8WAYCXlgMp7dr_i2VowCLcB/s1600/14716247_10211698779693306_3418315139842810481_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pmAiE1oYeGw/WLMgJoO5u6I/AAAAAAAAAyE/QaquhT9a1aQjqb8WAYCXlgMp7dr_i2VowCLcB/s200/14716247_10211698779693306_3418315139842810481_n.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Krista was very excited <br />
to try out her new poles on <br />
15 miles of rocky trail.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9BcIH4EeMwM/WLMgiU4EfUI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/T5MBA-rdCyogKy-qvGoyHbIS6_es2BR1gCLcB/s1600/14650123_10210889613623342_3354327704731794107_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9BcIH4EeMwM/WLMgiU4EfUI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/T5MBA-rdCyogKy-qvGoyHbIS6_es2BR1gCLcB/s320/14650123_10210889613623342_3354327704731794107_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>A serious gentleman told us I had 40 minutes to get out of there. His demeanor was enough to make me want to leave in a hurry — no fun. In a frenzy, socks and shoes flying, food was eaten, SPARK was chugged, and headlamps went on! Krista and I headed off into the rockiest climbing section. I was the last runner on that course to continue. The next section of sweepers rode our tails with their headlamps. It didn't matter how fast we went or how much time we had left, they hugged close to us as if to say, "just get going already." I was at a point from so much climbing and working on the trail that I couldn't have long conversations. On a trail like this, my eyes were constantly busy. There were times I couldn't see the trail thru the rocks and I just needed to focus on where I was going and where my feet needed to be. Krista tried talking to the sweepers, but they had no words to exchange. It was very odd. I felt like they were wrecking my experience by being tailgate, spotlight sweepers, but tried to push that out of my head to enjoy why I was here.<br />
<br />
We entered the next aid station where the sweepers were replaced — thank God! This time they were very friendly, chatty and would fall back time to time — not to ride us with their headlamps. Although the comments of, "you have such a long way to go," and "a marathon is so far" could have been kept to themselves. They were intruding into my segment strategy. That is not how I run ultra.<br />
<br />
We made it to Lookout Mountain aid station where the volunteers were trying desperately to get us to try their Ritz Crackers with honey so they could ring a bell, and some sort of Nutella, marshmallow, quesadilla a volunteer said he saved for me as the last runner. The vision of that slumber party concoction shoved in my face in the dark of night is sweet and laughable. But I just couldn't eat or tolerate anything sweet. Krista pressed me to eat some nuts and a HUMA gel, which I managed to get down. We were off again and were told we had time. Famous last words … you have time, you have time, you have time …<br />
<br />
The next section seemed really long. Krista took the lead, and when a heavy animal scurried down a tree right next to the trail, she jumped in the air while screaming and hid behind me. It was hilarious!! I may laugh at this one forever. After 75 miles on this trail, I was the main defense against the wild kingdom. I thought it was just a raccoon as we stood there and I wasn't about to turn back now, nor could I. We went on after the sweepers hollered through the trail ahead of us yelling for bears. Their talk of bear sightings wasn't real comforting for Krista. To her credit, she is brave in other ways like touring D.C. alone, which sounds frightening to me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RVR0pU9R3zI/WLM-vcB3b-I/AAAAAAAAAz0/CfxSurkI2PgEX4rwbNKX8SeELRriqz1PACLcB/s1600/14650513_996065003835654_7348155500061870771_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RVR0pU9R3zI/WLM-vcB3b-I/AAAAAAAAAz0/CfxSurkI2PgEX4rwbNKX8SeELRriqz1PACLcB/s320/14650513_996065003835654_7348155500061870771_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I believe these are the unclaimed bags at mile 80 of <br />
everyone behind me. This race is tough.<br />
I was spoiled to have the team I did.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-10Qf5OIjJEE/WLMY97q3LpI/AAAAAAAAAxo/i18FrouBg5IwRdOB3E51sC7mV7UKky2xgCLcB/s1600/14642434_996064990502322_329614555204084672_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-10Qf5OIjJEE/WLMY97q3LpI/AAAAAAAAAxo/i18FrouBg5IwRdOB3E51sC7mV7UKky2xgCLcB/s320/14642434_996064990502322_329614555204084672_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the end of 80+ miles with pacers Krista and Freedom <br />
just before they put what seemed like the warmest <br />
blanket ever on me in the car. </td></tr>
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When we thought we were about to mile 80 and near the next aid station, Krista asked the sweepers to radio in to Nicole who would be my next pacer. I roomed with Nicole at Ragnar and and I knew I would need her to coach me in after mile 80 which would be some tough miles. It seemed like a perfect plan to me. We heard the sweepers tell them that we were<i> two miles out</i>! There was no way we could make it in to the aid station in the time we had left with two miles to go. And all at once it felt like we were dead-pooled in this course's last laugh. My headlamp went very dim, and Krista tried to replace the battery. It didn't work, and then her's went to very dim. I had a tiny extra flashlight, but with the fog (yes, a second night of fog) the flashlight was barely useful. I could feel my hope just fall and my knee that I had banged earlier at mile 20 wasn't bending well anymore after standing there a bit. Coldness was slipping in again. I felt a little dizzy when I looked to the side of the trail. No doubt, part of fatigue. We shuffled along and arrived with disappointment in our hearts to mile 80 where the rest of the crew was waiting. I was disappointed that I didn't get to finish with my last 2 pacers. Yet, the spirit, toughness and relentless journey of this race with <b><i><span style="color: purple;">these</span></i></b> women was enough to give me a <i><span style="color: purple;">Hell yeah! 80+ miles MF! This is <b>EPIC</b>!</span></i> feeling. I will pop the <b>P</b> and <b>C</b> every time .<br />
<br />
<br />
Nicole helped me shuffle to the car and I was thankful she didn't project on me any feeling of deep remorse for coming and assisted me with my broken down body at the cabin. Darn time limit!<br />
<br />
<b>30% rule.</b> I had 30% more to give and that would have finished this thing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xkH4gvS5ZcE/WLMY9SRcHFI/AAAAAAAAAxk/ju1d72UFo5Yt9Cyo3Ot_fHxlKZcjacnOACLcB/s1600/14523095_10154160192544086_7699581898923236351_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xkH4gvS5ZcE/WLMY9SRcHFI/AAAAAAAAAxk/ju1d72UFo5Yt9Cyo3Ot_fHxlKZcjacnOACLcB/s320/14523095_10154160192544086_7699581898923236351_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laura with just a "few things" from home for the trip. <br />
Obviously, one of the reasons I wanted her to bring me in <br />
on those last 5 miles. She creates big bursts of laughter and knows <br />
how to drop the mic. She also moonlit as a pacer for 15 miles earlier for Aimee.</td></tr>
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<b>I covered 18,500 feet gain and loss in 30 hours, in which it rained for 27. Two nights and one day, going the furthest that I have ever gone. I didn't get nauseated for the first time! I had no less than 11 blisters. Toenail? Who needs them? I lost 6. </b><b>I immediately wanted </b><b>to do it all over again. Instead of killing some of my ultra soul, this experience fed the fire.</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cOM-27nUng8/WLNDBKALVxI/AAAAAAAAA0E/dhl_AZEQiEU3OYoxhPYxwUwaLCT0nq-IgCLcB/s1600/the%2Bdamage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cOM-27nUng8/WLNDBKALVxI/AAAAAAAAA0E/dhl_AZEQiEU3OYoxhPYxwUwaLCT0nq-IgCLcB/s640/the%2Bdamage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-family: 'Minion Pro'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
The Damage L to R: My heel blister that started early and wrapped around my foot; </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Minion Pro'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
5 blisters on the bottom of one foot.The tops are too disgusting to show;</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Minion Pro'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
Suzy, Sally's little sister.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qLUBaappBR4/WLMJBXUqOoI/AAAAAAAAAxE/hhgKftMrFnQ-L74Dfbjjv78KnTFWXGahwCLcB/s1600/14479807_10157597182615387_6975921814747548659_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qLUBaappBR4/WLMJBXUqOoI/AAAAAAAAAxE/hhgKftMrFnQ-L74Dfbjjv78KnTFWXGahwCLcB/s640/14479807_10157597182615387_6975921814747548659_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end of this journey with some truly tough mothers.Thank you for being my rock in a mud-slide.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WVaTVHYbcP4/WLM7WqFwuRI/AAAAAAAAAzI/9IEJXX4KCw8trf_SIHjnr1JZo4AYqlY-QCLcB/s1600/14657345_10157597182460387_1185798618530033367_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WVaTVHYbcP4/WLM7WqFwuRI/AAAAAAAAAzI/9IEJXX4KCw8trf_SIHjnr1JZo4AYqlY-QCLcB/s640/14657345_10157597182460387_1185798618530033367_n.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't get to hug the pole at the finish. <br />
But Aimee did in case you want to know what<br />
that looks like. WELL DONE BAMR, WELL DONE!</td></tr>
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-38696667779828044602016-11-29T12:32:00.002-08:002017-08-12T08:52:23.126-07:00North County Run 2016: The Prelude to an Epic Adventure<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xWcfHC2cwdw/WD3htSxdiGI/AAAAAAAAAtA/3ENFnw7j0jYU1LtgeTNlbKzXihpA0qhOACEw/s1600/IMG_6131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xWcfHC2cwdw/WD3htSxdiGI/AAAAAAAAAtA/3ENFnw7j0jYU1LtgeTNlbKzXihpA0qhOACEw/s320/IMG_6131.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still the biggest medal in all the land. It finally stopped raining <br />
and here I am smiling through the pain and shivering.</td></tr>
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<b>There is a time for everything and sometimes everything needs to happen simultaneously. </b><br />
<b>The North Country 50 mile Trail Run 2016 was my time to prepare, suffer and dig deep. Practice for the big game. It left me cautious for what was coming next. This is the short tale of North Country 2016.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
This race was one of the toughest, darkest races for me including asthma, pain, and torrential rains that produced grey screens like wax paper inhibiting my vision and washing out the trails. At one point I was yelling, "This it Ultra!" through the woods. I ran through flowing creek-like paths hiding the roots and rocks beneath. There was no other way but to run through it. Sounds extremely safe, right? Aid station #5 was referred to as Lake #5 on the second loop. It was a mess, and I kept imagining the fall I might take with my face submerged in water and mud.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HMZZaqm9tG0/WD3aHy2DHuI/AAAAAAAAAsk/W2_p0BE19iwlVaafdSL3xlYFvsVRRYWGQCLcB/s1600/14067629_10208959718462291_3579574817704921786_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HMZZaqm9tG0/WD3aHy2DHuI/AAAAAAAAAsk/W2_p0BE19iwlVaafdSL3xlYFvsVRRYWGQCLcB/s400/14067629_10208959718462291_3579574817704921786_n-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aid Station #5 referred to as Lake #5. When I stood in front of this table <br />
to get something to eat, I was up to my ankles in water, and another runner <br />
thought I should step out of his way as if I was in a shallow spot. I think <br />
I replied something like, "We are all in the same lake."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The race started with a delay due to thunder and lightening which protocol is that the start time shifts<br />
30-minutes after each lightening sighting or strike in the sky. But once the race starts, you are on your own. I suffered an unusually bad breathing issue within the first 14 miles which I felt miserable and unable to catch my breath efficiently. I worked my lungs so hard that they hurt for a week after. I felt like I attempted 100 miles! My doctor then prescribed Singular which helps block allergens from the lungs and I have been on it ever since. So far so good. Whew!<br />
<br />
I would have dropped this race like many did after the first 25 miles if not for a few things:<b> <span style="color: purple;">1)</span></b><span style="color: purple;"> </span>I didn't want to be quitter. It pissed me off thinking of that word, <b><span style="color: purple;">2)</span></b> I needed that damn thing to qualify for Grindstone100. My last true 50 was just over the 2 year span requirement and<b> <span style="color: purple;">3) </span></b>Evie caught me at mile 25 changing my sobbing shoes for 10 miles of dryness. I kept telling her she saved my ass. I just followed her feet with my asthma thick lungs for the next 25 miles while trying to assist another runner with his upset stomach and misery. Ginger? Pepto? Tums?<br />
<br />
I finally hit a DEEP mental dark spot with 8 miles to go and walked away from the Lake #5 Aid Station for a moment alone. There was a pain cave in my chest and mind and I had enough of being soaked. It was just about then that our male runner mate we had picked up (guy with stomach issues) started talking in detail about his diareah from the pre-race dinner the night before. And on cue, I forgot about my mental misery and will never think about cream sauce the same way again.<br />
<br />
I doubted if I even belonged in GrindStone100 for most of the race due to the breathing issue that I just couldn't figure out, and an IT band strain that was creeping in by mile 20. I tried to stop thinking about it, but I couldn't. I kept pushing with the thought that there is nothing I can do about Grindstone, but I can do something about this race in the now. It was during this race that I found my mantra: "We Go."<br />
<br />
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">In a storm, with breathing issues, in mental darkness, through creek trails, with IT band pain for 25 miles, with a guy talking about diareah... "We Go"</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
We finished with hardly anybody waiting out this full day of storms at the finish line. It finally had stopped raining! I had placed 4th in my age bracket (at least 5 had dropped behind me due to the stormy day) and I received a small award while lying on a table getting stretched out by the physical therapist. When he was done, my IT band felt new and better than the other leg! Where does this man work?!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evie looking at the little boy right next to me blowing the airhorn. <br />
The rain stopped but not the torture.</td></tr>
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Evie and I grabbed a beer and some food and shivered over to a picnic table to eat and cheer for any runner who may be coming through. If they were out there as long as we were, they darn right deserve some cheers!!! Unfortunately, some little boy went rogue and had an airhorn he kept firing off near us and what ever parental units he had, weren't claiming him. That sucked. We didn't stay too long and shivered on back to our car shortly after our ears couldn't take anymore.<br />
<br />
I continued to ponder, "What the hell and I thinking going to Grindstone100?" This was one crazy 50mile training run.<br />
<b>How does this race apply to GrindStone100?</b><br />
Because this race was the prelude for what was coming. It scared the hell out of me with doubts and physical challenges. I am grateful that it did. And I was even more grateful that day to chase Evie's feet through flowing water to get the hell out of there before dark.<br />
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-75422193029900524252016-09-21T07:07:00.002-07:002016-09-23T10:26:18.297-07:00Spirit Arrow?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Spiritual energy </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">formed into the shape of an </span><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">arrow</span><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">that is capable of injuring and/or killing spiritual beings.</span></h4>
<b><br /></b>
<b>I am three weeks out from Grindstone 100, and if I haven't doubted myself enough I had a freak accident three days ago. </b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was on my last double day of 20 miles with my run buddy, Evie, and jumped into the roadside woods for a pee break at mile 10. It happens, and what are you going to do about it? I heard a car drive up and Evie was talking friendily to whoever. I was waiting for the car to leave and couldn't tell who it was, and decide to just move on with it and come out. She was talking to a Law Officer! That's right I walked out and was greeted by sheriff deputy, who gave me a loud speaker greeting with Evie chuckling.</div>
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<div>
I was about 5 feet from the road, walking through the tall weeds and grass—when I felt it. A sharp stabbing pain in the front inside of my shin and my leg got a little stuck. I saw a sage green color of a tube and thought I stupidly hit on some sort of wire. I looked down again and saw some blood. By the time I reached the vehicle and said hello I could feel more stinging and pain and when I looked down I saw a longer and deeper cut than what I had thought was there. More blood was coming out now and I knew I needed stitches. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I hobble over to the gravel side of the road dialing my husband with one hand and covering my leg with the over. He was on his way and the officer got out his medical kit, offered me a seat in the back of his car, and taped and bandaged me while I waited for my husband. Evie blotted blood from my shoes which I now refer to as "my bloody shoes. Oh bloody hell!" The officer and her assured me that this was nothing. It would be 5 stitches and a ugly scar.</div>
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<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8CEls-3yOTo/V-KRlYAjHxI/AAAAAAAAAsA/qfIqs7z8XJ0Q6mA6EeuFNsYiOtjSPemMwCLcB/s1600/14330041_10210668476335048_8647925411888786998_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8CEls-3yOTo/V-KRlYAjHxI/AAAAAAAAAsA/qfIqs7z8XJ0Q6mA6EeuFNsYiOtjSPemMwCLcB/s640/14330041_10210668476335048_8647925411888786998_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The weapon of mass destruction's tip size <br />
in relation to my thumb. It's a full arrow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The officer then went looking for the weapon of mass destruction and I stood up pointing and hobbling to where I came through and we were just about on it when we found it...an arrow with a rusty tip meant to tear through an animal was sticking straight up pointing to the sky with its sage green shaft pushed into the ground. He stated that there was no way I could have ever seen that. That made me feel a little less stupid. He said that he had never seen a single arrow left like that before. That makes two if us!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On the plus side that I am really reaching for now,</div>
<div>
I had a great ER doctor that stitched my leg with 5 stitches on top—spread for drainage—with two more layers of stitching below. This wound was deep and I probably got lucky I was told, as it could have cut through my calf if the arrow was more slanted. The doctor was also a trail runner and he understood what I needed and said although he would tell me to rest it, he knew I would push it. Yup, I had the right doctor for the job. I was in and out of the ER in less than 2 hours. That's amazing! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ok_22138pCc/V-KRl-t9T7I/AAAAAAAAAsE/9gS8KgbOCZ8BwvfLEraRv_iAuNkQjgXJgCLcB/s1600/14355080_10210667103060717_684005225849892314_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ok_22138pCc/V-KRl-t9T7I/AAAAAAAAAsE/9gS8KgbOCZ8BwvfLEraRv_iAuNkQjgXJgCLcB/s200/14355080_10210667103060717_684005225849892314_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>I am currently recovering wearing a compression sock over my bandage. I haven't run in three days. This is truly a forced taper like I have NEVER done. And that means yes, I am still in for Grindstone 100. The other BAMR running Grindstone 100 reeled me in yesterday the we were discussing the last long runs and that the 20 miler I had on schedule would be extremely high and wear any runner out too much before a race. So the joke is, maybe that is what I have been doing wrong!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am sore. I am hobbling around right now, but I have to have faith that not even a <i>Spirit Arrow </i>is going to take me down. I wouldn't be that "Special Kind of Crazy Hall of Fame" BAMR if I flaked out now after every other sacrifice I have made. Just like when I run repeats, it's time to recover on the downhill…recover, recover, recover…</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2g7vibk5sxw/V-KRjRe2nyI/AAAAAAAAAr8/hrustO1ef9wMLCYHna97QSnZOG_C8t02QCEw/s1600/14316708_10210612408733393_6517918942684128162_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2g7vibk5sxw/V-KRjRe2nyI/AAAAAAAAAr8/hrustO1ef9wMLCYHna97QSnZOG_C8t02QCEw/s640/14316708_10210612408733393_6517918942684128162_n.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-11098379824174665862016-07-05T12:31:00.001-07:002016-07-07T08:28:59.584-07:00Kettle Moraine, WI: Oh My QUAD!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EUaJuGOoAqU/V3wFPLBmgSI/AAAAAAAAArg/-jGR9X-a-l0BbyR-sR75KkE0gZD2QF1xgCLcB/s1600/6733-heathered_gray_nl-z1-t-oh-my-quad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EUaJuGOoAqU/V3wFPLBmgSI/AAAAAAAAArg/-jGR9X-a-l0BbyR-sR75KkE0gZD2QF1xgCLcB/s320/6733-heathered_gray_nl-z1-t-oh-my-quad.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shirt I really should own!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I can't help but to feel disappointed at making it 77 miles and dropping due to the time cut-off to the next aid station and back and some blown out quads. And at the same time, I know when I am beat, and I have a new sense of what matters to me in these challenges. There will always be that unknowing sense of where I will end up and what will happen on the course. That's part of the appeal in the adventure for me and I think most ultra runners as well. I am <b><i><span style="color: purple;">not</span></i></b> in it to win it. Amazingly enough, that has never happened. I am in it to do the best I can with what is dealt and it's going to be a ROUGH challenge. I expect it.<br />
<br />
By mile 77, my quads were shot and there was no way I could make the splits happen without out-of-control descending down rocks. Every step down screamed and I was taking the downward slopes and rocky steps straight legged at this point. I still had the power climbing ability—probably thanks to the Jacob's Ladder training. But the stepping down reached beyond my pain threshold and continuing on and trying to catch myself through the rockiest part would have become dangerous and like having no brakes in a getaway car. I just want to remind myself of the reality of that as I write this. The "in hindsight" we do after a race plays tricks and amnesia alters the severity of what was reality in these experiences.<br />
<br />
Although Evie, my BFF pacer, didn't want me to know the cut-offs and still go thru the next section regardless, my other pacer, Gina, pointed out that I couldn't even bend my legs which became extremely laughable in my mind. Literally running down hill and rocks with pencil legs. I knew that the crazy needed to be pushed no further. One hematoma with a longer recovery has been enough for this runner's life time. And the thought of crashing down? I think I might have fainted from the pain that could have caused, because these brakes called "quad"s were completely stripped, close to none existent—GONE.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4mJc7tiO-m8/V3v5lvC8dhI/AAAAAAAAAq8/aza9MLRLc4QWZyRRPT1FPotUayyF1kOBACKgB/s1600/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="329" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4mJc7tiO-m8/V3v5lvC8dhI/AAAAAAAAAq8/aza9MLRLc4QWZyRRPT1FPotUayyF1kOBACKgB/s640/sunset.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from our cabin the night before and me making avocado sandwiches the morning of the race.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h4>
<b><span style="color: purple;">THE START and the Nitty Gritty</span></b></h4>
The day started off with me very calm. There was nothing else I could have done in that moment and maybe being my second 100 miler, I have already learned to just chill. We woke up in the smelly mothball cottage (the smell was enough to make me run to the start line!) on a near by lake that was just 8 minutes from the start. The closeness and lake view was the best part. I booked it on <a href="https://www.vrbo.com/?k_clickid=daf6fe61-49ca-4a5f-9e06-8269154ea2ab&ksid=daf6fe61-49ca-4a5f-9e06-8269154ea2ab&ksprof_id=213&ksaffcode=749141&ksdevice=c&gclid=CIG5j8vQ4c0CFQqKaQodf_kG6w" target="_blank">VRBO</a> which actually was everything I expected besides the surprise disclaimer when we got there of, "Don't take long showers" or flush the toilet often. I believe the manager's exact words were, "If it's yellow let it mellow. If It's brown, flush it down." Uuuu, yuck.<br />
<br />
Upon awakening, I made avocado sandwiches with low glycemic bread while Evie made the grilled cheese sandwiches. The final items were packed in my over stuffed packs with pickle juice, date samoa balls, GUs, VESPA, coconut water, Tailwind, coconut coffee shots, Starbuck protein coffees, ginger candle, Pepto tabs, vinegar and salt chips, chocolate, socks, clothing, bandages and a couple safety pins—prepare for everything and anything. That is ultra. My crew, of Evie and my husband, were meeting me about every other aid station where they were permitted and assisting me with my bags. I was welcoming the help this time. It's a hard lesson to learn.<br />
<br />
The night before we tried to pick up my bib and I was told we were 2 minutes too late even though our phones said it wasn't 7:00. Apparently there is a strict cut-off for obtaining a bib and it's at the discretion of one person's watch. It didn't feel very welcoming at all. But trying to stay positive we tucked out tail between out legs and moved on down the road.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uuxhl5WMpck/V3v5v79sZ3I/AAAAAAAAArQ/fnFSpvTPdsQJFF_sluCRJLphQaZ9T6qegCKgB/s1600/wis%2Bcollection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="365" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uuxhl5WMpck/V3v5v79sZ3I/AAAAAAAAArQ/fnFSpvTPdsQJFF_sluCRJLphQaZ9T6qegCKgB/s640/wis%2Bcollection.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Left to Right:</i> <br />
<b>Bib pick up: </b>Picking up my bib the morning of the race since I was told I couldn't pick it up 2 minutes after 7:00 pm the night before. Our phones showed it wasn't 7:00 yet but apparently packet pick up is on race time to who ever works the station. These cut-offs are serious! Don't mess with them!<br />
<b>Bag drop: </b>My husband and pacer Evie at the start. These bags are over the bag drop size described in the manual. Note for next time to ignore stated size in manual.<br />
<b>First 10k into the race:</b> a happy moment eating oranges and fueling.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Insert Mantra: First 50 miles, do no harm</span></i><br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
They sent us off in a mob of 100k and 100m runners down a wide two-track surrounded by some of the tallest and greenest trees I had been by. I felt a little like a hobbit. I didn't know who was in the 100m vs 100k without asking. I started out easy—real easy. While other people raced down the hills, I pulled back. About 20+ miles in, right before entering the meadows another runner was feeling sick, so I gave him my Pepto. I was feeling great. I was sorry it was covered in GU gel, but individually wrapped and safe. ICK!<br />
<br />
I enjoyed the conversations about running with several runners. It's always a running interview. Come to find out, Pat and I had the same training plan from <i>Relentless Forward Progress</i>. He is in his 50s and has completed a few 100s. I felt like we were paced well, but after mile 31 things became more challenging and I got a little nauseated in the woods. I lost him and Steve. Pat was obviously stronger than me. I am not sure why the nausea happened yet again—the whole nauseation thing blows my mind since I don't get sick training. I have also never seen so many other ill people on the side of the trail taking a time out. I ended up fighting in and out of this state for the rest of the race, but more so in the heat of the day. It was 80s with high humidity of 90% or more. Not a good mix. I ended up placing ice in my hat, shirt, and light neck gaiter from <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a>. The ginger candy seems to really help calm my sick feeling, but then I needed to GU and was sick all over again. GU...how I hate you. I think we need to separate.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Side note: As noted by my pacer, Evie, this race was easy to navigate through as a crew member. They had no problem finding the stations and they even allow the pacers access to food and drink at the stations.</span></i><br />
<br />
I began really looking forward to when I would run with Evie and by mile 44 I had lost my banked 30 minutes. IT WAS HOT IN THE MEADOW coming back in the sun. I hiked the heck out of much of the meadow at under a 15 minute mile pace up and down the mowed path. It's a very runable part,but damn the sun was beating us down now. I started having to use the porta potty more. And the fun just kept on rolling. I had two blisters that needed popping and duct tape was the best remedy after the blister pads failed to stick well with my sweat—I did pack everything.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Insert Mantra: I can take it.</span></i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
I picked Evie up a little behind schedule and we were off on the trail. I can't tell you how great it is to have a pacer pointing out the rocks, tree roots and bumps as the sun goes down. The trail is not really that technical but every little bit of assistance helps as the heavy forest made it seem a lot darker than it was, and the sun started going down.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple;">Insert Mantra: I can take it.</span></i><br />
<br />
We kept on going and about mile 55 I really noticed my quads aching on the steps downward. It was painful! Fast speed forward and we were at the Nordic Trail Head—the start and finish for mile 63. I saw the Director and asked him about cutoffs. I didn't know what time it was since my watch failed hours before, but I knew I was off. We were under the cut off by 31 minutes and had to hustle now to get back out! This was awful news. Beat the clock was on! I changed clothes remembering the freezing issue I went thru at Superior and we headed back out. The Director hollered, "100 miler going back out!" and the crowd cheered and blinking lights and sirens when off. They do know how to make it exciting.<br />
<br />
Although we were running, we went back to a speed walk and Evie made calls on the trail to tell my husband and next pacer, Gina, where we were and to find out how much time we had.We saw two head lamps ahead and one looked like he was aiding the other just by the way they were huddled and not moving. They started running as we approached and as we were next to them, Evie asked if the one that had the movement of a non-pacer—slow and weak—if he was running the 100 mile. His response was, "Bite me!" Apparently the hours of "good job," "keep it up," "great work," "way to go," from other runners had broken him.<br />
<br />
I was looking right at him at this point, feeling disbelief from his answer and seeing someone in pretty bad shape. His pacer was very chatty and Evie and him went ahead of us running in conversation. As we went up a small hill I noticed the runner had disappeared and I called to his pacer that if he was with that guy, he had lost him back there somewhere. He quickly thanks me and headed back to find him.<br />
<br />
We approached Bluff where I picked up Gina, my old college roommate, who had been waiting too long—which I am truly sorry about—but she was in great spirits and we set off to try to get through the next couple of aid stations in 3:40. I knew it would be hard to do as I wasn't moving well. The forest rockiness was more than I could keep up with at night and in the pace we needed. Just keep moving…I began really doubting making it and even getting to Rice Lake and then I thought if I had to continue just to see the sun come up I would. I was at a point of just enjoying her company.<br />
<br />
She was really taken back by how cheery and happy people are in an ultra. Yes we paid to suffer, and we embraced it to an extreme point.Well, most of us anyways…I wondered if "Bite me" man dropped.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Side note: It wasn't so great when headlamps were coming in fast at us with the 38 mile fun run going on. Trying to not get knocked over on a single track trail, at night, after a full day of running was the last obstacle I wanted to deal with. </span></i><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DP3zskax6ds/V3v5tdVQ19I/AAAAAAAAArQ/QDoNSUe8iQwsF5oKCL3aDCRILmGJgGFMwCKgB/s1600/three%2Bwis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DP3zskax6ds/V3v5tdVQ19I/AAAAAAAAArQ/QDoNSUe8iQwsF5oKCL3aDCRILmGJgGFMwCKgB/s400/three%2Bwis.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evie, myself and Gina at the end of my voyage at mile 77. <br />
It's going to be okay. I am so grateful that these two were there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
<span style="color: purple;">THE FINISH, but not my end…</span></h4>
Gina and I talked the entire time. We heard the birds awaken before the sun was up and saw a Luna moth fly in front of our headlamps and land near us on the trail. It was way cool. The frogs croaked and owls hooted thru the early a.m. We were now so far behind that the sun was coming up as we <br />
headed in to HWY12. At roughly 22hours and 30 minutes I was 77 miles in and out of time to to get to Rice Lake and back.The aid station leader was unbelievable. He was energetic and wasted no time to tell me how great I had done just to reach his station.<br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Mantra burned. My quads can not take it.</span></i><br />
<br />
To my husband's relief, he didn't have to rush me through 11 miles of rockiness. He said he didn't know how he would have done that anyways. His eyes were bloodshot from being up 26 hours and he wasn't feeling well. He didn't look well either. It takes a lot to crew and stay awake too—physically, mentally and emotionally. He did great. But let's take a moment and laugh now at the fact that I WAS THE ONE RUNNING THE ENTIRE TIME.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HwYtsYms44c/V3v5daVcapI/AAAAAAAAAq0/U466N6qRA8oa7LIP5yRgtUiPxBsgyOEzwCLcB/s1600/metal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HwYtsYms44c/V3v5daVcapI/AAAAAAAAAq0/U466N6qRA8oa7LIP5yRgtUiPxBsgyOEzwCLcB/s320/metal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>100k buckle</b> if you make the cut-off. The Kettle Moraine recognizes the <br />
effort while other races do not and the runner gets NOTHING.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When I approached the Co-Race Director, Tim Yanacheck at the start line to claim my buckle instead of the kettle, my husband commented to him that he personally had never had an all-nighter even in college...that was just funny to watch him say that looking like a pale ghost with bloodshot eyes—and I wish I had it on video. Again, here are all these ultras up all night and running huge distances, feeling as alive as they can in the moment. That's ultra living.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Tim proudly and sensitively handed me the 100k belt buckle and said, "I know this isn't the metal you wanted. I'm sorry." I felt he truly was sincere empathized for all of us who did not have the finishing race we worked for—all 46% of us that registered for 100m and fell short for what ever reason. I love the fact that this race is so different that they want you to walk away feeling like a winner for putting it all out there.<br />
<br />
A friend of mine told me that not everyone can finish 100 miler. I am not sure that's true but began pondering it that day because amnesia had not set in yet. So much has to come together at once just like hitting a PR or barely squeaking in to Boston as some do—not this girl, but some do.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uI-DtY_8xqE/V3v5duozOaI/AAAAAAAAArI/RXr0dwc_5wcPU8e7vB6_OcuNCYFJkhvywCKgB/s1600/husband%2Bframed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uI-DtY_8xqE/V3v5duozOaI/AAAAAAAAArI/RXr0dwc_5wcPU8e7vB6_OcuNCYFJkhvywCKgB/s320/husband%2Bframed.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dear man who encourages and has my <br />
back and ass in this cra cra adventure called ultra<br />
even though all-nighters are NOT his thing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I could really beat myself up over this one—and you know I will—because I know where the bottom fell out and where I felt the weakest points and I certainly thought I could finish it...Oh my QUADS! I had dropped hill repeats and strength training—as in squats—from my training to focus on mileage and climbing. That was a mistake for a 100 mile trail run. I need it all! Trekking Poles may have saved some quad strength as well. And as Gina suggested when I picked yer up on the trail, "Can you stretch?" "OUCH!!! It was far too late. I should have tried that sooner.<br />
<br />
I walked away really enjoying this particular race and I have thoughts to come back. The course is all trail like I expected it to be and they really did have all the aid stations packed with all the items they promised. The volunteers were A-MAZING! 77 miles isn't 100 but it's far more than where I dared to dream 7 years ago. I left it all out there with what I had on that day with my body blowing up before my mind.<br />
<br />
So here I go again…making this average Jill train like a bat shit crazy mother runner, because amnesia set in a day later. It's called <span style="color: purple; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Resilience</span> as well and it's the best thing I got.Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-85483347614810512272016-05-17T17:43:00.004-07:002016-05-18T05:27:13.449-07:00Numbers that MATTER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kXsjVDJWmPE/VzxfK_yrdRI/AAAAAAAAAqE/fbYpCh9SD0Ygm3u6qo135il0YCXnudBDACLcB/s1600/bigstock-Collection-Of-House-Numbers-87692063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kXsjVDJWmPE/VzxfK_yrdRI/AAAAAAAAAqE/fbYpCh9SD0Ygm3u6qo135il0YCXnudBDACLcB/s640/bigstock-Collection-Of-House-Numbers-87692063.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
10, 6, 10, 20, 2 = this week's mileage heading into a true taper<br />
2500, 1500, 1500, 2000 = this week's ladder steps on Jacob's Ladder<br />
5 - 6 = the hours of sleep I get nightly<br />
4:00 = the hour I wake up to get my training in<br />
7:00 = the time I get home to be there when my kids wake up and fix their lunches<br />
9:00 = the time I need to be somewhere to volunteer for another race<br />
2 = number of children Spring concerts to attend<br />
40 = the hours I have to work in a week<br />
3 = the soccer games I need to get my kids to<br />
5 = the practices I need to get my kids to<br />
4 = the number of drop bags I need to put together<br />
3 = the number of pacers I have coming to support me<br />
1 = the number of pre-races left (half marathon Memorial weekend)<br />
1 = the number of child races to attend<br />
16 = the number of days I have left until I leave to take on the Kettle Moraine 100<br />
1= the first panic attack I just gave myself making this list<br />
<br />
<b>Numbers that Don't Matter:</b><br />
Whatever the scale says I weigh. <i>Fuck that shit!</i><br />
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-66724485434899916842016-01-29T11:10:00.001-08:002016-02-17T05:37:19.296-08:00Shifting Gears in 2016Since Superior—which I will just keep referring to as the mountain of rock in my heart—I have been focusing on what I need to do to make my 100 mile conquest a reality. It's been a lot of mental mojo as well as making dietary changes to show up in the best shape possible. Extra weight, although not the only issue, is an issue over the course of 100 miles. I am the detour and road block in my own plan. I have read more written lately on the endless calories available to burn in fat already stored on our bodies if we change the way our bodies burn fuel. I have read more about elites having a high fat and high protein diet as of late. And so my journey has begun to get out of my own damn way.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Dialing My Plan with -12.5 lbs and Counting</h4>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EWSuSwynwVc/Vqut5S2KyAI/AAAAAAAAAok/kKdzda5UpAU/s1600/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EWSuSwynwVc/Vqut5S2KyAI/AAAAAAAAAok/kKdzda5UpAU/s200/unnamed.png" width="200" /></a>So after allowing myself a good wallow with my pals Hershey, Reese's, Mallo Cup, KitKat, and cup cake for the rest of the month of September and into part of October, I knew I was ready to clean up my act and start again. I cut processed sugar and brought my carbs down to under 40 grams a day starting the week before Halloween. It was either going to be the best or worst sabotaging idea ever. It turned out to be the best. I did not partake in any of the candy loot my kids hauled home. I repeat, I had NONE. I was tired the first two weeks on training runs, but then I started to feel the clarity found deep into the miles of a race and walking away from carbs became very easy. I have tracked everything with the free version of the <a href="https://www.myfitnesspal.com/" target="_blank">MyFitnessPal app</a>. I aim for 120 to 150 grams of protein a day and follow a calorie deficit diet of 1,200 calories. If I gain calories through fitness, I log it in the app and eat it.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hdaTmscl4iY/VqvozzGT8GI/AAAAAAAAApk/lNPsobbazSQ/s1600/51bySl9BvOL._AC_UL320_SR208%252C320_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hdaTmscl4iY/VqvozzGT8GI/AAAAAAAAApk/lNPsobbazSQ/s200/51bySl9BvOL._AC_UL320_SR208%252C320_.jpg" width="130" /></a>To reach the grams of protein I need, I have an optional protein shake called <a href="http://bodynutrition.com/product/trutein-whey-casein-egg-white/" target="_blank">Trutein</a>. It's a high quality whey, casein and egg white protein and doesn't taste like metal like many other protein shakes. I enjoy the<i> Peanut Butter Marshmallow Cookie</i> and <i>Smores</i> the most. I can't say my running speed it there yet in changing my nutrition, but there is a clarity. It took me months to unload the 14 pound haul of candy between the kids in the form of cookies and brownies scattered to friends and family.<br />
<br />
All of which I continued to not eat. I have become that jerk that shows up at gatherings, only eating specific foods. I eat out at Mexican restaurants and don't eat a single chip. I know… who does that? Certainly not this girl before. Everyone else benefits from having my french fries, rice, beans and potatoes, And guess what, it's been worth it! I actually saw a lot of hoopla on the internet promoting people to just enjoy the festivities with food. But I disagree. My goals mean more than the two months of gorging to find the jaded friend named <i>Disappointment </i>waiting on January 1. Happiness is far from the cookie table for this woman. I did allow myself three special treats during the holidays; I had a pumpkin bar at Thanksgiving that wasn't too sugary and was very enjoyable. I made a black forest cake that was to die for at Christmas. I had a piece of that, duh! And I did have a butter popcorn meal while watching the new Star Wars movie—because that's what makes me happy at a movie theatre that I attend less than once every couple years.<br />
<br />
I seem to have made up for my not eating all the other stuff through the rest of 2015, with baking it for everyone else. For their weight gain, I apologize. By mid-December I was down 11.5 pounds. And have added another 2 pound loss since. For the first time ever (ever is just 7 years in this runner's life), I do not have to re-lose the same 10 pounds before the Bayshore marathon in May. In fact, I am below the weight I usually am for the marathon. This year I am running the half marathon the week before I head to Wisconsin to kill that Kettle Moraine 100. And by "kill," I mean survive with a solid, healthy finish where my mind isn't completely blown, and I feel like I have a little more to give in the end. Yeah, that's the dream.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Geared-In Training</h4>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CkwlwQVMG30/Vquw2KbM8oI/AAAAAAAAAow/oohXPJEXgTU/s1600/12509562_10208559825420093_10447911683320029_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CkwlwQVMG30/Vquw2KbM8oI/AAAAAAAAAow/oohXPJEXgTU/s200/12509562_10208559825420093_10447911683320029_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob's Ladder is there to make <br />
my heartrate zip. Just try it out for three minutes. <br />
You will survive.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A couple weeks ago I explored the Jacob's Ladder. I need to be in peak cardio fitness and lift my legs more. I saw the Jacob's Ladder on a Facebook page a year ago and have been wanting to try one out since. I found one at out local YMCA. My heartrate flew to 170 quickly. It's total body engagement climbing a ladder like a fireman. It goes as fast you you make it go since there is no motor except the operator.<br />
<br />
As a comparison, when I run hill repeats in the snow my rate is 160. Probably lower because I am taking more time on foot placement. I will be spending more time Jacob's Ladder to work on endurance and lifting my legs, as well as including more snow hill repeats which were exuberating. I need to work on my footwork skills and concentration of landing. That's a fact. I set my timer on my camera as I ran them and started to play beat the clock to the bottom as well as take a few up hill images. By taking images of myself running, I can see my lack of control with my left arm that crosses over way too much, which is wasted energy. It's an issue I am working on correcting. I have to consciously pull my right arm back and forth, like I am going to reach in my back pocket. It helps me correct the left. I am sure deep in a race, I will probably think "screw it, just run."<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JMRdYVJow7s/Vqu1sMUCeqI/AAAAAAAAApE/41pS2wEFDLU/s1600/beat%2Bthe%2Bclock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JMRdYVJow7s/Vqu1sMUCeqI/AAAAAAAAApE/41pS2wEFDLU/s640/beat%2Bthe%2Bclock.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little game of beat the clock (or timer) during winter hill repeats in Steampunk INKnBURN attire which seemed appropriate to get my butt in gear or shifting gears on a winter hill in Michigan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
One of the exciting parts about taking my "getting my butt in gear" photos is that I ended up with one gem. It has appeared on the <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> website as a rotating photo, FB home page and Instagram. Hill repeats in the winter in Michigan is currently seen all over the world. With all the beautiful worldly photos they have to pick from, this is an honor to represent the brand in this way and illustrate that I am on my way in 2016 to believe it, live it and for crying out loud—finish it!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EPjuBV3T1ew/VquyAFx-tuI/AAAAAAAAAo4/t3zJYk3o3G0/s1600/ink%2Bweb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="497" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EPjuBV3T1ew/VquyAFx-tuI/AAAAAAAAAo4/t3zJYk3o3G0/s640/ink%2Bweb.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> website page where my winter hill repeats in Michigan made the rotating home page.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"><b>And with that, I suggest a new song for anyone's play list. I dedicate this to hill repeats:</b> </span><a href="https://youtu.be/cxjvTXo9WWM" style="text-align: start;" target="_blank">Sia: Unstoppable</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cxjvTXo9WWM" width="480"></iframe></span></td></tr>
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</td></tr>
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-86730736866424842312015-12-29T07:38:00.001-08:002016-01-03T17:01:54.863-08:00Stars Upon Thars And None Upon Ours…<b>Superior 100 brought to mind the Dr. Suess tale of the Star Belly Sneeches. </b>Star Bellies thought they were better than those Sneeches without stars according to the children's story, and then one day those with none bought theirs so they could be equal to the Star Belly Sneeches. It starts an on again, off again sequence until no one can tell who is who anymore.<br />
<br />
Superior 100 has created an elite club of finishers awarded the sought after black sweatshirt where each year the finishers earn a star patch to be placed on the arm of their single lifetime hooded sweatshirt. It's quite incredible to be able to say that one has finished this particular race. Unlike the stars in the Dr. Suess story, these stars are earned with sweat, perseverance, and sometimes blood. The director, John Storkamp, referred to the stars during the mandatory check-in meeting as a "sticker collection."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j78Ku6KMeXY/VoGTPodqZ4I/AAAAAAAAAnM/Dk4bFWqs_5w/s1600/Superior1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="552" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j78Ku6KMeXY/VoGTPodqZ4I/AAAAAAAAAnM/Dk4bFWqs_5w/s640/Superior1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clockwise from top: The elite star sweatshirt | Myself howling behind the 1st place finisher trophy at the mandatory meeting | One of my drop bags | On the bus with my coffee where Evie stepped on to take my picture like it was my first day of school. Which coincidently, Sawtooth did school me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For some runners the sweatshirt/sticker collection really is a strong motivation as I heard throughout the race. Past club members were wearing their stars at the check-in meeting, and my run buddy and I felt like the outsiders…because we were outsiders! We had no stars and others who have ran this race several years had at least one star or a fews down their arm. They pretty much hung with past finishers that they have known through the years. We did briefly talk to one star wearer who was very friendly to us outsiders, but that ended as previous runners connected with their pack. I was glad to have Evie there to cut through the seriousness. I didn't see anyone else posing near the first place finisher award, but it was worth it for the photo of me howling like a wolf.<br />
<br />
The day before the race, I had been all nerves the entire day even though we took a brief hike and played tourist around a small town. I felt like I was hopped up on caffeine and jittery. We had ran into some of the trail markers at dinner at our hotel. They didn't exactly give us a reassurance of making it through this race. Instead, we felt judged by the looks on their faces and disbelief that we were in this race. HMMM didn't I have a qualifying race already? Did I really need to prove myself just to be here? One guy called us "trolls" because we lived below the Mackinac bridge in Michigan. Yep, that is all he had to say to us. So I am just going to have to say it…I thought he was a prick. And come to find out he is a bit of a running celebrity in Minnesota. Bravo! Feel my sarcasm. While the other gentlemen had some insights to the race course including where the 2 feet of water was, John Horn had more words to share. I listened up to any advice he had to give. He's legendary having won the 100 and marathon distances in previous years and was going for the 50…which he did win the Grand Master's and take 3rd overall this year as well. Wow, just wow. He said, "This race is a character builder. That's for sure." His apprehension didn't settling me at all. I had never anticipated a race in this way before. 100 miles is a big deal, and Superior is a beast.<br />
<br />
As the Director took a pole of past DNF runners coming back to finish this raise, it revieled a 7-10 person field of hands being raised. Some had multiple attempts at Superior 100 in the past, as I met one on the course who would finish it this year after two previous years of stopping half way and past mile 60. And why do they come back after such an ass kicking? I wish I had asked him <i>his </i>reason. And then asked what it felt like when he knew he was going to make it. I think that would be one of the most revealing and exciting insights of an ultra runner's mental strength.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iCdU02QWHXA/VoF-VuletUI/AAAAAAAAAl4/axlOv5UVwiE/s1600/superior%2Bstart%2Bline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iCdU02QWHXA/VoF-VuletUI/AAAAAAAAAl4/axlOv5UVwiE/s320/superior%2Bstart%2Bline.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right before starting with the sun coming up. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>The Starting Line:</b><br />
The starting line was completely different from the check-in meeting. People were very socialable and one mother approached me and said she wanted my name on her shirt because her daughter was running it and she was rooting for us women. What a cool way to support your daughter and female runners.<br />
<br />
My mother was in Michigan hoping I wouldn't start, maybe get lost on my way to the start line, or at least drop out early. I'm just speaking the truth here and this is what I have dealt with all my life.<br />
<br />
I spoke with several experience 100 miler finishers and a couple first time attempters like myself. It's all very exciting. I was glad I brought my own coffee, because the coffee that was suppose to be there had a coffee machine malfunction. So I think some people were hurting.<br />
<br />
<i>Note: For the first time ever there were no restroom lines for ladies. There are that few of us.</i><br />
<br />
Starting out in the race I met a woman from Holland, Michigan. We cruised and chatted thru the first few miles until we hit the trail where I was immediately was aware of her trail skills that were superior to mine, and I fell back. I wasn't even going to try to keep up with that! She had finished this race before and her trail experience was evident. I was much more cautious on the loose plates of stone and running up and down large loose rocks. I watched the foot work of other runners and could tell that their shoes were sticking surprisingly well on the curved larger boulders on mountain tops.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9emajmnPYmA/VoF_BAe-GOI/AAAAAAAAAmo/dYI6CoKRL0A/s1600/superior%2Btrail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="587" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9emajmnPYmA/VoF_BAe-GOI/AAAAAAAAAmo/dYI6CoKRL0A/s640/superior%2Btrail.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Examples of the trail and views. Not all of these are mine as my mind was busy. I wish I had photographed the triple "XXX" glowing signs at night that my headlamp would catch. "Don't go off that ledge!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Much of the trail is running on top of mountain rock (climbing up and down uneven rocks—top to bottom, and up again). It's similar to running on asphalt in the comparison that there is no cushion and higher impact unlike a forest padded ground trail—very much unlike the Michigan trails I have ran on. One runner commented that he thought it was worse than asphalt and his knees were hurting. The curve of the rocks wreaked havoc on my ankles in one particular stretch, so much so that I removed the small heel gels in my shoes. That helped stop the rocking and pain. The other balance of the trail includes a lot of roots that are high enough that it was hard to run. I literally hugged trees in areas to stable myself. I did run on a lot of sections I normally would have never ran on to keep a better pace. I usually embrace the walk but found myself embracing the run where I could. It was really hard to find the "happy" in running on such a challenging course where my mind could not really check out. It's a the vary reason some people hate trail running—you can not check out without suffering the consequences. Put it this way, this trail is so technical that I didn't even consider turning on my headset until mile 35. It wasn't even a thought. It takes A LOT of concentration, and exertion to climb up and down larger rocks, boulders, fallen trees and walk the planks. Arg, captain! And then there's the slipper thick mud sections.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3AaJKhIhfpY/VoK-l60rlyI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/WQvSaclfh7E/s1600/superior%2Bclimb%2Bdown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3AaJKhIhfpY/VoK-l60rlyI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/WQvSaclfh7E/s200/superior%2Bclimb%2Bdown.jpg" width="146" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not one of my photos but <br />
illustrates one of the many <br />
hillside, rocky trails down<br />
that need careful attention.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This trail was not only beautiful from the views of climbing mountain after mountain, but the sounds of water rushing over falls and down streams were like poetic music with the added clatter of runners on slate rocks, which sounded like running on broken plates as percussion. I missed a lot of the beauty in keeping my eyes on the trail. Although I had read about sections, experiencing it in the moment was surreal and never being on this trail before, I thought it just seemed more like one loooong trail with similar sections of constant obstacles. There were trees that had fallen over in the trail to be either crawled under or straddle over, and swampy areas with either slippery thick mud, water, or areas that actually had plank boards to cross. The planks were awesome until I found some wobbly ones some where between 11 pm and midnight. I thought, "If I fall here, I'm going to REALLY be hurt on all those boulders below. Who would find me?"<br />
<br />
Descending down the rocky sides was nothing that I could just run down. I purposely left space between myself and any other runner. One man with poles, fell behind me down a rock decent. I asked how he was and he assured me that me was okay. Although, he looked like a rag doll sprawled on the rocks.<br />
<br />
On the trail, I met runner who had hired an elite coach to get thru this race. He said he had DNF-ed another race, but made it thru another 100 in June. But for this race, he hired a coach. Training food for thought.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mYipnjOjT8Q/VoGFMad2VTI/AAAAAAAAAm4/AjxVzxpKYGM/s1600/superior%2Bphoto%2Baid%2Bstation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="347" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mYipnjOjT8Q/VoGFMad2VTI/AAAAAAAAAm4/AjxVzxpKYGM/s640/superior%2Bphoto%2Baid%2Bstation.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L-R: Aid station equipped with a bowl of salt tabs | Running along the slate plates | My husband crewing me at mile 20 and my run buddy Evie as well. I was feeling nauseated at this time and that didn't go away.<br />
<i>I waited too long to wear the <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">Calavera INKnBURN</a> singlet this year. That shirt deserves a party!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It was at about 40+ miles and in the dark that I started to lose faith in making it thru the cut-offs. I made a few mistakes. I had been making the cutoffs, yes. And had read enough reports that I knew not to be going any faster than a 17 minute pace. My goal was to just finish this. I had some miles in the dark that were getting quite a bit slower and I didn't keep in mind that they take that into account thru the night. I then thought about the time goals I had set, which were based on an individual that knew this course. That became silly in that moment. I was alone in the dark looking for the trail and reflectors. Although I enjoyed the dark running, the slower speed was playing games with my mind. So mistake number one, was that I lost my faith and did math on the course. Later the next day Robyn, a fellow INKnBURN Ambassador, point that out. "Never do math on the course." Uhg! She was right.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ATpgInwdi9g/VoKYU114ExI/AAAAAAAAAng/DVayuyWvKt0/s1600/k2-_fc6ed15c-f488-40f6-b796-b790a73ad9a3.v2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ATpgInwdi9g/VoKYU114ExI/AAAAAAAAAng/DVayuyWvKt0/s200/k2-_fc6ed15c-f488-40f6-b796-b790a73ad9a3.v2.jpg" width="78" /></a></div>
I also had a few physical things going on. I had been feeling nauseated since mile 20. I can't explain why to this day. But I will be experimenting more with using just Tailwind. I had to chew Pepto tabs from 20 miles on, which helped a little. The only thing that I could consume that went down well was Starbucks DoubleShot Coffee & Protein that was in my bag. If there had been warm food options that would have been appealing too. But each time I went to the aid stations there was no coffee, and all the promised hot food was gone. Right before I entered County Road 6, the last grilled cheese sandwiches were consumed. My crew had asked if there was hot food waiting and there was when they asked, but some took more than there share according to the workers right before I arrived. I wasn't the last person, so there really wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
There was a frost advisory and I did not change my clothes before dark. I added layers but that wasn't enough. I should have changed at Tettegouche where my husband had met me.<span style="font-family: ArialMT; font-size: 8pt;"> </span>That was a HUGE mistake. I was soaked through and freezing every time I slowed or stopped at aid stations. There really should be a changing area or sheet hung. Women especially need to change. There's something that isn't talked about enough. Wearing a wet bra and underwear froze-me-out with the frosty temps. By the time I reached mile 51 at the Finland aid station, I just felt like I didn't want to go on between the burning in my legs, nausea, and feeling absolutely frozen. Hand warmers would have been a key item to pack in hindsight.<br />
<br />
My legs were burning from the knees down. Not that I didn't expect pain, but I was going with the thought of do no harm the first 50 miles….well harm was happening anyways. I really couldn't tell if I was injured, causing injury or what. I knew I had trained for a 100 miler—but not this one! I met people in the dark on the trail pausing on the fallen trees or larger rocks—resting and just breathing. One guy moved as though he had hurt his arm badly as he shuffled along. The constant up and down stepping is nothing like running on a padded path or road running—different muscles in. I had not use the restroom all day. I couldn't tell if I had to go or not. At one point I thought, "Great, now I am peeing myself." I later found I had started my period.<br />
<br />
<b>The number one reason I stopped at Finland 51.2 miles (17 hours): I lost my "why".</b> I lost the ability to talk myself "IN" to going on and seeing how far I could go. The suffering for another 20+ miles and then getting thrown off the course, didn't feel worth it. I became reliant on seeing my husband which I wouldn't have seen for another 11 miles. That would have been hours away. Never having a crew before, the support was overwhelming, yet I needed them. Maybe it was just easier for me to stick my heels in and stop because it was him. He was in a bit of shock to hear me say, "I'm done"—words I have never said when it matters. He did everything he was suppose to do in pleading with me to keep going because I was still running and others were dragging and limping. I was frozen, and when he told me to sit in the heated vehicle, it was all over in my head and physically. It's all on me.<br />
<br />
Several runners I conversed with along the course were strongly motivated by the thought of the sweatshirt. It wasn't motivation for me at all—not in conversation and not at the moment I dropped. I let go of all the 4 a.m. wakeup calls I had all summer that said I could do this. I questioned whether I had enough baggage to overcome the suffering and if I wanted that baggage. And I felt for what ever reason that I had learned everything I could in the moment. I felt fulfilled in the moment. The worse part was I felt like I really let my crew down and anyone that had believed in me. Guilt. Never having a crew before I was overwhelmed by the assisted love. Even one of the Ragnar BAMRs I met in D.C. showed up, and I was touched. I was disappointed in not being able to run with her in the morning.<br />
This was a butt kicker: the course and mental let down.<br />
<br />
The next day I phone my kids and talked to my mother, and she was rejoicing that I DNF-ed. THAT annoyed me to no end. I thought, "Geese, if I had talked to her last night. I would have kept going!" Nothing motivates my like proving people wrong. I was pissed at myself. Cue cards for ALL next time!<br />
<br />
Later that morning we went to meet Evie to support her on the course. She was running the 50 miler and we joked that between us we would have the course 100% covered, but she was already getting bumped at mile 26.7 Cramer Road. She wasn't making the cut-off. She was moving along, but on this course, you have to move faster. It was a kick in the teeth. She wanted to go on, but was swept. It's the just another reality of this race. She has finished many ultras, so it isn't like she isn't capable. While waiting I watched Robyn work the aid station and talk a man back into the 50 mile race that thought he had a broken rib. OMG, broken rib guy went on! I instantly wish she had been at Finland last night.<br />
<br />
This DNF may be just the baggage I need to come back. It burns on long after the race is over. Superior has left a mountain of rock in my heart. I think every runner will get "their one that got away" experience. This ONE is mine. I knew going into this that if I could finish it, I could do anything. So the race and work goes on. Afterwards with the experience fresh in my head, another runner friend with more experience messaged me and told me she had DNFed one time and she came back to show that trail who was boss and that's what I would too. I told her, "not this race." But less than a week later, I knew she was right. I can't let go of that mountain that Superior left in my heart. Character building? Indeed. I'll be back—rock solid, amnesia and all.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NPU5rOGMFM8/VoKnQ0ckVmI/AAAAAAAAAn0/nDwB2xhq7TI/s1600/trail%2Bhike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="409" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NPU5rOGMFM8/VoKnQ0ckVmI/AAAAAAAAAn0/nDwB2xhq7TI/s640/trail%2Bhike.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking views of Lake Superior and trail falls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-5594129518013198752015-09-24T19:31:00.002-07:002015-09-25T05:30:43.907-07:00Eyes on the Prize<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rHaaqfApzQE/VgSraK8wBQI/AAAAAAAAAlM/Mymi1_51U0E/s1600/Back%2Bagain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rHaaqfApzQE/VgSraK8wBQI/AAAAAAAAAlM/Mymi1_51U0E/s400/Back%2Bagain.jpg" width="388" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back at North Country (wearing the hat we received) and ready to <br />
take another hit in the a.m. Don't we look ready?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Eyes, eyes, eyes," is the chant I kept repeating—sometimes out-loud—while running the <a href="http://www.northcountryrun.com/" target="_blank">North Country</a> Marathon Run. This year I went down to 26.2 instead of the 50 mile Ultra in preparation for my first attempt at a 100 mile race. It's hard to write that without my heart-rate increasing with a panic. It's hard to sound completely sure as well, when yeah, I know, that is a really BIG number!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.northcountryrun.com/" target="_blank">North Country Run</a> was just too close in timing to run the 50 this year. I had followed my plan and I was not going to sabotage it. I had no other goal this year other than to:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> walk the hills at a quick manageable pace,<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> run when the trail would give it to me,<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> stay comfortable,<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> and above all … keep my eyes on the trail and try to avoid a threatening fall like<a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1503572440"></span> last year's hematoma<span id="goog_1503572441"></span></a> bamboozal<br />
<br />
I kept my speed and tempo well in control and although it would have been nice to hit 5:10 at mile 25 like last year, I decided not to pace myself by time. The thought of "don't be a dick," entered my mind more than once. Meaning, don't push like I want to place while forgetting that this is a practice challenge for the race of my life—as it spans in the next month anyways. Nothing would matter if I hit the ground and can't run.<br />
<br />
This was the first time I ran the <span style="color: purple;"><i>marathon</i></span> at North Country. I have complete the 50 twice and the half marathon once. This race felt different from the get-go. People were not as social as in the 50. I missed it within the first 2 miles. Maybe it's the speed that some people try to put out, but it's a trail so just chill.<br />
<br />
I decided in the first mile to run by feel. 26.2 is still a marathon and in the woods on a trail, it's still a long voyage. I actually looked at my watch twice the entire race. Once to see why I was feeling "stuck" behind the conga line going too slow at 14 minute miles—which I passed to move on—and one other time to check the miles when a couple runners were talking about us being less than 8 miles from the finish, which I knew they had to be wrong. It was more like 10 plus! I really didn't want to think of numbers, but since they threw it out there, I was compelled to look. Numbers, numbers, numbers…<br />
<br />
Within the first 4 miles my run buddy Evie hit the dirt. POOF! A reminder that this is a trippy ride. When I heard the action behind me I had flashbacks of last years' tumble. She hollered that she was alright. That would be her one and only fall that day. Although we started out together I lost her around the first aid station. I waited up and snacked practicing my ultra fueling—don't rush just fuel. When we set out again, I lost her beyond a bees' ground nest which stung me and the runners following. My shin was immediately hurting, and I thought of my son who was stung twice the previous week. I decided that if I was focusing on this pain then my IT band wouldn't be nagging me at all if it decided to be vocal—pretty much exactly what happened.<br />
<br />
Further down, I stepped out of the conga line I was in to see how Evie was doing. My pace was feeling really good, but I wanted to make sure she wasn't in misery somewhere out there. She had settled in with the "party bus" led by a guy in a kilt who was blasting music thru the forest. She told me I didn't need to wait up. I ran with her to the next aid station and then kept my comfortable pace for the rest of the race.<br />
<br />
When I broke away from other runners—that weren't talking anyways—I felt that familiar freedom I had the first time I ran the 50. I can't describe the joy I feel at these moments and the conversations in my head. And the conversations I have with God for that matter. "You know how much I need this. Just don't let me fall," I asked. Running is a spiritual event.<br />
<br />
"Just don't excel," I told myself. "Eyes eyes, eyes on the trail … slow… control down the hills." I struck my foot around three times on roots, rocks and a very narrow path with moss. No falls, but again little reminders. Note: Narrow trails make the Hokas feel clumsy, but I wouldn't wear anything else for comfort.<br />
<br />
I revisited locations I wiped-out last year after that giant hematoma impaired my leg. I recognized the changing forest sections I had ran through in previous years and felt reconnected with the fern forest, pines, hardwoods, and hills. In the last 11 miles, I was surprised I had so much juice left. I was cranking along and reeling runners in and saw some at aid stations who looked whipped. In the last 6, I continued to push thru at the same speed passing quite a few half marathoners and some marathoners as well. I actually felt like this wasn't fair. I have been training for a 100. Granted I had a long running week, no taper and needed 15 miles the next day, I still had a lot left in the tank this day.<br />
<br />
One larger gentleman running in the half marathon stands out in my mind who was waiting at the top of a hill for his wife. As I cruised up to him he shouted, "You're awesome!" I replied, "YOU, are awesome!" That is the way it's suppose to be.<br />
<br />
"Eyes, eyes. eyes." Keeping my vision on the trail. I thought for sure I would cry if I didn't fall this year. But instead, when I saw that last hill, I had a high. Down the hill and one last mile loop on a flatter trail. That was all I had to do now. And there was Dena and Brian waiting to cheer us on! People make the race! They would have their's tomorrow in another half marathon. What a journey they were in for!<br />
<br />
I did excelerate in the final mini, mile loop. The only moment I would feel like my heart was pushing through my chest. "Come on Ultra, don't let go," I thought. Power to the head talk!<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Final Score: </span></b><br />
Jill: 26.2<br />
Falls: 0<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gVXPOEB1lBg/VgSrJktPzYI/AAAAAAAAAlE/vQd0OJvMLew/s1600/grouping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="537" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gVXPOEB1lBg/VgSrJktPzYI/AAAAAAAAAlE/vQd0OJvMLew/s640/grouping.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clockwise from top left: Showing the finisher medal because we are goofy | The age group award patch that also doubles as a beer tray | Evie checking the placements and she did excellent as well | The SWEET patch that now needs a special sweat shirt!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And to top it off, when I did check my time after retrieving a beer, catching up with Dena and Brian while cheering for more runners coming in—which we saw a lot of dirty knees and bodies from taking some spills on course—I learned that I had placed 2nd in my age group. 5:17 was worth 2nd place this year out of 12 contenders. It isn't lightening but it is the first placing I have ever had.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FV5HXK84wV4/VgSqxG_lweI/AAAAAAAAAk8/q3MvPOVHFWc/s1600/I%2Bwon%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FV5HXK84wV4/VgSqxG_lweI/AAAAAAAAAk8/q3MvPOVHFWc/s640/I%2Bwon%2521.jpg" width="408" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time I ever age group placed. 2nd out of 12. <br />
Kissing my reward patch and holding the enormous finisher medal. <br />
My <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> Flutter singlet must have given me some wings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
North Country is refreshed as my favorite race once more. It isn't the substantial array of goods you get to take home—that I am not even going to talk about. The after party can't even be compared to any other race I have ran. None could compete with it; burgers, veggie burgers, brats, rice, potatoes, corn, beer, dessert, and the list goes on…<br />
<br />
The stand-out here is the trail beneath my feet where I get to relax and breath. It's the feeling I get at an over-stocked aid station (every 4 miles!) with friendly and helpful volunteers assisting runners. It's the camaraderie of trail runners (usually) and a race director listening and asking the mentor group and runners for their thoughts on improvements for the next year. It's welcoming.<br />
<br />
The "people" blow this one out of the water and it feels like home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-59352621478315978242015-08-18T10:43:00.004-07:002015-08-19T06:16:42.325-07:00The Dark Princess DNFs<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AZHU100iGYA/VdNn7IKwXbI/AAAAAAAAAkA/Ixpea0AidFQ/s1600/Dark%2Bprincess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AZHU100iGYA/VdNn7IKwXbI/AAAAAAAAAkA/Ixpea0AidFQ/s640/Dark%2Bprincess.jpg" width="433" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One big cheer for 29.5miles and a DNF (as in Did NOT Finish)<br />
with an IT band timing-out. The race is worth it, <br />
however my IT band is not. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Flash Back—The Only Way to DNF</span><br />
<b>In April this year my run buddy and I ran a 50k trail ultra called the <a href="http://www.enduranceevolution.com/traverse-city-trail-running-festival/" target="_blank">Traverse City Trail Running Festival</a> as part of our training. </b>Yes, a training run of 31+ miles a month before a marathon. Just couldn't resist the urge. We have ran this race before (in tutus) inwhich the trail was hit with snow and ice storms prior to the race—and I referred it <i>33 Levels of Hell</i>. This year, was the first time it was actually on the intended course of 2 out and backs. The course has changed every year. But this year, no snow or ice—yippee!<br />
<br />
We were 2 of 7 runners participating in this race. I'm not sure what happened this year with the lack of participation, but the snowfall of years past may have frozen some out. Plus, it isn't easy to train in Michigan thru winter. There did seem to be more participants in the 25k that was also going on than in years past.<br />
<br />
Naturally, people assumed we are not in the 50k when we show up in tutus. Yes, we are serious runners. Please take me serious—no, not really. However, people do show some love for the tutus out there on the course. We left feeling obligated to wear them every year, ha! I just hope there is another year. It was wonderful to run on trail, in the sun and they even had a few snacks. Of course we brought our own—grilled cheese please.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Upzh1_4rucQ/VdR_4ltXqRI/AAAAAAAAAkg/usxYGOmiR_Q/s1600/11048744_10206662442226699_8429204765086238380_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Upzh1_4rucQ/VdR_4ltXqRI/AAAAAAAAAkg/usxYGOmiR_Q/s200/11048744_10206662442226699_8429204765086238380_n.jpg" title="" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking in as the Dark Princesses.<br />
I love me some <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The race was going well it seemed until just about every runner in the 25k and 50k got lost on the way back. Later, we were told that bicyclists had moved the signs, and so <i>following the leader</i> and misplaced signs were our undoing for this race with added miles.<br />
<br />
We met a couple of runners from downstate that kept getting off course regardless. It was downright comical. I am sure if their Garmins hadn't stopped they would have been at 37+miles. When I found out that the 54 year old woman had done 100 mile races (yes plural "races"), I picked her brain for some golden nuggets and to hear about her experiences. She has got to be the most seasoned ultra runner I have ever met. (<i>Chocolate covered coffee beans—check.) </i>Hope to meet up with her again.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b><i>So how and why did I DNF? </i></b></span>My IT band was not ready for the last 8 miles at the turn around point which would have put us well over a 50k anyways. It was darn right fiesty in the last 6 miles to finish, so I dropped. The extra miles seemed pointless and it just wasn't worth injury for my greater goals. My inner voice had spoken—don't be dangerous today. Yes, I DNFed with 29.5 miles at our finish, in a tutu, and I have no regrets to this day. With a marathon in the next month and not wanting to rehab an IT band AGAIN it was the right choice. My running buddy said she didn't care about a medal either and we walked back together. One of the race directors even offered to us that we could walk out and back to complete just the full 50k. But, my IT band screamed back, "NO WAY dark princess! This is not your Run or Die day!" I listened. <b>It's got to be worth it.</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lmvNuw841kQ/VdNsl_0LQrI/AAAAAAAAAkI/9RQRzQ5kbrI/s1600/DNF%2BCheer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lmvNuw841kQ/VdNsl_0LQrI/AAAAAAAAAkI/9RQRzQ5kbrI/s640/DNF%2BCheer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
We really did have a blast. We received some great loot and microbrewery beer just being in the 50k. Heck, we even got special bottled beer and stayed around talking to the Directors and crew waiting for the final two to come in. They still made us feel like rockstars. This has got to be the best ways to DNF eva! <br />
<br />
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-44328193194767476152015-06-08T09:15:00.001-07:002015-06-14T07:53:13.671-07:00Gutting It Out<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kl2arjJ-mT4/VXIlqDbHSbI/AAAAAAAAAjE/rQ7eFd45nDQ/s1600/tutu%2Bgirls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kl2arjJ-mT4/VXIlqDbHSbI/AAAAAAAAAjE/rQ7eFd45nDQ/s400/tutu%2Bgirls.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had to Run or Die with that awesome <br />
<a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN </a>singlet, and it had to be tutufied! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Perfect day with temps, no wind, no asthma BUT just didn't go as planned. </b>This storyline is old and tired just reading this line back to myself. But it happens. It happens to the elite and to the plain Jills like myself…<br />
<br />
Two days before I started hacking up flem — a gift from my son who coughed all over me earlier in the week. I felt I could deal with the hacking and thought that this would be the only obstacle in the race and might effect my asthma. That would be the worst case scenario, right? But I was wrong.<br />
<br />
Murphy's law was at my door and kicking me in the gut, stomach and chest. The morning of the race, I woke with an ache in my GI area. I ignored it thinking it might be nerves and didn't take anything out of the ordinary. Usually I would have taken MAP before a long race but the ache stayed all morning, so I refrained. I didn't want any excuses.<br />
<br />
I started off strong and right on course. I kept looking at my pace to make sure I was in there. Keep it under 9, that is all I had to do and considering last year's 9:00 in the beginning of the race, I knew I could at least bring it down to 8:50. After a while I didn't want to look at my watch so I locked on to a guy in a blue shirt as my pacer, and I ran by feel. This was working well and my feet just kept turning. The gut pain however, persisted and I told myself that I would get use to it and could ignore it. Just get to the next mile and maybe it will be gone.<br />
<br />
The nauseation had started in around mile 5. Maybe I could just puke and be done with it at mile 13, I thought. It might be that day. "Girl in tutu pukes!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--aF8EdLXl60/VXIlKNYMvyI/AAAAAAAAAi0/xlqrXwKtirE/s1600/wedding%2Brunner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--aF8EdLXl60/VXIlKNYMvyI/AAAAAAAAAi0/xlqrXwKtirE/s400/wedding%2Brunner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Again, I ignored it. Then, a side stitch feeling pain beneath my chest. Again, ignored it. I GUed every 4-5 miles. When I reached the turn just under 1:58, I was still on course but instead of my usual feeling of, "Great! Lets take it home!" I had more of a, "Oh crap, this is getting worse" alarm in my head. By mile 14 I was cramping in my gut significantly more. It became a SHARP pain and I stopped GUing and tried to drink more. I couldn't get enough water it seemed. I didn't know if the GU was contributing to this more or possibly the Gatorade. I literally came to a halt on the side of the road a few times not even able to move because of the sharp pain. Around 3-4 times I was thinking I might faint today. I looked for the grass and my vision was blurry around the edges.<br />
<br />
Looking back at the splits I can see that at Mile 16 I still had a fighting chance to break 4:00 but without any fuel since mile 12 and all the gut pain, I was SCREWED. I wish I could have pulled myself out of this, but my feet would not turn over fast enough by mile 20. I didn't really understand it at the time, since I was more obsessed with sharp pain than my feet and lack of fuel. A full half of a marathon without fuel is a disaster for most people. I felt disappointed and a desire to quit. Wow, never have been here before.<br />
<br />
I have never wanted to drop so badly because of just feeling so cruddy. I don't know how I talked myself into moving forward beside not being a quitter. The rest of the race became some walking, running and haulting when the gut serged. I had these lovely thoughts of :<br />
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">"Why the hell do I even care about time?"</span></i></b><br />
<b><i>"Why the hell am I doing this?"</i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">"What will happen WHEN you feel just like this in the 100?"</span></i></b><br />
<b><i>"I hate road races!"</i></b><br />
<br />
I kept thinking my run buddy was going to come up on me and that she would get annoyed with all my stopping and walking, and I wouldn't want her to throw her race away if she was trying to PR. So I just kept going and thought I could get the last 8, 5 or 3 miles with her. Maybe even finish together if I just kept going.<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: purple;"><b>Finished in 4:36</b> </span>(10:28 average pace with a maximum of 6:40)<br />
<br />
<b>Splits miles 1-15:</b><br />
8:56 / 8:46 / 8:50 / 8:38 / 8:45 / 8:46 / 8:54 / 8:56 / 8:54 / 9:12 / 8:56 / 9:10 / 9:08 / 9:44 / 9:24 /<br />
<br />
<b>Mile 16 with seizing pain and no GU since mile 12:</b><br />
10:13 / 10:40 / 10:50 /12:44 / 12:50 / 12:34 /14:29 /12:50 / 11:57<br />
12:34 /<br />
<br />
<b>Mile 26: I walked with Karen. I just didn't care anymore.</b><br />
15:43<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mbEMyllDlEc/VXIpG2PWsEI/AAAAAAAAAjY/uxTfVpvwqMI/s1600/Girls%2Bon%2Brun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mbEMyllDlEc/VXIpG2PWsEI/AAAAAAAAAjY/uxTfVpvwqMI/s640/Girls%2Bon%2Brun.jpg" width="344" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Girl on the Run was tutufied!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So maybe this 26.2 sucked—a lot! But I got a few things that went right enough. I pulled myself together with a shower and 10 minute nap, and came back to run another 5k with my daughter for Girls on the Run that night. That's right. If I can get it together and take another hit in the gut, anyone can finish a marathon—anyone.<br />
<br />
She had a great time and when she wanted to walk a bit, guess what, I let her.<br />
<br />
Although, I am sorry to share TMI here, I was dehydrated from the brown color of my urine. Which may have been another issue to this race disappointment as well.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hos2L8yeMDI/VXIkMEJYngI/AAAAAAAAAik/bJSo6pBtnPw/s1600/shoe%2Bcookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hos2L8yeMDI/VXIkMEJYngI/AAAAAAAAAik/bJSo6pBtnPw/s400/shoe%2Bcookies.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute shoe cookies I made the night before Bayshore <br />
for my buddy's wedding</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NY9fJm0xw6o/VXIktiTBBoI/AAAAAAAAAis/gSb4ZyRsYkw/s1600/wedding%2Bday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NY9fJm0xw6o/VXIktiTBBoI/AAAAAAAAAis/gSb4ZyRsYkw/s200/wedding%2Bday.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wedding Day Bliss—<br />
the day after 30 miles </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I also made more than 80 shoe cookies for my run buddy's wedding the day before the race. She had a running themed "Save the Date" card with some family joining in on the races. A large group was there at the end to welcome her across. She deserved the best of days. And those cookies were so much fun. I think I have a new hobby!!<br />
<br />
I took most of following week off from running but jumped back in by the weekend with double digit miles back to back—because this is how I ultra. I am still piecing together what might have occurred in my gut and I am disappointed in that timing. I felt a sadness over it. I am even crazy enough to consider pushing it in two weeks at Charlevoix. But I will NOT. Because what ever path I take, and however that story ends, I know I am being prepared for some mass suffering come September. This is what I have prayed for and trusted in. What ever it takes to finish the 100, let it be in my path. That is the real target for 2015—38 hours of celebration.<br />
<br />
How blessed am I, that I get to gut-out and rock-out really cool goals like Superior 100. Give me strength, knowledge, ability and focused drive.Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-3590990351575464272015-05-13T18:44:00.001-07:002015-05-15T05:17:32.935-07:00The Burn of Taper Madness<b>Two weeks until the Bayshore Marathon and I am in taper madness which include thoughts like :</b><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>OMG why am I running so sloooow? Shouldn't I be running faster right now? I was going faster last week, wasn't I? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Why didn't I do any speed work? </span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Pace? What pace?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">How the hell am I going to PR?</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Where's the mental toughness I need? I lost it. Where did it go? Will it show up for the race? Maybe I don't really care anymore.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Go down in miles? I feel fine. What's a couple more miles or one less rest day?</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Crap, I might gain weight before the race. That's two seconds slower per mile. I need to pick up some miles.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Damn. Should have done more Yasso 800s. Next time.</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What is wrong with my breathing?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">And you want to run 100 miles??? What the hell are you thinking?</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What if it's windy and rainy?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;">Embrace the suck, fool. Embrace the suck.</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Why did I make another <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/06/another-pie/" target="_blank">peanut butter pie</a>. That is two in a week … just stop it!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i><b>
And the only thing that is true for sure, is that I am out of time. </b>I need to let my muscles rebuild to see the magic that is the taper. Think about 1-0-0 after this marathon.<br />
<br />
With 5 months of training, changing my diet and losing 15 lbs (that's right and 10 more to go before Superior 100), I NEED to see results. I NEED that perfect day:<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> no GI track issues<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> mid-50s to 70 degree temps<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> no rain<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> no asthma<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> pure mental toughness<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> no aches<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> keep the pace, keep the pace<br />
<span style="color: purple;">•</span> rested<br />
<br />
Feeling sluggish, anxious, and getting freaked out almost daily … what's a girl to do except throw on the most awesome pair of capris that just arrived, and then take some pictures because they rock that much!! They make me rock! They'll make you rock!<br />
<br />
I'm just going to go on the record as the woman with genetically gifted calves LOL … at 16 inches around there will be no false hopes of getting smaller. That's right, be jealous of my calf size boys. In fact, I HATED the stirrup pants and fitted pants look of the 80s. Someone—<i>a stupid boy</i>—once told me I shouldn't wear them because they didn't look good. All the other girls looked like pixies and that was never going to be me. And another boy told me I was built like a guy because of my calves. Yep, see the burn coming on here?<br />
<br />
Finally, a capri that really does fit all sizes. This is what a woman really needs. A capri from <a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1634646366"></span>INKnBURN</a> called <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/womens-dark-blue-denim-ryu-capris/" target="_blank">RYU</a> with a dragon head that says to me, <span style="color: purple;"><b><i>"</i></b></span><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>Girl, you're huge! Well ALRIGHT! How far can you fly?"</i></span></b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KNf6Cfn97eU/VVPvHxL-_MI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/3cUMSl15F-4/s1600/Dragon%2Blegs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KNf6Cfn97eU/VVPvHxL-_MI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/3cUMSl15F-4/s640/Dragon%2Blegs.jpg" width="539" /></a></div>
<br />
When I saw these a month ago on pre-order, I was hoping for the capri of my dreams. They are, and more. The RYU Capri is athletic wear that looks like dark blue denim and fits more like an elastic tight material, but goes on easily. They are sized 0-12. But bare in mind since they do limited runs, they are GONE when they sell out. I can even wear underwear with no lines showing. They truly nailed this badass design. (No, I don't think I can write a post without saying badass.)<br />
<br />
I don't want to call out the other brands I have tried with false promises of no lines, but there are plenty with a <b><span style="color: purple;">suck-tion</span></b> I refuse to embrace. <br />
<br />
As my taper madness continues for the next two weeks and the crazies keep flying, I am going to throw the dragon on now and then just to feel like the rock star I should.<br />
<br />
And with relentless faith, I'll find my focused drive.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HH3fKRL2f68/VVSYnjx8nSI/AAAAAAAAAhI/nDyJtxPQsII/s1600/pb3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HH3fKRL2f68/VVSYnjx8nSI/AAAAAAAAAhI/nDyJtxPQsII/s320/pb3.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<i>Incase you NEED to make that</i> <i><a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/06/another-pie/" target="_blank">Peanut Butter Pie,</a> I compared two of them and liked this one the best from the The Pioneer Woman.</i><br />
<div>
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<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-80653083436964710022015-04-01T09:55:00.001-07:002015-04-07T11:33:06.584-07:00To Run With the Wolves at Superior 100<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rf_sZgEKR7I/VRwetfKZNmI/AAAAAAAAAf8/lpuwaeuZ5Ms/s1600/vessel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rf_sZgEKR7I/VRwetfKZNmI/AAAAAAAAAf8/lpuwaeuZ5Ms/s1600/vessel.jpg" height="162" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 1979 teapot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Growing up my mother would tell me to save new things, nice things or items worth something for good. </b>Everything seemed to be worth something since we didn't have much, so the same theme just got played over and over again. "Save them for your kids one day," she would say. What she meant was to put precious things on a shelf or in a drawer and not use them—ever. To protect them from damage or looking shabby—don't touch and certainly don't play with them.<br />
<br />
On my 6th birthday, I received a hand-made tea set from my father, who I would see about once a year. It was one of the nicest things I had ever gotten at the time. I put it on my dresser and "saved it for good" like my mother said. The cups and teapot held pins and buttons from time to time, and it would become dusty. I cleaned it, but I never played with it because I might break it. One day my shelf fell and a cup and the handle of the teapot broke. I glued it back together, and still it sat on a shelf or in a drawer being saved for good—saved for somebody else since I out grew it. It became "stuff" to collect more dust for someone else.<br />
<br />
This "save it" theme that went on through the years has bothered me more the older I get because items, things, and stuff are worthless if there is no connection to a life. It can even be a symbol of regret with the would of, should of, could of attached to it.<br />
<br />
My children were recently playing tea party and saying how tiny their pot was. So I pulled out my 35 year old teapot and gave it to them. Not to look at and not touch, but to engage and fill with what ever memories they want to flow. My son asked me if he could have it when I die. I laughed out loud. I felt like it was a sign that the moment was worthy to keep. I said it could be broken by then—so not to upset his sister. He said he only wanted it if it wasn't broken. While my daughter chimed in that she wanted it either way. At last, this vessel had reached its deserving destination and wasn't just stuff.<br />
<br />
It made me think. Just like the teapot, my body is a vessel. It's cracked in places with a permanent bruise on my right knee that sags, but still, what am I saving if for? I use this vessel to LIVE in this life. I fill it with hope, dreams and virtuous moments. Sure I want to live a long life and not have a body in need of surgeries from over-use, but what if a shelf crashes down on me, metaphorically speaking, and I can't be glued together—ever. I will be wishing I used the "stuff" God gave me.<br />
<br />
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">So when people ask me why I want to run 100 miles and have in their mind that it's just destruction of the body, this is the reason I won't put myself on a shelf or in a drawer. I am not saving this vessel for someone else to show me what living looks like.</span></b></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQU7chL1190/VRwVYscD7OI/AAAAAAAAAfg/0Qe430PnvYE/s1600/wolf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQU7chL1190/VRwVYscD7OI/AAAAAAAAAfg/0Qe430PnvYE/s1600/wolf.jpg" height="320" width="305" /></a></div>
I desire to run with the two legged wolves. The human pack that migrates 100+ miles each year on the Superior Hiking Trail in northern Minnesota in September, The trail parallels the north shore of Lake Superior. It's a point-to-point race that has been on my radar for several months and quite possibly a year since I first read about it. I was too much of a scaredy cat to seriously consider it about a year ago. It's a process.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fyut79Uh_9U/VRwVYG-PUBI/AAAAAAAAAfc/wLLweY07qKw/s1600/landscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fyut79Uh_9U/VRwVYG-PUBI/AAAAAAAAAfc/wLLweY07qKw/s1600/landscape.jpg" height="432" width="640" /></a></div>
In 2013 my first 50 miler at North Country Run in Michigan ignited my love for the trail journey and qualified me for the <a href="http://fall.superiortrailrace.com/race-info/100-mile/" target="_blank">Superior 100</a> (because there is a qualification time). My 2014 hematoma knee bang-up, which I just kept running on for 25 miles, answered the question I was seeking that day in an unexpected way.<i> <b>Do I have the heart, strength, ability and courage to take on 100 miles?</b></i><b> </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FHvASQ9wxC0/VRwVbuZCpjI/AAAAAAAAAfs/voU6duJigtA/s1600/poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FHvASQ9wxC0/VRwVbuZCpjI/AAAAAAAAAfs/voU6duJigtA/s1600/poster.jpg" height="640" width="433" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
Laughing as I write this—three out of four is good enough. <i><b>Ability</b></i> is my weakness. So that is where I will train the most—in the dark, going over roots and rugged terrain, and some mud running.<br />
<br />
<b>Fears set in:</b> I am a genetically average runner with an average ability. I hurt—my ass hurts just sitting in this chair too long—training is hard, and there are days that it feels like an endless struggle. It does not come easy for me. I may come in completely last place or even DNF! I am a pup to ultra running compared to the majority of this pack and the times they have set on other courses. I already checked out some stats on that. But the call is howling at me.<br />
<br />
My adventure includes 100+ miles which is deemed as one of the toughest courses in the world and considered to be one of the "most challenging, scenic and prestigious in the country"…let's stop right there. I'm SOLD! It's all about the experience. Running loops are not for me. I know I have said this before.<br />
<br />
It's a race so difficult that the time to complete it is 38hours and I could possibly be yanked off the course early if I fall behind.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x2aDOvR4lNs/VRwVXHbEyMI/AAAAAAAAAfU/hn2rZyI0jvw/s1600/long%2B100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x2aDOvR4lNs/VRwVXHbEyMI/AAAAAAAAAfU/hn2rZyI0jvw/s1600/long%2B100.jpg" height="640" width="240" /></a></div>
<b>Rugged, Relentless and Remote.</b> Have I scared the hell out of any reader yet?<br />
<br />
<b style="color: purple;">Q: </b>Am I scared?<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b>A: </b></span><i>Of Course!</i><br />
<br />
<b style="color: purple;">Q: </b>Is this a goal which quickens my pulse and makes me a little sick thinking about the reality of being in the dark with wild animals, alone and with lots of tripping hazards?<br />
<b style="color: purple;">A: </b><i>Gulp! Yes.</i><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><b>Q: </b></span>Do I fear I may DNF for the first time?<br />
<b style="color: purple;">A: </b><i>Yes.</i><br />
<br />
<b style="color: purple;">Q: </b>What scares me more?<br />
<b style="color: purple;">A: </b><i>Not dreaming. Not doing it. Not believing. </i><b><i>One empty pot.</i></b><br />
<br />
Over the next 5 months my vessel will be filling with what I believe my edge is to complete this:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I am Faithful. </b></span><br />
<b><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>I am Fierce.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I am Relentless. </b></span><br />
<b><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">I am Grit. </span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I am an Ultra Runner.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">I've got the right STUFF.</span></b></div>
<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-8324015709365423992015-02-11T11:04:00.004-08:002015-02-16T16:03:34.873-08:00BadAss Eye-Candy<b>I crave the struggle, the play by play experience, and mental challenge of distance running. </b>It's the calm and control, spiritual resilience, while holding on to the blazing desire deep within the miles to "finish this God forsaken course" tucked into great beauty and scenery that makes me come back for more. It's a complete package deal.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3SQocKvEcTc/VNuZpjLmZXI/AAAAAAAAAdU/7JLwT7hjFG4/s1600/obsess.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3SQocKvEcTc/VNuZpjLmZXI/AAAAAAAAAdU/7JLwT7hjFG4/s1600/obsess.png" height="156" width="400" /></a></div>
If you have flipped through my pages, it becomes obvious that all of the details matter to me from the gear and nutrition I carry and the course I run, right down to the colors, graphics and details I wear. I like to change things up depending on the spirit of the event. It has become mental as well as functional.<br />
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<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZ8H68jIkFQ/VNuhj5IJcBI/AAAAAAAAAeE/ebuQqew24qU/s1600/singlet%2Bexample.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZ8H68jIkFQ/VNuhj5IJcBI/AAAAAAAAAeE/ebuQqew24qU/s1600/singlet%2Bexample.png" height="305" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured with the Run or Die theme <br />
of the skeleton holding the water bottles.<br />
I was sad to see them discontinued, but not for long…</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's important to me to feel the <b><i><span style="color: purple;">energy</span></i></b> and have <i><b><span style="color: purple;">security</span></b></i> (of not chaffing!) on race day. So much is already unpredictable. <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> quickly became my favorite event wear a couple years ago. The singlet, <b><i>which ten years ago I never thought I would go sleeveless,</i></b> is my pick for perfect fit in a warmer event and training run. I am referencing warmer here, because I also participate in Michigan winter running with is full-on snow and ice. The singlet is loose and long enough at the waist for comfort throughout an entire sweaty day. And it fits my curves like I am a woman—because I AM A WOMAN and I don't want to wear a box or tent! I have never experienced any chaffing issues, nor have I had one fall apart. I like the light weight for summer, but I am still protected when wearing my Camelbak from any extra rubbing around the neck and chest.</div>
<div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mKoIWxkxR9E/VNt3fBfuBbI/AAAAAAAAAdE/3DoXTAdKhJw/s1600/InknBurn%2Blogo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m-q8cBdaTOg/VNuhmdOBGFI/AAAAAAAAAeM/lNNxw-k6ork/s1600/color%2Blove.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m-q8cBdaTOg/VNuhmdOBGFI/AAAAAAAAAeM/lNNxw-k6ork/s1600/color%2Blove.png" height="400" width="242" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wRzV1L-VZkI/VNuZ3IK9biI/AAAAAAAAAdk/3l59e0I8Gdg/s1600/long%2Bsleeve.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xa57Fb8RLzg/VNuZxUyb7YI/AAAAAAAAAdc/R78YFV-m9jw/s1600/shorts.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xa57Fb8RLzg/VNuZxUyb7YI/AAAAAAAAAdc/R78YFV-m9jw/s1600/shorts.png" height="314" width="320" /></a><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wRzV1L-VZkI/VNuZ3IK9biI/AAAAAAAAAdk/3l59e0I8Gdg/s1600/long%2Bsleeve.png" height="400" width="186" /><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mKoIWxkxR9E/VNt3fBfuBbI/AAAAAAAAAdE/3DoXTAdKhJw/s1600/InknBurn%2Blogo.png" height="72" width="200" /><br />
<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">I am in Color </span><span style="color: #cc0000;">L-O-V-E!</span></span></h4>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
There is no doubt that <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/" target="_blank">INKnBURN</a> creates BADASS eye-candy. In my search for a new great race shirt, I was happy when it was announced that they were going to release all new designs on a limited run so that once a design was sold out, they would create new releases. You snooze you loose.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I saw the new black <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/womens-run-or-die-long-sleeve-tech-shirt/" target="_blank">Run or Die long sleeve tech shirt</a>, I knew great things were coming and wanted it so badly in a singlet—and a long sleeve. Just look at it!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
And then they went and did it…in raging fast red. Last year, a friend said that people run faster in red shoes. I am hoping that it true in red shirts as well. Check out the the <a href="http://www.inknburn.com/womens-run-or-die-singlet/" target="_blank">Run or Die Singlet</a> and shorts. (You will have to set up an account to view these items online. Don't worry, it won't cost you a thing to look.) The attention to detail between the imprint and construction always impresses me. Notice how the shorts have the peek-a-boo skeleton in the back. </div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Never a disappointment. Keep it coming!<br />
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-82670260747200361442014-12-26T07:11:00.004-08:002023-03-09T21:18:43.201-08:00Time vs Moment<b>As I focus on the new year I have to also reflect on the past, and that some moments are more about the people I shared them with and being in the now, than the time on my Garmin. Unquestionably, tutufying some races in the <a href="http://www.toughgirltutus.com/" target="_blank">Tough Girl Tutu</a> or <a href="http://princessdoodlebeans.com/" target="_blank">Princess Doodle Beans</a> tutu at North Country and a turkey trot became a highlight.</b><br />
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To the non-runner, pace, splits and time are just words that make their eyes glass over or make them look for the nearest exit to the conversation. I love to talk about running, but I honestly try to talk about anything else to not bore people. If it was just about a clock ticking I think most people would quit since that carrot just isn't a worthwhile draw time after time. Where is the long term joy in that? My body just can't take the intensity of "racing" each race when I may have 2 races in one month during the summer months. I am truly average and normal.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple;">Charlevoix Half Marathon</span></span></h3>
One such race was the Charlevoix half-marathon in Michigan, which my run buddy and I celebrated her 35th year and a new age group. We ran with my friend Lisa that I have known since high school. We were cheerleaders back in the day, and Lisa even ran some x-country—she had some mammothly strong, amazing, cut legs back then that I desired to have. Heck, I'm still working on it!<br />
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This was her first half-marathon and something she had been working up to. Yes I pushed a little for her to sign-up. I pushed a little for her training. When it comes to running and people going for an accomplishment, I want them to have it. So yes, I am pushy. I am glad she did it, and was pleased (over the moon) I could be there in her moment. Her running friend had bowed out and we figured it would be much more enjoyable to run together and do what Evie and I do on every training run…talk about anything that pops into our heads. It's a great strategy for someone running their first race with no time goal. There is a PR set no matter how you look at it. The miles will tick by with ease for the most part. I did cost her a couple minutes taking pictures on the rock shore in Charlevoix. But a race along the bay deserves a pause.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">National Cherry Festival Inaugural Half-Marathon</span></h3>
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When the National Cherry Festival in Traverse City, Michigan announce an inaugural half-marathon this last summer, I knew I had to be a part of it! I may have been one of the first to register—I was that excited. It was my goal to hit a PR and everything aligned for me, until I approached the starting line. My iPod Nano that I had just purchased a couple weeks prior was having issues and on this day would not sync with my JayBird Bluebuds. I was in for a ride of complete misery. </div>
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I am so driven by music when I actually race for time, that I depend on it to make me forget the pain, extreme suffering and the all around SUCK I am putting myself through. I have even read where one athlete called listening to music a bit of a cheat. It's a huge motivator for me. I had to depend on the voice in my head and silently sing to myself. I came in one minute from my personal record and placed 8th out of 35 in my age bracket (in the top 23%). I am looking forward to meeting that course again next year with a working sound system.</div>
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And for the record, my new Nano stinks! I have never had 30 hours of play on it. It has to be charged after 6 or less. After Apple checked it out, they claimed nothing was wrong with it. I am looking for a better music device. </div>
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<b>Lesson Learned: </b>Bring a second set of head phones and don't trust an Apple tech that this device really works as promised.</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">BONUS! We found our favorite<br />
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Another fun visual, I discovered that Evie and I are about .30 in on the video link below. I can't believe I even found this!<br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/103659040">Festival of Races</a> Video link</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"> Traverse City Turkey Trot</span></h3>
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<i>Why a tutu?</i></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">1.</span></b> Ultra distance running is a masculine sport, and the tutu brings out my fierce femininity (I am not saying that I am going to run in it every time).<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">2. </span></b>26.2 is no joke.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">3. </span></b>13.1 still … no joke.<br />
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</span></b> <b><span style="color: purple;">4. </span></b>People respond to the tutu in a positive encouraging way (so far at least).<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>5. </b></span>When there is more than one on the course, we are united.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">6. </span></b>I feel like I have to be a badass to pull this off.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">7. </span></b>The thought of a puffy tutu running through a trail makes me laugh…falling in one is even more laughable.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>8. </b></span>It's a reminder that life is too short not to embrace living.<br />
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</i></span> <span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><i>9. Without it I don't think I could have gotten my daughter excited to run in a 20 degree Turkey Trot.</i></span><br />
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<b style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="color: purple;">10. </span></b>Because girls just want to have fun… and some boys too.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view leaving our driveway to head to the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day—20 degrees. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby and I after the Turkey Trot. She just may be a sprinter. She loved mile one and not so much of mile two and three. But that last .45 of the race, she sprinted to the finish with a joyous smile and flexing. When she turned to find me right before the last 0.1, I was right next her and just said "Go. Go, Go, GO!" And she did. That's my girl.</td></tr>
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-74656656153066626702014-09-26T09:01:00.001-07:002014-09-29T11:10:55.492-07:00A Race Worth the Trip … If You Can Get Back Up<h3>
<b><span style="color: purple;">North Country Run 2014 … How I met Sally</span></b></h3>
I recently read that if you go out 30 seconds too fast in pace during an ultra, that it can cost you a half hour of finish time later. I can vouch that if you fall at mile 25 on "just the right spot of your knee"—according to the medic—after hitting your goal at 5:11, it can cost you 1.5 to 2 extra hours over the next 25 miles.<br />
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This year North Country Run was full of light hearted jabs, from the humor or two shirts, a sweat shirt (which at first glance looked like it read "Idiot runner in the woods"), the medal (I don't recall posing for that, but I could have!), and Evie and my own fun to "tutufy" this Ultra and bring a little femininity flare to a male dominated sport with a 2 to 1 ratio this year.<br />
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Yet the humor was lost on my knee that swelled on that second loop to the size of a full head after tripping on a root on mile 25—I kid you not! Dena, our new run buddy, named it Sally after I said we should draw a face on it. And I have awarded Sally the title of <i>Worst All Time Pacer</i>. Infact, Sally is a nag and stayed with me for two weeks after.<br />
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I am sure there are many people who would ask why I didn't stop. And I have even heard some unsolicited negative comments about quitting this sport all together, along with "what are you going to do when you are 70?" All from non-runners, so I am not surprised. I have quickly responded that it isn't the running that will get you, its the falling. Let's get that right on today's quiz. And what will I do when I am 70? Hopefully, I live to be 70 and am running, hiking and still active in my existance.<br />
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I asked myself the same question about taking a DNF during the race, and with each fall—which I am going to admit that there were 6 total—I heard the same inner voice say, "Get Up!" Stopping after training for months for this event seemed out of the question. I can't imagine quitting. Quitting at what felt like an "ouch" fall at 25 miles would have been just ridiculous, lazy and not any kind of example I want to set for my kids. I am not saying that I wouldn't take a DNF if I felt a muscle tear or broken bone. That just isn't what it felt like. My quads felt great with little stress for the miles, and my lungs were strong deep into the last 5 miles. But this This was what I worked hard to achieve—for this feeling of strength and to test if I wanted to seriously consider a 100 mile ultra. My goal was to come in at 10 -11 hours and feel good at the end. Sure there was some serging pain time to time, but more when I wasn't running. And I had some special breathing going on to deal with that. shhh shhh whoooo shhh shh whoooo…<br />
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As the bulge grew from softball to human head size with 14 miles left … my footing got tougher and speed became a big issue. My doctor later informed me that with so much fluid (blood) in the area of the knee, it shuts down the outer leg muscles above the knee. Really?! I can't guess to when this really started. Too bad that excuse won't fly for this performance. I did Superman it to begin with. He also ended up draining it after the swelling didn't go down enough for a couple weeks and I just needed to get back to training. The condition is called prepatellar bursitis. Basically, a hematoma.<br />
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Down hill became more of an obstacle adventure with the last 7 miles where I could no longer rely on my leg to catch me if I stumbled, which I did. Falling on it two more times during that last 14 miles gave me a surge of pain—that I relived 24/7 in the two weeks that followed.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">It's Mental </span></b></h3>
Unlike last year, this North Country was hotter and 97% humidity. Another obstacle since this has been a mild summer with cool temps and low humidity. I hardly listened to any music and was not in the same mindset as last year. Thinking about my swelling knee sucked some joy away. Every race is different, but this was a leap into unexpected territory.<br />
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I am grateful to have picked up a run buddy, actually two for the first 4 miles of the second loop of 25, until one dropped back to run with Evie. Karen and Theresa showed up to pace and partner us thru this. It was truly a mental race where my mind needed to be distracted from my knee. I couldn't of had a better run partner then Karen—the most BADASS runner I know, and who ran Boston with a fractured leg a few years ago. There is no doubt in my mind that her being there wasn't meant to be.<br />
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I believe people are motivated in different ways, and I really didn't need a pity running partner. We talked about many things, but not once about stopping. Even though I feel I do very well as a solo runner plugged into a headset, I was relieved in the last 10 miles when she said she was sticking with me to the end. Why not depend a little more on a support system if it is there? I wasn't looking forward to turning on tunes and going it alone in the dark woods and thinking about Sally. I was frustrated that my knee was not cooperating and I was going to blow past last year's time. But this rag doll, was in it to finish it by this point.<br />
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A few volunteers in the last couple aid stations wore shock faces with the horror that drew more attention with the tutu. Karen told them I wasn't aloud to look at it. We laughed and kept moving. Laughter—the key to get through most situations when you are framing your imperfections in a tutu.<br />
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While on the course Karen asked me what my husband was going to say when he saw me cross. I thought he may ask me why I didn't stop. A question I have no simple answer to. What is the meaning? He actually did not say a thing! Maybe he just knows me well enough. Why ask why?<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">When Finishing Turns into Winning</span></b></h3>
As I finished the race and crossed the line at a disappointing 12:02, and the race director asked how I felt from his microphone, all I could say was "Medic!" Not "terrific," or "amazing" … just "MEDIC!" Yeah, it hurt. I won't admit to most people on the spot how much, but pulling that sock off and getting wrapped with ice made me feel like a cry baby even though I wasn't crying.<br />
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One of the biggest surprises was that my body felt under used and challenged. I felt recovered sitting in the sideline chair and ate a burger with my kids around me. No GI issues at all which I usually have if I have pushed. Huh. And that 12:02 finish just blew it by 2 minutes to qualify for some 100 milers. That is one crap-wich. I will save getting too overly upset about for another time. Somewhere along the course finishing became the goal—which is all part of learning to be more flexible in expectations as a runner. I have to be prepared to change the plan.<br />
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While on the trail in the first 25 miles I had several conversations with other runners. It was one of the most enjoyable 25 race miles I have ever had. I told one that two years ago I fell in love with this race. I just didn't know how literal this day would take it to extreme. It's still my #1 race for a quality, aided course, with amazing volunteers, and nearly flawlessly put on—those roots could use some painting—gasp! HA!<br />
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North Country lost a little magic for me this day because I can't undo that fall. In reflection, I won't quit—can't quit— don't know how. 100 miles … you better believe I am looking right at you with my gimpy leg on the mend, and with Sally just a crazy knee stalking memory. Believe it!<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">The Right Medical Attention and Support</span></b></h3>
Ironically, through this crazy event I found a great doctor that gets my focused run commitment without looking at me like I NEED to be committed. And you just might have guessed that he is a runner too. I was dreading to retell the one line tale I have had to repeat every time someone has asked. But when I said it to my new doctor: <i><span style="color: purple;"><b>"I ran a 50 mile trail race and tripped at mile 25, and proceeded to finish,"</b></span></i> something totally unexpected happened…he first <i>congratulated</i> me on finishing! He <i>laughed </i>when I explained the flight of the fall and landing. I can not stress enough how wonderful it is to find a doctor that I feel actually gets it, and supports my lifestyle because he has experience. He assured me that I would be ready to run a marathon in October, and that he had seen the same injury in football players and hockey players. <br />
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Two weeks later he drained my knee and said to "amp it up." I am now back to around 40 miles a week. Still tired from the 50, but I am hopeful that the speed will come again and I can continue to break my own records. Whew!<br />
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<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-21817475163171400342014-05-30T05:35:00.001-07:002015-01-10T06:32:22.630-08:00Fierce Relentless Faith<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On course and loving the pace.</td></tr>
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<b>AMAZING…beaming sun, cool bay breeze, pure gratitude, and giving the bird to mile 20 and beyond, because there was no surrender when I was hot on the heels of hitting my mark at the TCTC Bayshore Marathon. Delivering it in a tutu was just gift wrapping. </b><br />
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I would have never thought just 4 years ago at my first marathon with a painful 5:04 and a mind monkey circus, that I would one day execute 26.2 miles with such a strong finish and solid state of mind for the entire course. My goal was 4:06 and I finished at 4:08. (Strangely my overall pace was exactly on goal of 9:28 per mile from another calculator, but I didn't realize that when they say run as fast as you can in the last 4 miles, they mean FASTER than 9:28.) That two minute port-a-potty break was mandatory at mile 19. It is just the way it goes—literally.<br />
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As is, this is a 16 minute Personal Record (PR)! Hill Repeats and months of hard work finally rewarded me after what felt like a disaster of a half marathon just two months ago. My fueling started three days before with white rice to build glycogen storage and contributed to a well rested and ready for take-off engine. (As rested as I could be waking up at 2 a.m. I am getting use to this little sleep inconvenience the night before a race. ) If I sleep well the previous night, I am still going to be alright as I have been learning with each event.<br />
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As I placed my tattoo on that morning, I thought about what it meant. Yes, I am fierce. And my faith would be with me in gratitude and strength what ever may happen. I thought about the red matching Fellow Flowers we wore to honor Evie's mom who hadn't been feeling well that week. Yes, Red had their meaning of strength and today it would be fierce as well. These are the symbols I wanted to take with me on this journey when i was alone in my head.<br />
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Waiting at the start line among 2700 runners, we chatted with a male runner who hadn't run in months because of a sore back but decided he was going for it since he already had the race paid for and room reserved. We later wonder how <i>HE</i> might be feeling after the race. I didn't see him when I turned around at the half way mark, so I wonder if he dropped. I can't imagine what 26 miles feels like without training for it.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Prerace self talk and prayer: </span></b>Give us strength to be the best we can be today. Thank you for this amazing day to run in.<br />
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Off we go, and I didn't hear the guns to start in this mob as we slowly shuffle to and across the start line.<br />
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Our first few miles were a little faster than planned, and I liked it. I was breathing easily. I felt in control and I reasoned if I could push a little speed and slice some padding in, that we would be okay if we slowed later or if I had to jump into a restroom. Plan for the unexpected, seriously. I even brought some TP. All was going well and the small town crowds and some other runners made fun comments and cheers for the tutus. I am telling you, wear a tutu for a good time. It should be in a pamphlet or on a bumper sticker somewhere.</div>
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My run buddy, Evie wasn't enjoying the pace so much by mile 6. She lagged behind after a couple aid stations and we began seeing the half marathon runners that were bussed to their start line coming our way. My husband was one of them and putting it all out there for the first time alone. I am so proud of his finish with an 11 minute PR at 1:48. He slapped my time half marathon PR by five and a half minutes.<br />
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I saw my childhood best friend cruising along in his first marathon. He had reached the turnaround and was heading back to his three and a half hour finish—ZOOM. A quick high- five in passing gave me a little jolt of speed.<br />
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I high-fived and low-fived children lined up with their hands stuck out in rows. We could easily five 3-5 in a row. It reminded me of bike wheels hitting a playing card as a kid, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. Volunteers were a-plenty and friendly with fun cheers for the tutu. More jolts of energy absorbed from each station.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Mile 11 self talk:</span></b> You are going to have to work for this.<br />
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I had lost my run buddy at about mile 8 and didn't see her again until I was coming back after 13.5 miles. I hollered "Yeah, you are in there!" She said "Just go, go, go!" Completely on my own now, I continued to run strong and count on the GU Roctane every 4 miles. One rule I have—DON'T miss a dose. Poor fueling will kill the race.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Mile 15 self talk:</span></b> Breath easy. In through your nose and out through your mouth.<br />
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At about mile 16 I reflected on how amazing it would be to share this race with my daughter. I look forward to the day she is ready. Running alongside glistening water with her would have sweeten the experience and made it perfection. Several times throughout the race I opened my hand and gave gratitude.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>Mile 17 self talk:</b> </span>Fierce. Keep going and get off this course as fast as possible.<br />
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I had started to have a little cramping for a nature call and it would go away and come back with urgency. Mile 19, I had to make a port-a-potty stop. It was a choice of run in the woods later or go now. It knocked mile 19 up 2 minutes. I did surprisingly well making up the time.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>Mile 20 self talk flying a mental bird:</b> </span>F%^@ this last 6 miles! This isn't pain. Pain is running another 25 miles up and down hills. 6 more miles...turn it over.<br />
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At mile 20 a male runner ran next to me right after an aid station and yelled "Come on Tutu!" I don't know if he was trying to challenge me or encourage me. I hollered back while walked, "I'm GUing!" I quickly got on his heels. A little annoyed I thought, "You Sir, may just be my new best friend." But at last, our friendship ended as I kept pace and lost him.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Mile 22 self talk:</span></b> Ear phones staying on from this point until the last mile. "Fierce focus. Turn it over."<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple;"><b>Golden last mile self talk:</b> </span></span>Yippee! Enjoy, don't slow down. Don't you surrender!<br />
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I was amazed once more by some of the people seemingly keeping pace that started walking on this last mile. All this hard work, crashing. I saw one woman struggling and she started walking and got next to her and said, "Golden last mile. Don't surrender now." I don't know if she started running again or if that helped at all.<br />
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On the last stretch Karen, an amazing running coach and runner, jumped out and ran with me to the track just like last year. So glad she did. It quicken my step and made me smile in the moment. She said, "You're right on target. You surprised me! You're early." I immediately thought of Sarah Shea saying similar words at Ragnar last year. Love it. I am 41, not done and want to keep surprising people.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">4:08 Finish (9:28 overall pace). Boom. Smashed last year's 4:24. </span></b><br />
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Feeling great at the finish, I waited for my run buddy—pacing a bit to keep my legs moving. She was about 24 minutes behind but had a recored time for her 13.1 first half. Good with that, she had changed her race plan to coaching people in and enjoying the run. That's who she is. Time doesn't always matter as much as the time spent with others. I am quite proud of her doing her.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating after with some pizza and waiting around town for three hours <br />
before picking up little girls from a birthday party, because THAT is how moms roll. <br />
Although, I could write a small post on the surprisingly best restrooms around Traverse City after a <br />
Marathon PR because that is the price I payed.</td></tr>
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-72486441463106858752014-05-20T11:44:00.003-07:002014-05-23T16:47:38.590-07:00Inspired Bird<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Doing a marathon feels like giving the middle finger to anything that's ever made me feel scared or vulnerable. </span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="color: #666666;">~ Nancy Barlow </span></b></i></div>
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Thank you <a href="http://seenancyrun.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Nancy</a> for nailing my feelings exactly. That perfectly describes my race day mindset. The bird (a.k.a. the finger) takes flight this Saturday for another 26.2. I am going for a PR and just put together a fast paced collection of tunes to turn my feet over. I am counting on all the hill repeats (50-80 a week) that I used in lieu of some speed work to pay-off. It makes me a little nervous and taper stir crazy, but come race day I know I have to believe to succeed. </div>
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After being completely sick of my music for the past year, I stumbled upon a great new album a couple days ago from Beckah Shae: <i>Champion</i>. Finally some fast pace, positive, and faith supported tunes to keep my feet and heart on fire. The album is loaded to inspire—I'm going to say it—a champion performance! This album is so new there aren't many videos to connect to it. <i>Turbo Style</i> isn't even my favorite song, but dang it just might be a theme song for my blog.<br />
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<i><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Will it be a Run or Die kind of day?</span></b></i>
I have wanted to just let it fly and race in a sports bra for a while. It's part of embracing my freedom and exceptance that I am exactly what God wants me to be and shall I say it—worthy. As well as giving the bird to judgement from others. <i>(Let me use my telepathy and send this message: Hey you know who you are and I'm giving you the bird Saturday for 4 hours.)</i>
Being such a cold Winter and Spring, this sports bra might be ridiculously chilly alone for this weekend. Plus, I am still testing this it since it isn't my usual bounce proof vest. But so far, no chafing or riding up in the last 10 miler.
When I do finally race a bra alone (which I need to work on some other options today), I think it has to be this little Run or Die number pictured at the left. Yes, that's me and my tutu. I don't think my body is there yet (says the judgmental bitch on my shoulder), but then it beckons the question I have to ask myself immediately, <i><span style="color: purple;">"<b>Just when are YOU going to be good enough?"</b></span></i><br />
It's the constant mental battle for especially women. I have physically come a long way from 9 years ago and running only the past 5, yet can beat the hell out of myself within 10 seconds. 10 seconds is all it takes to say something empowering and useful or something shattering to one's self that may take longer to recoup from. Be kind, but push. I know just what to say to bring me down, or push another workout. I know where I respond well, but can go too far like any normal person. You got me, I am too hard on myself. Maybe there should be a new 10 second rule. Say something positive right now... go.
I think it's okay to be a little negative or stressed sometimes, if it is to ignite one's self or another to dig deeper. Not everyone responds well to that pressure though. It's the point that one surrenders sobbingly or starts shoving mass amounts of cake in their mouth that it's gone way too far.
Regardless, I have 26.2 to pull off a PR. I'm stir crazy on a taper and this leads into a quote that cracks me up to near tears...
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<i><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">Sometimes I feel like giving up, and then I remember I have a lot of motherfuckers to prove wrong.</span></i></div>
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Truth.
Off to find my focused drive to let the bird fly for 26.2!
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Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-47917988680215330742014-04-16T07:21:00.001-07:002023-03-09T21:19:50.372-08:0033 Levels of Hell <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>This by far was one of the most hellacious races that either Evie Ultra and I have ever ran. </b>It was a mental exhaustion. <i><span style="color: purple;">But in reflection … I can't stop laughing. </span></i><br />
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<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">The Traverse City Trail Running Festival of 2014</span></b><br />
I won't put lipstick on it or sugar coat this race in any way, but I will wear a tutu. A white virginal, puffy tutu in my first 50k. I admitted that I am one crazy mother runner, but this 50k was ridiculous! Let's make it clear that being an endurance athlete means, you gotta ENDURE baby.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">• </span><b>10 loop course</b> instead of the intended course we signed up for (Hello, we are living in the Ground Hog Day the Movie, there's no getting out now. Besides, everyone likes to count to 10, correct?)<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">• </span> <b>95% of the trail made of 100% packed ice </b>with lumps of slippery crystal snow for horrible footing (Think you found a safe spot? Think again.)<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">• </span> <b>Rain in the last 7 miles</b> in case it wasn't slippery enough (Even a young man with screws on his shoes said he was slipping.)<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">• </span><b>33 miles instead of 31 </b>(Because 31 just isn't enough and runners always want more.)<br />
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I am sure this wouldn't have been quite so bad footing wise if I hadn't left the YakTracs out of my drop bag. That's what happens when mom is sidetracked packing and getting an 8 year old ready for a slumber party. My run buddy and I hadn't realized the course was packed ice due to the late Michigan thaw, the course mainly being a x-country ski trail that had packed down ice, and the fact that we don't live right next to the trail to know any better. This priority of traction issues was lost on us. Most of the surrounding woods outside of the course had hardly any snow left. A warning from the race directors would have been nice. Being such an over packer, I still can't believe I didn't drop those tracs in. But onward!<br />
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The one aid station had gatorade, water, Quaker granola bars and gels. I like a little more substance when running long. We were aware of what would not be there ahead of time, and had packed grilled cheese sandwiches, homemade peanut butter cookie, granola bars and coconut water in my drop bag. Food—now THAT I remembered to bring. Why don't more races have fresh cookies? It's so much more personal with fresh cookies. Look to the cookie!<br />
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We were in pretty good spirits thru most of the race—counting down laps as we went by the aid stations. People waiting for their loved ones were cheering and smiling. There were no passes (or kills) made by us on this day. Okay, we passed one walker in a shorter distance and that doesn't count. Ice shuffling is exhausting and we covered little ground at a time. Quite a few heavy breathers and people actually racing this thing passed us. One man just kept chanting, "We're crazy...We're all crazy...We're crazy..." And I was thinking, "Yes, I agree with you. Please don't die and slow down."<br />
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After our 5th lap (25k done and feeling good) we reflected on running this event a year ago and how hard the 25k seemed then (partially because I ran it with bronchitis, duh). It was after this race that I started hill repeats to prepare for the 50-miler last year. Running a 50k a year ago seemed so beyond my ability. One full year of change—physically and mentally—has completely shifted my perspective. I was even dreaming more about a 100 miler—until this dam 50k. I am going to need a breather to dream again.<br />
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At about mile 24 my knees were feeling some pain (a lot), and IT band stiffness from this hard ice tap dance of a run. My spirits got a little low thinking of an injury and I was feeling a little delirious from lack of something. We discussed what stopping would mean and I just could not come to grips with a DNF. Evie said she didn't care either way. I know it's silly, but I couldn't let go. With just two more loops left, there was no way this BAMR was going to let this course beat her. After another gel set in, I was feeling better and continued to run on edges of soft ground where I could. Maybe all that zig-zagging was also getting to me.<br />
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During that last loop of hysteria laughter and a few sailor language exchanges, Evie stated I better not bring this one up to run again next year. The answer would be "no way." Well, she blocked out all that pain and suffering a couple days later and talked about next year...Muhaaaaaa. I don't know if anything could quite compare to this lesson of mental toughness. This one will resonate as the winner of the <i>Gold Medal of Nightmares</i> award for some time. I don't think<span style="color: purple;"> <b>I</b> </span>want another day like this, but then again I am glad I made it through it. I am ready for some sun, warmer temps and some soft earth to run on. I can't consider another ice run for a really long time … unless there are cookies at the end.<br />
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A met a woman name Denise, who is running only new races this year. I thought that sounded like an excellent idea.<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Two-Too-licious:</span></b><br />
When wearing a white <a href="http://www.toughgirltutus.com/" target="_blank">Tough Girl Tutu</a>, there is one main rule that sticks to my brain: <span style="color: purple;"><i><b>You can't quit!!</b></i></span> From funny looks to comments, these tutus were fun and helped keep a smile on our faces and those of other runners. It seems to makes one more approachable. It is obviously not a state of total seriousness. One goal I kept in mind, was to finish this challenge with a smile on my face. If it isn't fun, why am I doing this? Just two friends embracing the struggle through a really long run with the value in just finishing it. If I could pass any advice on for an adventure<i> like this</i>, it would be to run with a good buddy, and you can run through hell on ice (which sounds like a great drink for this race's after party).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>8 hours later (last and we don't care):</b> THE END! Being 2 of 4 women in this icy 50k, <br />
we were glad to be done, have a beer in this warming cabin like area, and share some cookies on the way home.</td></tr>
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<br />Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477002907635780140.post-30517401510226972862014-04-09T06:17:00.001-07:002014-04-09T10:00:33.275-07:00Remedy for One Sore and Crazy Mother RunnerMy first half of the year has left me not only disappointed, but bewildered at why I couldn't catch my breath and how I couldn't turn my feet over fast enough to break two hours. A 2:03 is still a a course record for me at The Florida Halfathon in Fort Desoto, and I did finish in the top 27% of my age group—but it just wasn't where I wanted to be. Was it the change from the negative degrees of Michigan's harsh winter to the 80s that got to me? Is the air that different? The prior day's runs in Florida all seemed slow even though my company was enjoyable.<br />
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Still need to prove themselves to this Dorothy.</td></tr>
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I am inherently hard on myself and I struggle to find out what I have been doing or did wrong. I felt and looked 10 pounds heavier in photos. What is up with that?!! I wore the new Conquest Hoka shoes that I bought for races this year, but had only trained in them up to 8 miles at a time. My Conquests are racer red. Feeling the magic from the Wizard of Oz yet? Although they make me feel like Dorothy, my quads just wanted to me to click my heels three times and go home. I hate to say anything negative about Hoka, but these are not as cushioned as my Bondi Bs I have used for the past couple years. The outside of my quads had an unfamiliar ache by mile 4. It built the rest of the 13.1 miles. I was sore for a few days to follow. I have to take full responsibility for not further testing these shoes before I raced them. I will have to run some more in them to further check if it was just me or the shoes. </div>
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<b>Mental Remedy: Turn up the Volume</b></div>
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Back home to Michigan, this last week's pay back was 56 miles with <span style="color: purple;"><b>three</b></span> one hour 4 mile runs of hill repeats. I have never done three in a week before and usually only train with one session a week. But dam if these Positive Beat Downs don't make me feel stronger, dig deeper, run a little faster on the flats and most importantly—SEE just how strong I am. With the ice finally melted from my familiar slope, I took them outside and sliced through the first session with more to give. Amazing! That treadmill repeats this winter has paid off.</div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">25 repeats = 4.2 miles = 1,248ft total ascent = 54 minutes</span></b></div>
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I am less apprehensive about injury and overuse now that the prior pain in my leg from Chronic Exertional Compartment Syndrome seems in control with the CherryFlex that I still take twice a day. For now I am going to keep up these hill drills and see what results. Easier race speed is what I am looking for with better breathing.<br />
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<b>And Finally…</b>I realize that this may sound like one Crazy Mother Runner thing to do, but it makes perfect sense to me and my goal list for 2014. I am running a Ultra Trail 50k this coming weekend. I just entered it two days ago! How do I train for a marathon coming up next month? Run a 31 miler and call it good long run.<br />
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I think I am trained up for it. It won't be a speed test. Just a sit back and enjoy the journey kind of race. I am laughing right now, thinking of my pack I need to get together. I am just lucky/blessed to have a run buddy ready for the shenanigans and some gilled cheese sandwiches in the woods! It just may be Tutulicious if our race tutus make it here in time. </div>
Not FAST or FURIOUS Jillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07683680714044847705noreply@blogger.com1