tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57986000654483022592024-03-13T20:17:55.146-07:00NC UltrarunnerMy personal page about ultrarunning, trail running, mountain biking, adventure racing, and other outdoor pursuits.Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-9410072669260221762019-10-07T18:12:00.000-07:002019-10-07T18:45:22.692-07:00Yeti 100: Embracing the “Suppering”Zion was my last hundred. It was #12 and the finish of the last few hundreds had been pretty rough. Nausea, chills alternating with sweating and general misery were the symptoms of the aftermath and I decided that I was pretty much done with hundreds. For the next three years, I stuck to my own adventure runs and not many races and my body was okay with that.<br />
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But then, after awhile, I felt that I wasn’t really a “real” ultra runner anymore. A friend and I discussed how we took the ultra running stickers off our vehicles because we hadn’t run an official ultra in awhile. What’s up with that? Do marathoners take the 26.2 sticker off when they haven’t run a marathon recently? And why does it even matter if I am not an ultra runner anymore? <br />
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Anyway, this isn’t supposed to be about my psychological problems. So let’s talk about the physical ones, instead. In the years since Zion, I dealt with a persistent parasite, a foot injury, only partially fixed by surgery, and then a herniated disc that let my whole left side wonky and extremely painful. I lost a lot of weight because it hurt too much for four months to sit down. And then I hurt my foot again. And again. And again. It works now, but usually, within 6 miles, my foot starts hurting and my ankle swells and stiffens up. Any pressure on the arch or side of ankle intensifies the pain. As a result I have a whole closet full of shoes because, while one pair feels good on one day, it doesn’t on the next. I have to try on several pair before I find one that works. I have to be picky about where I run because some trails or sloped surfaces aggravate the injury. But I still run, and I am thankful for that, even if it is different. Running hasn’t made the problem any worse and my surgeon, although not yet sure what is wrong, assures me the foot probably won’t fall off.<br />
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Somewhere amidst all of that, I had the urge to try a hundred again. I have absolutely no idea why, given the previous paragraph. (See earlier psychological issues paragraph for a possible explanation). At 53, I’ve quit trying to figure me out and I just roll with it. So, I entered and “won” the lottery for Yeti 2019. This would have never been a race I was interested in. I like mountains and climbs and technical single track, but this was a surface my foot could handle. I started off training well, but then I would have another setback, so I had no consistent training, a lot of down time, with most weeks averaging 30 miles or so. I couldn’t do speed work and most strength work aggravated either the back or the ankle.<br />
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Even though I’ve run ultras for 16 years, I still read articles and books with training info and advice. The general consensus is that 30 mile weeks are not sufficient training for a hundred. Luckily, I also listen to my husband, who counters with the fact that I’ve done this long enough and my body knows what to do, and that understanding the suffering involved is actually the key. About that point, we read an article by a mountain biker, picking on a non English speaking biker, who said the key to success is to “Embrace the suppering.” And that’s one thing I am actually good at. So I decided the only reasons to DNF was if the foot did actually fall off or, a very real possibility, not hitting a cutoff.<br />
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I showed up at Whitetop Friday morning, nervous for the first time at a start line because, for the first time, I didn’t know if I could finish. Now, I’ve had DNFs, but I didn’t show up to the race thinking it was a possibility. I also didn’t know at what point the foot would go south on me. Six miles? Sixty? To top it all off, I had been sick for three weeks with a head and chest cold and didn’t know how that would figure into the equation. And all the runners around me seemed so fit, confident, and happy. I felt out of place here. But I wanted the stupid skateboard and buckle really bad and in addition to psychological issues, I suffer from an overdose of stubbornness.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fssXXiafJr4/XZveYw1ealI/AAAAAAAAsyA/iM7z0EFon143MJ_35zXuFGg7I4bZ45bYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/E3CD309A-5E7C-4BA2-BCB3-7022448464ED.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fssXXiafJr4/XZveYw1ealI/AAAAAAAAsyA/iM7z0EFon143MJ_35zXuFGg7I4bZ45bYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/E3CD309A-5E7C-4BA2-BCB3-7022448464ED.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
My strategy was to not run faster than my training pace (11-12 minute miles due to no speed work) on the 17 mile downhill and take walk breaks every half mile. I was a little disappointed that the downhill was so gradual at places that I was unsure if it was downhill, flat, or uphill. But that would be okay in the middle of the night as I headed back up. I figured I could drop down to 15 minute miles until my body gave up (I was assuming it would) and then if I could at least get 20 minute miles throughout the night, I might make the cutoffs.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CrabcR2XDOw/XZvcZrSdyfI/AAAAAAAAsxw/ESQZZTvfoIkDHQiEZ4TSxNyI5jzX6avvQCEwYBhgL/s1600/06BE55A5-08DF-4AE5-9BFA-7839782FDEE6.jpeg" 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="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CrabcR2XDOw/XZvcZrSdyfI/AAAAAAAAsxw/ESQZZTvfoIkDHQiEZ4TSxNyI5jzX6avvQCEwYBhgL/s200/06BE55A5-08DF-4AE5-9BFA-7839782FDEE6.jpeg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Su7oKaM-VYg/XZvbTQUGJdI/AAAAAAAAsw8/ticuFH1mClMrKCTnSezRsKPrx82XhSvTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/C33479F9-4E6B-4E44-A690-F8CF934940B5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="540" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Su7oKaM-VYg/XZvbTQUGJdI/AAAAAAAAsw8/ticuFH1mClMrKCTnSezRsKPrx82XhSvTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/C33479F9-4E6B-4E44-A690-F8CF934940B5.jpeg" width="112" /></a>I stuck to the plan until around mile 25, when my back and foot started really hurting. It was also extremely hot and I was starting to wear down. So I abandoned the half mile run settled into a continuous run/walk unpredictable pattern, which my body and foot seemed to like, but I’m sure annoyed the other runners around me. At the 33 mile turnaround, I was feeling decent and I ate the hamburger Tony bought me, despite not being hungry, because hamburgers are miracle ultra food. Then back to the walk/shuffle pattern back to the aid station/party at Damascus. <br />
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At Damascus, my old friend and awesome ultra runner, Sarah Lowell, met me to pace me. She had surprised me the day before by telling me she was coming. I rarely have pacers or aid during the night, mainly because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone and a lack of one makes me keep going until the morning because I don’t have anyone to help me if I quit. This time, since I wasn’t sure how far I would make it, I didn’t even consider asking anyone to help. But Sarah showed up and I am glad she did. As I told her, in the middle of the night, I knew having a pacer was a big advantage. I remember at Zion, in the early morning hours, running loops in the desert, crying because I couldn’t stop shivering. Compounding my misery was seeing pairs of headlamps everywhere because everyone else had a pacer helping them. <br />
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So, I had one last burger and an ice cream sandwich with Tony at Damascus, the halfway point. I knew I was getting blisters from the fine cinder/gravel, so I dumped out the right shoe but I left my bad foot alone. I didn’t want to mess with it because, aside from the blisters, it was comparatively comfortable. <br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4nU-lH9GrgQ/XZvbPfC1KlI/AAAAAAAAswo/pY89m7cBVkQsq6JYMCAI3xlbH_wsPXtSgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/46E0D8E1-1075-4508-876E-323BAC3A30A5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="628" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4nU-lH9GrgQ/XZvbPfC1KlI/AAAAAAAAswo/pY89m7cBVkQsq6JYMCAI3xlbH_wsPXtSgCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/46E0D8E1-1075-4508-876E-323BAC3A30A5.jpeg" width="130" /></a> The following ten hours with Sarah went quickly and I was surprised that my body kept on autopilot with alternating runs and walks, especially on the uphill. Somehow, it also stuck to the 15 minute mile plan. It rained on us briefly, which was concerning, but it stopped before we got cold. Then, as we got closer to Green Cove, the sky cleared revealing a beautiful moon and a sky full of stars. Sarah kept stopping to look up at them, but every time I tried, I only got a brief glimpse before I got dizzy. We talked about this being a reason why we run ultras, to see things like this that most people don’t have an opportunity to, because they are home in bed.<br />
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Sarah kept me entertained and distracted all night and I have no idea how we filled up 10 hours with conversation, but we did. Before we knew it, she delivered me back to Damascus with a 2 ½ cushion on the cutoff. That was a huge relief.<br />
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My ankle had been hurting the whole time, but not enough to make me limp as long as I was moving. However, anytime I stopped, even to get water at an aid station, it stiffened up to where I had to walk a couple minutes before I could run. Luckily, it also stiffened up if I took too long of a walk break. That kept the walk/run segments going, even if I was walking 10 steps and running only 25. Not speedy, but a consistent shuffle. I knew I had blisters, but at that point I just needed to keep moving. Experience helped here. (Or bad experiences…I had 27 blisters at my first 100, the Massanutten.)<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XLZYXwR2Tc/XZvbSmp0o7I/AAAAAAAAsw4/feloYpg9X-cJqAzwBPWOPR0WnUtGr1B3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/A188FC84-8E48-422C-BCC2-5681CA333058.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XLZYXwR2Tc/XZvbSmp0o7I/AAAAAAAAsw4/feloYpg9X-cJqAzwBPWOPR0WnUtGr1B3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/A188FC84-8E48-422C-BCC2-5681CA333058.jpeg" width="150" /></a>When Tony and my niece met me towards the finish, I was “embracing the suppering” but knowing I was going to finish. In the end, I finished in 27:38, way ahead of where I thought I would be. The ankle and foot ended up swollen and actually bruised, but still functional and attached. The 30 mile weeks were not ideal, yet in the end, my body did remember what it was supposed to do and no one was more surprised then me. Heck, my brain can’t remember what I did last week, but my body remembered what it did four years ago.<br />
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So now a week later, the swelling and bruising in my foot and ankle are gone and I am back to the “normal” pain. I guess I am an “ultra runner” again, although my intention is to retire and work on my mountain biking. Until I run the 36 hour race I just signed up for.<br />
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And I would tell you what an awesome race this is, with a happy vibe and super supportive volunteers and random people around the course cheering you on. And how the RD, Jason Green, is genuinely happy to share his neck of the woods with you and hug all the stinky runners as they cross the finish line. And how beautiful the course is, both day and night. But then you might sign up and reduce my odds in the lottery for next year. <br />
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<b>Equipment and nutrition</b><br />
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Nathan pack, swapped out at night for a larger camelback<br />
All liquid nutrition: GU Roctane powder packed in plastic bottles for ease of dumping in the waterbladder.<br />
GU Roctane and regular gels<br />
Succeed S-Caps<br />
5 hour energy<br />
Hoka Clinton 6 shoes . Never swapped out to the back up shoes. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.<br />
Vermont darn tough socks. The cinder/grit actually ended up inside the socks, which I didn’t know until I finished.<br />
Gaiters which I think were useless for me. See above.<br />
Black Diamond Carbon Z poles, only used for a short time before I got frustrated not being able to use my hands<br />
Fenix headlamp<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j4VFYyESzuk/XZvbUUO75KI/AAAAAAAAsxA/kF4HGnNpUJ4rzMWZsBGXOzA19aEKP-EVwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/D0B28104-B607-4A7B-96BF-33882831225D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="577" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j4VFYyESzuk/XZvbUUO75KI/AAAAAAAAsxA/kF4HGnNpUJ4rzMWZsBGXOzA19aEKP-EVwCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/D0B28104-B607-4A7B-96BF-33882831225D.jpeg" width="120" /></a>Lithium batteries (headlamp lasted all night on one set)<br />
Handheld flashlight<br />
Inhaler, space blanket, first aid<br />
Super light jacket.<br />
An iPod with a dead battery <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-10886199317028863202018-07-11T12:03:00.000-07:002018-07-11T14:17:11.629-07:00Tarsal Tunnel SurgeryI see I've had a couple year hiatus on writing, which just so happens to correspond to my two year bout with Tarsal Tunnel Syndrome. <br />
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A couple years ago, the arch of my left foot started to hurt when I ran. It would take four or five miles to develop and downhills would really aggravate it. I assumed I had injured it and maybe scar tissue had developed, but I also assumed it would get better. I looked for shoes that would not put pressure on my arch and I continued to run. Eventually it got to the point where the pain would radiate out of my arch, into my ankle and through my whole foot. The pain continued when I was not running.<br />
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Running was not fun anymore, so I finally told my doctor, who referred me to a podiatrist, who gave me a couple cortisone shots, which did not fix anything. In the meantime, I researched everything I could research, tried every "cure" for
whatever it might be and even cut holes in my shoes so they wouldn't
aggravate my arch. By this point, the muscle in my arch was visibly enlarged.<br />
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During these last two years, my running dwindled. I withdrew from Mount Mitchell. I downsized Zion 100K to Zion 50K. I did a 50K and went home at Black Mountain Monster. I ran my own 100 mile adventure run, which I quit at 100K. I withdrew from Georgia Jewel 100. I took a bad fall in my modified shoes, which gave me a nice scar and a bursa on my ACL repaired knee. My last race was the Naturalist 50K, which was pretty painful.<br />
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Finally, I asked for an MRI, which showed small tears deep inside the muscle and that the muscle was partially pulled away from the bone. My podiatrist had not seen anything like that before and put me in a walking boot for six weeks, which I extended to eight because I could see that the muscle was shrinking some.<br />
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Optimistic, I started running back very slowly. For a month, I did short walk-runs, and then for the next two months gradually built up to a long run of 12 miles. But it still hurt. I went back to the doctor, who referred me to a foot and ankle surgeon.<br />
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On my first visit, after I explained my symptoms and the doctor examined my foot, he immediately suspected tarsal tunnel syndrome, which I had never heard of. Tarsal Tunnel Syndrome is where the tibial nerve going into your foot is compressed as it goes through the tarsal tunnel, behind and below the ankle. I was given a nerve study, which quickly confirmed the nerve was in fact compressed. The only solution was surgery. I could suck it up and keep running, but there was no telling at which point I would damage the nerve. <br />
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I told the doctor that I had planned to run a 100 at the end of September. Would I still be able to do that? He did some math and told me that if four months was enough time to train, then yes, I could. (One December, Sarah Lowell had called and asked if I wanted to run 100 in two weeks. I figured that if I could get ready in two weeks, surely four months would be great. Of course, I haven't really run much in the last eight months, or two years, for that matter, so we will see).<br />
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As I awaited the surgery date, I did what everyone should not do, and googled pictures of the surgery. (I was going to put one here, but you can just google it if you want.) Which, of course, made me a bit anxious about what was about to happen and the possibility of me actually running again. Which was further reinforced by reading horror stories of bad surgery experiences in which the writers wished they had never had the surgery because they were in constant pain. They struggled to walk normally.<br />
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In the end, the surgery went well. They found that the fascia was wrapped really tight in there, and the nerves and blood vessels had formed little balloons from where they could not get through the tunnel. The surgeon cut open the fascia to release the pressure, moved some tissue around and sewed me back up.<br />
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Recovery involved two weeks off work (they had wanted me to miss 6-8 weeks), crutches for about three weeks, then weaning to one crutch and then off. I could do some upper body work and stationary bike with no resistance (that was pretty exciting).<br />
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By my six week check up, I was walking around pretty normally and I was given the green light to start running. But use common sense. (The common sense part was delegated to my husband.) They did say I wasn't going to mess up anything they did in surgery, so that was a bit of relief, and to expect to have pain for 6-9 months.<br />
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Progress pics:<br />
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That visit was four weeks ago. Last weekend, I ran 15 miles (slow with walk breaks) at the Black Mountain Monster. My foot started hurting around 9 miles, so I changed shoes and did two more laps. My foot told me at that point it was done running. Later, though, I walked three more miles. My ankle swelled, but after a short walk the next day and an icing in the Nantahala River, it improved. I did a couple short, easy runs and now, a week later, it's back to where it was.<br />
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At this point, I've got a new nasty scar and that whole area feels tight. I don't know if the pain I get running is from the surgery or if I still have some issue. I'm assuming it's from the surgery, since they did find an issue and fix it. I'm currently in a hunt to find shoes that do not aggravate the scar.(Actually, UPS just showed up with another pair to try. Sorry for all the returns, Running Warehouse and Amazon.) <br />
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Mentally, I get really frustrated with my running, but I have to keep reminding myself that not only did I have the surgery, but I hadn't been running much since I was put in the boot eight months ago. Patience. <br />
<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-90287930350185886402016-06-02T16:33:00.000-07:002016-06-02T16:35:15.434-07:00If You Can't Stand the Heat, Don't Mess With the Dragon: 2016 Cruel Jewel 56 mle race <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Cruel Jewel got to my head in the month before the race. I had signed up for the 100 sometime late last year, knowing it would push me to train harder. Which it would have, had I not also signed up to run Monument Valley six weeks before Cruel Jewel. Two totally different races required totally different training. Monument Valley meant lots of relatively flat running and I did not spend much time climbing in the months preceding it. That left me approximately four weeks of climbing training if I were to factor in recovery from MV and a taper before CJ. <br />
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In the meantime, Cruel Jewel psyched me out. During the long, difficult training runs, I began to lose my desire to suffer for extended periods of time. (Where else but in an ultra report would a sentence like that even make sense?) If my training runs were nine hours, would I really want to extend them by thirty-one more hours? Thru-running the Bartram has been my only run over 35 hours, and I predicted CJ would take me more than 40. I was okay with suffering so much for the Bartram, because I had a goal of being the first to do it, but I couldn't find the motivation to spend 40 plus hours on that terrain for the CJ. If I lacked motivation before the race, I knew a DNF would more than likely be in the cards. So, I downsized to the 56 miler, still with a respectable 17,000 feet of elevation gain (about the same as the Massanutten, in half the distance).<br />
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<b>The start</b><br />
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The race started 20 hours after the 100 milers, at their halfway point at 8 a.m., which I appreciated. I hate getting up at 4 a.m. to drive to a race start. (It was bad enough at 7 a.m. at 40 degrees in an open Jeep.) The check-in was very well organized and efficient and the start, like most ultras, very relaxed. (I also appreciate the fact that everything, including my shirt, was already in a bag with my number on it. So many times I have shown up to check-in, only to find that they are out of my size of shirt. "But we have women's extra smalls or men's extra larges left." Really? I signed up months ago and don't even get a shirt that fits?)<br />
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<b>Hit the Road</b><br />
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The first section starts downhill out of Camp Morganton (I love downhill starts) and then follows paved roads to the first aid station. It was during this section, that my right shoe began to feel not quite right. I stopped and retied it but then at the aid station, discovered that my insole was not staying in place. I actually had two in the shoe, a thin flat one under a regular one in an attempt to make the shoe fit better, but the top one kept creeping up and out the back of my shoe. So I again stopped to deal with my shoe and took the thin insole out. As a result, at the first aid station, I was already at the very back of the pack. Well, I was ahead of three people. I ran the next few miles with one insole in my hand in an attempt to cut down on time if I had to stop and make adjustments. And I would. I think I could have knocked another twenty minutes off my time if I didn't have to keep dealing with insoles!<br />
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<b>The loop</b><br />
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The next section is a loop that had a lot of runnable terrain, which I ran (despite being advised by a fellow runner, whom I sure meant well, not to wear myself out early in the race. I must have looked like I hadn't done this sort of thing before.) The trail was not very technical and the loop went by much faster than I expected.<br />
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<b>Now the fun starts</b><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FaFUYeT8lHw/Vz--ahq87wI/AAAAAAAABR8/dmTsbuoIwq8dogVJcVIm0cvOrAKB3YndgCLcB/s1600/13230874_1286863634661765_1202137073_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FaFUYeT8lHw/Vz--ahq87wI/AAAAAAAABR8/dmTsbuoIwq8dogVJcVIm0cvOrAKB3YndgCLcB/s320/13230874_1286863634661765_1202137073_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>After leaving the aid station, the first real climbing starts. I broke out the trekking poles and headed up the mountain to an intersection with the Benton McKay Trail. (A word on the trekking poles....I loved my trekking poles! I used to use them as a hiker, but after putting them away for over a decade, it took awhile to get used to them again and I wondered if they would just end up aggravating me. But not only were they great on uphills, but helped with balance on downhills and technical sections after I got tired.) After making a right on the BMT, there was some nice downhill running. And more downhill running. And it just kept going. And the race leaders were heading back up the hill, so I knew there was a lot more downhill left. (And they looked so darn happy as they were running uphill). There was so much downhill, that I began to wish for uphill. When I finally reached the aid station at the bottom and turned around, I dreaded the three mile climb back up the hill, but it turned out not to be as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe that's why the leaders were happy. It felt a lot steeper coming down than it did going up. When I reached the top, I ran on some nice rolling terrain down to the next aid station.<br />
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<b>On the road again</b><br />
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This section started out nicely, on a dirt road, downhill, in the shade, which was a nice break from trail. But soon, it turned to pavement, and while much of it was rolling and runnable, it was getting hot. I took lots of walk breaks in the shaded areas and eventually reached Shackleford Bridge. (It was across the street here that Tony and I worked an aid station the first year the race was held. The race was MUCH smaller then, and I think we only saw two runners come through during our shift.) The course then follows the river on a road and takes a sharp left, back onto trail, and back to steep climbing again. My legs and body were not pleased with this turn of events, so I stopped for a minute to use my inhaler, take a 5-hour energy, adjust the darn insole and eat something. I continued climbing, which did not last for too long, and then descended into the next aid station.<br />
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<b>A word on nutrition...</b><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lpIBWIwTMLQ/Vz--fOB5QXI/AAAAAAAABSE/0GTxDFmb9nMHDqmx_jt6zn6JjDFn7GNwACLcB/s1600/13241596_1286864371328358_1794153053_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lpIBWIwTMLQ/Vz--fOB5QXI/AAAAAAAABSE/0GTxDFmb9nMHDqmx_jt6zn6JjDFn7GNwACLcB/s320/13241596_1286864371328358_1794153053_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>Tailwind sponsored this event, and despite my recent reliance on GU liquid Roctane, I decided that it would be a whole lot easier not to have to carry all that powder and simply use the Tailwind. I bought some prior to the race to test it out on my stomach and it was agreeable. The orange flavor was good and that was what they had at the aid stations. But by this point in the race, it was too much. It seemed to work fine energy-wise and stomach-wise, but my mouth started wishing I had some plain water instead of that somewhat salty flavor. I dumped it and drank plain water until the next aid station, where I had my drop bag and Roctane. I used the liquid Roctane the rest of the way and felt great. The flavor did not bother me and my energy level stayed steady. I combined it with a shot of Roctane gel every hour and never felt hungry, so I didn't need anything at aid stations. Both my tummy and my mouth were happy. I think I would be good with Tailwind for shorter periods of time, but I am really, really happy with my Roctane combination for long runs. It has taken years to figure out what works for me. I used it at MV and it worked well, but here I went without solid food for over 19 hours and still was not hungry when I finished. <br />
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<b>And that's the end of the rolling stuff</b><br />
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After that aid station, the terrain involved many more steep climbs and descents. Some of the climbs were really unpleasant and I took several short breaks here and there. But I felt okay on the downhills and continued the same steady pattern for the rest of the race. The last half of the race was difficult, but was not as difficult as I imagined it. Of course, if I had already run 75 miles on it, it would have been extremely difficult, but after only 25, I still felt good. I was enjoying the ridge tops and the cool breeze from the incoming cold front.<br />
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<b>Wilscot Gap Aid</b><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VYu3YWF6TqA/Vz_LYLKcFMI/AAAAAAAABS4/pep8EdgKW-Ej3eb3-8sThW5RcXl8j843gCLcB/s1600/13248570_1287360091278786_16880860547141359_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VYu3YWF6TqA/Vz_LYLKcFMI/AAAAAAAABS4/pep8EdgKW-Ej3eb3-8sThW5RcXl8j843gCLcB/s320/13248570_1287360091278786_16880860547141359_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>All the aid stations were great. They were not out of anything when I went through, as is sometimes the case in races. The volunteers were encouraging and helpful and I left every aid station with everything I needed. They filled my water for me and fought to get it back in my pack. Even though they were busy, I was never ignored. Wilscot aid station was the only drop bag location (another difficulty of CJ), so I spent a little extra time there digging through my bag. Throughout my time there, the volunteers were getting me things, mixing my Roctane with the water they got for me, offering me wet wipes (was that a hint?) and body glide, making suggestions and giving me the great advice to go ahead and change into the new shoes I had stuck in the bag even though they only had a few miles on them. My feet were very happy the last half of the race, especially since I no longer had to deal with insole issue.<br />
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<b>The Dragon</b><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ls8wFfX_dl0/Vz--cUTL6UI/AAAAAAAABSA/E0mH3dW3d4UnJYTpiUDN3Pra_4LK53TegCLcB/s1600/13230701_1286864511328344_1653945028_o.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/-Ls8wFfX_dl0/Vz--cUTL6UI/AAAAAAAABSA/E0mH3dW3d4UnJYTpiUDN3Pra_4LK53TegCLcB/s320/13230701_1286864511328344_1653945028_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>For much of the remainder of the race, you are on the Dragon's Spine, a series of sharp uphills and downhills (hence the name). Okay, to be honest, I don't really know where it started since it seemed most of the course was up and down, but I am assuming it was somewhere around here. The course was very pretty up on the ridges, with abundant, healthy poison ivy lining the trail, alternating with ferns and may apples. It was somewhere in this section that Ray from Ohio, who was finishing the 100 mile, joined me. Unlike all the other 100 milers I passed at this point, Ray could still run downhill just fine and was good with my slow uphill pace. He was good company and kept me from any whining or complaining or thinking that I was doing any suffering. After all, he already had 50 miles and twenty hours on me. He also gave his long-sleeved shirt to a runner who was dehydrated and shivering, which exemplifies what makes ultras so special.<br />
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<b>The last climb</b><br />
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We<i> finally</i> came to the last manned aid station. (The workers joked that they had seen our lights approaching and moved it up the road another mile. "Do you know how hard it is to move an aid station that far?"). I think there might have been some Horton miles involved in that section. Anyway, I was dreading the next and last climb up Coosa Bald. My only experience with Coosa was from the other side during the Death Race and I remembered a long hard climb. The elevation profile at the aid station looked a little scary so I headed out expecting a lot of vertical. When we got on the trail, it was uphill, but not too steep. Ray remarked that he was good with the grade, at which point, of course, the grade became significantly steeper. But then it eased up and there were actually a couple of little flat sections. By now, the wind was howling and I am sure the wind chill was below zero. My hands were numb from the cold and I kept moving as fast as I could to get up and over the top. I know Ray was cold without that extra layer he gave away. We started heading downhill pretty quickly and I kept waiting for the last hard climb, but apparently it was not as long or hard as I thought and we were actually on the last long three mile downhill. Here on this section, we passed a lot of people who were suffering pretty badly, 100 milers, I assumed. There was not a lot of downhill running going on and there was some crying. I know that feeling well (it's hard to run and sob at the same time) and was very thankful I was still feeling great at this point.<br />
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<b>The End</b><br />
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The last 3.7 miles are mainly uphill, another cruelty of the CJ. But a good bit of it was gradual and runnable and I was surprised that I and especially Ray were actually still running. We finally hit Vogel State Park, still running and crossed the finish line sometime after 3 a.m... Ray got his huge buckle and I got a very cool coffee mug. Inside the warm cabin next to the finish, there was a lot of food being served by Leigh Saint and a lot of people enjoying it. I was not at all hungry and was in a bit of hurry to get into our doorless Jeep for the 45 degree ride back to the hotel. And instead of going to sleep at the hotel and waiting for my call, Tony had been waiting at the finish for me for a very long time and we were both exhausted. <br />
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<b>Aftermath</b><br />
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For the last couple years, I haven't done many races and the ones I have done, I have been at the back of the pack. In this race, it was hard to tell where I was, but I assumed with my slow but steady start, I was again at the back of the pack from the first aid station on. I passed a lot of people in the last half of the race and assumed they were mainly 100 milers. But to my surprise, I ended up finishing in the middle of the pack and fifth in the women's race. I felt good all day and the race restored a bit of confidence in myself as a runner. I was a little afraid I would be disappointed that I did not do the 100, but no, I'm good. Well, for a couple of days I felt like I had been hit by a truck, but other than that I was good.<br />
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A week later, I was applying IvaRest liberally on my legs, stomach, hip, jaw and nose. No, I did not roll around in the poison ivy at any point. But I know it was on my poles and shoes and I guess I got the oil on my hands and then transferred it everywhere else. Lesson learned: be careful blowing snot rockets and using the restroom after exposure to poison ivy!<br />
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I ran three days later, fully expecting to feel horrible, but I actually felt great. Granted, it was only a three mile trail run, but it felt really good. <br />
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I would highly recommend any race directed by the Saints <a href="http://www.dumassevents.com/" target="_blank">(www.dumassevents.com</a>). They are great people and their events are so well-organized and thought out. If you aren't up for a lot of climbing, but like running in circles, try Merrill's Mile. If you are okay with a little climbing and and little circles, try 12 or 24 hours of Hostelity. And if you just aren't quite right, the Cruel Jewel is for you, either the 56 or 106 mile options, depending on just how not right you are. <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-80127320437418366112016-05-01T19:27:00.001-07:002016-05-01T19:27:25.244-07:00Into the Sandbox: Monument Valley 50 mile<br />
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In the past couple of years, I have
stopped racing for the sake of racing. Instead of doing several
races a year, I have done only a couple, preferring to spend the
money on races that allow me to see new and interesting places.
Running lets you experience a place in a way far more intimate than
simply visiting an area. Races let you access areas you might never
have gone on your own, use trails you didn’t know existed and see
sights that you would never see from the car. After I run a long
race in an area, I feel like I know the “place” and have a
connection with it. </div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A6gFLHxPy0Y/VyD50YkIEdI/AAAAAAAABOM/aZLLgX89VFYYVsI-sey2UwJHZoBryNS2QCLcB/s1600/mv2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A6gFLHxPy0Y/VyD50YkIEdI/AAAAAAAABOM/aZLLgX89VFYYVsI-sey2UwJHZoBryNS2QCLcB/s320/mv2.jpg" width="240" /></a>This year’s first installment in my
ultra-tourism was Monument Valley 50 miler. Ultra Adventures, the
same people who put on Zion 100, hosted this race and had worked with the Navajo people to let runners into areas that are
normally off limit to the public or accessible only with a Navajo
accompanying you. As the date of the race grew near, I debated
making the trip, but in the end, of course, I was glad I did. </div>
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We ended up flying into Denver so we
could spend a couple days in Moab before the race. I am not sure
long runs on slickrock on Thursday and Friday, while Tony biked, was
all that great of an idea. But then again, I only wanted to be well
ahead of cutoffs so I could actually enjoy the race.</div>
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We managed to get a last
minute-cancellation at The View Hotel, the only hotel on the
reservation, and “The View” was spectacular. In addition, the
race started and ended at the hotel and since there was nothing
within 20 miles or so of the reservation, this was a luxury. When we arrived, I picked up my shirt, hat and bib, bought another shirt
and a piece of jewelry from Zion 100, that I ran last year. The packet
pick-up was inside a traditional Navajo hogan and we were treated to
Navajo dancing and flute playing.</div>
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The race started at sunrise and after a
very brief run on a dirt road, entered the sandbox. I knew there
would be a lot of sand, but I did not expect so much of the race to
be in the soft sand. In the first few miles, I began to get very
concerned. If that was what I would contend with all day, I would be
hard pressed to make the cutoffs and I really didn’t want to have
to drop down to the 50K. But still, I remained positive and thankful
that I was allowed to be running where I was. That was reinforced
when I passed an older Navajo man who was taking pictures of the
runners passing through. The sun was peaking around one of the
formations, and I remarked to him that it was a beautiful day. Yes,
it was, he said, because you (referring to the runners) have blessed
it.</div>
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Shortly after, there was a fairly short
steep downhill in deep sand. It reminded me of running downhill in
the snow, except at the bottom I had to make what would be the first
of several stops to dump sand out of my shoes. Gaiters did not help
much, as the sand was so fine that it permeated the fabric of my
shoes. (The next couple times I wore those shoes, despite having
dumped the sand out, I still ended up leaving little piles of sand on
the floor). </div>
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Thankfully, I had a brief respite from
the deep sand as the course began to follow a ledge overlooking the
valley below. The views in all directions were beautiful, but too
soon, we dropped down into the valley, into the deep sand and to the
first aid station. </div>
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In the next section, the course cut
across that valley floor back to the “mittens”. Starting here, I
would have many times where I would not see the people in front of me
or behind me and had the feeling of running alone in the desert. I
never used my iPod during the race and instead listened to the wind
and sounds around me. I came upon two Navajo on horses, who, before
I left, made sure I was carrying enough water with me.</div>
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The section after aid station two was
the “worst” section of the race. Worst is relative, because
despite the difficulty, the scenery made up for the struggle. In
this section, you followed a wide, flat, sandy wash. The sun was
high and there was no shade. The wind helped some, but also stirred
up the dust. Running was difficult, but I tried to alternate running
and walking. It was on this section I was finally in the desert with
a horse with no name…</div>
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The wash ended and a trek up the main
dirt (sand) road through the valley led to the Hogan aid station,
which would serve as the aid station for the remainder of the race.
There was quite a bit of traffic and other runners from the other
races on the road, but the dusty running did not last too long.</div>
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Three loops started and ended at the
aid station, each going through different terrain. These loops were
much better than the Zion loops, which just seemed to meander through
the same area. Here, the first loop took you took a beautiful view
and then at the base of some formations and then back to the aid
station. The second loop was the most difficult to run, but the most
interesting. You ran through a lot of soft, deep sand, but passed by
big sand dunes and several arches.</div>
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The third and final loop takes you up
onto Mitchell Mesa. After leaving the desert floor, you follow a
little narrow trail zig zagging through a scree field to the top of
the mesa. The views into the canyon below were beautiful,
particularly in the late afternoon sun. At the top of the mesa, you
run along the edge to the end and all along the way are beautiful
views down into the valley. You look down on the Mittens and mesas,
which became even more beautiful as the sun sank lower. I kind of
wished I had gotten there later to see them at sunset, but I also
didn’t want to run back down that steep rocky trail at night. So
back down I went.</div>
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It was getting dark when I got back to
the valley floor, but before long I found Tony on the trail waiting
for me. He ran back with me to the aid station for the final pass,
right at dark. I grabbed a cookie and headed to the finish. The aid station had had a variety of food
earlier in the day, but I did something a bit different for
nutrition. Instead of using gels and whatever the aid stations had,
I used liquid GU Roctane for my main source of calories. The only
thing to this point I had eaten at the aid stations was some avocado
and orange slices.</div>
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The last segment of the race followed
the valley road back to the hotel. I was glad I was slow enough to
run this at night. I didn’t need a light for the most part because
the moon lit up the road and the surrounding desert. The mesas were
illuminated and it was quiet, except for the occasional vehicle and
the faint voices of the people running ahead of and behind me. </div>
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I finished right around 9pm, and Tony,
luckily was able to get me a to-go order from the restaurant that was
closing. (If I had finished later, it would have been a long hungry
night, since the food stations at the finish had been broken down
earlier in the evening.) The finish itself was rather
anti-climactic, but as I wandered back to the hotel room, I
appreciated the fact that they didn’t hold the 100 miler this year
and I was able to take a shower and sleep, rather than running around
all night. I had thoroughly enjoyed the race, but was glad to be done. </div>
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<b>And an update on my parasite</b>: It is roughly the two year anniversary of me adopting my parasite on the AT and I haven't written about it, so
here's an update in a nutshell. The first year I had frequent nausea,
lack of appetite, and low energy. My doctor sent me to a specialist,
who didn't really believe I had picked something up in the water. So,
he ordered a series of tests (all unrelated to parasites), all of which
came back negative. I was still sick and when, after the completion of
the tests, he scheduled me for a 4-6 week follow-up with no further
addressing of my issue, I said good-bye to conventional medicine. I did
intensive research for everything giardia related and came up with a
mixture of alternative medicines, which appeared to work. I felt
better for a couple of months, but when the symptoms came back, I went
back to regiment and stayed on it for two months. Since then I have
sporadic episodes, but they are farther and farther apart and last for
shorter periods of time. So, I haven't raced much and I certainly
haven't written much.<br />
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Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-12359864770709203932015-10-18T18:25:00.000-07:002015-10-18T18:25:43.677-07:00If I Only Had Twenty More Miles. The Naturalist 50K<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Welcome back, said the Bartram this
past weekend. It had been awhile since I had run any on the trail;
sometime last winter. I usually avoid it during the summer because
it gets overgrown, especially <br />
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with blackberries and poison ivy.
During Cross Country season, my team will go there from time to time,
but ironically, we had only been there once, the day before I was to
run a race on it. I gave them a choice of which trail to run that
afternoon and they chose the Bartram. So much for any sort of rest
or tapering.</div>
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Not that I had anything to taper from.
After Zion 100, I once again dealt with my parasite troubles off and
on and I chose to kind of do a reset during the summer. I started
running very slowly, at my MAF heart rate, and since I was so slow, I
didn’t get very far on any long runs. When I did try to run long,
for some reason the air quality really kicked in my asthma this year
and I would just feel very out of shape (when in reality I wasn’t
getting oxygen). And then once school started, between teaching and
coaching, I hadn’t had much time for my own running and certainly
hadn’t considered signing up for any races.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A while back, I had met with Cory and
Rob from <a href="http://www.outdoor76.com/">Outdoor 76</a>, who had
dreamt up a race that would start at their shop on Main Street,
Franklin and end at the top of Wayah Bald, which you can see from
their shop, at an elevation of 5.342 feet. The race would be a 25K
and involve, with all the ups and downs on the route, an elevation
gain of 7,000 feet. I thought it was a great idea, but imagined a
lot of carnage. That stretch of the Bartram is one brutal climb
after another and it plays mental games with you as the climbs and
descents seem never-ending. But of course, the question that came
immediately to my mind is, “What about those of us who would want
to turn around and run back down for a 50K?” I am not sure they
really thought anyone would want to turn around and do that again,
but they took a gamble and sure enough, there are enough crazy people
around who would want to do that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_9BQACEwFw/ViQ5p6ES83I/AAAAAAAABGg/NQAs7fjS1Og/s1600/logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_9BQACEwFw/ViQ5p6ES83I/AAAAAAAABGg/NQAs7fjS1Og/s400/logo.jpg" width="400" /></a>Several months later, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1409234532737118/" target="_blank">The NaturalistEpic 25K/50K </a>inaugural race was held. I was supposed to be out of
town for the race and wasn’t too upset over not being able to run
it (see paragraph 2), but I wanted to be around to see how it went.
It was going to be the first large-scale ultra in Franklin and it was
going to be, as the name said, epic. Then a week before the race, I
learned that I was actually going to be in town and could run it. I
hesitated before signing up (see paragraph 2), but then figured I
could probably hit the cutoffs and it would be fun to be involved,
even if I ended up curled into a ball beside the trail.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I picked up my race packet the night
before at the shop and got a really nice North Face race shirt, a
Salomon hat and shoe bag, a ticket for a free beer and other assorted
sundries. The race director gave me drop bags to use, which he
labeled for me. A full-service ultra. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9K9OcXBFdTM/ViQ6abWaJAI/AAAAAAAABGw/FgrNrPzHcuY/s1600/swag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9K9OcXBFdTM/ViQ6abWaJAI/AAAAAAAABGw/FgrNrPzHcuY/s320/swag.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race swag plus some other cool stuff that came in the mail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next morning, unfortunately, it was
raining and would rain all day long. It was great weather to run in,
but the beautiful views from Wayah would disappear in the fog and all
those volunteers would be out in the nasty weather. And there were a
lot of volunteers, not only at aid stations, but at all trail
intersections and even some out roaming the trail, making sure
everyone was okay.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But back to the race. Sixty-some
people showed up to run both races and gathered on Main Street for
the typically low-key ultra-start. Now, I haven’t run a 50K in a
few years. I forgot that the start of a 25K/50K is nothing like a
100 miler. When Cory said go, all the runners were off, running,
what seemed to me, a 5K race pace on the initial 3.5 mile road run.
I don’t think I could have hung with them, even if I wanted to, so
I hung out with the bikers in the back who were acting as sweeps,
until I finally started passing some people who had figured out that
they started out too fast. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-upGl3MJ9dM4/ViRET63VTnI/AAAAAAAABH0/i9wmgx83ph0/s1600/20151004_133547_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-upGl3MJ9dM4/ViRET63VTnI/AAAAAAAABH0/i9wmgx83ph0/s320/20151004_133547_resized.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blood Log</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The first aid station marks the start
of the single-track and was fully loaded with food, drink,
volunteers, and people cheering runners on. I was glad to be off the
road and as soon as I stepped onto the trail, I felt the “welcome
back.” This is what I knew. This is the section that I run in the
winter at least once a week and when I was rehabbing my ACL, before I
was allowed to run, I would come here every day, working on strength
and speed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />After an initial, “Hello, look at
this beautiful waterfall,” the trail climbs steadily for a mile or
so, then becomes more runnable for another mile before it starts an
extremely steep uphill section, which ends at Blood Log. Okay, I am
the only one who knows it as Blood Log. Others probably have a legit
name, like Wilkes Knob. But one winter day, I was running to Wayah,
experimenting with a set of brand-new trekking poles I had won at
Merrill’s Mile. When I hit the top of the climb, I collapsed them
so I could run downhill. But I cut my finger pretty deeply in the
process and bled profusely all over that log as I fumbled for a band
aid in of my pack. The band-aid didn’t do much of anything, but
right around the corner I found two hunters sitting on a log, one of
whom gave me a handkerchief to wrap around it so I could continue on
with my run.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sNIgO1HRDq8/ViREsIB7O0I/AAAAAAAABH8/AjvXt6p-N-0/s1600/20151009_163626_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sNIgO1HRDq8/ViREsIB7O0I/AAAAAAAABH8/AjvXt6p-N-0/s320/20151009_163626_resized.jpg" width="180" /></a>But back to the trail. The trail gives
you a bit of a break with a nice downhill, but then heads steeply
back uphill, then steeply back downhill, then steeply back uphill…
you get the picture. This is abnormal steepness, hand pushing on
quads type of steepness, no switchback steepness. The downhills, at
least for me, are not much faster than the uphills, because they tend
to be more of a controlled slide. And it was raining. All day long.
Normally this section is also overgrown, turkeys make huge piles of
leaves in the trail from scratching the banks and there are jumbles
of tree limbs to crawl through. But this time, the trail was
immaculate. The brush was cut way back away from the trail and the
race directors had even installed nice mile markers all along the
way. I joked with them that I wanted my money back because I
actually had to step over a little log at one point.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ArdSh3n-7-Q/ViQ38che_-I/AAAAAAAABGE/lSeZzzK1Spo/s1600/aid%2Bstation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ArdSh3n-7-Q/ViQ38che_-I/AAAAAAAABGE/lSeZzzK1Spo/s320/aid%2Bstation.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Mark Zemmin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next aid station, at 9 miles, is at
Harrison Gap. There I was greeted by running buddies working the aid
station along with my husband, Tony. The aid station was fully
stocked with lots of goodies, but I just grabbed part of a banana and
continued onto the next section, which would end at Wayah, at mile
15. For a description of the next couple of miles, just refer to the
previous paragraph. Eventually the trail just heads up, with no more
of the downhill nonsense, until it intersects with a forest road
leading to Wayah Bald. You spend a little time on the road, then hit
the turn-around aid station and retrace your steps. Up to this
point, I had felt okay but was getting pretty cold from the rain and
my quads felt almost dead. I had a dry shirt in my drop bag, which
improved the cold issue and headed back down, hoping the dead quad
issue would resolve itself somehow. Again, it was raining (I may have
mentioned that), so no one knew that there was a beautiful view from
that aid station.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sgtSaMbIi-0/ViQ3rNXq-KI/AAAAAAAABF4/p0Aoq3aUBog/s1600/Wayah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sgtSaMbIi-0/ViQ3rNXq-KI/AAAAAAAABF4/p0Aoq3aUBog/s320/Wayah.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What the view from Wayah normally looks like</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The downhills on the way back were a
little more tricky. Because it had rained all day there were
numerous slick spots, but I managed to stay upright. That was my
goal for the long downhill section- to not break, pull or tear
anything. Once we got back to the uphill/downhill miles, my legs
seemed to remember what it is they are good at. Steady climbing. I
had lots of energy and moved a lot better than I had on the way out.
I figured out when I got back to the Harrison Gap aid station, that I
was the last 50K’er, that the people I had passed on the way out
were running the 25K. I was okay with that. (See paragraph. 2.)
Okay, so I wasn’t really okay with that.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5xPYzcLA0GM/ViQ6OzQocYI/AAAAAAAABGo/WQ2HLgsBmOw/s1600/trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5xPYzcLA0GM/ViQ6OzQocYI/AAAAAAAABGo/WQ2HLgsBmOw/s320/trail.jpg" width="176" /></a>After Harrison Gap, more uphills were
ahead. But I had a lot of energy and continued to move really well.
I was enjoying the trail, even in the rain, and the fall leaves on
the ground were beautiful. As I continued to push hard, I passed one
person, then two, then three. (Sigh. If I only had twenty more miles
left in the race, I think I could have passed several more.) I flew
down the final section of trail, which I know like the back of my
hand, trying to stay out of last place.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But here I was at the last aid station
with the road section ahead. The first part of the road section is
very rural, with little traffic. Then you hit a very busy section,
on a blind hill and curve with no place to run besides in the road.
In the morning, there had been a law enforcement escort, but with
runners so spread out, it wasn’t an option on the way back. I had
been pretty worried about this section, but the race directors had
thought this through, along with every other aspect of the race. As
I hit the main road, they had vehicles waiting to follow you with
hazard lights until you got safely onto the sidewalk on the other
side of the hill. I am not sure how local townsfolk felt about the
hold-up, but all runners got back safe and sound.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As an added bonus, one of my senior
cross country runners had left her soccer game to come run this final
section with me, which was a very nice distraction and a fun way to finish the race. I figured I
would be passed again before I hit the finish, but there was no on in
sight. I guess those last two miles of the trail I could fly down
were my home-field advantage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<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/-Vd9fxO98vGg/ViRD-FAfwVI/AAAAAAAABHw/eRnr9rlgbkI/s1600/naturalist25k50k4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vd9fxO98vGg/ViRD-FAfwVI/AAAAAAAABHw/eRnr9rlgbkI/s320/naturalist25k50k4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from Macon County News, Brittney Raby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The finish was downtown, where we
started, and waiting was Tony and the winner of the race, my former
student, runner, and adventure race partner, Daniel Hamilton, who
finished the race about the time I turned around on Wayah. He’s
that fast, and I was that slow! One of my former runners, Allison
Jameson finished 4<sup>th</sup> in the 25K, one of my runner’s
moms, Carolyn Tait, finished 3<sup>rd</sup> in the 50K, RD Cory
McCall was a former Franklin runner, so there was a nice XC theme
going on. Out on the course, I saw former students and current
students, both volunteering and running the race.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vTLhuWN6w9s/ViQ_0M0OT8I/AAAAAAAABHQ/mhqPplsXj7s/s1600/20151010_192148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vTLhuWN6w9s/ViQ_0M0OT8I/AAAAAAAABHQ/mhqPplsXj7s/s320/20151010_192148.jpg" width="320" /></a>And there was great after-party going
on. A band was playing under a tent (it was still raining), people
were everywhere enjoying the afternoon (and the beer). There was
lasagna for the runners and volunteers and a chili cook off had been
held earlier. I think all of Franklin’s outdoor community had been
involved in one way or another and most of them had gathered here as
the race winded down.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was really glad I was able to run the
race and despite some prejudice for my hometown course, I think it
was truly one of the best organized races I have run. I felt very
taken care of, from start to finish. Register early for this
beautiful and challenging race, because it will sell out next year!<br />
<span id="goog_866492723"></span><span id="goog_866492724"></span><br />
<br /></div>
Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-67835506317552243162015-04-19T14:17:00.001-07:002015-04-19T14:17:45.574-07:00Return to the Hundred: Zion <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;">After
running the North Fork 50K in Colorado a couple years ago, I
discovered that my asthma</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;">and altitude did not mix. I didn’t look
at any other races in the west, because most of the ones I wanted to
run were at higher altitudes. But after a trip to Moab in November,
I began looking for a desert race and found the <a href="http://www.grandcircletrails.com/" target="_blank">Grand Circle</a> series
directed by Matt Gunn. It's a pretty amazing series, where you run
in places such as Bryce Canyon, Antelope Canyon, Monument Valley,
Grand Canyon and the place that fit my schedule, Zion.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;">I
really didn’t have any business signing up for a hundred, after
hosting giardia for almost a year and only running one race because
of it in 2014. And I hadn’t run a hundred since Vermont in 2013.
But the draw of ultra-tourism is strong. Where else could I get a 34 hour tour of the desert, complete with snacks and drinks
along the way? So one little click on ultrasignup and I was in.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;">Training
did not go particularly well, with a hamstring pull eight weeks out
from the race. On the bright side, if you are down with an injury
for three weeks at that point, you don’t have to worry about that
annoying taper when you have nothing to taper from. And I threw that
whole idea of resting before the race out the window, too. We might
only be in the area once and I spent the days before the race
running, hiking and exploring. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;">So
on race day, I was the least prepared for a race that I have ever
been. But I really wanted that pretty buckle and would keep moving
until they made me quit. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;">Here are
some highlights:</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/18208_1046596062021858_2590328459262361659_n.jpg?oh=cb8dde38feff77ddfb457d4805e990d9&oe=559DB728" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="240" src="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/18208_1046596062021858_2590328459262361659_n.jpg?oh=cb8dde38feff77ddfb457d4805e990d9&oe=559DB728" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>The course</b>: Is mainly flatish roads and trails that connect mesas. You climb up the mesa, run a loop on the top over slickrock, run back down and head towards the next mesa. The last 24 miles is a series of loops in the desert.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/10431702_1046595995355198_453882884154593442_n.jpg?oh=54a20f0289983b780b54f57c5d872964&oe=55A0BD24" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="240" src="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/10431702_1046595995355198_453882884154593442_n.jpg?oh=54a20f0289983b780b54f57c5d872964&oe=55A0BD24" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/t31.0-8/10359105_1045915122089952_8053325831767281169_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="240" src="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/t31.0-8/10359105_1045915122089952_8053325831767281169_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, serif;"><b>The
ups and downs</b>.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, serif;"> Although the race only has 10,000 feet of
elevation gain, a lot of it is concentrated in a few very steep
climbs (and descents). The initial climb and descent of the Flying
Monkey mesa (1200 feet per mile) involved a segment in which a rope
was necessary. The climb up Gooseberry was exceptionally steep,
(1500 feet in a mile) on loose sand and gravel. One segment was
pretty scary, where a misplaced foot would send you tumbling down
into the valley. And the descent back down Gooseberry was a
semi-controlled slide in the dark on tired legs. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/10906532_1045925865422211_411675481096745714_n.jpg?oh=49e7f1052e822dc3732ca72546f8e56a&oe=55D3542A" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/10906532_1045925865422211_411675481096745714_n.jpg?oh=49e7f1052e822dc3732ca72546f8e56a&oe=55D3542A" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Dust.</b>
Lots of long dusty roads and trails. My lungs hurt and two days
later, I am still coughing up the desert. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Slickrock.</b>
Despite it being a hard, clean surface, it is anything but flat and
smooth. Constant speed bumps, humps, hills, holes, ridges, sharp dips
make it very difficult to run with any rhythm. I thought it would
really pound me and annoy me, but I liked it. You stick to almost
vertical surfaces and certainly don't get bored.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Running
on top of mesas</b>. There were long sections run along the very
edge of cliffs which drop down into the valley floor a couple
thousand feet below. If you got distracted and didn't watch where you
were going, you wouldn't have to worry about doing it again.
Beautiful views, though, which leads to…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Lots
of time eaten up with picture taking.</b> If a good chunk of the
race hadn't been in the dark, I might have missed the cutoff. The
desert is pretty fascinating when you live in a rainforest. Of
course, everything was beautiful the first day. The next day, not so
much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Weather.</b>
In the seventies with a breeze. Sounds nice, but full sun, no
shade, no haze makes it pretty hot. Then the night got very cold
(especially with sunburn) and I was shivering with
four shirts on right before sunrise. Then very hot again, to the
point where I crossed the finish line with heat exhaustion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Favorite
parts of race. </b>The steep climb up Gooseberry (despite the
difficulty, the view continued to get better and better) and the
running on the slickrock and cliffs of Gooseberry and Guacamole
mesas. Grafton was probably pretty, too, but it was dark when I ran
it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Least
favorite. </b> The Virgin desert loops. If they hadn't been the last
24 miles of the race, they may have been fine, but three different
loops through the desert when I was ready to be finished were
monotonous. On each loop, I could see the aid station where I was
trying to get to, but the trails kept leading me farther away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Most
challenging for me</b>. A lot of relatively flat terrain, which I am
not good at. I like climbing and descents, but the majority of the
race was little tiny ups and downs, very runnable, but hard to get a
rhythm on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>My
race</b>. At the beginning, it seemed like I was passed by
everyone, and it has been so long since I have run a hundred, I
forget that I catch back up with a lot of them later. (See squirrel
story below). It was pretty demoralizing, but when we finally got to
Gooseberry and more technical sections, I started passing a lot of
people. I passed even more on the technical downhill on Grafton Mesa.
At the third Gooseberry aid station, there were seventy some people
still out there behind me. I would end up getting passed off and on
during the death march segment on the loops, but by that point, I
knew I would finish and it didn’t bother me. I ended up finishing
107 out of 185ish starters in 31:45. Which proves that stubbornness
and persistence can overcome many physical shortcomings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Squirrel!</b>
When I was coming down off Guacamole, I was feeling pretty low,
thinking I was I at the very back of the pack (and I well may have been), when a rather large
squirrel started to cross the road in front of me. He changed his
mind when a vehicle came up behind me and he turned around and
waddled back over the edge. The driver stopped next to me and told
me that that was my spirit animal. Great, I said. This means I am
going to be running back and forth across the road all day. No, he
said, it means you will finish because the squirrel saves up
everything for later. At first, I was even more demoralized. I must
be somewhere near DFL and
this was meant to encourage me. But then I took it as he meant it
and carried on with my slow but steady forward progress. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>My
crew</b>. Since we didn't know the area, I tried not to rely on Tony
coming to aid stations. We rented a mountain bike for a couple of
days and I hoped he would spend his time riding. He did ride some,
but he also surprised me by coming to see me a few times. Best of
all he did the last long, hot Virgin desert loop with me and it was
very nice to have a distraction at that point.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Swag</b>. A shirt and a hat, a custom-made wood-fired pizza, and a buckle made from items found along the course. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, serif;"><b>Verdict.</b> This was one of the
better organized races I have been to and I am glad to support
a race director who gives back to the community. The course
was beautiful and well-marked, the time of year perfect, and everyone
I met was cheerful and helpful. Everything seemed to run smoothly
and my only "complaint" was the aid stations ran out of soda by the
time I got there (and I really hoped for a hamburger along the way).
In the end, despite my swearing in the middle of the night I would
never run it again, nor another hundred and in fact 5Ks were starting
to sound good, I would go back and do it again.</span></span></div>
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Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-17729217552089939062014-11-05T18:28:00.001-08:002014-11-05T18:28:28.285-08:00Table Rock 50 Miler<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LL5DwgGqpXo/VFrcGpfcBZI/AAAAAAAABC4/hapk0aqnmsM/s1600/Table%2BRock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LL5DwgGqpXo/VFrcGpfcBZI/AAAAAAAABC4/hapk0aqnmsM/s1600/Table%2BRock.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Even though I am still working on recovering from my parasite issues, I had a little confidence boost after I finished NAR. I haven't run a race all year because of those issues, so on a whim, I signed up for the <a href="http://tablerockultras.com/" target="_blank">Table Rock 50 miler</a> two weeks before the race. I decided that since I was pretty busy with work and coaching, I would just wing this run. In other words, I set aside my obsessive compulsive behavior and limited my preparation to throwing a bunch of stuff in my pack and quickly reading through the website. I gathered that it was a brand new out and back course with a lot of technical single track and climb, which was fine by me. I paid no attention to cutoffs, aid station distances, course descriptions and figured it would all work out in the end.<br />
<br />
Tony and I drove up the night before and stayed in Morganton. At 4:45 am, I remembered why I don't really like organized races. They start so darned early! Hellgate and Grindstone have start times much more to my liking. Anyway, I wrote down the address of the start, plugged it into the GPS, which then guided us three miles past the start. There was supposed to a sign at the entrance, but a small sign on the opposite side of the road in the dark was easily missed. In fact, we missed it again when we turned around and I got to the start 5 minutes before the race began. (If I had been in my OCD mode, I would have had a meltdown.) Now to be fair, there was a gigantic billboard pointing the way to the campground, but since I did a quick read through of the directions, I wasn't really sure if that was the right place or not.<br />
<br />
I got my bib on, dropped my drop bag and went to the start, where a small group of people were gathered. After a few words about the pink and black flagging we were supposed to see every 3-5 minutes, the RDs sent us off in the dark. Wayne and I decided to start off together and see how it went. <br />
<br />
The course leaves the campground, runs through an open field and then heads onto single track in the woods. (Let me insert a pet peeve here. Please do not wear a flashing red light on the back of your headlamp or hat. While that is an excellent idea if you are by yourself, it just annoys all the people running behind you in an ultra.) Everyone was in a tight pack, moving along, when all of a sudden people began shouting and turning around. Was there a bear? Was someone hurt? No, we had right off the bat missed a turn. We all backtracked, found the right trail and restarted. <br />
<br />
The first half mile or so was muddy, eroded uphill single track which emptied out into a field. After crossing the field, you followed rolling double track, with some tall grass for three or so miles to the first road crossing. After that crossing, you ran on technical rocky single track to the first stream crossing, which was blocked by two gigantic logs. We clambered over the slippery logs into the creek (a foot deep or so), back onto single track to the first aid station. <br />
<br />
The aid station workers weren't quite sure how far it was to the next one, but no matter. I got two bottles of water and had plenty of calories in my pack, so I would just get to be aid station when I got there. The route was on gravel road, first sharply downhill, then gradually up to the next road crossing. Somewhere in the middle of this section, we took a slight detour down the wrong path, but figured it out pretty quickly.<br />
<br />
The gravel road ends at a busy paved road, which you follow for a quarter mile or so before getting on another gravel road. This road went sharply downhill before crossing a bridge, turning right and becoming level and then up again to the next aid attain. Wayne and I were alternating walking and running and were making good progress but then saw a group quickly catching up with us. I told Wayne they must have gotten off course, because they were moving much much faster than the people in my part of the pack normally move. Sure enough, they had missed the turn off the road and got three or so bonus miles in. <br />
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At the next aid station, I was the third female to come through which would have made me feel good, except I knew that people had missed turn and would be coming up behind us. Anyway, Wayne and I continued our walk/run up the mountain, feeling good. The road section eventually ends and you are back on rocky, technical single track and we moved well through that, until we got to the river crossing. They call it a creek, but it was wide and fast moving and I don't have much confidence in my balance since the knee surgery. I carefully picked my way across, which gave Wayne plenty of time to cool off in the water while he waited. Back onto single track again, which started a relentlessly steep uphill climb, finally coming to a gravel road and the next aid station. It was high up and pretty chilly, but the aid station worker assured us we would be dropping down into the woods where it would be warmer. These were words we did not want to hear. We knew we had to get to the top of Table Rock to the turnaround, so downhill meant even more uphill. Not having paid too much attention to the course description, we assumed that the next aid station would be near the top of Table Rock. <br />
<br />
We dropped down on double track, crossed a creek three times and then started down switchbacks to a gorge. The trail became really technical and slow, but the waterfalls in the gorge were beautiful. Finally we started back up. Really, really steeply up. After we hit the top, we came upon an aid station, where we became really confused since we were not at the top of Table Rock. Here we learned that the course was actually 54 miles and we still had a ways to go to the halfway point. Four miles doesn't normally seem like a big deal, but when you are slowly crawling uphill, that's another hour added on. We grabbed some food and ran off feeling pretty down, thinking we were almost there when in fact we weren't. We started seeing retuning runners, mainly 50k runners. Eventually we came out on a gravel road briefly and then started another long extremely steep climb which thankfully ended on Table Rock. The views there were outstanding, but the fact that we were at 7 1/2 hours on a course with a 15 hour cutoff made for a quick look. And we still had to make a side trip to the aid station to get to our drop bags. <br />
<br />
On the way back, we were moving strong and passed some people. However, when we came back to the aid station where it was so cold, we had missed the aid station cutoff. Our options were to wait there until we got picked up or wait until the sweep caught us. We kept going, but I have never been caught by a sweep and I while I might get pulled at the next aid station, I was NOT going to be caught by a sweep. (I envisioned a deep woods version of tag or hide and seek.) Again, we moved really well, passed a couple more people and hammered the downhill on the gravel road. They didn't pull us at that aid station, nor at the next one. We finished in 15:30 and the RDs did count us as finishers.I got a great hoodie and 1st place award in my age group (because the top three women overall had been in my age group).<br />
<br />
My overall impression of the race was good. The RDs and volunteers were very helpful, the swag was the best I've had in a long time and I loved the course. It was hard, technical and the creek crossings guaranteed wet feet the whole time. But it was very pretty and had some gravel road thrown in for a bit of a break. The aid station food was good and I wasn't left wanting anything.<br />
<br />
The last half of the race was not as enjoyable because I was frustrated with the cutoffs and running from sweeps. The only cutoff I have missed in 11 years has been at mile 42 at Hellgate
(twice, due to snow and ice). But at Hellgate, I knew I was moving
slow. Here I was moving well and felt really good. I hope they will adjust the cutoffs a little or this will be a race for fast runners. I didn't have trouble with the course markings, except at one place, but others did, so I am sure those tricky spots will be addressed. One other thing I really needed was crew directions to the one place crew access was allowed. Maybe they were somewhere on the website and I am sure that if I had asked, someone would have given me them, but it would have been nice to have a printout stuck in my packet. <br />
<br />
Speaking of packets, thank-you RDs for sticking my shirt (which is now my favorite running shirt) inside the packet. I cannot tell you how many times I have showed up to a race for which I had preregistered and they have run out of my size or out of shirts totally. And thank-you for the women's cut. I like shirts I can actually wear!<br />
<br />
Final thoughts. I will be back next year, even if they do not adjust the cutoffs. I would come back next month if they wanted to put it on again. <br />
<br />
Photos are from the Table Rock Ultras Facebook page.<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-44286550060495064212014-10-02T18:34:00.000-07:002014-10-02T18:58:03.307-07:00Nantahala Adventure Run 2014I was going to start out this post with a long dissertation about how 2014 has sucked for me, running-wise, between injuries and parasites, but I since I finally get to write a post about running, rather than NOT running, that's where I am headed with this.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-alIirPDxsIo/VC32sRI-PWI/AAAAAAAABBg/BpXWaz7rhpM/s1600/WP_20140913_008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-alIirPDxsIo/VC32sRI-PWI/AAAAAAAABBg/BpXWaz7rhpM/s1600/WP_20140913_008.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a>In the middle of all of my parasite/running drama this summer, several WNC runners came to run the loop that Alan, Brian and I had set out to run at midnight one December. (I had concocted a "challenging" <a href="http://ncultrarunner.blogspot.com/2007/12/burningtown-100k.html" target="_blank">100K</a> in my backyard, consisting of what would become known as the Nantahala Adventure Run, plus an additional 6 miles to make sure it was 100K. In this version, had we finished, we would have finished with the long, steep climb from the Nantahala Outdoor Center up to Tellico. We instead stopped at the base of Cheoah in a cold drizzle, not having much fun at all.) Anyway, here in the summer of 2014, I was not yet able to join in on the run, but crewed instead up at Tellico. Some of the runners opted out midway through in the July heat and humidity and two of those runners, Mohammad and Wayne agreed to come run a do-over with me when I was ready.<br />
<br />
We set a date in September and as it grew closer I continued to have the same doubts I have had for the last year or so. I am not ready. I have only been training for six weeks. I am not completely well. This is over double my longest long run. I haven't run this far since November 2013. My knee hurts a lot. I have DNS'ed three races. There's no way I can do this. I don't think I can do ultras anymore. And on and on.<br />
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While I was busy tearing myself down, I was trying to find an elevation profile of the loop online to figure out the easiest direction and starting point. I clicked on a link and it was the article about the Bartram Trail in Blue Ridge Outdoors, which mentioned me as the first person to through-run the Bartram. I thought, you know, I shouldn't have been able to accomplish that, either. I had been sick for a couple of weeks, was still sick when I started and ended up hobbling the last 18 miles injured. But I did it. After thinking on that for a bit, I decided that my goal really had nothing to do with running around this 58 mile loop. I wanted to be the same runner I used to be, who didn't overthink things and just went out and ran. Who didn't have a training plan or count miles. Who liked to do the hard things, simply because they were hard, rather than being afraid I couldn't do them. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TCU2GD2ZBw0/VC33PMYoJpI/AAAAAAAABCI/i6tCrnmGjwc/s1600/20140913_115459000_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TCU2GD2ZBw0/VC33PMYoJpI/AAAAAAAABCI/i6tCrnmGjwc/s1600/20140913_115459000_iOS.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a>And so at 5:12 a.m., Wayne and I (and the yodeling pickle) set out from Appletree Campground, with Mohammed following about an hour later. The trail was overgrown and my legs soon looked like I had run the Barkley from all the blackberry cuts on them. The yodeling pickle provided comic relief whenever I ducked under a blowdown and my packed brushed up against the tree, setting him off. It was foggy and humid and by the time we started up Cheoah my energy was draining. Mohammed caught us near the top and we we shared a mile or so before parting ways, providing a nice distraction. On the way down, I was still dragging but Wayne kept waiting for me and then Sarah showed up, keeping us company and mentally occupied. Once at the NOC, she helped us get a hamburger and although I spent more time there than I intended, it turned everything around. Thank-you, Sarah!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pWbAMFIpyhc/VC33cjnDf4I/AAAAAAAABCQ/wXBFXw-rW3Y/s1600/burgers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pWbAMFIpyhc/VC33cjnDf4I/AAAAAAAABCQ/wXBFXw-rW3Y/s1600/burgers.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>I felt great heading up Tellico, where Tony was waiting, which of course cheered me up even more. Wayne was having some overheating issues, but a little time at a creek turned him around too. The climb out of Tellico felt okay and was not much slower than I usually climb it, even though it was about 30 miles into the run. The only downside was the song<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrM39m22jH4" target="_blank"> Drunk on a Plane </a>continued to play in my head. I wasn't feeling bad, but is wasn't exactly Mardi Gras in the clouds at that point either.<br />
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We hit Burningtown Gap right before dark and at the overlook just beyond it, stood for a bit watching a huge bank of clouds with bolts of lightening flashing through it . It was one of the prettiest storms I have seen. Of course, I had dropped my rainjacket with Tony, because the Weather Channel assured us there was zero percent chance of rain.<br />
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It was pitch black when we hit Wayah, where we were treated to a beautiful view of the lights of Franklin below and the stars and the Milky Way above. We started painfully downhill to the lake ( I fell three or four times because it was so steep and I was no longer moving my feet as fast as I should have been). We finally hit the lake and shuffled on towards Appletree, alternating walking and running. 20 hours 59 minutes and 15 seconds after we started, we arrived back at our cars. Mohammed had finished under 18 hours and the three of us joined the short list of runners to through run the NAR.<br />
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My knee didn't hurt. I was still running at the end. I was slow, but I did it. And other than the trip up and over Cheoah, I actually felt okay. I wasn't trained and it doubled my longest run all year, but I did it. And I am already thinking about going back and doing it better. <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-52767620922207784382014-07-03T15:59:00.002-07:002014-07-03T15:59:37.422-07:00Louis Zamperini (1917-2014): Unbroken<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This post is a bit of a deviation from normal running posts, but today <a href="http://www.latimes.com/local/obituaries/la-me-louis-zamperini-20140704-story.html#page=1" target="_blank">Louie Zamperin</a>i, Olympic distance runner turned WWII POW passed away at the age of 97. A few years ago, I read Laura Hillenbrand's book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unbroken-World-Survival-Resilience-Redemption/dp/1400064163" target="_blank"><i>Unbroken</i>,</a> which traces Louie's inspiring story, a true testament to the human ability to endure most anything. Louis survives a plane crash, sharks and strafings and 47 days in a raft, only to end up being captured by the Japanese. Things only keep getting worse for Louie, but somehow he perseveres and survives. <br />
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Shortly after I read the book, generous local veterans donated a class set of the book for my Military History students. We spend twenty minutes or so a day reading the book and his story never gets old. My students love the book and as a teacher, I love to hear them ask if they can read more. For some of them, this is the first book they have actually wanted to read and during the semester, Louie becomes part of our class.<br />
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After a test this year, I gave my students an impromptu extra credit assignment, to write a letter to Louie. I happened to have kept the letters, so I wanted to share a few excerpts today in memory of Mr. Zamperini. Excuse the grammar and organization as they were written spur of the moment with no opportunity to make corrections. (And if you are reading this blog, you are probably a runner. If you haven't read<i> Unbroken</i>, it's a great book and the author spends the first part talking about how running saved Louie, which many of us can relate to. It also puts all our self-inflicted suffering in perspective and makes giving up a bit harder, too.) Here are the excerpts:<br />
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Dear Louie Zamperini, </div>
I was wanting to
write you and let you know how incredibly stunning your story is...You
are really an amazing person and I will always remember this story and
keep to myself that the human mind is almost impossible to break and the
resilience that you have shown will forever signify the true meaning of
perseverance. Your strengths will influence a nation. As we stand
united, you have shown us that that no matter who you are are where
you're from, you can remain Unbroken.<br />
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Dear Louis Zamperini,<br />
<br />
After reading the book about your life, I've realized the strength and endurance the human body can withstand. I have so much respect for you and your family. You have taught me a lot about what it means to keep faith and never give up. I am currently enlisted in the US Marine Corps and I plan on serving my country in whatever way I am needed. I know I will probably never have to go through the experiences that you did, but if anything ever goes bad, I will remember you and your story. You<br />
were stronger than I could ever be and you are a great role model.<br />
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Your heroism and leadership has been a great influence on me and I hope I could have been half as brave as you were in that situation. You put others before yourself, risking your life in the process. You defied the Japanese rules and guards, proving to everyone that it could be done. You endured beatings that were so severe that I really can't even begin to understand. Through it all, you kept your dignity and faith. You never stopped believing that you could make it through the war, which is more than many others could say. There are plenty of other stories of delinquent children overcoming the odds and doing great things, but your story has had the greatest impact on my life. I think everyone needs to hear your story.<br />
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You are a great hero, Mr. Zamperini. I will carry what you have taught me throughout my life and be the best that I can be. I hope your story has influenced others in the same way it has me. Thank you for your service to our country and for sharing your story.<br />
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Hello Louie,<br />
<br />
I've read your book with one of my classes at school and I can honestly say it's the most inspiring story of perseverance and hope I've honestly ever read. You were pushed well beyond the breaking<br />
point but somehow your inner resilience was unleashed and your hatred for The Bird pushed you to survive and provide hope for all of the POWs around you. I never knew how terrible the conditions were in foreign POW camps until I read this story. I knew things would be unpleasant but this was far worse than unpleasant, it was some of the most unimaginable things to put a human through yet you rose above all the challenges. Your story has inspired so many and shows us how far mental strength can get you in bad situations...<br />
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Hello Louie,<br />
<br />
We just finished reading your biography "Unbroken" in my history class and it has got to be one of the most eye-opening books I have ever read. From start to finish there was not a second I wanted to<br />
stop reading it... Reading this book made our class feel like we sort of know you in a way. I could not come close to imagining how hard it was to go through what you did...<br />
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After everything you had been through and dealt with, you turned to God and found a way to forgive them and I believe not many people would be able to do a thing like that. Your story has made me realize that there is always someone who has it worse than you so don't take what you have for granted and cherish every moment you have with friends and family, you never know when you will see them again. I just want to thank you for having the courage to share your story with the world, thank you Louie.<br />
<br />
Dear Louis Zamperini,<br />
<br />
Your story is incredible. The determination, fight, and calmness that you showed during your difficult times in World War Two is truly inspiring. I always knew that POW camps were rough, but is never realized how horrific it actually was. Hearing about the atrocities that you and your comrades had to endure has given me a new level of respect and gratification for veterans and current members of the armed services. It even hits home even more because most soldiers were not much older than I currently am. I connected more with your story because I am also a runner... (At) the Berlin Olympic race where you were falling behind, but still had a huge kick really showed how giving up is not in your personality and that you had perseverance. Just from seeing a few of your personality traits that were portrayed in the book, make me believe that you were built to make it through the war alive and that you weren't going to let the enemy "beat" you, just like you didn't let competitors beat you in competitions. Once again, I am truly grateful for what you and your comrades went through and I can only hope that no one will have to see what you saw or go through what you went through again. Also, they way that God spoke to you and caused you to change your life is very inspiring. Thank you for your service to our Country. If it wasn't for you and other members of the armed services, I would not be where I am today. To me, all members of the armed services are heroes.<br />
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Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-38660491317135328582014-06-21T19:54:00.000-07:002014-06-21T19:56:05.501-07:00Adventures with Giardia and Other Cautionary TalesAs Wayne and I were headed towards Tellico Gap during the Nantahala Adventure Run, he told me a story about almost passing out while running one day. It turned out that he had not eaten for 24 hours and opted to go for a run before he did so. In retrospect, of course, that was a bad decision, but at the time he didn't think too much about it.<br />
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I had a couple of those moments in April and as Willy Natureboy says, bad decisions make for good stories. I'm not sure how good of a story this is, but it is a cautionary tale....<br />
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There's a forest road near my house that I run fairly often. I've only seen four people on this road in years, two hunters and a couple out for a walk. One day after school, I headed there to run, but was surprised by a man coming down the hill as I was getting out of my car. Not only was this person number five, but he was a runner, too. So, we talked for a couple of minutes (he is a deputy that lives nearby) and then I headed up the hill. I was distracted by the conversation and didn't realize until a few hundred yards up the hill that I had forgotten to take my earrings out. Not just any earrings, but ones with blue diamonds in them that Tony had given me.<br />
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In retrospect, I should have turned around and headed back to the car and put them in a safe place. But I was wearing a little waist belt that I stick my phone and keys in, so I stuck them in there. It zips up securely and I didn't think about them again until the next morning, when I took my phone out of the belt and an earring fell out. An, as in one, earring.<br />
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I searched the house, car, driveway, gym bag, every place I thought it could be. Then I remembered that I had taken pictures at three places during my run, which meant I had opened that waist belt three times. After school, I went back to the road and searched there. Nothing. I dragged Tony there with a metal detector the next evening. Nothing. I ran there a couple more times and again, nothing. This is a fairly big earring that would be hard to miss, especially in the sunlight and I finally assumed that someone saw it and took it home. I spent a long time kicking myself for being stupid.<br />
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Tony, being Tony, went and got me a similar pair and we planned to make necklace out of the lone earring. Then two or three weeks later, I was running on the road again and my shoelace came untied. I crouched down to tie it, and there was my earring, in the gravel and intact.<br />
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Now I have two pairs of nice blue diamond earrings and a secure case to put them in when I take them off to go run. Lesson learned. Unfortunately, the weekend before, I had unknowingly made another bad, bad decision.<br />
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April is thru-hiker season here on the Appalachain Trail. I go all winter, rarely seeing anyone, to suddenly seeing dozens of people on a short run. The hikers hit the 100 mile mark here and many are still unversed in wilderness etiquette and procedures. Which brings me to my bad decision.<br />
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I decided to run a 20 mile loop, a majority of which was on the AT. On a long run, where there are several water sources, I carry a handheld bottle instead of a bladder, scoop water as I go and treat it with a <a href="http://www.steripen.com/" target="_blank">Steripen</a>, which uses UV light to zap any bad critters that might be in it.<br />
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Several months prior, I had dropped my Steripen, but it appeared to be working fine. The flashing light that indicates the steripen is making proper contact with the water was working, along with the green indicator light that tells me the water has been zapped for the appropriate 45 seconds. I use gray bottles and never thought to look down inside the bottle to see if the most important light,the UV light was actually working.<br />
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All winter went by without incident. Then the weekend of the 20 mile loop, I scooped water from couple of places right next to the trail. In retrospect, of course they were not the best options. Somewhere along the way, I, for some reason, thought to look to see if the UV light was working. It was not. I was not too concerned because I know a lot of people do not treat their water and I realized I has been drinking untreated water for several months. But it was now thru-hiker season, when you smell all sorts of bad smells along the trail and find toilet paper in all sorts of places.<br />
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Warning: TMI coming, but I wanted to write this down, because my symptoms were a little different than most of the internet info. You'll be safe if you skip the next paragraph. <br />
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So, a couple weekends later, I had stomach/bathroom issues. A couple nights later, I was awakened by an urgent need to, umm, use the restroom. That never happens. Then I was nauseous. I lost my appetitie and could not eat anything but crackers and toast. I alternated between not going at all for days to explosive incidents. I sat in the recliner and stared into space. I could not focus enough to read or watch T.V. I felt fuzzy-headed and dizzy. I did not throw up. The doctor and I assumed it was the stomach flu, but I have never had the stomach flu. A couple weeks went by. I missed a lot of work. I would feel a bit better and head back to work, only to have to leave early. One morning, I was on my way out the door when I had to make a run for the bathroom. I was shaky and weak and as a teacher, I had to find a sub and come up with a lesson plan in a half hour. I cried for awhile, then our secretary helped me find a sub and I came up with a lesson plan. They ran tests, blood tests and a regular stool test. Low blood sugar, nothing in the stool. By this point, over three weeks had gone by. I lost eight pounds sitting in the recliner. I was apparently very pale because people kept remarking on that. I spent a lot of time being angry that I could not do the things I wanted to do and not understanding what was wrong. The fourth week, the doctor and I discussed the possibility of giardia. First she gave me a round of antibiotics in case it was animal e coli. That didn't work. The stool test for giardia came back negative, but apparently they only pass every so often, so you usually have to do multiple tests. Instead of that, she just went ahead and gave me the antibiotic from hell, flagyll.<br />
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I could not tell if the flagyll was working, because it gives you the exact same side-effects as the symptoms of giardia. Only I felt worse. Finally, when I was finished with it, after five weeks of hanging with Little G and eight days of antibiotics, I began to feel better. I had some energy and was hungry. Then I had a bad couple days. Then several good ones. Then a bad one. According to Dr. Google, it can take a few months for the intestines to heal, especially since I went so long before we figured it out. Also, that doc says a lot of people become lactose intolerant for a while, and I think that has given me a couple bad days before I realized it.<br />
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So, eight weeks later, I feel more normal; I just get tired quicker. I still have some nausea and days when I just feel "off." I am running, but not very far yet. Today a group was running the Nantahala Adventure Run, which I was supposed to do, but instead I provided some aid and hiked/ran out four miles to see people as they came through. My plan was to head all the way to the NOC and back, but my body thought differently. I enjoyed hanging out on a rock in a quiet place in the sunshine and although I wished I could run the loop, was okay with doing what I did. <br />
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Another very hard lesson learned. If you do not treat your water, consider it. And according to some sources, options such as bleach may not kill giardia unless it is used in fairly high concentration. If you use bleach, you may want to do some research. This <a href="http://www.hikelight.com/18ultralightbackpackingwatertreatment.html" target="_blank">person</a> did a lot of research on the different ways of purifying water. Apparently the Steripen is very effective....but only if you are sure it is working. And I may trade in my gray bottles for some clear ones.<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-8186362202829400092014-06-09T11:31:00.000-07:002014-06-09T11:37:19.563-07:00Burningtown Loop/Nantahala Adventure Run and Burningtown 100KBurningtown Loop/NAR<br />
56ish miles<br />
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1. Start at the Bartram Parking area at the end of Wayah Road, near the Raft Put-in Area. Head north on the Bartram on a paved walkway to single track on the other side of Highway 19. This is the first tough climb, to Cheoah Bald. The first part of the trail is pretty overgrown in the summer and the climbs are pretty deep in leaves in the fall and winter. Plenty of water and lots of creek crossings, including one you can't rock hop. You will connect with the AT south, shortly before you reach Cheoah Bald. Once at Cheoah Bald, take the AT south down to the Nantahala Outdoor Center. (I don't remember where water is, but there is a shelter below Cheoh, so I imagine there is water there.) Crew access (and restaurant, store at NOC)) 13.2 total miles.<br />
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2. Continue south on the AT, climbing back up to Tellico Gap. This is another long, tough climb. 8 miles. Little to no water until after the shelter that is 2.2 miles from Tellico Gap. Great views from the Jumpoff and the Wesser fire tower. Crew access.<br />
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3. Head south on Appalachian Trail 9.3 miles to Wayah Bald. There is a long climb (about 30 minutes for me) and then it becomes more rolling to Icewater Springs shelter. The spring runs right in front of the shelter, and for that reason, I do not use it. You will have a long descent (a little over a mile) to Burningtown Gap. You could have crew access you at Burningtown Gap. About a half mile past the gap is a good water source. The trail is nice from here to Wayah, runnable until the climb up Wayah which is not that bad. There is a shelter and a sign that points to a water source, but the water is quite a ways off the trail. The Bartram and AT will run together here for a while. As you climb up to Wayah, there is a spring where I usually get water. At Wayah, be prepared for lots of people at the tower (which is always jarring after so long in the quiet woods). There are pit toilets here. Crew Access<br />
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4. Continue south until the Bartram Trail leaves the AT. Right before it does, there is a spring at Wine Springs. It unfortunately does not dispense wine. Take the Bartram toward Nantahala Lake. 3.9 miles downhill to crew access at Sawmill Gap on Dirty John Road. You will hear firing from the firing range below, but it is quite a ways down in the valley. Be careful at this isolated road crossing. <br />
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5. Continue steeply (very steeply/butt slide in points) downhill to Nantahala Lake. There is water right before you reach the lake and also a creek running into the lake shortly thereafter. Take the paved road and go right. Be careful during the summer for traffic. You will pass a restaurant and small store. 4.1 miles downhill. Crew access. <br />
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6. Follow Bartram to Appletree Group Campground. 4.9 miles. Watch for the turn to the left off the road after the store. It goes down a driveway and then makes a sharp right uphill. It then heads to the left of a cabin at the top of the hill. It is usually overgrown here. Follow the trail and cross a couple of gravel roads. Be alert to trail markings because you will take one of the gravel roads a short distance before leaving it to head back onto single track. You will have some nice single track to run before getting dumped out on road past the dam. You will follow roads with some turns, so again watch for markings. There is a spring coming out of the rock wall as you get closer to Appletree. Crew access.<br />
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6. Continue on Bartram to where you started. 12.4 miles. The trail runs along the river very briefly, takes a gravel road through the campground and then heads back to the river. There are bathrooms in the campground and I assume they are open in the summer, but I have never tried them. Be alert to where the trail leaves this road and heads down to the river. Most of this section is rolling until you hit the climb up Rattlesnake Knob. It tends to get overgrown and can be a little confusing because it will follow an old forest road for awhile then abruptly leave it for singe track. There is abundant poison ivy in places and a couple of small streams. You're at a lower elevation, so it is also hotter and buggier. Before you get to Rattlesnake Knob, you will cross a creek that usually gets my feet wet Shortly after that, there is an intersection with Piercy Creek Trail. (If you had some sort of issue, you could take this trail, which is rocky and wet but downhill, to the Nantahala River, cross it, and then head left a mile or two back to your car.) The climb up Rattlesnake is not overly steep, but at this point, it just seems to go forever. There are a couple spots you could get water, but it would be better to
fill up at the creek rather than take a chance that they are dry. You'll finally top out, hit some narrow singletrack with hairpin curves and steep dropoffs and pop out at a water tower. Take the nice gravel road for a long downhill, where you will end up back where you started. . <br />
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This second description is a 100K course with a little out and back to bump up the mileage. It starts/ends in a different place on the loop and ends with a killer climb.<br />
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Burningtown 100K<br />
62.3 miles<br />
Goal: sub 18 hour<br />
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Course description with mileage and goal times.<br />
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1. Start/finish on Otter Creek Road, 3.2 miles from Tellico Gap. (Just past last old house on left. Parking place past there on right at forest road gate). Run 3.2 miles to Tellico Gap. 1:00 am<br />
2. Head south on Appalachian Trail 9.3 miles to Wayah Bald. Crew access there. 3:45 am<br />
3. Continue south until the Bartram Trail intersects. Take the Bartram toward Nantahala Lake. 3.9 miles downhill. Crew access at Sawmill Gap on Dirty John Road. 4:454. Continue downhill to Nantahala Lake and the Lakeside Store. 4.1 miles downhill. Crew access. 5:45 am<br />
5. Follow Bartram to Appletree Group Campground. 4.9 miles. Crew access. 7:15 am<br />
6. Continue on Bartram to Winding Stairs, where the raft put-in is. 12.4 miles. Crew access. 10:15 am<br />
7. Climb 3000 in 5.1 miles with 7 stream crossings up to Cheoah Bald. Then take the AT south down to the Nantahala Outdoor Center. Crew access (and restaurant). 13.2 total miles. 2:30 pm.<br />
8. Continue south on the AT, climbing back up to Tellico Gap. I did part of this on Saturday and there were a lot of steep, narrow areas on the trail, along with a lot of slick leaves. This might take some time. 8 miles. Crew access. 5 pm<br />
9. Arrive at Tellico Gap, and head back down Otter Creek to the finish. 3.25 miles. 5:45 pm.Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-43038505230318331862014-04-20T18:41:00.001-07:002014-04-20T18:58:39.385-07:00Down Time, A Shoe Review and a Spartan Race Giveaway<h3>
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>Down Time</b></span></h3>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1EFD5Ex4HGM/U1RupIKhBqI/AAAAAAAAA98/QfO08gEvlIU/s1600/P2140252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1EFD5Ex4HGM/U1RupIKhBqI/AAAAAAAAA98/QfO08gEvlIU/s1600/P2140252.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>If you read my previous blog post, you know I had some mental issues going on with trying to hit my mileage goals. I ditched the record keeping and, voila, I started having fun running. What's more, I was actually motivated to start really training again and even started going to the gym on a more regular basis. All this was going well for two or three weeks, until I ran a very technical trail covered with several inches of snow. I hit the side of a snow-camouflaged rock and did some impressive acrobatics to stay upright. Everything was fine until I got home and took a nap. When I tried to get up, I couldn't. Those acrobatics twisted my back out of place and I was pinching a nerve. It took over three weeks, after some deep-tissue massage by Tony and some manipulation by the chiropractor, until I was finally pain-free.<br />
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But that was a month of no running. I was angry at first because one, I was in pain and that just made me grumpy, and two, because things had just started going well running-wise and I was back to square one. It turned out that that time off was a good thing, though. I explored non-technical forest roads that wouldn't aggravate my back and found some new places to run. Once I started back running, I eased into it, walking when I felt like it, limiting how long I ran and taking days off. As a result, I feel much better than I have in awhile.<br />
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>A Shoe Review (kind of)</b></span></h3>
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<i>First of all, a disclaimer. I have been sponsored by Brooks for nine years and am not at all impartial. However, I don't think I have ever written a shoe review and it is not something Brooks expects me to do. Secondly, I wear road shoes on technical trail. So I am reviewing a road shoe as a trail shoe.</i><br />
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There was a lot of anticipation leading up to the release of the <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/on/demandware.static/Sites-BrooksRunning-Site/Sites-BrooksRunning-Library/default/transcendReveal/index.html" target="_blank">Brooks Transcend</a> as it would be the cushiest shoe in their lineup. I pre-ordered mine, hoping to find a solution to joints that ached on downhills and on really long runs. When they finally came, I admired the bright pink color and then sent them back because they apparently run large. My second pair came and again I admired the bright pink color, but couldn't wear them for another month because of my injury.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QBgOJ07XAnM/U1R2JCphTcI/AAAAAAAAA-g/1qucmmao8u0/s1600/photo(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QBgOJ07XAnM/U1R2JCphTcI/AAAAAAAAA-g/1qucmmao8u0/s1600/photo(1).JPG" height="112" width="200" /></a>When I finally got to run in them, I hated them. They didn't fit like any other Brooks shoe. They were a little wider, especially in the heel box and didn't have that glove-like feel that all of my other Brooks shoes did. But I wore them any way. I spent a lot of time adjusting the laces to try to get them to fit like my other shoes did. Finally, I just accepted the fact that they would fit differently.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D8OencjFvkA/U1R2P4lH0BI/AAAAAAAAA-o/lv8Y9F0kUJw/s1600/photo(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D8OencjFvkA/U1R2P4lH0BI/AAAAAAAAA-o/lv8Y9F0kUJw/s1600/photo(2).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>I started using them on my easy forest road runs. I worked up to two hours in them. Then I took them on trails, through creeks and mud, over rocks and roots. I built up to a 20 mile somewhat technical run in them. And I liked them. Actually my body liked them. A lot. They are not super-cushy like Hokas, but I do feel a noticeable difference in them. I run over gravel and I can feel that there is gravel under me, but I do not really feel the hardness or sharpeness of the gravel. Unlike stiff trail shoes, they allow me to still feel the trail while protecting my feet. I run downhill and although I am not floating on a fluffy cloud, my joints feel a lot better. When I get to the car after a long run, I do not have the usual urge to quickly take my shoes off. They grip just fine on wet rocks and in the mud. They do not have an aggressive sole and I was worried I would be slipping around, but I didn't. They passed the "kick a rock hard with your toes" test, twice. (Not a planned test, either time.) They don't have any sort of toe protector, but in comparison to the Ravennas, Glycerins and Ghosts (my usual running shoes), it didn't hurt quite as bad. They drained just fine after running through creeks. And the fluorescent pink color got a lot of compliments from color-starved Appalachian Trail through-hikers. No blisters, no hotspots despite the difference in the fit.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGueZZ_cvwQ/U1R2gXi35EI/AAAAAAAAA-4/P1UrbH7svno/s1600/photo(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGueZZ_cvwQ/U1R2gXi35EI/AAAAAAAAA-4/P1UrbH7svno/s1600/photo(4).JPG" height="320" width="276" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kED2C8Q4VNI/U1R2cWvCKVI/AAAAAAAAA-w/8GWCwKuUaE0/s1600/photo(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>So the downside. They are heavier than what I usually wear (10.1 ounces) but not by much. They are expensive, but if they last as long or longer than other shoes, happy joints will be worth it. And then there is super-technical trail. The last long run I did in them was on a 20 mile run that was very rocky: lots of big rocks on the trail and a long section of essentially running upstream through a rocky creek bed. The last seven miles were pretty painful. I think that the "guide rails" in the shoes that are intended to keep your feet doing what they are supposed to be doing (on the road) worked against all that twisting and turning my feet were doing on those rocks. Plus, I couldn't get one shoe laced right and it hurt my foot. That day I was very glad to get them off my feet.<br />
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However, all the other experiences I had with the Transcends were positive and they will be my go-to shoe on everything non-technical. In fact, I wore my Ghosts for a long run the weekend after that technical run and really missed the Transcends. I could tell a big difference by the time I got back to the car.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>A Spartan Race Giveaway</b></span></h3>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8z3-awMTjo8/U1RQRjtKWuI/AAAAAAAAA9k/H8WrCPa71CE/s1600/alans+training+125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8z3-awMTjo8/U1RQRjtKWuI/AAAAAAAAA9k/H8WrCPa71CE/s1600/alans+training+125.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
A lot of my friends like obstacle racing. Alan Buckner does a 24 hour obstacle race every year. Other friends really like the short, fast ones and yet others have not run one, but have put it on the to-do list. I personally haven't had the urge to do one, simply because I think I would just hurt a lot.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6unezrsq314/U1RPO3guVTI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/CMukjlr-DK4/s1600/alans+training+131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6unezrsq314/U1RPO3guVTI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/CMukjlr-DK4/s1600/alans+training+131.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a> I did, however, have a lot of fun with Tony training Alan for his 24 hour race last year on a very cold day that ended with a bit of snow. We went out into the woods and tortured Alan by making him do situps in the frigid creek, retrieve rocks from the bottom of deep pools, do burpees and pushups in the mud, climb vertical slopes, throw logs, climb trees and up bridges, all with a heavy pack on. I did kind of feel an urge to do that sort of free-style obstacle but got over it as his wet-suit started icing over. This is my favorite picture from that day. It kind of sums it up.<br />
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Anyway, for those of you who would like to try one of these races (no creek training required), the <a href="http://www.spartanrace.com/" target="_blank">Reebok Spartan Race</a> folks have kindly donated a race-entry as a giveaway AND a <a href="http://bit.ly/spartanwarrior" target="_blank">link </a>to a 15% discount on a race. It looks like there is supposed to be a Spartan Super this year in Asheville, so I might even be interested in doing that since it's in the backyard. Email me at ncultrarunner@yahoo.com and tell me why you want to run a Spartan Race in five words or less. The first email with a cool response wins. <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-62333089868065791352014-01-28T17:43:00.000-08:002014-01-28T17:43:00.359-08:00The Numbers Game<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4puuqwkv4T4/UugHd8IWGGI/AAAAAAAAA8I/2nWGkvixEA8/s1600/mileage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4puuqwkv4T4/UugHd8IWGGI/AAAAAAAAA8I/2nWGkvixEA8/s1600/mileage.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iseJQqkKmOk/UugG2n3p2MI/AAAAAAAAA8A/08Z2hRMUxtw/s1600/mileage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>I never really kept track of my mileage until after my ACL surgery. Before, my record keeping consisted of this blog and a couple scraps of paper on which I wrote down my times for routes I ran frequently. I usually ran six days a week, simply because I felt better and fitter when I did. I tried to focus on quality workouts: a long run every week and a hill or speed work day thrown in here and there. I ran what I liked to run or what was convenient at the time, not just what I thought I ought to run. I think this worked out pretty well for me. I wasn't speedy or very competitive, but I could usually eek out a finish that I was happy with. <br />
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But then, the torn ACL changed everything. Not so much the injury itself, but how I began to look at running and training. After six months of rehabbing when I was finally allowed to start running again, I downloaded an app that would let me track my mileage. This was a great tool to make sure that I slowly eased back into running. Over the next six months, I worked on increasing my mileage<br />
until finally I ran a 24 hour race and a 100 mile trail race.<br />
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Somewhere along the line though, numbers got stuck in my head. This was my thought process: If you are going to run a 100, you need to be running at least X number of miles a week. You also need to run X number of days a week. If you don't do that, you won't be able to finish X race without pushing too hard and reinjuring yourself. <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TplLCunCXsQ/UugJmnJcF-I/AAAAAAAAA8c/NbyHxymfADY/s1600/photo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TplLCunCXsQ/UugJmnJcF-I/AAAAAAAAA8c/NbyHxymfADY/s1600/photo.PNG" height="320" width="240" /></a>I never thought like that before. I knew that the more I could run, the better I would do, but I didn't really add things up. Now I was making myself go out and run two more miles, so I could get at least X number that week. I was measuring routes to make sure the numbers were correct. And there it all was, laid out on the tablet. I wasn't measuring up. Look at that calendar. Look at all those days you missed. Look at what your average weekly mileage is. Heck, you shouldn't even be running 5Ks on those numbers. I even DNS'ed a race because I didn't think I had enough miles in.<br />
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It's only been in this last week that I did some realistic adding in my head. If I run six miles after school every day and a 25 mile long run on the weekend, the best I could do would be 55 miles, not even close to the numbers running around in my head. Which also means that for all those years I didn't track miles, I was rarely doing more than 55 miles a week. <br />
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The other morning, I spent a really long time deciding where to run on a beautiful winter day. I felt like I needed to get another longer run in since I was three weeks out from a race. So, I could either run somewhere to get those miles in or I could go somewhere just because I wanted to. I finally decided on the latter and ran half the miles I could have. I ran up to Black Rock (running being a very general term), which is a little less than eight miles, but climbs (and descends) about 1000 feet per mile.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5TPKW1FyrCM/UugK0c-KV7I/AAAAAAAAA8k/4qcUChMhxHQ/s1600/blackrock+elevation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5TPKW1FyrCM/UugK0c-KV7I/AAAAAAAAA8k/4qcUChMhxHQ/s1600/blackrock+elevation.jpg" height="243" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Assault-on-Black-Rock/189988924357412" target="_blank">from the Assault on Black Rock Facebook page</a></td></tr>
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You know, that eight miles is a whole different animal than eight miles around town. And I enjoyed that eight miles a lot more. After thinking on that fact for a little bit, I decided that this whole tracking my mileage thing is not working out for me. The app has got to go.<br />
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I'm going to head out for a run in the snow now. I don't know what direction I am heading nor how far I am running. All I know is it sounds like a lot of fun. <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-68142924689870478622013-12-30T18:15:00.000-08:002013-12-30T18:15:09.133-08:00Cuboids, DNFs and a New YearI didn't even know I had a cuboid. I don't remember it from anatomy lessons and the bones song doesn't mention it. You know the song. "The toe bone is connected to the foot bone, the foot bone is connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone is connected to the leg bone." In case you don't remember the song, here is Mr. Mike to sing it for you.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyvzb0yUJeU" target="_blank">Mr. Mike and the Bones song</a><br />
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It turns out that the song leaves a lot of bones out of our skeletal structure. I guess "The fifth metatarsal is connected to the cuboid" doesn't have the same lyrical qualities. Here's the diagram:<br />
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Anyway, the day after Hellgate I had sharp pain on the side and bottom of my foot opposite from my arch. It continued to get worse, to the point where I could not put much weight on it. Apparently it was not going to get better on its own, so I allowed Dr. Google to diagnose my problem and cuboid subluxation is what he came up with. In other words, that little bone was not where it was supposed to be. Dr. Google advised that it could be fixed with manipulation of the bone but he cautioned, "This form of manual manipulation of the foot should be done by a trained specialist." So I turned to Tony, who watched a couple of YouTube videos and set forth manipulating and mobilizing. It immediately felt a bit better, despite me not allowing him to do the "Cuboid Whip", which although supposedly effective, was way beyond my comfort zone.<br />
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I began icing it and self-mobilizing it. I also started using KT tape on it to support it. (One strip, starting on the heel, wrapping it under the cuboid from the side and a second strip, starting from the opposite side of my foot in front of my arch, wrapping it under my foot and cuboid.) As a result, two weeks later, I have run for three consecutive days, not pain free, but improving with each run.<br />
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So, how does one injure a cuboid to begin with? At Hellgate, I was intending to change shoes, but didn't, and ended up wearing shoes that were tied way too tight and I don't think my foot was able to move the way it should have on technical surfaces. I also remember rolling my ankle over (which is not uncommon), but this time the side of the foot hit a rock pretty hard. <br />
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The question then is, did the injury contribute to my DNF at Hellgate? Unfortunately, I don't think so. I say unfortunately because having an injury as an excuse for a DNF makes one feel a bit better. Instead, the injury gave me two weeks of down time to contemplate my DNF, rather than being able to head back out to the trails with vengeance. <br />
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This was not my first DNF. I DNF'ed at Hellgate before because of the ice. I DNF'ed at Old Dominion because of a hamstring injury. I DNF'ed another time at Old Dominion because I simply did not want to be out there any more. This was my first DNF caused by just being too slow and the mental beating I took when I realized that early on in the race. Before I started the race, I had already sabotaged myself by thinking I might DNF because of my lack of training. But I imagined that it would come late in the race, when I was just too tired to run, not because I was just too slow. Hmmm. Regardless of the reason, all the DNFs suck because I know that somehow I could have done better. <br />
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The disappointment in myself is balanced out by how much I enjoyed the race, which says something about the difference between racing and running. There haven't been too many times when I have enjoyed a course that I am really trying to race. I do, however, enjoy all my runs.<br />
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As the new year approaches, I have simple goals. I want to get fitter and faster and see how far I can go in a 48 hour race. If I don't get into the cycle of racing and recovering without a whole lot of time for training, I should be able to do that. And if I can keep my cuboids where they belong, connected to the calcaneus and the metatarsals. <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-77812818281270368542013-12-20T12:17:00.000-08:002013-12-20T12:17:52.467-08:00Hellgate 100K 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ten years ago, I stood in front of a forest gate in the middle of the dark, cold woods with a hundred or so other runners. It was midnight in the mountain of Virginia and we were getting ready to run a brand new David Horton race, the Hellgate 100K. It was December and freezing cold and in the first three miles, we would get wet from a stream crossing. There was a lot of climbing and descent, some technical single track, rolling forest roads and cutoffs designed to push the average runner. It also happened to be a special year because I started a conversation with the man who had given up his seat in the van for me. We ended up running the first twenty four miles together and were married by the next Hellgate.<br />
<br />
I ran four Hellgates in a row and each of them was unique. That first one was marked by very high water and a lot of ice from flooding. There was some snow and it was very cold. It was also the only race I have ever finished over the time limit. Hellgate #2 was also very cold with much more snow. I finished that one, with ten minutes to spare. Hellgate #3 was the ice year. Not ice like the first year, but a few inches of snow covered by a half inch of ice. Sometimes the ice broke when you stepped on it, other times it didn't. The trail was a mess for a back of the packer, with chunked up ice everywhere. I missed a cutoff that year at mile 42, the only time I had ever missed a cutoff. Hellgate #4 was the very, very cold year. I watched my breath freeze when I exhaled. Up high, it was 12 degrees with about a 20 mph headwind. When the sun came up, everything was foggy. It turned out my corneas had frozen, as had other people's, giving rise to a new term "Hellgate eyes." Despite that, I finished with a nice 43 minute cushion. I was content with tying the score 2-2, and didn't run Hellgate again.<br />
<br />
That is until this year, when I had the brilliant idea to run Hellgate one more time, as an anniversary run. It didn't matter that Tony had long since quit running ultras; I thought it would be a nice little trot down memory lane. As the race date drew closer and closer, however, I became really concerned about my training. Or lack thereof. From July to November, I coach cross country, which doesn't allow me to get the miles and type of training in that I would like. I looked back at my mileage over the months, which averaged 33 miles per week. A month ahead of time, I went out and ran 50 miles, just to make sure I still could. Even if my body was ready, my mind was convinced I was not.<br />
<br />
As the days ticked closer, I ended up with a cold. I overdosed on Vitamin C and zinc, trying to keep it at bay. This gave me nausea. Then I started obsessively checking the weather. The forecast fluctuated between cold rain, freezing rain and a wintery mix. This started a few days of trying to figure out what to wear. I would only have access to my drop bag at mile 28 and then 42. (Tony was not crewing me until the next morning and would not see me until mile 42.) I finally decided on a tried and true combo- an old Patagonia race shirt, followed by an equally old CWX base layer, topped by a Brooks Utopia top and pants. I carried my Marmot Precip jacket in my pack. Then came the shoe decision. I wear Brooks Glycerins on trail, but had run some in the Ghosts. I decided I would wear the Ghosts for the first section, because they were lighter and would drain better in the creek. Then I would change into nice dry Glycerins, which I have worn in the snow many times and have pretty good traction. The forecast didn't call for the precipitation to start until morning.<br />
<br />
Okay, all decisions were finally made and Tony and I once again stood at the forest gate in the middle of the woods with 132 other people. This time, however, I ventured out onto the trail and Tony went back to a nice warm hotel room.<br />
<br />
The first section is a double track trail, leafy and rolling. It is all runnable but I took a few short walk breaks on hills, pacing myself off the other runners around me. I felt pretty good and the dreaded wet stream crossing was neither too deep nor too cold.<br />
<br />
The next section is all forest road. You go a mile or so on flat to gently up, then take a sharp right and head steeply up the hill to the next aid station. I ran/walked and again, thought I was moving pretty good. But when I looked down the hill, I didn't see very many headlamps coming up behind me. I reached the top at the next aid station, quickly refilled water and changed out of my wet socks and headed down the trail.<br />
<br />
The third section starts off with a nice downhill technical section. I still felt like I was moving good, keeping the distance between me and the other runners and passing one partway down. The trail changes into grassy road and then back into singletrack. You end up the section with an uphill gravel road and it was here that it started sleeting hard. To keep my mind off eveyrthing, I tried to listen to my iPod but it was too cold to work. Partway up, I started changing places with another woman. She asked, "Am I last?" and I assured her that we couldn't be. When I got to the aid station, however (where it was now snowing hard), the aid station worker told me there were only three others behind me, but I was 15 minutes ahead of cutoffs, which, this early on, was fine.<br />
<br />
I headed out quickly, leaving some runners behind at the aid station and passing a handful more on the now snowy road. I chatted briefly with a runner who had run all of the Hellgates and he told me we were indeed doing fine. At this point in the race's history, he said, there are no marginal runners. Except me, I thought, or maybe said out loud, opening the door for more negativity.<br />
<br />
This next section is my favorite part in the race and the main reason why I wanted to come back. It's part of the Promise Land course and follows a grassy road, overlooking the lights of the towns in the valley below for a good couple of miles. This year it was exceptionally beautiful. It was still snowing hard, but huge goose feather snowflakes were coming down and there were about three inches on the ground. I could still see the lights below and I usually wonder what the "normal" people are doing down there at four in the morning. This time, I just felt lucky that I was not one of the normal people and instead, part of a small group of people who were getting to experience this. It was really quiet, as it is when it snows, the people behind me were still quite aways back and it was snowing so hard it was difficult to see through the beam of light. Everything was white and despite the footprints in front of me and the lights behind me, it felt like I was alone.<br />
<br />
This idyllic state abruptly ended when the double track turned to downhill single track. All those footprints that had been somewhat dispersed on the road were now concentrated into a thin line, packing down the heavy wet snow. My first thought was, "hmm...this could be a problem." I didn't have time for a next one because I was down on the ground. I sure was wishing I had worn my other shoes.<br />
<br />
My ACL surgery comes into play at this point. My knee did not hurt, but it is not as agile as it used to be. So, I picked my way very slowly and gingerly down the snowy, slick, singletrack. All those runners who I had passed and kept in front of on the uphill now passed me. Finally I was at the bottom of the hill at the first hard cutoff aid station with about 13 minutes to spare. This concerned me a bit so I got out quick and kept moving up the hill.<br />
<br />
When we passed the spot where that aid station used to be, before bad weather forced it to move, I checked my watch and found I was almost 20 minutes ahead of the cutoff. There was some good running here on nice snow covered roads before it changed back to single track. I passed another runner, who was concerned we weren't going to meet the next cutoff. I told him I thought we would be fine and I started to relax some. I felt like the cutoffs should be getting less tight and I was determined not to be stressed out, constantly checking my watch and not enjoying a thing. Instead, it was getting light and the trail snaked its way over and around hills and I just settled in and enjoyed the run. Then the downhill technical section began. I was once again slowly picking my way down and continued to move slowly when the trail turned to downhill double track. After getting passed again, I looked at my watch and really started to panic. Regardless of how my legs felt about running fast downhill, I had to move and so I did. I didn't look at the time when I got to the aid station, but I knew I was cutting it close. I grabbed my dropbag, pulled my bag of food out of it, and headed out with five minutes to spare. I was in such a hurry, I didn't think about the fact that I really needed to change shoes.<br />
<br />
The next section is a long uphill on a gravel road that was packed with snow. Same theme: I thought I was moving well. I left some runners behind and was only passed by one other person, who was using trekking poles. However, that nice uphill is followed by a lot of downhill and I continued to be slow. Same story: I was passed by the people I had just passed and I began looking at my watch. I lost a lot of time on the downhill and knew I wouldn't make the next cutoff. I still kept moving hard and moved well up the long uphill to the aid station. There, I was about 13 minutes past the cutoff and assumed I would be pulled, but they told me I could go on. I was actually disappointed in a way, because the weather had deteriorated, I knew the next section was hard and I knew I was not going to gain all that time back to meet the next cutoff. <br />
<br />
I ended up enjoying the next section, in part because I knew my race was over. It starts off downhill on double track and then starts rolling. It transitions to single track, climbing up the mountain and then down some technical trail. The footing was very slippery on all the single track, the wind and sleet picked up and I heard a hunter shoot from somewhere down the hill below me. I was hoping it was not in my direction. As the weather continued to worsen, the trail got slicker, I became concerned that I might fall and hang out here by myself for a long time. I worked to catch up with another runner and stayed with him for the rest of the technical section. More uphill double track follows, then a final long section of single track, where there was snow and leaf-covered rocks. I had started this section knowing I wouldn't make the next cutoff, but I kept moving hard anyway. The sleet changed to a steady rain, but I was still warm. After another wet creek crossing, the trail approached the aid station and here Tony came walking down the trail. As always I was very happy to see him and walked the final third mile with him. When I got to the aid station, I was about 13 minutes over.<br />
<br />
I was not unhappy to have to stop. I really enjoyed the night section and the daylight trail sections where I wasn't panicking. I never felt exhausted and never felt like I was doing a death march. It was just stressful knowing I was behind and I am to the point where I just want to run and enjoy it. Hellgate is the only race that I have ever had trouble with cutoffs and I think I am ready to concede defeat. <br />
<br />
So, a week later, I have been beating myself up for being so slow. Tony's practical advice is to just get faster and quit worrying about it. So, once my foot heals (wrong shoes, too tight), I will.<br />
<br />
Year in Review and What's Next?<br />
<br />
This year has been nothing to write home about. I did the inaugural Georgia Death Race, the Inaugural Leatherwood 50 miler, ran a 50K at Black Mountain Monster and went to Vermont and ran the 100 there. It seems like my running has been very inconsistent this year, so my goal for next year is to get consistent. The inconsistency has made me feel like not much of a runner, so I want to put more miles in, drag the tire more, do a little speedwork and hillwork. Once again, I would like to run the Bartram and do 100 on the AT. I am running Delerium 24 hour in February and am thinking that my next challenge will be to tackle a 48 hour. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-69106105856780289892013-07-31T11:32:00.001-07:002013-07-31T11:32:45.926-07:00Vermont 100<br />
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
It was a dark and stormy night....</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtzuzYTxTBo/UflTaKs_ISI/AAAAAAAAAso/LNkH2GVcqeI/s1600/it+was+a+dark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtzuzYTxTBo/UflTaKs_ISI/AAAAAAAAAso/LNkH2GVcqeI/s1600/it+was+a+dark.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
I always wanted to start a
race report with that line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, in
truth, it was anything but dark the night before Vermont 100.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly after I climbed into my tent at
Silver Hill Meadows, a torrential storm rolled in with winds that threatened to
rip my tent stakes out of the ground, blinding lightning flashes and booming
thunder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt sure that there was
about to be an unfortunate catastrophe, but since I had no option other than to
stay in the tent, I put earplugs in, covered my eyes with my hoodie and tried
to sleep.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
When I woke up at 3:15 to get
ready for the 4:00 a.m. start, I couldn't find my flashlight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No problem, I would just use the headlamp
that I brought for the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fumbled
in my pack for it, flipped the switch on and nothing happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How am I going to start the race without a light?</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
I was in this
predicament because I had been traveling for two weeks prior to the race and
had kind of thrown things together before I had left home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, one thing I overlooked was
replacing the batteries in the headlamp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was not a great way to start a race that I already had concerns
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After Leatherwood in April, I
injured my hamstrings and really didn't start back normal training until the end
of May. I only got in five weeks of steady running and no speed work
whatsoever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was concerned that I
didn't have enough miles in to finish, and if I did, would I be fast enough to
finish before the 30 hour cutoff?</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
So, for several precious minutes, I fumbled
around in the dark for the flashlight and finally found it down inside my
sleeping bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least I would have
light for a little while until those batteries died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rushed around, ate a granola bar, stood forever in the
porta-potty line and made it to the start just in time for the fireworks.</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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvkBxal7PVY/UflUe_6gSjI/AAAAAAAAAts/uAaBAwOrpjU/s1600/fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvkBxal7PVY/UflUe_6gSjI/AAAAAAAAAts/uAaBAwOrpjU/s200/fireworks.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Yes,
fireworks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A solid five minutes of
fireworks rocked the peaceful Vermont valley at 4 a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't help but wonder what the
neighbors would have to say, but it was a great way to start a race.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wmqK7DLGaxQ/UflT3YtkIKI/AAAAAAAAAs0/v4Msm3r-_Uc/s1600/start.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wmqK7DLGaxQ/UflT3YtkIKI/AAAAAAAAAs0/v4Msm3r-_Uc/s320/start.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo from Vermont 100 FB page</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
After the
show, we were off into the night. I really can't give you a turn by turn
course description, because so much of it blended together in my mind. It was
80 miles of road, mostly packed crushed gravel. The rest was double track and
single track, some of it very muddy and rocky. So instead of trying to take you
through the course, I'll talk about things that stood out.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</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="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CCkTQqHRKPg/UflUeGSmzlI/AAAAAAAAAtc/5KKVZfxW53s/s1600/horses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CCkTQqHRKPg/UflUeGSmzlI/AAAAAAAAAtc/5KKVZfxW53s/s320/horses.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
An hour after our
start, we heard booms off in the distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The race is held simultaneously with a 100 mile horse race, which starts
an hour later, and apparently<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
horses were treated to a fireworks show as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered how much they liked all that noise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, about an hour later, the first
horses started coming by and this became a pretty cool distraction. I was
surprised at how seamless the interaction between runners and horses was.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zBq8SzyL5Ac/UflUHv5Kh1I/AAAAAAAAAtM/5kF_c0jn_QU/s1600/sunrise+day+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zBq8SzyL5Ac/UflUHv5Kh1I/AAAAAAAAAtM/5kF_c0jn_QU/s400/sunrise+day+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Early
on, the course takes you through the small, quaint town of Woodstock. Although
it is a fairly long paved road section, you are rewarded with people lining the
streets cheering, something you don't usually get in an ultra.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xxn5hXH4LaI/UflUe8f_0MI/AAAAAAAAAto/mbpsdy0QBoU/s1600/barn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xxn5hXH4LaI/UflUe8f_0MI/AAAAAAAAAto/mbpsdy0QBoU/s400/barn.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
The area was
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You ran through the rolling
countryside dotted with well-kept old farms, some over 200 years old. When you got bored, you had plenty of cows,
horses and donkeys to talk to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one
point, we ran through an old covered bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The natural scenery was beautiful as well, and you were rewarded with an
incredible view of it from Sound of Music Hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></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="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nrPwssN9Y-Q/UflUCWUlclI/AAAAAAAAAs8/pgmmqzQPCyY/s1600/sound+of+music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nrPwssN9Y-Q/UflUCWUlclI/AAAAAAAAAs8/pgmmqzQPCyY/s400/sound+of+music.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At night there was a full moon, illuminating the fields,
reflecting off creeks, and silhouetting the barns and homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The birch trees looked like they were
brightly lit up in the moonlight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
the night wore on, a mist rose in the valleys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I watched the moon setting orange, followed by a purple sunrise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remarked to another runner that although I
would love to be one of those people who were finished before dark, they really
didn't know what they were missing.</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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aenBuhHjFJE/UflUJUFJNBI/AAAAAAAAAtU/KOyd2YcIoOw/s1600/sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aenBuhHjFJE/UflUJUFJNBI/AAAAAAAAAtU/KOyd2YcIoOw/s400/sunrise.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
The local people were so friendly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those working in their yards cheered as you
went by or expressed their disbelief at what you were doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some people had set up impromptu aid
stations outside their farms, offering water or a hose down as you went
by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even at night, there were people
sitting by the course, watching us go by. </div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<b>The weather</b></div>
<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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pGygbLUkcoY/UflUFXFXF8I/AAAAAAAAAtE/WQ2ZHOVZ5GY/s1600/mud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pGygbLUkcoY/UflUFXFXF8I/AAAAAAAAAtE/WQ2ZHOVZ5GY/s320/mud.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Jacqueline Choi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
I remarked to
several people about how lucky we were with the weather, but I think that I may
have been in the minority in that belief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Vermont is known to be hot and humid, and don't get me wrong, it was hot
and humid, but it was not as bad as it could have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was cloudy off and on and there was a
breeze all day long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really felt a
lot like home and I only got a little overheated once, on a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did
the humidity itself take a toll on people, but it also led to hypothermia
because everyone's clothes stayed wet into the night. A lot of people had foot
issues from their feet staying wet, as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I did have foot problems, but I changed into a dry shirt late in the
afternoon and felt comfortable all night long.</div>
paved road section.
However, apparently there was a bigger drop rate than normal, according to one
of the medical personnel.<br />
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<b>So, my race....</b></div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Well, it
was 100 miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which means that
sometimes I felt really good, which was followed by periods of feeling really
bad.</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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KYnyHWhtXR8/UflRhZmckDI/AAAAAAAAAsY/kRj_BqOZxvA/s1600/47546983-VT100_1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KYnyHWhtXR8/UflRhZmckDI/AAAAAAAAAsY/kRj_BqOZxvA/s320/47546983-VT100_1895.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mile 48</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I
decided to try KT tape on my knee which always aches and hurts in long runs
(ACL surgery).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It never hurt a bit and
I didn't even remember I had the tape on, until someone mentioned it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Early on, however one area on my right quad
started hurting, simultaneously with both hamstrings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I probably should have done a lot more road running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, I should have done a lot more
running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, it was almost
impossible to bend over to tie my shoes and I kept thinking about how bad my
quad was hurting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was approaching
mile 40, though, I came up on Amy Palmiero Winters, who had taken off her
prosthetic leg and was shaking rocks out of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quit thinking about my aches and pains at that point. <br />
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Talking
with Amy and listening to other people's stories helped pass the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran with people who were running their
first 100, people who were trying to do better than last year, people who were
also recovering from injuries, people who were feeling fantastic and people
battling their own demons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I passed
someone who I'm pretty sure had been self-medicating with a little weed.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Seeing
Tony for the first time at mile 40 was a big mental pick-me-up and changing
shoes into a newer pair of Glycerins helped my legs felt better for a
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last 25 miles of the race
became pretty rough, though. My feet hurt, my quads were shot and my stomach
turned south on me and I had a hard time eating anything. The last hour of the
race I had really painful hunger pangs, but could eat nothing.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Despite not
having a good day physically, it was one of my better days mentally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was able to set my negative thoughts, something
I usually struggle with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told myself
I was getting to enjoy a 100 mile self-guided tour of Vermont and I made it a
goal to see as much of the course in daylight as I could. Then I enjoyed the nighttime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Whenever my mind started obsessively calculating
how much longer it would take to get to the next aid station, how fast I was
moving, or trying to figure out if I would finish in time, I asked myself,
"What does it matter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm doing
the best I can and I'll get there when I get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime, enjoy the here and now."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind words from friends came to my mind and
I focused on those.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tony's common sense
tough love from Massanutten years ago came back when things got really
bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What are you going to
do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sit down in the trail and
die?" <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, I guess I'll just keep
going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent a lot of time being
thankful that I was able to run 100 again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And with a no iPod rule, fragments of the strangest songs popped in my
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Barry Manilow, really?</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<b>Race
Organization</b></div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
I was impressed by how well things were organized. Three
different horse races and a 100k were held simultaneously with the 100 mile
race and not all of them followed the same course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plastic plates in different colors with arrows were used to mark
the course and they were much easier to follow than streamers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The aid station workers were super helpful,
and Corona and a burger at Margaritaville were a pleasant surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An army of medical workers were available
and they checked my blood pressure and pulse at the finish for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything seemed to be done right and I saw
no glitches whatsoever.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
I had only two wishes, both of which I could have
addressed myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drop bags at the
aid stations were not well organized and I spent a lot of time searching for
mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a huge race with both 100
milers and 100k runners and therefore there was a big pile of bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The volunteers had put them in order at some
point but by the time I came through, they were pretty messed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to get more noticeable drop bags than
giant ziplocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Secondly, I really
needed some good solid food late in the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The last real food was the burger, sometime before dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, there was ramen and little sandwiches,
but my stomach needed something pretty substantial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had only packed light things in my drop bags and in the future,
I need to plan better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I've
been spoiled with egg sandwiches, egg burritos, pizza, bacon, and more at other
races.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
In the end, I finished in 27:41, 159th out of the 325
starters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn't pretty towards the
end and while I was a little frustrated at my lack of training, I was also
impressed with my body's ability to keep moving forward despite that lack of
training.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I signed up months ago,
I thought this would be a good opportunity to run under 24, but as the race got
closer, I knew I would be happy with just being able to finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was really happy with the KT tape and this
was the first race I ran without any knee discomfort or pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At Pinhoti, I limped the last 20 miles or
so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was also really happy at being
able to find a way to keep the negative thoughts at bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Vermont was a well-organized, beautiful race
that I would recommend to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
not really my type of course with so much road, but I am very glad I came to
run it.</div>
<div class="body1" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<em>A special thanks to Jacqueline Choi, another Vermont finisher, who took most of these great pics!</em></div>
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Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-69366814440984467012013-06-13T07:16:00.001-07:002013-06-13T07:16:51.257-07:00Running Hot: Tips for Racing in the Heat and Humidity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IAZZBnQ3c8o/UbnTBy7N06I/AAAAAAAAAr0/9Om63vRBBwk/s1600/bmm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="140" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IAZZBnQ3c8o/UbnTBy7N06I/AAAAAAAAAr0/9Om63vRBBwk/s400/bmm.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The BMM shirt this year- the eyes glow in the dark.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This was supposed to be a post about the 2013 edition of the Black Mountain Monster 24 hour, but a week after the Leatherwood 50 miler I had a moment or two of stupidity. Okay maybe three. First, I decided to go really heavy on legs in the gym, which made my hamstrings hurt. Then the next day, I did speed work on the track for the first time in months This made my hamstrings hurt. So, in order to stretch them out, I did about 50 yards of walking lunges. This did not make my hamstrings feel any better. Did I mention that this was a week after Leatherwood? What it did do was keep me from running very much for the next four weeks. So in order to compensate for my lack of common sense, I decided I would use BMM as a training run for Vermont 100, run a 50K and go home.<br />
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This is how my training has gone. It's not a pretty picture.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-caVm9uO8h8E/Ubm-vdQIEZI/AAAAAAAAArU/6fBMY5Mq1Ho/s1600/_ss2BpmjbtqTP4K2oqrK_66JZOdMaLSjyajSkg84je4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-caVm9uO8h8E/Ubm-vdQIEZI/AAAAAAAAArU/6fBMY5Mq1Ho/s400/_ss2BpmjbtqTP4K2oqrK_66JZOdMaLSjyajSkg84je4.png" width="300" /></a></div>
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The BMM 2013 was therefore, pretty uneventful. I showed up late, got to see a bunch of old friends, and left early. But as I was running my 5K loops during the hottest part of the day, I watched what some others were doing and saw how some of them were suffering pretty badly, which caused me to reflect on some of my hot races. BMM, pretty much every year. Merrill's Mile, where the temperature registered 100 on the track. Old Dominion, the year of 100 plus degrees with near 100% humidity. Laurel Valley. Woods Ferry. Chattooga. North Fork 50. In all these races, I fared better than many others in the heat, so I thought I'd share a thing or two that has worked for me. Keep in mind, this is my experience and what has worked for me, but it may not work for you. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>1. Downshift</b></span>. While it is cool in the morning, I try to get some decent miles in. I don't overdo it so I am worn out, but I run with a purpose. During the hottest part of the day, I just run steadily, but take many more walk breaks and try to keep my heart rate down.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>2. Sun vs. shade</b>. </span> I watch a lot of people running on double-track or gravel roads and not taking advantage of the shade. They pick a straight line and run it. I snake my way down the trail staying in the shade, even if it is a little tiny bit, as much as possible. I figure that even if it is just part of my body in the shade, that is better than being in the full sun.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>3. Walk breaks</b>.</span> At OD there is a really long stretch of runnable dirt road in the hottest part of the day. During the hot year, I watched a lot of people take advantage of that and fly past me, only to DNF later. Keeping with the theme of downshifting, I took walk breaks in the shade. It might seem to make sense to walk in the sun so you are not exerting yourself on the hottest parts of the course, but I look at it from a time perspective. If I walk in the shade, I spend more time cooling down. If I run in the sun, I spend less time in that heat. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>4. Nutrition.</b></span> During the hottest parts of the day, I eat what is easiest for me to digest, generally gels. I know my body is working hard to keep me cool, so I give it a break by not having to divert more energy to the stomach. I do a lot of orange slices, just drinking the juice and not eating the pulp, which seems to get my sugar in line. Pickle juice is great during the heat. If it is a 24 hour race, I keep a jar in the my cooler and take a swig now and then. I have taken a gel flask filled with it on trail races. At North Fork, they even had some at an aid station. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>5. Ice, ice baby.</b></span> A small ziplock bag filled with ice cubes is a wonderful thing. I put it in my hat, on the back of my neck, in the waistline of my shorts and in my sports bra. I can open it up and get a cube to suck on, which is a nice treat a couple miles after an aid station. At aid stations, I fill my water bottle with ice and water and I get a nice boost by downing a cup of coke on ice before I go. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>6. Wetting yourself down.</b></span> If I am on a course with creek crossings, I stop at each one to scoop up some water and splash my face, neck and arms with it. However, too much water on you can cause issues. At OD and North Fork, water in buckets was available for you to pour on you. At OD with the humidity, once that water hit my shoes and socks, they never dried out and I ended up with some blisters. At North Fork, with no humidity, that was not a problem.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>7. What to wear</b>.</span> A white hat to reflect the sun. Wicking, light, breathable clothes in light colors. I am almost always in my Brooks uniform, which is fluorescent yellow and is breathable mesh that dries pretty quickly. A couple of times in a race I have worn the <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/D%27lite-Micro-Mesh-Racerback/220443457.020,default,pd.html?start=25&cgid=womens-apparel-tops" target="_blank">Brooks D'lite Micro Mesh top</a>, and I wear it frequently to train in. It is very light and breathable, but it is also see-through. I like their new <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/Race-Day-Singlet/220541605.020,default,pd.html?start=56&cgid=womens-apparel-tops" target="_blank">Race Day singlet</a>, which is also very light and airy, but not see through. I carry a bandana on hot days to dip in water and put around my neck or use it to wash my face. I change socks a couple of times to try to keep my feet as dry as possible. I use Body Glide and try to reapply it during the race. At OD, I did not and I had chafing lines every place a piece of clothing touched me. Every seam in my clothes left marks on me.<br />
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<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/-y0Ox_Isb-HU/UbnNd7J0d2I/AAAAAAAAArk/2bWZE7E4DPw/s1600/Merrills+Mile+and+Ts+pics+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y0Ox_Isb-HU/UbnNd7J0d2I/AAAAAAAAArk/2bWZE7E4DPw/s320/Merrills+Mile+and+Ts+pics+061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the Brooks D'lite top</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>8. Water and salt</b>.</span> There has been a lot written lately about overdoing it on water and salt in ultras. What works for me is to not to try to force water down, but drink when I am thirsty, which happens to be frequently in the heat. I take one to two Succeeds depending on how much I am sweating. I have only cramped up once in a race and that was remedied by some Gatorade and Succeeds. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><b>9. Lower your expectations.</b></span> A brutally hot day is not the day to PR. Usually my goal is to be one of the survivors. At the hot OD, over half the field DNF'ed and finishing that race was a greater accomplishment than when I ran it under 24 hours. <br />
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As I said, these thing have worked for me in the past and I guess we'll see if they still do when I run Vermont next month, known for the heat, humidity and full sun. If you have any other tips, I would love to read them!Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-86064457312288614192013-04-27T09:16:00.002-07:002013-04-27T11:25:44.741-07:00Leatherwood Mountains 50 Miler<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/-tRpv1UYMzSs/UXiGp3uEeXI/AAAAAAAAAqg/B53ho_xEPWw/s1600/leatherwood+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tRpv1UYMzSs/UXiGp3uEeXI/AAAAAAAAAqg/B53ho_xEPWw/s400/leatherwood+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pics from the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LWMtnUltraRun" target="_blank">Leatherwood Facebook Page</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>The basics</b>:</span> The inaugural <a href="http://www.lwmtnultrarun.com/" target="_blank">Leatherwood Mountains 50 mile run</a> was held in conjunction with a 50K and 10 miler. It was located in the countryside outside Lenoir, NC at the Leatherwood Mountains Resort, a horse-oriented vacation resort with mountain cabins and miles of riding trails. It was mainly on these trails that the race was held. Mark Connolly and Tim Worden were the race directors and did a nice job organizing it. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>The course layout:</b></span> The 50 mile runners ran three loops, each color-coded. The first loop was 25 miles, the second 15 and the third 10. Each loop started and ended at the start/finish area which made it convenient to have a drop bag/cooler waiting for you.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>The terrain:</b> </span> Mainly single-track, much of it fairly technical. with some gravel road and pavement sections. Relentless steep, but relatively short, climbs and descents. The trails at times were heavily covered in leaves, disguising what was underneath. There was a lot of mud because of the rainstorms the day before and that, combined with some stream crossings meant wet feet most of the day. Some of the super-steep descents were really slick and many runners had a nice coating of mud on their backsides. If the Garmin data on the website is accurate, you get over 13,000 feet of gain. (For comparison, the Mountain Masochist has 9,000 feet). <br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #f1c232;">The aid:</span> </b> The aid stations seemed to be 5-8 miles apart (guesstimating). They had everything I could have wanted: potatoes with salt, sweets, chips, pretzels, gels, coke, chicken broth, BACON and PBR (although I passed on the latter). The volunteers were super helpful and friendly.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>Highlights of the course</b>: </span> Pretty mountain views and cool breezes up high. Passing a lot of very nice cabins. A long paved/gravel road section that winds through farmland, reminiscent of Old Dominion. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>Logistics:</b> </span> Cabins were available to rent on site and it was a great location for a family to come and hang out, with a restaurant on site. (I stayed in Lenoir, which was about 30 minutes away.) Packet pickup and check in was well organized and I had a nice women's cut technical shirt already tucked in my bag. You were allowed a drop bag at the Rawhide aid station, which you passed through several times, but I just went with leaving a box at the start/finish. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #f1c232;">Race organization:</span> </b> Excellent, despite first year glitches. It's obvious the race directors wanted everyone to have a great time and put a lot of time and effort into it. I have no doubt everything will be fine-tuned next year.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>The 'I run for swag' factor:</b></span><i> </i>Socks, sticker, tech-t-shirt in a woman's cut and a pint glass.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P5hZdA_nA24/UXiGq0oxiNI/AAAAAAAAAqo/1RIQc1FLsSA/s1600/leatherwood3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P5hZdA_nA24/UXiGq0oxiNI/AAAAAAAAAqo/1RIQc1FLsSA/s320/leatherwood3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>My race:</b> </span> This was the first time my knee felt good going into a race and I think I have built up a solid base in training. I feel strong, but slow. <br />
<br />
The race started well. The mile or so of flat pavement in the beginning helped me get my breathing under control and once we hit the first steep gravel road climb, I felt good power-hiking and was able to pass many runners. My legs were turning over good on the steep technical downhills, although I was trying to be as cautious as possible in the deep leaves. I was able to stay upright on the slick mud, although I did a lot of twisting and turning.<br />
<br />
As the miles wore on, the fact that I still don't have as much agility in my "bad" leg slowed me down, but that's a minor issue I can fix. All day long, I felt relatively good and I think I was moving steadily on all the hills, although I am still not pushing out of my comfort zone. My knee started to feel achy and stiff about three hours in, but no actual pain.<br />
<br />
<br />
Despite feeling good physically, I did have some bad times mentally. The course marking were confusing (which the race directors will be adjusting next year) and as a result, runners were taking wrong turns onto the 50K course or getting in some bonus miles. Although I am quite sure I stayed on course, there were runners who were behind me that ended up in front and some in front that ended up in back. Also, the 50K started an hour after the 50 mile, meaning there were a lot of people out on the course who were passing me.<br />
<br />
After the initial 25 mile loop, I began to feel like I was way in the back, judging from all the people ahead of me on out and backs and how alone I was at other times. This was frustrating, because I felt like I was moving well. I bent Dan Hartley's ear on the last ten mile loop with my frustration and conviction that we were alone at the back of the pack. He assured me we were somewhere in the middle and it turns out he was right (4th female, 37 out of 77 starters, 12 hours 30 minutes).<br />
<br />
One of the best parts of my race was on that last ten mile loop, trying to keep up with Dan on a steep, technical downhill. For the first time since my surgery, I flew down the mountain like I used to. With 45 miles under my belt, my knee felt just fine.<br />
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One week later my knee has not swelled and there has been minimal pain. Maybe, <i>finally</i>, I have balanced out my legs and found a shoe (Brooks Glycerins) that make my knee happy. My goal to this point has been to just get my knee back to normal. After the Georgia Death Race and this race, I feel like I can now focus on getting back to being the runner I used to be.<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-73143874285901820112013-04-15T19:24:00.000-07:002013-04-15T19:24:06.851-07:00Boston ReflectionsI learned about the explosions at the Boston Marathon on my way to run on the Appalachain Trail after work. It had happened less than an hour before, so details were still sketchy, but I did know that people had died at the finish line area. My thoughts went immediately to my friends and the members of my Brooks family who were running Boston. But then I started thinking about all the family members and children who wait excitedly for their runner at the finish. By the time I hit the ridgeline and started downhill, my throat had closed up and I was hyperventilating. All weekend there had been so much excitement among runners about the race that they had trained so hard for and then to have it end in such tragedy.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I stopped until I could breathe again and looked around, appreciating my solitude and the relative safety of these mountains and woods. But then I had a reality check. The suspect in my first murder scene as a police officer had fled to Pennsylvania and killed two hikers on the AT. Less than a mile from where I was standing, Gary Hilton had dumped the body of John Bryant, an elderly hiker he had killed near Brevard. About two miles away, Alan and I had the enounter with the crazy guy in the van at the trailhead, who acted like he had a gun. Two miles in the other direction, I had an unsettling encounter with a hiker who may have been Eric Rudolph, the Olympic bomber, when he first went on the run. A friend of mine had a violent enounter while running the AT. This trail and these mountains are no more safe than anywhere else. But as I continued to look around, I still found a sense of peace that only these mountains bring me. As I ran, three older through-hikers, obviously enjoying their day, blissfully unaware of what was happening in the world, stepped aside so I could pass by. They were delighted to learn that they only had a short distance left to the road and thanked me so I could continue on my "gallop". "Don't take this the wrong way," one of them said as I left, "but you smell good." <div>
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What a great place this trail is. Moments that make me smile sure do outweigh the ones that make me sad. This world is such a place, too. </div>
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Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-14319135017391060342013-04-09T15:42:00.000-07:002013-04-09T15:42:00.837-07:00Snow Runs<br />
We didn't get much snow this winter until March and the official start of spring was ushered in by three days of it. Earlier in the month, the DoubleTop 100 in Northern Georgia had to be halted mid-race because of the dangerous snowy road conditions. Alan and I were supposed to sweep the night section and I was pretty disappointed that I would not get to. So, instead of heading to Georgia, we headed to Standing Indian and did a 28 mile snow run that ended at midnight, fulfilling any need I had to run in a frigid blowing snowstorm for awhile. Well, at least three weeks. Here's some pics from that run:<br />
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Two weeks ago I was on spring break and it snowed for three days. On Monday, I did an 8-mile run to Siler's Bald on the AT and back and found a few inches of snow. Usually, in weather like that (strong winds, low 20's and snowing), I have complete solitude on the trail. But it is through-hiker season here and I shared the trail with 24 of them on that four mile stretch of trail. Several of them were heading back down the mountain, unprepared for the weather. I eventually ended up in front, alone, and in an area sheltered from the wind just below the bald, I found a winter wonderland:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b4CHtq80VGA/UVYLSrdixsI/AAAAAAAAAnI/PFJiRWBsM_o/s1600/Spring+Break+snow+part+2+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b4CHtq80VGA/UVYLSrdixsI/AAAAAAAAAnI/PFJiRWBsM_o/s320/Spring+Break+snow+part+2+005.JPG" width="320" /></a>The next day, I messaged Alan to see if he knew where a lot of snow was. He didn't but offered to take me up to Wayah Bald, one of the high points in the Southern Nantahalas so I could run back "down" to Franklin on the Bartram Trail (there is a lot of steep uphill on that downhill run). I took him up on the offer and a couple of hours later, he dropped me off at Sawmill Gap, a remote trailhead on a snow-covered forest road. There were three or four inches on the road and more on the ground. Everything was white and beautiful, not only from the snow, but from a heavy coating of rime ice. I hopped out of the truck, he drove off and as I rounded the corner to get on the trail, I discovered that there was a lot more snow than I had imagined. I was expecting a few inches, not a foot or more. After Alan drove away and I discovered the amount of snow I would be post-holing through, I thought that maybe this wasn't a really good idea after all. But then I remembered that this was Alan's idea and if I died of hypothermia, Tony could be mad at him instead of me.<br />
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The first few hundred yards were beautiful with the deep powdery snow, the solid white trees, the silence except for the strong, steady wind and a very real sense of being alone, far away from everything.<br />
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Then, the going got pretty tough. There was probably only about 8" in sheltered areas where there was no wind, but there wasn't many of those areas on the ridge line. The strong winds had piled up 24"-30" drifts for much of the two miles between Sawmill Gap and the intersection with the AT. It was slow going pushing through the drifts, especially on the uphills, but it was well-worth it. I had a sense of wonderment, coupled with a strong sense of caution. It was 22 degrees when I got out of the truck and the wind was blowing hard. I was dressed warmly enough and carried some extra layers, but it would be awhile before anyone could get to me, even if they knew to come get me. So, while enjoying the sublime beauty, I moved slowly enough to be careful, but fast enough not to be caught in the dark before reaching Franklin 16 miles away.<br />
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Right before the intersection with the AT, there was a spot sheltered from the wind where the snow had covered everything:<br />
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Once on the AT, about six hikers had already pushed through the snow that day, so the going was easier for the next four miles or so. Then it was back on the Bartram, where the newest obstacle was snow laden rhododendron blocking the trail. Again, slow going as I stopped to shake them off so I could pass.<br />
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As the elevation dropped, so did the snow depth until I got to the area where I had taken pictures of the bear prints and large cat prints in the snow a few weeks before.<br />
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That area is exposed to the wind and once again I was back in deep drifts. This time, though, it was also a very steep downhill, with the consequence of the snow packing up my legs under my pants as I post-holed down the slope. Eventually, the snow became spottier and I was relieved that I could move faster, more safely, but at the same time I was disappointed that the adventure was coming to an end.<br />
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I have never taken for granted my ability to get out into the mountains and run, but runs like these just remind me of how lucky I am to have these epic adventures. <br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-42638091814356235222013-03-19T18:02:00.001-07:002013-03-19T18:02:55.415-07:00Georgia Death Race<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I almost talked myself out of running the Georgia Death Race.<br />
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I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about who I am now as a runner, a reevaluation sparked by my recent knee issues. In the fourteen months following the surgery, my running slowly progressed. But, as I discussed in my previous post, the last four months had been more of a setback. Any athlete who has had a serious injury knows that the hardest part of rehab is not knowing if you'll ever be capable of doing what you used to do. By the time I reached the start line of the Death Race, I had convinced myself that my days of running the really tough, technical stuff might be over and I needed to focus on different goals. However, here I was, with four weeks of training, getting ready to do something really stupid. Nineteen hours later, laying face down in the dirt, I had no regrets. Except for maybe not seeing that root.<br />
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The Georgia Death Race is a 64 mile point to point run in the North Georgia mountains. It starts at Vogel State Park near Blairsville and ends at Amicalola Falls near Dawsonville. The first half of the run follows the ridgeline on single track and by the time you are finished, you have endured over 30,000 feet of elevation change. This seems almost impossible in Georgia, but much like with the Bartram Trail, the original trail designer must have believed that switchbacks are for sissies. If there is a mountain, you go over it, not around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aHPLDF93lRk/UUeNYYKVN1I/AAAAAAAAAmY/_PBv_2SQWyA/s1600/elevation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aHPLDF93lRk/UUeNYYKVN1I/AAAAAAAAAmY/_PBv_2SQWyA/s400/elevation.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Created by Cary Stephens (not the full course)</td></tr>
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This was the inaugural race and everything seemed to come off well organized and well planned. The <a href="http://georgiadeathrace.com/" target="_blank">website</a> and handbook were informative and any questions were answered quickly on the race's Facebook page. The race director, Sean Blanton, was enthusiastic and easy to communicate with. The start and finish venues were ideal, with lodging, camping and ample parking. There were a couple of facets of the race I didn't personally like, but it is the race director's prerogative and I am fine with following his rules. One is the 4:00 a.m. start. It's hard to get any sleep, but I did appreciate being done before midnight. The other is the mandatory gear list. Even Hellgate, which dishes out frozen corneas and frostbite, doesn't have one. With the gear I had to carry on a 70 degree day, I didn't have enough room for things I actually could use. But I knew what I had to carry when I signed up for it and I understand why that requirement was there, so I have no complaints. <br />
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The check in and drop bag drop off went smoothly that morning. After a reading from Dickens' <i>A Tale of Two Cities </i>(it was the best of times, it was the worst of times...), the RD sent the runners off into<i> </i>the night. After a short run through the campground, runners hit the single track and remained there for the next 28 miles. Just like any race on single track, there was a long conga line, but I ended up somewhere in the middle in a pack that was moving at the pace I wanted to. After an initial steep climb, a long downhill gave everyone a chance to spread out before the big, steep 2000 foot climb to come. The views of the lights in the valley down below were a nice reward as you continued the climb. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by John McBrayer<a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100002173350939" href="https://www.facebook.com/john.mcbrayer.58" id="js_10"></a></td></tr>
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After finally topping out, you ran on some gentle rolling trail for a short time. I think that was the last time there was any gentle, rolling terrain for the rest of the race. From there it was straight down the mountain on rough, muddy, canted trail. A failure to control your slide would have resulted in a tumble over the edge and then you would have appreciated all the mandatory gear you had in your pack. And then the pattern began. Hit the gap at the bottom and start a steep crawl over the next peak. I learned not to look up and see where I had to go; it was too demoralizing. I focused on the trail in front of me and just kept plugging along. The views from the ridgelines were exceptionally nice since there were not any leaves on the trees and the 4 a.m. start did give you a beautiful sunrise.<br />
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The heat became a major issue as the day wore on. Without any leaves, there was no shade, and although there was a nice wind, the climbs became tougher and tougher. Around 20 miles, you drop down a couple miles to an aid station. It is an out and back and I could tell by looking at the runners coming up the hill that it was going to be tough getting back up that hill. It was not as steep as the other climbs, just longer and hotter. By the time we hit the next aid station, the heat had really cranked up. This was the first really warm weekend of the year and most of us were not acclimated. This is what I was doing two weeks before (yes, my hair is frozen) :<br />
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Anyway, my body tends to handle heat and cold well and I didn't have major issues. Some other runners were not so lucky and the heat ended their race. <br />
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At mile 28, there was a short, easy road section, followed by a a nice swinging bridge and then a cruel surprise- another long steep climb. This turned into a seven mile section of single track with more steep climbs and descents. People were really starting to suffer from the heat here.<br />
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At the end of this section, however, it was all forest road to the end. Unfortunately, the roads were gravel and at times rough, beating up your feet pretty badly. Luckily, I ended up running with a couple of other runners whose pace kept me moving decently and conversation distracted me from the monotony of road.<br />
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There was a particularly pretty section of paved road that went through some farm land. Everything was green, the daffodils were blooming and the people were friendly. When the road turned back to gravel, a never-ending climb to next aid station began. It wasn't steep, but after a long, hot day, it was just tiring. The mileage was off in some parts of the course and I'm hoping this was one of the sections. It sure felt longer than seven miles.<br />
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Once you reach the final aid station at the top, you have a nice easy run downhill to Amicalola Falls State Park. Once in the park, you finish by running down a steep, rocky road, and then down a final, rooty section of trail to the finish. About 500 yards from the finish, I took my only spill of the day and it was a good one. One moment I was upright and the next minute face down in the dirt. Literally. I skinned my forehead and my nose. I landed on my bad knee. After laying there briefly, laughing at my stupidity, I got up and assessed the damage. I was afraid Tony would see me at the finish with blood streaming down my face, so I rinsed it with my water and waited for two runners who came up behind me to make sure it didn't look too bad. A few minutes later, I had my spike in my hand, a nice finish to over nineteen hours of running.<br />
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So, my day....<br />
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My knee didn't hurt. The moment I decided it couldn't handle the tough runs, it proved me wrong. I have no explanation for that. I was hurting just sitting the day before. Eight hours on similar terrain on the Bartram made me limp. But today, nineteen hours of steep controlled slides, mud, off camber trails, rocks, and uneven gravel didn't bother it. I did take some ibuprofen to keep inflammation down, but not much. When I fell at the end of the race, I scraped and bruised the knee, but it still works fine. I didn't feel the imbalance in my legs that I had been feeling, so my visits to the weight room have paid off. I guess I'll know for sure when I go for a run on it in a day or two. My big problem, though, was my asthma. I already had some chest congestion before the race started. Being stuck in the dust of other runners made it worse and my lungs ached most of the day.<br />
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I did not expect to go under 20 hours. Even though I did not try to push my pace at any point and was careful to run as gently as I could, I finished at least five hours faster than I predicted. I was in a good mood all day, very thankful that my knee was working, that I was capable of doing this race, and I was just happy to be out there.<br />
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The race was well done. The terrain was extremely challenging and beautiful. The aid stations workers and radio operators were all friendly and helpful. The course was exceptionally well marked and whenever I started to worry if I was in the right place I found a marker. I wish there had been more real food at the aid stations later in the day, but that is a problem at many races. Apparently there had been some, but it was gone when I came through and a couple of aid stations had run out of coke. The bacon aid station, however, did not disappoint! The drop bag return was a bit problematic, but the race director quickly contacted me and is mailing what I was missing.<br />
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It was nice to see many friends from NC, SC and GA at the race, both running and crewing. The Foothills crowd was well represented (Psyche and Charles, Byron, the Lundblads). And congratulations to Mark Lundblad who won the race tearing it up in 11:40!<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-45086138425807855382013-03-14T08:03:00.000-07:002013-03-14T08:03:05.205-07:00ACL Update at 18 Months<i>If you are looking for a running post, I'll save you some time. This post about ACL pain over a year post-op. I couldn't find a lot of information when I googled it, so thought I should post an update.</i><br />
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After Pinhoti 100 in November, I had a lot of bad runs. My knee would start aching, I would compensate with the other leg and by the end of any run over 8 miles, I just hurt from the hips down. I also noticed that my muscle strength was still out of balance, so I started doing some rehab again. (Once I got my weekly mileage up, I had stopped rehabbing, mistakenly thinking that the hills and trails would suffice).<br />
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Around Christmas, my long incision scar started to feel painfully tight when I ran, and then the next weekend, I rolled my right ankle a little, which yanked on my left (bad) knee. It hurt, but then I finished the run out no problem. After that run, the top of my scar swelled up and whenever I tried to run for the next couple of weeks, it hurt too much. The pain emanated from the scar, but it also felt like things were digging into the kneecap above the scar. I got very frustrated because this was the first time since surgery that it hurt too much to run. After a couple weeks of rest, ice and massage, the swelling and pain subsided to the point where I could run again. I did two back to back eight mile runs with what I now consider normal pain: where I can run, but the knee reminds me constantly that it still isn't 100%. <br />
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I went to see my surgeon to make sure there wasn't something bad going on inside. He was a little concerned that I might be having issues with the screw, but X-rays showed everything intact. He said I probably did something to it when I rolled my ankle and in the future, whenever it started giving me trouble, to back off and get on the bike for a little while. Ice, three advil three times a day and if it doesn't respond to ice, try heat. He also said there's a bursa in there that might get irritated. <br />
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Since then (the end of January), I have been in the gym twice a week working my legs hard. Interestingly, my "bad" leg was stronger in some ways than my "good" leg. After a month, I don't see a big difference in my legs anymore. I have been stretching a lot and I have slowly worked my mileage up. It still hurts, more on some days than others, but it is not pain that causes me to limp or compensate. Some days it feels like I have a sharp rock behind my kneecap, other times it is more patellar tendon pain, where it connects to the kneecap. <br />
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As of early March, I have run a 28 mile trail run in the snow with little problem. I yanked the knee initially on a rocky trail and it hurt for a couple hours, but subsided. I ran a 24 mile extremely steep run and it hurt pretty bad on the downhills by the end of the day. This weekend I run the Georgia Death Race, a 60 mile steep run and that will be the big test.<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-57870393423946218852013-01-01T14:57:00.000-08:002013-01-01T16:15:16.905-08:00Best Run of the Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AbFVAPW9r4/UONIOoSX-qI/AAAAAAAAAlA/UyL69mGSR7E/s1600/standing+indian+ice+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AbFVAPW9r4/UONIOoSX-qI/AAAAAAAAAlA/UyL69mGSR7E/s640/standing+indian+ice+062.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Normally I don't write about my weekend long runs, but my last run of 2012 was pretty special. Trail running in the snow is my favorite thing to do and I had missed all of last winter with my ACL. So when it dusted snow at my house in the valley this weekend, I decided to head up to Standing Indian to see what I could find .<br />
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The plan was to run a 24 miles loop, up Kimsey Creek, north on the AT over Standing Indian and back to the car on Long Branch. Since Pinhoti, I haven't had a good long run. My knee ends up hurting and I compensate with my other leg, which then also ends up hurting. After stopping at 50K at One Epic Run, I decided to refocus on rehabbing and to try different shoes in hopes of getting more cushion. I ordered the <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/Brooks-Glycerin-10-Womens-Running-Shoe/1201121B761.050,default,pd.html?start=3&cgid=womens-runningshoes-neutral" target="_blank">Glycerins</a> and they have felt good on the short runs I have done. (Three years ago, I switched from the Cascadias to road shoes, Ravennas, even on the most technical trails, like the Massanutten, with much success.) So this would be a test run.<br />
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There was snow on Kimsey Creek and the temperature was still at
freezing, despite my 11 a.m. start time. Kimsey Creek is very rocky and
wet, but the Glycerins did well, with the exception of trying to cross
the ice coated rocks at the edge of these little falls. But nothing
would have done well on that! <br />
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As I got higher in elevation, I also moved into ice-covered trees. Closer to Deep Gap, I passed through a tunnel of ice covered bushed
and trees. With the sunlight behind it, it was spectacular, but the
pictures don't capture the scene.<br />
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On the AT, there was more snow, not more than a couple inches except
where it had drifted. It was exceptionally cold, as always, on the back
side of Standing Indian, well below freezing with a brisk wind. Past
the shelter, the trail became more treacherous, with a thick coating of
ice under the snow. Luckily, I had brought my <a href="http://www.kahtoola.com/microspikes.php" target="_blank">Kahtoolas</a>, hoping I would get to use them. (It's always a good run when you get to strap on the microspikes).<br />
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The scenery became even more spectacular as I climbed, with the combination of ice, snow and rime ice.<br />
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I decided to take the side trail to the to top of Standing Indian and found only one other set of footprints up top. I had passed a family on the way up and I felt very lucky to be one of the few people to see this view that day.<br />
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When I continued on the AT south of Standing Indian, there were no other footprints in the snow, and I was again thankful for being able to be on the trail that day. The rhododendrons were coated in ice and when you brushed by them as you ran, it sounded like pieces of glass tinkling.<br />
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I ended up shortening my run to about 16 miles because I had spent so
much time taking pictures. During the run, I had wrenched my knee a little (looking up at the ice instead of down at the rocks), but other than that, my body felt good for the first time in awhile. The Glycerins were very comfortable, even with the Kahtoolahs strapped on.<br />
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So 2012 came to an end with this spectacular run. I've had a long road back this year and still have obstacles to overcome, but I sure am thankful to be able to run through these mountains again.<br />
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<h3>
Best moments of 2012</h3>
1. After eight months of no running after tearing my ACL, being allowed to start running in March.<br />
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2. My first run back on the trails.<br />
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3. Running in the fall leaves and running in the snow.<br />
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4. Running 93 miles on the one year anniversary of the surgery.<br />
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5. Running Pinhoti 100 two months later.<br />
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2013 Goals</h3>
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1. Getting my knee and leg back to 100%.<br />
2. March: Georgia Death Race<br />
3. July: Vermont 100<br />
4. Fall: Running the Bartram Trail (110 miles) northbound (because southbound didn't hurt enough?)<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-53966700819770803452012-12-28T10:41:00.000-08:002012-12-28T10:41:30.285-08:00One Epic Run (well, not too epic for me)Alan and I had both signed up for One Epic 24 hour Run, but I told him the week before that I had not done a long run since Pinhoti that didn't hurt. We agreed that we wouldn't run the full 24 hours and would either do 50 miles or 100K.<br />
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The race was held at
Croft State Park near Spartanburg, S.C., less than three hours from home. The race director reserved a loop of
the campground so runners could camp (for free) during the race and have access to
the restrooms and hot showers. Alan and I, however, opted to drive up that morning since we weren't staying the full 24 hours.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5B4XgcCbZ0c/UN3gTscxw1I/AAAAAAAAAfY/hANXYTpdgeQ/s1600/epic+run+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5B4XgcCbZ0c/UN3gTscxw1I/AAAAAAAAAfY/hANXYTpdgeQ/s320/epic+run+005.JPG" width="240" /></a>Check-in was well organized, runners received a beanie rather than a t-shirt, and after a short race briefing, we were off. The run is on a single-track 3 mile loop. You first head downhill to cross a scenic river (on a bridge) and then gradually uphill through the woods until you hit the combat zone. (To the left of the trail was a 20 foot bank and directly behind that was a firing range. Judging from the constant barrage of gunfire, this was a very popular firing range. And oddly, and this may be a remnant instinct from my law enforcement days, every time I passed by, I had a strange urge to crawl on my belly up that bank and peek over to see what they were firing. Of course, I also had an urge to go take a nap in the car, but I resisted both). <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ty6Se-hgqaQ/UN3hjdr6eDI/AAAAAAAAAfw/kUxlOmRqaz8/s1600/epic+run+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ty6Se-hgqaQ/UN3hjdr6eDI/AAAAAAAAAfw/kUxlOmRqaz8/s320/epic+run+006.JPG" width="320" /></a>Anyway, back to the run. A lot of the course was nicely groomed, but there were some technical areas with roots and uneven ground, along with a small stream crossing on a log. There were some hills, but it was all runnable. You continued clockwise, heading back towards the river on a long flat section, back over the bridge and up to the aid station to check-in. This was a great aid station: jerky, sandwiches, potatoes, sweets, pretzels, gels, pizza in the afternoon, and a lot of other food that I didn't try. The volunteers were super friendly and helpful and the race felt like a reunion of area runners. You were almost always around someone you knew.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ebmt2hO6-Ww/UN3jyBpzfOI/AAAAAAAAAgU/kzH8-ILj_dk/s1600/epic+run+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ebmt2hO6-Ww/UN3jyBpzfOI/AAAAAAAAAgU/kzH8-ILj_dk/s320/epic+run+030.JPG" width="320" /></a>Unfortunately, my run continued the pattern of hurting since Pinhoti. My knee felt stiff and sore and I was doing some weird compensating with my other leg. Pretty soon my uneven gait made everything hurt and I quit having fun. I decided to stop at 50K and Alan agreed to as well. After a hot shower, I left a 24 hour race for the first time ever before dark. It was actually kind of nice. <br />
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I was disappointed, not so much with only running 50K, but with the problems I was having with my legs. Tony, who has done the whole ACL thing and more, on more than one occasion, says that despite what the doctors say, it will be a year and a half to two years before everything is normal. So, I am back to serious rehabbing, trying to build up my weaker leg more, and not a whole lot of running since the race. I don't have any major runs for a while, so I am just going to be patient, have fun, and do whatever my legs feel like doing.<br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798600065448302259.post-47205232527543984132012-11-09T11:39:00.000-08:002012-11-09T11:43:46.292-08:00Pinhoti 100<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>The Ultrasignup Click</b></span></div>
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I signed up for the <a href="http://pinhoti100.com/" target="_blank">Pinhoti 100 </a>mile race on a whim. I usually can't run a race on the first weekend of November because that is the date of the State Cross Country Championships. This year, though, I knew my young team would not be ready for state. So an impulse click later, I was registered.</div>
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Post-click remorse set in immediately. Running 100 miles on trail would be a true test of the knee. I had run <a href="http://ncultrarunner.blogspot.com/2012/09/merrills-mile-2012.html" target="_blank">93 miles</a> on it on the one year anniversary of <a href="http://ncultrarunner.blogspot.com/2011/08/did-you-hear-pop.html" target="_blank">the ACL surgery</a>, but that was on a flat, crushed gravel course. Pinhoti was only two months later. Maybe I needed more time, more training, more strength before I attempted that. If I tried and failed because of my knee, that would be a major mental setback.</div>
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So, I put in some tough miles in October and felt relatively hopeful that the knee would hold up. What I became very unsure of, though, was if I could make the cutoffs. I'm still rebuilding. I am slower and much more cautious on downhills and technical terrain. Because of these doubts, I felt no excitement about the upcoming race, just a sense of foreboding. I procrastinated on planning and spent no time reading anything about the race other than what was necessary. I decided I would just show up and run.</div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>The Course</b></span></div>
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The course is point-to-point from Heflin, Alabama to Sylacauga in the Talladega National Forest. It is eighty miles of single track, with some twenty miles of jeep road and pavement thrown in. </div>
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The race starts in Pine Glen Campground at 6 a.m., which means you run the first 40 minutes or so in the dark. It also immediately goes to single track, so you have to be careful where you put yourself so you aren't stuck in the line of a couple hundred people going too fast or too slow. I opted to take the too slow option so I didn't wear myself out at the start and was pleasantly surprised that we were running a perfect pace until the sun came up. Then someone up front put the brakes on and we started doing a lot of walking. It was really hard to pass because of the terrain, but I eventually got frustrated and just did it. I spent a little while in solitude, caught between the faster group and slower group, grateful that I wasn't breathing a bunch of dust and happy to run my own pace.</div>
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It didn't take too long for the process of passing and being passed started. As the sun rose higher, a combination of the heat, the dust aggravating my asthma, and the incessantly rolling terrain began to take a toll on me. I was now being passed on a regular basis. I tried to keep up, but couldn't comfortably move any faster and I had to keep reminding myself to be patient and do my own thing. It really wore down my morale, though, since I already had major doubts about my competence. I couldn't tell if I was moving too slowly or if I was doing okay.</div>
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The terrain of the first thirty miles or so was tough for me. I'm used to big climbs and descents, but at Pinhoti, it's very rolling, with lots of 50-100 yard climbs and descents. I eventually started walking the little hills, not because I needed to, but because the terrain wasn't providing any natural walk breaks. And I continued to be passed and my morale continued to drop. Then my calf and shins on my "bad" leg started to hurt pretty badly and my right quad felt trashed from compensating. I was not having fun. After a mere thirteen miles, I began to wonder how I could continue to do this for another 87 miles?</div>
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Finally, I stopped and loosened my shoe and the shin splints went away. The crowds had thinned out on the trail and I was running my own pace without worrying about being too slow. When I met Tony at an aid station and told him I wanted to quit but he couldn't let me, he told me I was better in the last 50 miles and it would get better. I was still being hard on myself at the aid station at mile 34 as I realized how much I was slowing down. Then the long, steep climb up Bald Rock started. And that's when things began to get a lot better.</div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>This is More Like It</b></span></div>
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That climb was more like what I was used to and my legs seemed to recognize it. My energy spiked and I began alternating between power walking hard and running, passing people along the way. This feeling lasted for the next 40 miles. I wasn't burning up the trail, but I felt good at a point when a lot of people were feeling bad. From about 3 in the afternoon to 2 in the morning, the only person who passed me out on the trail (although some may have got out of aid stations faster) was Jason Sullivan, who had also experienced a resurgence. My mind got right again and I felt stronger and stronger as I passed people. I didn't know if the feeling would last a few minutes or a few hours, so I just went with it. I used what I had when I had it. </div>
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The heat took its toll on a lot of people, but somehow (despite running in the snow earlier in the week), I adjusted to it. (The race had a 56% finishing rate). Instead of doing everything on schedule, this time I just listened to my body. Whenever a muscle started to hurt, I popped another s-cap. When I started to feel a little pang of hunger or a drop in energy, I ate even if I had just eaten 15 minutes before. I didn't push water just because I though I ought to. As a result, despite the heat and the climbs, I felt okay. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="color: yellow;">Back to the Course</span></span><span style="color: yellow;"> </span></b></div>
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That long climb up Bald Rock felt so much more like home and the view from the rooftop of Alabama was beautiful. What was even more beautiful was seeing Tony up top holding a Chick Fillet bag. One spicy chicken sandwich and change of clothes later, I was heading down Blue Hell, a super steep rocky, slippery, leaf covered descent. I had changed out of sweaty tops, but I think I sweat more in that one section just trying to work my way down it than I had in the heat of the day. Once I hit the bottom, I came into an area with brilliant maples glowing in the late afternoon sun, a really nice pick me up. The leaves were beautiful throughout the course, but the backlighting here made them even more special</div>
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The next section had some pavement and gravel roads. A lot of people were walking, but I wanted to make some time, so I ran most of it. The aid station came quickly and would be the last one in the daylight. On to thirteen hours of darkness. And speaking of aid stations,the aid station volunteers throughout the course were outstanding. They filled my bottle, offered me food, helped me find the trail and were always so encouraging. I was a little disappointed to find that several aid stations were out of things like coke and sandwiches when I came through and I wasn't even at the back of the pack. I've learned not to depend on aid stations too much,though, and I carry what I need. </div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>Back to the Course Again</b></span> </div>
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As the miles wore on, a lot of the trail became pretty monotonous and I'm sure the 13 hours of darkness contributed to that. It seemed like you were just constantly doing little ups and downs and switchbacks in the woods. There were some old jeep roads, which broke things up, but for the most part it all looked the same. There was one more big climb, preceded by a couple miles of the aforesaid monotony, and it was there that some people started passing me. I saw their headlamps behind me at every switchback and as the climb started, they gained on me and passed me, once again dropping my morale back down. Then the rocky terrain up top should have been my strong point, but I found myself being very cautious, picking my footing carefully because my legs were so fatigued. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-df0wDCJL4u4/UJsihOLM_PI/AAAAAAAAAdY/hv4jGQYHcTc/s1600/sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-df0wDCJL4u4/UJsihOLM_PI/AAAAAAAAAdY/hv4jGQYHcTc/s400/sunrise.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Sit Down and Cry</b></span></div>
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The last 15 miles were horrible. It was predominantly gravel road and all I could think about was the pace I was moving at and how long it would take me to finish. The aid station workers assured me that I had plenty of time to finish, but they didn't know how I felt at that point. Fifteen minute miles should have been easy, but they weren't. The road was rolling, but there were not many long descents to help with momentum. My legs were dead and hurt badly, something that hadn't happened to that degree before. I have always been able to still do some running at the end, but I walked a lot of those 15 miles. And the last miles were the worst. Perfectly straight pavement . You could see tiny dots of people far up the road, giving you a visual reminder of just how far you had left. Only one person in sight at that point was doing any running and although I tried a little shuffle now and then, I resigned myself to join the death march.</div>
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At several points along those last fifteen miles I really wanted to quit. I kept hearing Tony say what he said when he paced me at my first 100, "What are you going to do, sit down in the middle of the trail and cry?" Yes, actually, that would be nice. But that would just prolong how long I was out there and I was more than ready to be done. And I had something to prove to myself. I know that I may never be 100%. My knee will still give me some problems. But fourteen months after surgery, if it could undergo a hundred mile pounding and twisting on rough terrain, I would be able to quit worrying about it and get on with my running. </div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>Finally.</b></span> A turn off the road, a hundred meters or so on the track at Sylacauga and done. Tony there, making me smile as always. A pretty new buckle to add to the Virginian ones. 192 starters. 108 finishers. 85th overall. 28:42. Much more than I expected.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zAL2KW2SnoM/UJxvqyWMrZI/AAAAAAAAAec/4vO7BbgE5LU/s1600/pinhoti+finish.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zAL2KW2SnoM/UJxvqyWMrZI/AAAAAAAAAec/4vO7BbgE5LU/s400/pinhoti+finish.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><b>Postscript</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0ES4laDeXig/UJsjjN-qkQI/AAAAAAAAAd4/JDdfyHTD5XY/s1600/pinhoti+xc+and+tony+work+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0ES4laDeXig/UJsjjN-qkQI/AAAAAAAAAd4/JDdfyHTD5XY/s320/pinhoti+xc+and+tony+work+023.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This race was a huge mental challenge. I recognized all along what my negativity was doing to me but was powerless to stop the thoughts from coming. What finally helped was distracting myself by singing along to my iPod (and I apologize to anyone within hearing distance). Ironically, both "Stronger" and "If I Die Young" came up frequently. And having some short conversations with other runners was also a good distraction. One of the best parts of ultrarunning is meeting other people who help you along, whether or not they realize it.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a79C8EUXCys/UJx1jNAZYuI/AAAAAAAAAe8/5U9DghzdP-Q/s1600/photo%283%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a79C8EUXCys/UJx1jNAZYuI/AAAAAAAAAe8/5U9DghzdP-Q/s320/photo%283%29.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
There were many beautiful aspects of this course. The fall colors were brilliant. The view from Bald Rock was outstanding. The areas of cushy pine needles were a welcome break. The moonrise and an accompanying shooting star on the dark trail was one of those special moments most people won't experience. The colorful sunrise and all the good things that a rising sun portends in a ultra, accompanied by the cheers from an aid station that you had desperately wanted to reach a happy bonus. And that red rubberized track was the most welcome sight of all.<br />
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<i>Thanks to Scott Hodukavich, Vikena Yutz, pinhoit100.com and Tony for the pics. And thanks to my surgeon and physical therapist for making this possible again.</i> : )<i><br /></i><br />
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<br />Denise Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18035842811857757482noreply@blogger.com5