NC Ultrarunner

Fun News (and a Setback)

2012-01-26T18:00:00.000-08:00

If you haven't already read about Liz and Scott's record setting quest, check this out

If anyone can do it, they can. Here they are gearing up to help me finish the Bartram.

As for me, no more running per the surgeon for at least two months. PT thinks my muscles are strong enough to support the knee, so I've been running for about three weeks, but the surgeon says it's too early. I was enjoying the idea of getting back into it so soon, but becoming a stronger, faster hiker will pay off. Still, disappointed.

12 Hours of Hostelity

2012-01-15T13:31:00.000-08:00

"Poor decisions make good stories," is the Dumass (Dahlonega Ultra Marathon Association) Events' slogan.

"Please don't be my second story," is what my surgeon told me the last time I saw him, referring to the fact that he has only had one patient retear his ACL after surgery, doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

I had picked the Dumass 12/24 Hours of Hostelity to be my first ultra "hike" with my physical therapist's blessing. It sounded pretty tame. It was a little .65 mile double and single track trail with only 100 feet of elevation gain that passed through the back porch of the Dahlonega Hiker Hostel every loop. So Tony and I headed down to the North Georgia mountains, where I discovered that 100 feet of elevation gain can feel pretty significant when you walk 46 loops. And I want a second opinion on that 100 foot number.

The morning started off good. The Hostel was an ideal venue for the race. Racers had the luxury of using the downstairs area throughout the run as a place to get out of the cold or rest or stash their gear. Race Director Willy Syndram had done a professional job organizing the race and was using things you would normally see in a larger races, such as chip timing and a live video feed throughout the run. The large back porch and deck of the hostel had ample space for the well-stocked aid station and timing station, plus had a fire pit with a fire going all day and night.

Willy gave the runners a short briefing and then led everyone one loop around the course to make sure everyone was familiar with it. The course started at the back deck, looped around the hostel, past the chickens (who talked to you every time you went by) and down into the woods. The trail was wide enough for two people and was dirt/clay with three or four rocks or roots to worry about. The first part of the course in the woods consisted up switchbacks that, with the exception of two short, steep uphills, were gently rolling. After you popped out of the woods, you were at a powerline area (the Chasm of Despair), which consisted of a long steep drop and then a short, steep uphill. Then you were back at the hostel.

I'm assuming that the weather in the days leading up to the race was similar to the weather here in the NC mountains. We had had a lot of rain and then some snow and very cold temps. When the run started at 9:00, the ground was frozen. After about an hour, though, it started to thaw and turn into sloppy, slippery mud. It was at this point that I started to think about those two quotes. I hated to leave after only finishing a 5K, but I was starting to slip and slide and I really didn't want to become story #2.

Willy's marathon session of blowing leaves onto the trail to provide traction and me remembering that I had snow spikes in the car made me comfortable enough with the trail to stay. I had originally hoped for a 50K in about 10 hours, but it became apparent early on that with the mud, that wasn't going to happen. I stuck it out for 46 laps (my age) in 11 1/2 hours, which turned out to be 30 miles. Surprisingly, that was good enough for 3rd female and 6/14 runners in the 12 hour. Tony hung out with me for 18 miles of it and that made it extra nice. My longest hike thus far has been 18 miles in 6 hours, so this was a big jump. And it was my first ultra distance since June 2011.

It was great to be back in the ultra-world, although watching everyone else made me miss running. Hiking, however, is much more relaxing than running. I didn't eat, drink or sweat as much and my legs still felt good after 11 hours.

No knee issues, no brace issues. The rest of me feels like I've been hit by a truck, though.

Photos by Jenny Coker and Tony Davis

ACL at Four Months

2011-12-28T18:39:00.000-08:00

Quick update:

I got booted out of rehab last week. I felt a little sad. I had been there for two to two and a half hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday since the first week in September. What will I do with all that time? Okay, maybe I don't feel so sad after all.

My quad is at 88% and my hamstring at near 100%. I have good balance, good mobility, good flexibility (gosh, I thought I would never say I was flexible). I can ease back into running now, at four months (much sooner than the six to nine months I was originally told). Three to four weeks of building up on safe stuff (track, greenway, dirt roads), then slowly back onto trails.

I went outside and ran my first mile on Christmas Eve. The knee felt fine, but after not running for five months, it was a little tough on the rest of me. I did a 16 mile hike a couple of weeks ago (10 of it on dirt road) and the only thing that bothered me was the brace. I was wiped out afterwards, though! I did a 10 mile hike all on trail a couple of days ago and halfway through just wanted to curl up beside the trail and take a nap. I will try a 18 mile hike tomorrow and will run a little bit on the road section.

All in all, while the whole experience has not been a lot of fun, it has not been as bad as I imagined. All that time rehabbing, including three a days at home, plus working and coaching, kept me so busy and tired, that I haven't had the time to miss running or dwell too much on it.
I'm still amazed, though, that they took out part of my hamstring and repurposed it as a ligament to put my ACL back together. And it worked. Wow.

2011 Year in Review: Time Out

2011-12-17T20:26:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it takes a little down time to make one sit back and reflect. Or maybe just a 5 hour hike with a dog who is not a very good conversationalist....

As I started to think about about my "2011 Year in Review," I realized that I had not accomplished anything I set out to do at the end of 2010. Obviously, the freak frisbee accident took me out of the game in July, but even if it hadn't, I think I still wouldn't have accomplished anything. Why? I had done too much. I never had time to recover between races, I was always running tired and I never got any effective training in as a result. But it wasn't until I looked back at my blog that it really sunk in. Check out my races and runs in 2010 and 2011:

January: Tsali 50k
March: -100k at Nantahala Fria
April- Sweetwater 50k and 90 miles at Woods Ferry
May- Ennoree 40 miles
June- 70 miles at Black Mountain Monster
July- NMAR 100
August- 35 miles Laurel Valley
September- 55 miles Long Cane
October- 77 miles Foothills
November- Bartram 115 miles
December and January- IT band injury
February- Rattle my Heart 50K
March- 50 mile fun run
April- 40 miles on Bartam (the hard end)
May- Massanutten 100
June (2 weeks after MMT)- 87 miles Black Mountain Monster
and Chatooga 50k
July: divine intervention and forced rest...after a little surgery.

My goals, therefore, for 2012 look a little different:

1. get the knee back to 100%
2. Hike 12 hours of the 24 Hours of HOSTELity in January.
3. Maybe the Landsford Canal 24 hour in April.
4. 100 at Black Mountain Monster in June.
5. Finish the 900 miles of trails in the Smokies by the end of the year (running and hiking- only about 400 left to do).
6. Bartram Trail redo in early fall.

And that's it.

Difficult Things

2011-11-23T19:06:00.000-08:00

Trail running is hard.

This was my big revelation as I hiked up to Wesser Bald last weekend. It used to be one of my regular training runs and was one of the last runs I did before I tore my ACL. It is all uphill to the tower, making it a fairly difficult run, but not incredibly hard. Walking what I used to run, however, was an eye opener. Now granted, I haven't run since July and my cardio training has taken a backseat to rehabbing my knee, but now I understand the comment that trail runners frequently hear from hikers, "I can't believe you are RUNNING that!". As a hiker last weekend, I gingerly made my way through the wobbling rocks and slippery roots, sure I was going to take a spill if I didn't take it nice and slow. Then I looked up at a short section of even steeper trail in front of me, with even more roots and rocks to contend with. I used to run on that stuff, I thought... I guess once I had made the transition from hiker to trail runner years ago, I lost the appreciation of how difficult this sport can be. So while I don't buy into the argument that runners need to stop and smell the roses, maybe you should take a little walk once in awhile to better appreciate the ability you have been blessed with.

After I reflected on this, a discussion on the Foothills list about the relative difficulty of different ulra races made me think about my personal list of difficult runs. (I spend a lot of time THINKING about running since I can't actually do it). Not how I rank races compared to other races, but what runs were the most difficult for me. Here's my top five:

1. 2010 110 mile Bartram Trail run. Running sick and worn down on incredibly difficult terrain with an injured IT band in last 18 miles.
2. 2004 Massanutten. My first 100, 28 blisters and a chipped cheekbone.
3. 2008 Old Dominion 100. 100 plus degrees, near 100 % humidity, bad air quality and 42% finishing rate.
4. Hellgate 100K, the bitter cold, snowy and icy year. Wait, that covers every Hellgate I ran. Okay, the only race I ever missed a cutoff at. Snow with a thick layer of ice on top, which sometimes broke through and sometimes didn't. The runners in front had chunked up parts of the trail making it incredibly difficult to run on.
5. 2011 Massanutten. Nausea for most of the race, an epic low in the middle of the night in a cold hard rain.

That was fun. Feel free to play along and make your own list. I'd love to read your posts on your top fives. And I can't wait to have challenges like that again.

Rehab at 12 weeks. Started jumping side to side and front to back (6 sets of 1 minute) and running in place on a trampoline a couple of weeks ago. Also started this cool little machine which mimics the side to side motion of skiing. I have some pain under the knee cap, but apparently it is nothing to worry about. When that settles down I will start lunges and some treadmill jogging.

Eight Weeks Later: Out in the Woods Again

2011-10-31T16:45:00.001-07:00

One thing I will miss this winter is running in the snow. I love being blessed with the ability to run far enough to get to places where the only other footprints belong to the bears, bobcats, deer and turkeys. There is something special and magical about being in a place like that. One sunny October afternoon, I ran up Fisher Creek, a regular training run for me. There was no snow down low, but there was more and more fresh snow on the ground as I climbed. That's nothing unusual, but this was October, which meant that the leaves were still brilliant. A brisk wind had followed the snow and the pure white ground was littered with vivid red, yellow and orange leaves. It was one of the most beautiful things I have seen and I was lucky enough to be the only person out there. People sometimes criticize trail runners for not slowing down to see the beauty of things, but I have seen many more beautiful things running long than I ever did hiking.

Having said that, this October I have been blessed with the ability to hike. When Tony took me for my first short walk on trail, I was so happy to be back out in the woods, I actually cried a little. I started walking on the forest road near my house, enjoying the woods and becoming more comfortable with with my knee. Last weekend, Tony took me for a two-hour hike on the Bartram at Sawmill Gap. The trail is not easy, but I carefully picked my way along, being so glad that seven weeks after surgery I was out there. This weekend we went to the Bartram at Buckeye Branch for another hike a little over two hours, with both my physical therapist's and surgeon's blessings. I just have to be careful of steep transitions and doing things like jumping from rock to rock.

If I had known before I had my surgery how well things would progress, I would have not been quite so devastated. Now I am able to hike, bike on the road, swim and run in the deep end of the pool. This month, my quad strength increased 88% and is 75% as strong as the uninjured leg. I have full extension and can bend it 140 degrees. I am now doing balance activities (including squats on a unstable platform), leg presses, wall squats and calf raises. I am just not allowed to run, but I was a hiker before I was a runner and right now that is just fine with me.

Everyone said that I would come out of this experience a better runner and now I actually believe it. I am doing all the things that I never had time for when I was running: weights, stretching and cross-training. I have started to think of this as the "off-season" rather than being on injured reserve. My physical therapist said, yes, I could do a 100 in June. And that's really not all that far away.

The pic is from the Blue Ridge Parkway last week.

ACL Rehab: Five Weeks Later

2011-09-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

After the two week mark, things got progressively better. I went back to work three weeks after surgery and was glad I didn't try to go back any earlier. It's really difficult and frustrating to teach and coach on crutches. I was wiped out after the first couple of days, but it got better after that. The hardest part at this point is trying to balance my time. I go to physical therapy 3 times a week for 1 1/2 to 2 hours a shot. I have to do this during my planning period ( at the end of the day). Then go back and coach. Then go home and work in two more 30 minute workouts. And do all the work I didn't get done because I have no planning period. I am very lucky to have great students and another coach who has been filling in for me without complaint. Plus Tony who has taken excellent care of me.

My physical therapy has progressed steadily, adding more weight and reps, plus adding in some machine work. The hamstring curls are especially painful, but are getting better. Right at the four week mark, my PT measured me and I could bend my leg to 131 degrees and could flatten it to 0 degrees. My quad strength was 54% of the good one and most of the swelling was gone. The next day, the surgeon let me lose the crutches and my life improved instantly. My leg was a little shaky the first couple of days, but now feels pretty normal. We added in leg presses and balance boards to my PT, along with time on a stair climber.

Three days after I got off crutches, Tony took me up to Standing Indian for a walk on the only flat trail I know of. The leaves were changing nicely and it wasn't quite as important to be out there running as it was just being out there. I sure have missed that. I eeked out a painstakingly slow mile, but it was one of the best miles I have ever done.

Now, five weeks after surgery, I feel pretty good. I have a quad muscle again that keeps getting bigger. Yesterday, Tony and I went for a three mile walk on a forest road near the house and the knee felt pretty good. It will be awhile before I can run again, but I am very thankful that I can at least get outside.

And my PT thinks Old Dominion 100 2012 should be no problem for me.

The picture is yet another one of my random pretty pictures.

Two Weeks Down

2011-09-13T17:50:00.000-07:00

Lessons learned from the first two weeks after ACL surgery:

1. The pain was not a problem. The only time I had anything intense was when I first woke up from surgery but the nurse made that go away. Sleeping in the brace was an annoying type of pain, but I don't have to do that anymore. What I didn't expect was the depth of the fatigue. During the first week, just getting to the kitchen wiped me out more than any ultra. No exaggeration.

2. My quad disappeared. I expected it to shrink, but not this much and this rapidly. I have a lot of excess strap on the brace they made for me before surgery.

3. Wal-Mart is not the best place to test-drive crutches.

4. Having strong legs and doing the pre-hab exercises make rehab easier. Five days after surgery, I was able to do sixty leg lifts. Today my workout, 3 times a day is: 8 x 10 front leg lifts with ankle weight, 3x10 side and back leg lifts, 50 quad sets, 30 seated leg raises, plus stretches. Plus I am on a stationary bike.

5. I am feeling better every day. Unfortunately, I feel like doing some things, so I get frustrated frequently and sometimes I forget that I have an injured leg. Fortunately, I have Tony to both spoil me and keep me in check. Plus I only have two more weeks on crutches and I can now wear my little custom brace rather than the gigantic one.

6. My attitude and outlook is a lot better than it was before surgery. Before I had a lot of apprehension, stress and a lot to consider. Now that I've had the surgery, there are no decisions to make. I do what I am told to do and there's nothing I can do besides that to make my leg heal any faster. It's more relaxing to resign yourself to simply follow directions.

The photo is just one of my random pretty pictures.

Welcome to Rehab

2011-09-06T19:19:00.000-07:00

As I laid in pre-op Friday morning, watching the nurses and doctors hook wires, tubes and equipment to me, I thought to myself, "Really? It wasn't even that a good of a fall." Now, I've done some things that should have landed me here and I would have completely understood. And it would have made for a lot better blog post. How about bad mountain bike wrecks (like the time I toppled over the edge of a bank, tangled in my mountain bike and hitting a branch that gouged my back but caught the back of my sports bra stopping the fall)? What about stage two hypothermia or close encounters with copperheads, rattlers, and scary people in the middle of the wilderness? Or one of my more exciting scar-inducing falls or many really stupid decisions (like, I think I can crawl across the ice without sliding off the edge, because I'm miles in the middle of nowhere and if the fall doesn't kill me, the cold will)? But frisbee at cross country practice, really? I didn't even get to get carried off on a stretcher with thousands of adoring fans cheering me on. Sigh.

Anyway, my little blog will now document my adventures as an ultrarunner in rehab. It's pretty exciting. Today I get to take a shower. I actually shed a tear or two this afternoon because I could turn the pedals of the stationary bike one rotation. Hmm...okay, so maybe I won't spend a lot of time on the details, but I will pass along helpful hints and revelations from time to time because it seems like everyone expected me to understand what was going on. It's kind of scary when you don't know what to expect. So here is what I've learned thus far.

1. First, I need to vent. I've done this myself, and I know everyone meant well, but please never, ever, say to anyone, "It could be worse." Don't you think I know that? Yes, I could have lost my leg, my life, or someone I love. But that doesn't mean that losing something I love (running) for 6-9 months is not hard on me. I don't whine or complain, so please just say, "I understand." Let me cry a little about this without trying to make me feel guilty for being relatively lucky. Okay, I'm over that now.

2. Crutches. If you have the opportunity to try them out before you are in pain, weak, and on drugs, do it. There is definitely a learning curve. Especially if there are stairs involved. More upper body strength and more single leg squats would have helped, too. Expect major frustration.

3. I had general anesthesia and a femoral artery block. I felt like crap the first day and a half. By the end of day 2 of post-op, boredom set in. I don't think I've been this stationary for this long in years. I'm not sure what I am supposed to do with myself. Most all of my hobbies involve my legs. I should try to be a little more well-rounded.

4. I have to approach this like a 24 hour race. I can't think about all the time and miles I have left or I'll make myself crazy. I also can't think about how good I felt beforehand or it will take the fun out of celebrating little milestones, like being able to bend my leg 90 degrees today.

5. The week before surgery was weird. I had two legs that worked more or less. I was still running, even on trail, albeit cautiously. I knew that Friday morning everything would change for several months. I have no advice about dealing with that. It was just kind of difficult.

6. Say goodbye to being independent and self sufficient. Say hello to more frustration. Exactly how do you carry a glass of water on crutches? Hope you have an understanding and patient spouse who only cusses at trying to set the monstrous brace to zero.

So thus begins another ultra-journey. I'm bound to take some good out of this experience, right? In the meantime, crutch races, anyone?

Did You Hear the Pop?

2011-08-14T17:48:00.001-07:00

It was a pretty normal plan. To give the girls a break from running during Cross Country practice, on July 11th at 3:30 pm, I decided we would play Ultimate Frisbee. I went down on the second play of the game, catching the frisbee in the end zone. Except I hit a little hole and I went down on my knees. Ouch, that twanged something. I stretched it out some, limped along, and tried to keep playing, but my knee wasn't supporting me when I tried to lean out or jump. After I got everyone home, I went home and began the RICE protocol. The knee was swollen and although I tried to tell Tony I just "twanged" something, he was sure I had done more than "twanged" it. I RICE'ed all week, then went to a weeklong workshop in NJ/NY, where I did a lot of walking on it, but wore a knee brace. By the end of the week I was walking fairly normally, but could not run. I emailed the RD of Running with the Devil to withdraw from the race that Saturday.

When I got back, I reluctantly went to the doctor, who ordered X-rays and an MRI. "Surely I would know if something was really wrong, wouldn't I? Do I really need X-rays and an MRI?", I asked. She got a really good laugh out of that one. For some reason, she thinks I have a really high pain tolerance and, no, I wouldn't know if anything was really wrong. So off to X-rays, first. All clear there. Then off to MRI. The doctor called a couple days later. "I have bad news," she said. "You completely tore your ACL and partially tore your meniscus." After I hung up, I called her right back, because neither of us had thought it was the ACL. "Are you sure? Did you read it?" She was sure. A visit to the surgeon confirmed it. "Did you hear the pop?" he asked. No, I didn't hear a stinkin' pop. After thousands of miles of trail running, my knee goes out playing frisbee. And apparently, the ACL is the worst of the knee injuries. Six to nine months of no running after surgery.

I was actually running a little on it before I found out it was the ACL and before both the surgeon and physical therapist showed me how they were able to move my knee around in ways that it's not supposed to move. I've been fitted for a brace and the surgeon said I could run my upcoming races in it, if it didn't wear my skin off and I could choose when to have the surgery. But he said no trail running. And the longer I put off surgery, the longer it is before I can run again, and the longer I walk around a unhappy camper. I know, it could be a whole lot worse. And I'm sure it happened for some reason. But that doesn't make it any easier to lose doing something I love.

So, I've done the math and although I'll miss my favorite time of year to run in the woods, fall and winter, I should be able to hit the trail in spring again. And maybe by then, I'll actually have pretty feet with all ten toenails for the first time in eight years.

Chattooga 50K

2011-06-27T10:23:00.000-07:00

When I think about the foothills of South Carolina, I think about Claude Sinclair's Laurel Valley run held every year in August. To be honest, I really don't like running Laurel Valley all that much, but I keep coming back year after year because it's a tradition. But it's also South Carolina in the summer, which means it's hot and dripping with humidity, with the added benefits of abundant poison ivy, copperheads, yellow jackets and biting flies. Plus, the section of Foothills Trail that it follows is tough, with plenty of technical trail and annoying little climbs and descents that wear you down. No, during the summer I stick to the mountains, running the ridgelines along the AT.

In the days before the Chattooga 50K, I pondered why, despite my knowledge of both South Carolina in the summer and the Foothills Trail, did I sign up for this run? My best answer is that the combination of dehydration and lack of oxygen inherent in ultrarunning has damaged key brain cells. I was very unenthusiastic about heading out to this run, but it is a Terri Hayes race and I do think a lot of Terri Hayes and her runs. Plus, it's a little over an hour from the house and I didn't have any plans for this weekend. Great day for a training run. Which is good, because I feel like I haven't had any time to do any training since I have run a race every three weeks now and I am constantly recovering.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm, I collected Alan and headed down the mountain. The race location was ideal, in a campground with nice restrooms and showers adjacent. The check in was efficient and well organized and you got a nice little goody bag, which was especially nice for the price of entry (Terri doesn't charge one, just accepts donations). Lots of familiar faces again, another family reunion, which kinda makes up for the fact I was about to run in South Carolina in the summer again.

The Pre-Race Briefing

I had read the course directions and looked at the maps that Terri had on her website and this course seemed a little tricky. I had also read race reports where people had gotten off course, so I paid close attention to her directions. I was still a little fuzzy, but did remember her saying, "turn around at the first wooden bridge," an important bit of info later on. Once the race began, the directions made good sense and I took time at the intersections to remember which way I had to turn on the way back.

Part I: Start to Aid Station 1 (7 miles)

The first three miles were fun. A nice gradual downhill on single track, very runnable with very little effort. Just lean forward and gravity does all the work. I was enjoying this section until I remembered that this section was an out and back, which meant that all this nice downhill would shortly turn into uphill. As I began to run back up, it turned out that the uphill wasn't as steep as I perceived it, but all those runners, heading both downhill and uphill had really stirred up the leaves and dust. My asthma cranked up and I couldn't settle my breathing down. It's funny what a lack of oxygen does to you (despite killing brain cells). Your legs feel heavy, you have no energy and worst of all, no clue how you are going to finish a tough 50K when you feel this bad three miles into it. Disregarding doctor's orders not to use my inhaler too much, I inhaled and felt better. Soon I was back to plugging along steadily uphill. Back at the top of the hill, you made a leftie and within a half mile, you were at the first aid station.

A word on aid stations

As I mentioned, Terri does not charge an entry fee, but you could not tell it from the aid stations. The table is covered with food, everything from gels and e-caps to homemade banana bread. The volunteers are extremely helpful, filling up bottles or bladders with ICE cold water or Heed. I savored that cold water as at the day grew hotter. Unfortunately, there was a long 10 mile stretch ahead before the next aid.

The Foothills Trail Section from Hell

After the aid station, you followed a 3 mile nicely rolling trail to the Foothills Trail. I really wasn't sure what part of the FHT the course was on and was not at all pleased to find that it was the Bermuda Triangle section. This was the section during the FHT Traverse where the miles you had put in seemed to disappear because you never, ever got to the end. This is the section during the Traverse where every time the trail turned away from the river, I knew I was approaching the road, from where I would only have 6 miles left. Cruelly, the trail twisted and turned and kept going back to the darn river. This is the section where I was getting ready to sit down in the middle of the trail and cry, when Tony suddenly appeared just at the right moment, having hiked in to where I was. This part of the trail brought back some bad memories.

I was lucky to have done the Traverse because, unlike the other runners around me who kept thinking we were coming up on the aid station, I knew that it was nowhere close and not to ever count on reaching it. When and if you did reach it, it would be a nice surprise. So I just kept moving forward, not expecting to get to the aid station, but being very glad I did just as my water ran out.

Turn around at the first bridge

The next section was a two mile out and back and the landmark to look for to turnaround at was the first wooden bridge. Or so I thought. I had run 17 miles in the heat and humidity. Is that really what she said? After I got to the bridge and headed back up the hill, a fast runner came up behind me. He thought the turnaround was the second bridge. Great, I thought, I was wrong. So I headed back down to the bridge, only to verify with other runners that the first bridge was indeed the turnaround. Excellent, a little extra credit mileage.

Repeat

Now comes the "back" part of the out and back. All the nice downhills were now long uphills. Just like before, I didn't think about where the next aid station was, I just kept moving forward. I felt pretty good, although I felt slow and like I had not yet recovered from my other runs. No stomach issues, though. Terri had told me to try Prilosec or Nexium before I ran and I did. I stuck to gels and banana bread and a flask of pickle juice in the heat of the day and it all seemed to do the trick. Four SportConnexin per hour in the hottest part of the day, a couple of ibuprofen in the middle of the run when I started to get achy, and it was all good.

The End

When I had looked at times from the previous races, I thought that if I could get under 8 hours, I would be very happy, and I finished in 7:44. Best of all, my stomach felt great and I quickly downed an excellent BBQ sandwich and two glasses of sweet tea.

In retrospect, South Carolina wasn't all that horrible. I heard more than one person comment though that this race was much harder than they expected, and I guess it was harder than most 50Ks. It was very technical, with more roots than rocks, and I think people underestimated how long the unsupported ten mile stretch would take. On the bright side, it was not as hot as Black Mountain and had more shade. I didn't get stung by yellow jackets or see any copperheads, but I did run through A LOT of poison ivy.

When I asked Alan if he would run it again, he said he would. I, however, will wait to see how bad I am itching in a couple days before I even think about it.

Congratulations Daniel!

2011-06-21T11:51:00.001-07:00

Five years ago, Daniel Hamilton and I were hanging from the edge of a cliff. We were in the middle of the Special Operations Adventure Race and were pretty psyched because we were close to the front of the pack. Unfortunately, the rappel was up next and I'm not particularly fond of heights. I will rappel if I have to and as long as I don't look down or think about where I am, I'm okay. At the top of the cliff, the rope guy told me that there were a few bushes sticking out of the cliff wall, so I would have to navigate around them, which obviously involved both looking down and thinking about where I was. Fortunately, there were two ropes set up and Daniel was able to rappel beside me and help me navigate, while distracting me. Everyone looked at us funny as he addressed me as "Mrs. Davis," but I had both taught and coached him and habits are hard to break. The teacher/student team ended up doing well, at one point hanging out with the professional teams in the lead, searching the woods for a checkpoint that the directors forgot to put out.

Tony and I had "adopted" Daniel during his high school years. Okay, he already had a very nice family who took good care of him, but Daniel was not only a very talented runner, he also liked all the activities we liked as well. So we started training for adventure races with him, subjecting him to some serious torture, like making him struggle to paddle his white-water kayak in a straight line in the middle of a windy lake, carry his bike on his shoulders up mountain trails and having him sprint through thick knee-deep mud to punch our card. We did a couple of races together and then he was off to college.

We've heard from him from time to time and it was a nice surprise when he came and ran the last section of NMAR with me last year. Monday, he called Tony to tell him about a race he just did. Tony had lots of details for me (that's sarcasm). Daniel did some stage race somewhere, 20-some miles a day. Did really well, finished third. The third day was the hardest. He's running on some team. He hasn't been able to eat much since. He's going to email us more information.

Yesterday, while perusing blogs and awaiting the email, I looked at the Chattanooga Stage race results from this weekend and there he was. Third place overall with a total time of 7:46:28. For some reason, I was assuming it was a road race somewhere, not a gnarly trail race, but the trail race fits him much better.

When I talked to Daniel last night, he was still excited about his race. In typical modest-Daniel fashion, though, he wasn't sure if his times were good since he had never run such a race before. In fact, he had never run a race longer than a half-marathon, so running 18, 20, and 22 miles consecutively was a big step up. When he signed up for Chattanooga, he wasn't sure he'd even be able to finish the stages, but he did, with times much better than good.

Daniel just graduated from college and is going to PJ training for the Air Force next month. He said he didn't know if he was going to keep running (he had been running cross country and track for years), but his experience this weekend has turned him into a trail running addict, already searching for more runs. He's got the physical ability and the right mindset to do well at ultras and trail races. So, congratulations, Daniel! We're such proud parents. We're looking forward to watching you win some 100s down the road.

Photo by Jeff Bartlett

Black Mountain Monster Bear Video

2011-06-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

Here's a video of the little bear at Black Mountain Monster:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqYYMm8Cf8o

Tony and Brian Beduhn are discussing their run while watching the bear knock berries out of the tree so he can eat them off the roof. Several of us saw the bear in the middle of the night behind the fence next to the paved section. He's pretty small- I thought he was a dog at first. Not exactly the Black Mountain Monster. But maybe next year.

SportConnexin: Working for Me

2011-06-11T09:09:00.000-07:00

I recently started using a different electrolyte supplement, SportConnexin, made by Molecular Fitness. Molecular Fitness is a grassroots company, whose main way of getting the word out about their line is through athletes who have had success with their product. So let me tell you about my experiments with SportConnexin, and if you are interested, you can do your own experimenting.

For the past few months, I have been listening to a couple of podcasts which, although geared toward triathletes, cover many ultra-related issues, Endurance Planet and Everyman Endurance. The name SportConnexin kept coming up, in interviews with athletes like Kami Semick and in discussions with sports nutritionists. In these discussions, those magic words for any ultrarunner came up, "improves endurance, reduces muscle fatigue and aids in recovery." Just like any endurance athlete, I'm always looking for new products that can help me improve, so after hearing the name repeatedly, finally checked it out. I spent a little time on their website and learned that SportConnexin goes beyond just electrolyte replacement. Their whole line of products aid in transferring the flow of nutrients at the molecular level and focus on maintaining a healthy pH balance while you are running. Apparently, the stress we put on our bodies as athletes results in excess acid, which is detrimental to our performance in all sorts of ways.

I ordered a sample, which came which pH strips to help you dial in precisely what you need and I tested it out on my first 50 mile run after coming off of my ITB injury. The first 25 mile loop, I stuck to my usual routine, and by the end of the loop was feeling fatigued and not at all ready for another one. I went ahead and started it and began substituting SportConnexin for my electrolyte replacement. As the loop progressed, I felt a marked difference in my energy level and finished it faster than the first one. Afterwards, I expected it to be a few days before my body felt like running again, but I recovered faster than usual and was out running strong within two days.

As I have worked on adjusting the dose for various conditions, the difference I find with SportConnexin is that I really don't feel much muscle fatigue. At BMM, I dealt with a variety of issues, but my legs never felt tired in those 87 miles. Once I adjusted my dose of SportConnexin to allow for the excessive heat, I felt good, didn't cramp and had plenty of energy.

I have had good results with SportConnexin, so I am helping them get the word out to people in our sport. If you are interested, click on the logo on the sidebar and it will take you to their website.

Black Mountain Monster: Just Running some 5K Repeats

2011-06-06T08:28:00.000-07:00

The Black Mountain Monster is a 12/24 hour run, either run solo or on a relay team, and this was the 5th year of the race or its previous versions. All five of the races have raised money for a charity and part of your entry fee is to bring canned goods for the local food bank.

The first version of this race, Run For Africa, was originally billed as a relay race. I think a few of us emailed the director, asking if we could run solo, and he added those options to the run. This year and last, the solo runners way outnumbered the relay runners and this event has grown to be an exceptional ultrarunning event.

The venue is perfect, with ample parking, bathroom and shower facilities and a big field for everyone to set up their tents on. The 5K loop course is varied and not difficult. Every quarter mile or so, the course changes, making it mentally easier as well. I have run other loop courses that just seem to drag on forever because the scenery and trail is always more of the same. You don't need to carry anything if you choose, because there is water/Gatorade both at the start and halfway through the loop, although I chose to carry a bottle because of the heat.

The race director and volunteers were exceptionally helpful and the race was well-organized. The course was marked even better than last year, with plenty of chem lights and repainted arrows at night. (Unfortunately, the course is so compact, apparently some have taken advantage of some shortcuts both last year and this year.)

At last year's BMM, I came in with a definite goal, 100 miles, and I left with 72 miles, 18 hours in. (And the only reason I left with 72 was to not be totally embarrassed by Annette Bednosky's 69 in the 12 hour race). This year, my goal was a bit different. I had run MMT three weeks prior. I had not run in the heat and the temperature was supposed to hit 90 degrees. I really didn't know what I could do, so instead of setting a mileage goal, I set a "feel good" goal. I wanted to finish all 24 hours still moving, without the nausea/lightheadness issues I've been having off and on. No pressure to push hard, but instead to dial it down a bit until I could figure out my issues.

I rode over with Alan so Tony could come over a little later. We set up our "camp" on the edge of field, but brought no tent or chairs to motivate us to keep moving. I knew lots of ultrarunning friends would be there, but I was surprised at how many showed up to run in circles. It made the hours pass even quicker, knowing that you were bound to catch up or be caught by someone to hang out with for a little bit.

My race strategy was to not race. I brought lots of different kinds of food and several different pairs of shoes to experiment with. I didn't time my loops and felt very relaxed. I didn't care about taking a few extra minutes to do things here and there. In the middle of the night I took a time out and hiked up to the shower building to wash my face and hands. I walked a loop with Tony and parts of loops with other people and didn't care about people passing me (until the end of the race, but that's later in the story). All in all, much more enjoyable than having a specific target you are pushing to hit.

It was hot, pushing ninety degrees with high humidity. Parts of the course are in the full sun. On my third loop, I started feeling really bad. Great. Nine miles in and I've already messed up my goal. My "normal"symptoms, as of lately, nausea and light-headedness, set in, but also muscle fatigue and an urge to take a nap. The last one concerned me a bit, so back at camp, I decided to sit down and figure out what was going on. When my calf started to cramp a bit, that was a sign that I needed more electrolytes. I've been using SportConnexin (I'll blog more about that later) and I had been taking my normal dose, but, duh, it was about 20 degrees hotter than my normal runs. I upped my dosage by one and kept it at that level throughout the race until it cooled off. No more cramping, light-headedness or muscle fatigue. I also discovered, as I tried to talk to Tony and could only get one word out at a time, that I was having some major asthma issues (I think from all the dust on the trail), so I used my inhaler a little more often than normal and that helped as well.

As far as the nausea went, I drank pickle juice and ate chocolate pudding. I know, ultras do weird things to you. But whenever I run a really hot run in the summer, I get home and crave pickle juice, so I decided to bring some with me. I had chocolate pudding at MMT when I couldn't get anything else in, and it worked well here, too. I kept up this routine, supplementing with gels and orange slices and avoiding solid food.

I also, nine miles in, changed into shoes that I had not worn more than 10 miles. I had ordered a pair of Brooks Launches, but hadn't worn them much because they felt too wide for me. My Ravennas weren't feeling right, however, so I tried the Launches and ended up running the rest of the race in them. They felt great, light but cushioned, except for the pressure on my left big toe, which I should have adjusted because I now have a nasty blister under the toenail.

So around and around I went, moving well and having relatively few problems until about 4:00 a.m.. I had just been thinking about how good I was feeling when everything went downhill, rapidly. Nausea set in and I couldn't eat or drink anything, so I walked 4 or 5 laps and didn't worry about fueling. Finally, I was able to nibble on a shortbread cookie with a little ginger ale and I slowly felt better. I had about three hours left and decided I'd walk two more laps, so as not to get sick again, and call it a day, ending up with 84ish miles.

As I was ambling through my next-to-last loop, a friendly, well-intentioned woman introduced herself as she was sprinting by me (or at least it looked like a sprint at that point), and before she pulled out of earshot, told me that we were on the same lap. My initial rational thought was, "That's nice. And she looks like she is moving well. I'm glad my goal is to just keep moving." By the end of the lap, the irrational part of my brain took over and said, "I really don't want to be lapped by anyone who is on the same lap as me. I bet if I pushed hard, I could squeeze in two more laps instead of one, even if it makes me sick again." So, throwing off common sense, off I went, laying down two 40 minute loops (which sounds slow, but it was 22 hours into the run) and finishing with 87 miles in and 17 minutes to spare. The mind is a funny thing. Or at least mine is.

I actually felt good when I finished. I was able to eat and had no post-race nausea issues. Tony got in 24 miles, not bad for a guy with a bad knee who runs 3-4 miles a week. Alan hit 80ish, I think, hobbling with some really nasty blisters.

So my BMM actually went better than I expected. I enjoyed the run, was able to somewhat address the nausea issues, and got in many more miles than I predicted. I got to talk to a lot of people I had not seen in a while and by the end of the race, didn't feel the need to make the traditional annual pact with Brian about not running around in circles any more.

photos from the BMM site: http://www.raceforawesomeness.com/?p=60

Massanutten 2011- Full Circle

2011-05-17T12:12:00.000-07:00

The Massanutten 100 is billed as one of the toughest in the country. All 100s are difficult, but what makes this race so hard is the terrain. It's not just the climbs and descents, but the technical, rocky trail. There are rocks that you clamber over, rocks that roll around under your feet, rocks that you rock-hop. In other words, a lot of rocks. The aid stations are far apart and you have to carry what you need in your pack. Determining what you need can be difficult, especially when the weather is calling for rain most of the weekend. The aid stations are well-stocked, and you can have a drop bag at most of them, but it always takes me a long time to try to predict what I will want at what point.

The race started at 4:00 a.m. this year, which meant a short night and a 2:45 a.m. wake-up call. The night before I was still struggling with a decision about what shoes to wear. I finally decided to stick to my Brooks Ravenna road shoes, which I have been wearing for the past year for all my trail runs. A couple of years ago, I would have questioned someone's judgment about wearing road shoes to the Massanutten and all it's rocks, but they've worked great so far and I didn't want to change things up at this point. (Although I did question, to myself, one woman's decision to wear Vibrams, which she had only worn a few times prior to the run.)

I tried to write this race report like a course description, but it got pretty monotonous. Every section involved a description of steep climbs and descents and a lot of rocky, technical terrain. So then I tried a description of my run, but that was monotonous, too. I felt good, I felt bad, I felt good again and then really, really bad. There, that sums it up. So I am left with random thoughts and highlights. Here we go....

1. The change-up in the course. The course is in a different order than in my previous run, so it was interesting to find that what used to be hard wasn't, and what wasn't hard was. Short Mountain on fresh legs at dawn was a lot easier than 2/3s of the way into the race in the dark. Kerns Mountain became the new Short Mountain, with the longest four mile section I have ever run.

2. Blisters. 28 in 2004. Maybe 2 in 2011. Correct shoes and socks (Smartwool) make a difference. My feet did hurt extremely bad towards the end of the race and I expected to find the bottoms covered with blisters, but they were just yucky and super-tender from being wet for the last 14 hours.

3. People. I had the chance to catch up with people I hadn't seen in a while, like Jay Finkle, 67 year old Gary Knippling who was running his 14th MMT, Beth Minnick, pacing and crewing Rick Gray (who was feeling too bad to chat). I spent quite a bit of time with Suzie Spangler as we were running about the same pace and kept catching up with each other. She helped time pass by faster, particularly the road sections, where you could actually have conversations. Later in the night, as I was feeling really bad, tagging along with her and her pacer, Mary, kept me going. I also met Jeff Pence, who we discovered used to work out and run with Tony, when Tony lived in Woodstock. I also met a number of new people and came to appreciate the familiar faces that I kept encountering throughout the run. Finishing in the middle of the pack, rather than lonely at the back, made me appreciate how many truly talented and determined runners there are out there.

4. The bad times. Issues with nausea and light-headedness in the morning, alleviated by running behind Suzie and focusing on her feet rather than on the rocky trail. A particularly bad time with those same issues in the night on Kern's Mountain, to the point that I thought I would have to drop at the Visitor's Center. A deluge along with lightning on the same section. Joining the walking dead huddled in the tent at the Visitor's Center. After Bird Knob, hitting a low point once again and actually running along crying about it. My feet (and everyone else's I passed) hurting so badly in the 15 miles. Mud from the rain (the shoes used to be white). The bugs!

5. The good times. The sunrise, both times. Seeing Tony at aid stations. No asthma issues. Good feeling feet for 80 miles or so. Eating a cup of soup at the aid station at Visitor Center and feeling like a new woman. The view on the way to Elizabeth Furnace and the view from Bird Knob at night. Finding a 6'2" leprechaun on the trail clicking his heels together and saying "Top of the morning to you." (Not a hallucination. Tony meeting me on the trail Sunday morning). Seeing Rick Gray at a very low point and then finding out he was able to finish the MMT on his third attempt. The flowers and the birds and sometimes feeling like I was the only one out there (maybe that should also be under bad times). A hard-boiled egg at the Picnic area. Finishing with a respectable time and being able to wear the shirt. Being satisfied with my run and not having unfinished business.

6. The aid stations were manned with the best volunteers. They filled my water bladder, brought me my drop bag and tried to figure out what I needed when I didn't know. Here's a chair, want some soup, what do you need, do you want to try....? At the Indian Grave aid station, the volunteer giving me sound advice (your hands are fine and lay off the electrolytes at this point, do you want to eat this, what about this, want some ginger ale?). At the Picnic area, while I was exhausted and teary, here's your drop bag, let me put this in it for you, I've touched worse things than your dirty socks, here's a coke, take this bag with some extra food in it, do you want to know what's ahead of you? A little kindness goes a long way when you're nearing your limits.

MMT was extraordinarily well organized, well staffed, and well run. I went into the run with a lot of doubts about whether I could finish it or not, but everything held together long enough to do it. I won't say I had fun for the last 30 miles, but I am satisfied with the outcome, especially as bad as I felt. (104 out of 195 starters, 33:49.)

Massanutten Flashback 2004

2011-05-07T18:19:00.000-07:00

Some people get tattoos to commemorate important accomplishments. I have a dimple. When I smile big, there's an indentation on my left cheekbone, compliments of my first 100 miler, the 2004 Massanutten. I was running the section called the Jawbone and had navigated the rocky outcroppings without any problems. Then on a nice, flat section of trail, a small rock reached up and grabbed my foot, and I fell hard, onto another rock. I landed on my hip and face, blackening my eye, chipping my cheekbone and leaving a plate sized bruise on my hip.

I would like to say that was my worst experience of the run, but I think the 28 blisters topped that. I know how many there were because Tony made me drain them all, sitting in a hot bath, right before he dumped salt on them. We weren't married yet. He must have had a lot of confidence in our relationship, because ordinarily, that might be a deal-breaker. Then again, he was the one who talked me into running the Massanutten as my first 100.

"If you can finish that one, you'll know you can finish any of them." That's good logic, but I suffered so badly that I had no interest in another 100 for a couple of years.

So, here I am, seven years later, headed back to the scene of the crime. I'm not sure why, because although I don't remember what the suffering felt like, I do remember that I suffered. A lot. My only really good memory of the run was crossing the finish line. Oh, and the ice cream sandwiches at Elizabeth Furnace.

Here's what I remember.

There were rocks. Not the nice, stable North Carolina rocks, but the nasty little pointy ones that roll around and chase you down the hill.

Hallucinations. The man in the green raincoat looking at a map with Tony. And the double blazes that indicated we were almost to Elizabeth Furnace. I looked at those three times to make sure they were real. They weren't.

Crying on the climb from Edinburg Gap to Woodstock Tower and telling Tony that my feet hurt so bad, I didn't think I could keep going. Tony reminding me of the story of the blind AT hiker who constantly tripped and fell during the 2000 mile journey. "He didn't quit, " he said. Fine. I'll suck it up.

Having to use my hands on my quads to make them climb the last really steep mountain.

Looking and feeling like an accident victim for a week after the run.

Now, one week before the race, I sit here and wonder why I am doing it. I already feel a little banged up. My knee and hip hurts. I've been having some nausea issues. I can't breathe with all this pollen. Tony's knee is hurting and he can't pace me. If I had good sense, I would just stay home.

But then again, if I had good sense, I would find another sport. No excuses. Let's just see if I've learned anything in the past seven years.

Bartram II. To Be Continued.

2011-04-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

During a brief period of fatigue and frustration this weekend, I pondered the fact that my brain forgets what suffering feels like. I remember that I have suffered, sometimes horribly, during runs and races, but I don't really remember what it actually felt like. This disconnect leads to some interesting decisions, such as my decision to run the Bartram again in search of a faster time.

Logically, it made sense. If you run without having had a bad cold for two weeks and you can keep your IT Band intact, you ought to be able to knock hours off your time. I am sticking with that hypothesis, despite the fact that forty miles into the Bartram this weekend, I got into the car and went home. The Bartram apparently eats knees.

Okay, so maybe it was my fault. I run in Brooks Ravennas and I have a large box in my closet of shoes that all look the same. A smart person would label their shoes so they know how old they are, but I never took the time to do that. I planned to wear my "newest" old pair to start out with and switch to an actual new pair halfway through. But even if I could accurately determine which was the "newest" old pair, I really couldn't remember when I got them or how many miles I had on them. Apparently too many.

Tony and I hiked 2 1/2 hours to the start of the Bartram at Cheoah Bald early Sunday morning. He turned around and hiked back to the car at Stecoah Gap and I started the 5.1 mile downhill section that crosses Ledbetter Creek 5 times. The last couple times I was on that section, there was only one wet creek crossing. The others could be rock-hopped with no problem, but not after the 4 inches of rain this weekend. I had thought that by Sunday the creeks would have gone down quite a bit, but if that creek had, I would have hated to tackle it the day before. It was roaring. (As an example, there is a nice waterfall halfway through, but instead of the water falling down, it was shooting out horizontally.)

When I got to the first crossing, I seriously thought about turning around. Tony had just told me that I ought to have someone run with me on ALL the sections on a run like this, and I dismissed it, saying I was very comfortable running these first sections solo, since I was fresh and very familiar with them. So, I pondered this rushing creek, which was probably only a little more than knee deep, but the water was coming down so fast, I couldn't see the bottom to see where to place my feet or to judge precisely how deep it was. A few feet beyond the crossing is a small waterfall and I pictured losing my footing, being swept over the cascade, hitting my head and getting knocked unconscious and then Tony would have said "I told you so."

With a little prayer and a lot of faith, I crossed it quickly, hoping momentum would propel me toward the bank, and it did. I thought the first one would be the worst one because the water was channeled into a pretty narrow spot. As I continued to run downhill however, I crossed numerous side streams that were just little trickles in the past, but now were contributing more and more water to Ledbetter. Suffice it to say, the crossings didn't get any better. However, it got to the point where it would have been just as difficult to go back as it was to go forward. I breathed a huge sigh of relief after the last crossing, knowing that I only had two more bridgeless creek crossings in the next 105 miles.

I was running ahead of my predicted time, despite the tricky crossings. On the next section though, I realized my shoes were bad. Coming downhill earlier, it felt like I was pounding really hard despite going easy and softly. Here on this rolling section, my stomach was getting upset with each jarring step and my legs really started aching from the knees down. When I arrived at Appletree, still on schedule, I felt pretty bad and "camped" (as Tony called it) for about 20 minutes. I changed into the new shoes, took off and quickly felt better. The shoes had a lot more cushioning in them, my legs quit aching and the nausea went away. I did still have a slight pain in my knee, but I assumed that would work its way out. It didn't.

The climb from Nantahala Lake to Wayah Bald is the most difficult climb and while I did feel tired, most of my energy was focused on the fact that my knee hurt. I stopped several times and retied my shoe, thinking that might help. It didn't. At this point, crawling uphill with an aching knee, I remembered what suffering feels like. This is why they say never make decisions about your next run in the middle of your current run. If you did, you would never run again.

At Wayah, Alan planned to start running with me, and I went ahead and ran the next section to see if the knee got any better on the downhill. It didn't. This time, I had no reason to push through it and I stopped at Harrison Gap.

The next two days my legs felt like I had run 100 miles, but I had only done 40, and part of that was the hike to the start. As I unpacked my gear, I used a sharpie to put a big X on the back of the bad shoes and relegated them to yard-work duty. And then I labeled the new ones.

Finally 50 miles, How I Fixed my IT Band and other Randomness

2011-03-21T17:37:00.000-07:00

If you haven't heard me complain about it, I injured my IT Band during my Bartram run in November. After my run, the cold I was battling hit full force and I was out of it for about a week. I didn't run for another week and I assumed that after two weeks of rest, my IT Band would be good to go. I had never injured my IT Band before and had no clue what to do about it or how long the recovery would be. After 5 minutes of running, I realized that rest alone hadn't fixed it.

So on to the wealth of information on the internet about how to fix my IT Band. Actually it was way too much information and much of it conflicted. One site hooked you with some seemingly excellent advice, only to stop partway through it and ask you to order the book if you wanted to learn the rest of it. Grrr.

My first plan of attack came from the "don't stretch it, you'll make it worse" camp. I did use the foam roller (OUCH!!!) every day and slowly built up the time I was running. I also used the advice of one of my former runners and used pre-wrap to wrap the area above my knee tightly. I was able to run 30 minutes, then an hour, then about 1:45, where I hit the wall. I was following the advice to stop running when it started hurting, so I did. But I couldn't get much beyond the two hour mark without having to stop. That sounds perfectly reasonable for the perfectly reasonable runner, but unfortunately I don't fall into that category. Two hours is the warm-up to the warm-up.

So I reversed course and this is what finally worked for me. I thought I would post it since I found so much confusing and conflicting advice. I realize that what worked for me won't work for everyone, but at least it's something to try.

1. Foam roller THREE times a day.

2. A deep tissue massage daily from my unqualified husband. He may not be trained but he has strong hands and found knots which he very unsympathetically broke up. Unsympathetically because it literally made me cry. Loudly.

3. Ice and ibuprofen after the massage.

4. Three different ITB stretches THREE times daily, after rolling.

5. Hip strengthening with a resistance band, daily, while I brushed my teeth.

6. Stopping 10-15 minutes into a run and stretching. Stopping to stretch several times during a long run. Stretch immediately thereafter.

7. Building up the length of my long runs slowly and not pushing the pace.

Finally, the week before last, a long run of 50 miles, and no ITB pain!

So there you have it. How I fixed my ITB. I'm going to keep up the stretching, rolling and strengthening because although rest is good for you, it's not all that fun when it's not optional!

You can stop reading at this point if you were just looking for ITB info!

Now for the rest of my story. That week was a fun week, running-wise. First, a nice little surprise when I got my Ultrarunning magazine in their Year in Review Section:

(And I found the women's data interesting. When I ran OD100 in 2006(?) my time of 23:34(?) made it into the top 100 hundred mile times for women, somewhere around 60, I think. Anyway, the sport has progressed so much in the last few years, that that time would not have come anywhere close to being in the top 100this year!)

Secondly, I did a 32 mile run on Sunday, thinking I was not pushing very hard, but ended up with my best time on that route. The next nice surprise was my 50 mile run, six days later. I had some breathing issues, some nausea issues and some random aches and pains, but they all came and went. I finished around 12:15, and was happy with that since most of it was trail and I was not pushing at all. It was also the tail-end of my only 100 mile week. Now I can finally focus on going harder and faster since my ITB seems to really be in working order.

In the middle of my run, I was coming down an obscure trail, rarely used, on which I have never seen another person. Ahead, I saw someone in a bright yellow shirt, looking at a map. (Not a hallucination this time). When he turned, I recognized the familiar triangle of Umstead on his shirt. Not only had I found someone on this trail, but I found a very accomplished ultrarunner, Jim Sullivan, tapering for Umstead. He was great company for several miles and it was nice to talk ultras with someone who really knew what he was talking about.

Alan joined me for the last 25 miles, his longest run since Bartram. No projectile vomiting for him at mile 22 like usual. I must not have been running hard enough. : )

Rattle My Heart 50K

2011-02-21T15:04:00.000-08:00

There's nothing like keeping a tradition alive. Three years ago, Alan and I decided to run Adam Hill's Rattle My Heart 50K Fun Run. I was sure I knew where Lake Susan was, but after an hour of driving to all the lakes I was familiar with (not a one of the Lake Susan), we finally gave up and ran elsewhere.

The next year I asked for directions and we made it to the start with no problems. However, once into the Ridgecrest property, we were unclear about where to go and so had a very nice tour of their facility before figuring things out.

This year, coming off of two months of relative inactivity, I was a bit slow climbing up Rainbow Mountain and I quickly lost the rest of the group. No problem. I pulled out Adam's handy-dandy set of instructions and carefully followed them. Except that for some reason I thought I "knew" Rainbow Road was an actual road and not just a double-track trail. To make a long story short, I made a lefty instead of a righty on Rainbow Road , thinking I was somewhere else, and after running downhill for awhile looking for Rainbow Road, I realized my error and reversed course. However, after consulting with someone out for a run, I ended up taking yet a different trail, another meandering scenic tour, eventually ending up at the spot where I made the wrong turn. Bonus miles are great.

(Side note: although I may seem to get lost a lot at this run, I have not yet ...knock on wood... ever been truly lost. I may not know how to get to my destination, but I always know how to get back to the car. )

The tour de Ridgecrest a couple of years ago paid off as I shortcutted Lookout Mountain and made up a few minutes, but I was content to be the caboose for the day. The rest of the run was splendid. The weather was great and my IT band felt fine. I pounded the downhills hard, testing out my legs and everything was in fine working order. I felt like some sections went by a lot faster than the last time I ran, although I had forgotten how LONG Heartbreak Ridge is. (I also feel bad for all those people who drive for miles to find Andrew's Geyser, which is not a North Carolina Old Faithful, but a man-made fountain that does have some historic significance. Apparently it was originally built nearby in the late 1800s in front of a hotel to memorialize the 120 men killed building the railroad through the area. It was later moved and restored.)

Rattle My Heart 50 K++ 2011. 8:04. My longest run since Bartram and it made me very happy. Thanks, Adam, for another great fun run!

2011-01-25T12:07:00.000-08:00

Bear prints from Saturday's run

2011: Keep the Fun Going

2010-12-14T07:53:00.000-08:00

"Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul."- Douglas MacArthur

Last year my main goal was to start having fun with running again. I quit worrying about logging a certain number of miles and began running where I wanted to and when I wanted to. I was a much happier runner and that remains my main goal for 2011. I also have some specific goals, but before I can work on any of them, my IT band has to heal. It's getting better, but I'm only up to about 3 hours at a time. : (

2011 Goals:

1. Get the IT band healed in time to do a 50K at Nantahala Fria
2. Bartram under 39 hours
3. SCAR under 24
4. Massanutten under 32
5. Foothills under 24
6. NMAR under 32
7. 100 at Woods Ferry
8. 100 plus at Black Mountain
9. finish the 900 miles of trails in the Smokies
10. Keep running with Tony and maybe get an adventure race in.

Happy New Year!

Bartram Trail Thru-Run

2010-11-14T11:03:00.000-08:00

Short Story: November 11th, 2010. I ran the 110 mile Bartram Trail in NC and GA straight through, starting at Cheoah Bald and finishing at Russell Bridge. My husband, parents, and friends Alan Buckner, Scott Brockmeier and Liz Bauer helped crew and pace me. The weather was great, the trail was beautiful and it was an incredible challenge. I ran with a cold and injured my IT band in the last 25 miles, but pushed through it and finished in 44:36. The profile map is from www.parkaymaps.110mb.com

Background
In 2003, I ran my first trail race, the Nantahala Outdoor Center Bartram Trail Challenge, a 21 mile run starting at the NOC put-in and climbing to the top of Wayah Bald. The race was held in January and featured crossing the Nantahala River in the first few miles. That was my first big challenge and it is altogether fitting that almost 8 years later, my newest greatest challenge was running the entire length of the beautiful, but difficult 110 mile Bartram Trail.
This year, as I began to focus less on racing and more on adventure runs, I began thinking about the Bartram. To my knowledge, no one had been able to successfully run it from end to end. I thought about a summer attempt, but after running a few sections in the high heat and humidity and discovering how overgrown some sections had become, I decided to wait. The Bartram Trail folks cleared several sections of blowdowns over the summer and I took a hand saw with me on runs and cleared out whatever else I could to make the attempt as easy as possible. I decided to try it in November, after the first frosts, but hopefully before snow and ice set in.
I ran sections I had not done before or did not remember clearly and decided to run from north to south, to get the worst part out of the way in the first half of the run. I feel like I trained well and prepared effectively. I ran a number of long semi-supported runs this year (105 at NMAR, 77 at Foothills, plus several races 40-90 miles). As I ran sections of the Bartram, I carried as much weight as I could get in my pack to help strengthen my climbs. My mom and dad agreed to help support me, along with Tony, and Alan was going to run it as well. A few days before the run, Scott Brockmeier and Liz Bauer, ultrarunners extraordinaire, offered to come help, too. The long range forecast looked great and everything looked like it was working out perfectly…until I got sick a week before. I still felt bad the night before the run and was on the edge of cancelling it, but everything had come together so nicely, I decided to give it a try.

Stecoah to the Put-In
Alan met me at my house at 4:30 a.m. and we drove to Stecoah Gap near Robbinsville to start the run. The Bartram Trail rather inconveniently begins/ends at Cheoah Bald, which is 5.1 miles from the nearest road. We decided that of the options available to getting to the start, we would take the Appalachian Trail from the north, for 5.5 miles. It was a long uphill climb, but we took it slow and easy. At 7:50 a.m., we topped out at Cheoah and then started down the exceptionally steep first leg of the Bartram, the 5.1 miles down to the Nantahala River. The leaves were treacherous the entire run, especially on these steep descents. The Bartram is not heavily used and a thick layer of loose leaves covered up rocks and roots and turned the trail into a slip and slide.

Put –In to Lakeshore Store

Mom and Dad helped crew for the first time and met us at the power plant. I was already feeling not all that great after only 10 or so miles. Alan and I left and began the climb up the mountain, where I told him to head on, as I was having issues. I sat down for a couple of minutes to allow him to get far enough ahead so the dust from the leaves wouldn’t aggravate my asthma and make me feel even worse. I was feeling light-headed, dizzy and lethargic. I trudged on uphill, and when I blew my nose, discovered I had a nosebleed, which has never happened during a run before. After getting that under control, I continued on, feeling miserable. At Appletree Campground, Mom and Dad were waiting along with Alan. I sat on the tailgate of the truck, deciding whether or not to head on. Dad reminded me that the trail would still be there and I could try again. After eating a cold hamburger, I felt a bit better and told Alan I would go to the Lakeshore Store, since it wasn’t a difficult section and then decide from there. On the way over, he and I decided we would end the run there and try again another day.

As we got closer to the store, Liz and Scott came running up. They had camped up near Wayah and had run down the mountain to find us, so I told Alan I would head on up at least to Sawmill Gap with them. Alan I think probably hated me at that moment, because he was feeling bad and planned to lay down in the back of dad’s truck, but instead we were going to do the most difficult section of the run, a nearly vertical climb from Nantahala Lake up to Sawmill Gap. Alan and I climbed slowly but steadily, with Liz and Scott following us up. A mile or so from the end, Alan’s projectile vomiting episode one occurred, right on cue (usually somewhere around 25 miles) and when we hit the gap, he decided to stop.

Wayah to Wallace Branch

Tony was there, along with mom and dad, and I decided to head up to Wayah, since Liz and Scott had come all this way and were camped up there. Once I hit Wayah, I decided that I might as well head down to Wallace Branch. Liz and Scott would meet me down there and run with me to mom’s house if I decided to go on. Alan was feeling better and went with me to Wallace Branch,
the first night section of the run.

This section was very difficult. It is very steep, with no switchbacks and was very deep in leaves. Despite the fact you are travelling down over 3000 feet, there are many extremely steep uphills in this section as well. It was beautiful, however, as you follow ridgelines and have an extraordinary view of the lights of Franklin on one side and of the valley where I live on the other. The sky was crystal clear and the stars rivaled the lights below. Unfortunately, Alan experienced PV#2, but recovered and we successfully made it down to Wallace Branch, where Tony, Liz and Scott were waiting. I decided to head at least to Mom’s house, about 5 miles down the road section . I had been concerned about running on the 14 mile road section, alone at night, but Liz ran with me with Scott following behind in the car. I enjoyed this section, as I have never spent time with Liz and running on the road was so much easier after what I had already done. The conversation made time go by fast and we were quickly at my parent’s house. I packed up my pack, changed clothes and we headed out again. Liz finished out the road section with me and then accompanied me up the mountain to Jones Gap.

Buckeye Branch to Hale Ridge
The climb to Jones Gap is the longest of the run. It is very narrow, rocky, leafy and steep. I was feeling bad as we climbed and midway through I decided that my virus had finally got the best of me and I would finish my run out at Hale Ridge Road, completing the North Carolina Bartram. Liz was very encouraging, but when we got to Jones Gap, I announced I was done, right then and there. I felt awful and didn’t want to face the next section, which featured the climb up Scaly and the roughest footing on the trail. Scott had been sleeping in his sleeping bag in his running clothes and was planning to run the next section with me. The sun was just starting to come up and I ate another cold hamburger. Scott didn’t seem to be really giving me the option to quit, so I told him I would run the next section with him (as if I were doing him a favor). He knew that the sun coming up would make all the difference, and of course he was right. The miracle hamburger worked, and off we went. Mom and Dad were meeting us at Osage Overlook, where I figured I would stop. Again, good conversation helped the time go by and distracted me from the climb up Scaly. We talked about Liz and Scott’s incredible 200 plus mile 48 hour race earlier this year, which made me feel a little bad about wanting to quit.
At Osage, I decided that since I was only 4 miles from the NC/GA line, I would go there and stop. I ate a donut that Mom brought and Tony showed up right before we left, which made me very happy. Scott would run to Hale Ridge with me, where everyone would meet us.

Hale Ridge to Warwoman
I had decided that Hale Ridge would be my stopping place, because after Hale Ridge, there is no crew access or dropping out for 18 miles. I had felt so bad earlier, that I knew I should have postponed my run. If I started out on the Georgia section and got sick again, that would be bad. However, Scott used logic on me and convinced me to continue on. He said that I was still moving strongly, the weather was great, and I had great support and those elements wouldn’t come together like that again. He and Liz would run with me and carry much of what I needed, so all I needed was my pack with water. Fine, I decided. They really need to see the view from Rabun Bald, so we would head that way.
The day was beautiful and although I wasn’t burning up the course, I was moving steadily. I made the climb up Rabun Bald and was glad that that was the last really long climb. Scott and Liz continued to distract me with conversation and our limited repertoire of jokes and time went by quickly. On the backside of Rabun Bald, however, the outer back side of my left knee began hurting. I continued on, but the downhills got more and more difficult. The day went on and around 4:30 or so, we came into a valley, where the sunlight was golden, illuminating a forest of beautiful fall leaves. The reds, oranges and yellows were so spectacular that I forgot my fatigue and pain for a bit.
As we got to Warwoman, however, the pain had become excruciating. I could go uphill and level fine, but downhills were undoable. I tried to gut it out and forced myself downhill, but it was like there was a knife in my knee. I hopped/slid/hobbled down to Warwoman and spent a bit of time crying on Tony’s shoulder. I had come so far and was only 18 miles from the end. I was moving good, feeling fine, but my knee wouldn’t work.

Warwoman to Russell Bridge (with one knee)
Liz and Scott gave Tony some tape and Alan had some Biofreeze. Tony taped my knee and I decided I would head out and see if that helped any. The first mile or so is uphill, which I could do, although I was now hobbling some on uphills and flats. The first downhill, I was able to sideways shuffle down, which was extremely slow, but I could make forward progress. I decided to try the six-mile section to Pool Branch Road. Liz and Scott stayed with me, although I was now mainly power-hiking, as running in any form was hurting my knee. The downhills had become almost undoable again and very, very slow and unfortunately, there is more downhill on this section than uphill. I decided though, that I would do everything I could to get to the end. Others will finish the Bartram much faster, but my Bartram Challenge will make everyone do the last 18 miles on one leg.
Tony met me about a half mile from Pool Branch and helped me down the steep narrow trail. I walked backwards, which did not hurt and he held my hands and guided me. After warming up and reloading my supplies, Liz, Scott and I took off to Sandy Ford, another 3 miles down the trail. The first part was a steep climb, and my knee was not hurting as badly. When it leveled out some, I was able to shuffle-run for the first time in hours. When we hit the downhill, I was able to use both legs, rather than dragging the left one. I wasn’t pain free, but it was not excruciating anymore. Walking backwards must have stretched or rearranged something in there.
At Sandy Ford, Tony decided to go with me. My knee was feeling better, but I was feeling bad again. I was cold and we had to cross a creek and then the lights were bothering me and making me nauseous. When we got to Earl’s Ford and into the truck, I was shivering uncontrollably, nauseous, and extremely fatigued. I had been running for over 40 hours and had a seven mile stretch left. I have never run longer than 37 hours or 105 miles and I wasn’t sure what my body was doing. Before I (or Tony) could think about it, I left. I stuck a couple things in my pocket and grabbed a water bottle. Alan was “running” this section with me and I took off before he had gotten his stuff together. We were along the river when he caught up to me and I told him I needed him to get me through this section and get me away from the river as quick as possible because I was so cold and still shivering despite having three shirts and a shell on. He took off up the hill and I followed.
I was so tired that I focused on bodily functions to get me through. First I focused on getting warm. I pushed hard uphill and did little shuffles to generate heat. Then, for awhile I focused on my nausea. I backed away from Alan some, so I could shine my lights farther and hopefully not continue to be motion sick. After that, I focused on my fatigue. Okay, so my fatigue focused on me. I yawned uncontrollably, and walked several steps at a time with my eyes closed. It got to the point, that I had to stop to yawn because I was afraid I would fall off the edge of trail. Then I focused on trying to keep my eyes open. I tried to look at the woods around me, but Alan would think I had stumbled off the trail when he saw my light shining in the woods, so then I began looking at the leaves in the trail and focusing on following the reflective markings on Alan’s back.
This section took forever. My knee still hurt, so there was no running, and it was getting pretty sore on the downhills again, so it was slow going. It felt like we were going in circles and I tried not to think about how much farther we had to go. When we hit the river again, I got very cold again and Alan gave me a space blanket, which improved my mood dramatically. I was warmer, knew we were getting closer (although not as close as I thought), and I felt like one of the old stove-top Jiffy Pop popcorn aluminum foil containers. (Hey, I had been awake for 48 hours at this point).
Finally, I saw Tony heading down the trail towards us and knew I was almost done. (He had walked out the trail and heard two mountain lions screaming and coyotes howling on the ridgeline between him and where we were. If I had heard it, I would have assumed I was hallucinating).
The finish was non-eventful. Liz and Scott had been sleeping while waiting and gave me a hug. Alan took a picture and we all climbed into vehicles, exhausted. I had run with a virus, a nosebleed, nausea, and an injured IT band to cover 110 miles of the Bartram in an excruciatingly slow 44: 36. I had been awake over 48 hours, moving for 47 of it, including the initial 5.5 miles to get to the Bartram. I’m going to leave the 24 hour plus runs to Liz and Scott and I’m going into groundhog mode for the winter. (Building up some body fat and doing a lot of sleeping).
In retrospect, postponing at least one day would have been smart. Still being sick made me weak which made some sections very slow, and I spent a lot of time at “aid stations” trying to rest and regroup. Pushing through the bad IT band was not a good idea, either. I had thought it would take around 40 hours and if I hadn’t had to do the last 20 miles at less than a 2 mph pace, it would have. However, unlike the Foothills Trail, I still love the Bartram and although I don’t feel the need to do another traverse, I will be back out soon running on it.

Foothills Trail Traverse

2010-10-01T10:54:00.000-07:00

Last month at Laurel Valley, as I was struggling up Whitewater Falls, Byron Backer mentioned the upcoming Foothills Traverse that Jason Sullivan and friends were doing. I had planned to go along with Jason’s group on their first attempt , but still recovering from NMAR, I reconsidered doing a 77 mile run in the foothills in July. Although my response to Byron was, “that would mean I would have to run this section again” which was sucking pretty bad at the time, I did start thinking about it.

In the end, I signed on with Jason’s group and began getting ready. I’m not sure what Jason does for a living, but if it does not involve planning and organization, he has missed his calling, because I think it was the best planned “fun run”that I have done.

To get to the point, I met Jason, Psyche, Charles, Scott and Byron at Table Rock State Park at 7pm Friday night. Byron had generously offered to help the crew the adventure and although I originally planned on starting earlier, I waited until 7 so I could take advantage of knowing Byron would be at some of the trailheads, since I was going to be running solo. This would be the first time I had done a night section solo and I was a little nervous about it. At 7:08pm, I shouldered my pack, carrying enough to support myself for the first 47 miles. If only I had packed more batteries.

The first part of the trail is a well-used route to the top of Pinnacle Mountain, an open rock face with a spectacular view. At least it was spectacular that night. The lights of the cities glowed in the valley below, while above, the full moon was rising out of the clouds. The lights below reminded me of the section of Hellgate, where I have looked down and imagined all the normal people in the world, home safe and comfortable in their beds. Everyone was together here and spent a few moments admiring the sight. I took off, wanting to get some miles down, but a half mile down the trail, I came within one stride of stepping on a copperhead crossing the trail. He curled up next to a log on the edge of the trail and had no intention of moving on. So, I waited a few minutes for the rest of the group to make sure they avoided him. After that, I quit running so fast downhill that I couldn’t see what was coming up in the trail. I ran for about a half hour with Scott, but then was alone for the rest of the trip.

That brings us to….

Rookie Mistake #1.

Not packing enough batteries. I’ve run enough at night to know better. I have no explanation for my actions. As uncomfortable as I was about running solo at night, I would have thought I would have carried several pounds of extra batteries. I was using different lights and a different system and what worked in the past did not work this time and I was unprepared.

First, I bought a new Black Diamond Spot and used the batteries that came with it. The package said it would run 50 hours, so I figured I would be good to go for 11 without any problem. I wore that as a headlamp. Then I borrowed a Spot to use as a handheld and knew that only two of the three batteries were fresh, but for some reason I did not replace them. Then I wore my Petzl on my chest strap to give some diffused light and kept it running all the time. I brought 4 spare lithium batteries. The system worked really well…for a while.

Four hours in, the handheld started to die, which did not surprise me. I replaced the batteries and took off. An hour in, the headlamp grew dim. So much for 50 hours and now I only had one extra battery. I turned it off to conserve whatever power it had left. When I did that, I noticed my Petzl’s indicator light was orange, warning me that it was low on power. So I turned it off, too. I had about seven hours to go and one light with fresh batteries. How long would it last? I had no clue, so I switched it to the dimmer mode. I figured I would use each light until they all died and then build a fire and wait until dawn. I couldn’t move too fast with a dim light, but it was better than wasting time by not moving at all. The full moon was not any help under the canopy of the trees.

In the middle of the night, as I approached a place where the trail intersects with an four-wheel drive road, I saw someone standing there hollering at me. Great, I thought, I’ve crashed a party. Hmmm…maybe they have batteries. But instead, after the man ascertained that I was not a homicidal maniac, I learned that a family had come out there at midnight, gotten a flat tire and was mad at 911 because a tow truck had not yet arrived. They believed they had been left for dead because it had been two hours and and before they decided they should keep me in case they started to starve to death, I made my escape. I figured they probably didn’t have any batteries.

I have seen many bears and even more wild hogs (who were much more aggressive) out on my runs and I didn’t feel the need to run silently through the night alone, hoping to have wildlife encounters. I turned on my external speaker on my Ipod, let my bear bell jingle some (not too much- way too annoying) and promptly scared away anything within a half mile, especially when I started singing along to “Crazy Train”. The system worked very effectively on a skunk, who I smelled long before I found him, running away from me with his tail straight up.

However, as a result of my light situation, I moved a lot slower than I intended and I made myself motion sick from using only one light. When the sun FINALLY came up, I was nauseous and walked the final three miles or so up to the top of Whitewater Falls. The heat and sun had really cranked up and the final climb to the car was pretty rough.

Byron was waiting there and he told me I still had a shot at 24 hours, that I would get feeling better and start running again. I did get to feeling better (ginger chews and spaghetti-o’s) , but I was already at least an hour behind of where I expected to be. I loaded up with enough supplies to last me to Oconee and was off again.

The next couple of sections were nice. I was moving fairly well and the trail was actually pretty nice and scenic. That brings us to ….

Rookie Mistake #2. Not studying the map and not having clear directions to the trailheads. Tony was going to meet me at Burrell’s Ford and walk out on the trail some and meet me. When I got to Burrell’s Ford, way ahead of when he expected me, the truck was there but Tony was not. I found Jason’s car and retrieved the best-ever ginger ale out of his cooler and tried to figure out what to do. I wanted some things out of the truck but it was locked and I was worried that Tony would not know that I had come through and would sit there waiting for me. As I stood there a while debating what to do, Tony came back. He wasn’t sure which direction I was coming from on the trail and was looking for me. I grabbed some things and took off, but I couldn’t tell him where the next trailhead was. He was just going to look for where it crossed 107.

The next section sucked and this is where I started to have a mental meltdown. I felt like I was moving pretty fast for as rough and rooty the trail was. I came across a mileage sign which indicated I was moving at faster than 3 miles an hours, faster than I thought I was, so as the trail improved, I know I was running faster. But I didn’t know how far it was to the next trailhead. After two and half hours, I was sure I would be there any minute. Every time the trail changed (moving away from the river, turning back toward the river, climbing a ridge, passing campsites), I was positive I was there, but the trail just kept going and I had one letdown after another. Then I found another sign that indicated I still had a long way to go to the trailhead and I was crushed. I thought I was making really good time, I was running hard, but I was going to end up running in the dark again. And would Tony find a trailhead? Would he worry because I was so late? I really wanted to sit down in the middle of the trail and cry. At that moment, I looked up the trail and there was Tony. He had hiked in about four miles to find me. It didn’t matter then how much farther it was and how much longer I had to go, I was just so glad to see him. We hiked out together to where he parked the truck, 4.6 miles from the finish.

Twenty-four hours was not going to happen, but if I could cover the 4.6 in about 70 minutes, I could finish under 27. I finished SCAR in 26 on a bad day and I would be darned if I was going to finish this in 27. I ran hard and once again got so frustrated that it was taking so long. I sprinted the last part, finally finding that sign that marked the end of my adventure, 26 hours 58 minutes later.

In my final analysis, SCAR was much tougher physically and the Foothills was tougher mentally. I will go back and do SCAR again. I have no further interest in the Foothills.

The mistakes I made that cost me the 24 hour mark were:

1. Not packing enough batteries to make good time at night and then making myself nauseous so I lost even more time.

2. Between the trailheads at Whitewater Falls, Sloan Bridge and Burrell Ford, I wasted well over an hour regrouping. At Whitewater Falls I was trying to get my nausea under control and once I knew 24 hours was not going to happen, I was a little more leisurely.

3. When I was not where I thought I was after Burrell’s Ford, I gave up mentally for a time. I didn’t care if I ate and I didn’t care if I ran out of water. I didn’t care if it was time to use my inhaler. I didn’t care if I finished in 24 hours or 48. Tony finding me gave me the mental push to finish.

I really appreciate all of Jason’s planning and help, Byron’s crewing and encouragement, my mom coming to help get my car back home, and Tony rescuing me once again. Both Scott and Psyche also successfully finished and I am looking forward to reading their stories. Now that I know I can run in the dark with very little light, I can tackle even bigger adventures.

Long Cane 50+++++ Miler

2010-09-13T11:23:00.000-07:00

“How long can a 50 miler take?” was Tony’s text message to me when he had not heard from me when he expected to. Unfortunately, today it was 12 hours and 32 minutes, MUCH slower than any of my Masochist times. How could that be? It turns out that Horton miles are nothing compared to Hayes miles.

Long Cane is the fourth race in Terri Hayes’ South Carolina Ultra series. Terri has bucked the trend of high priced races with tight cutoffs and time limits. She does not charge anything for her races, but accepts donations instead. You don’t get a t-shirt, but you do get a unique handmade finisher’s award. Her races are extremely well organized and have better aid than many races I have run. You don’t feel any pressure in her races and you know that no matter how long it takes you, Terri is not going to pull you off the course. In addition, Terri manages to find interesting places to run and I feel like I have been on a Tour de South Carolina this year.

I drove down the morning of the race to Parson’s Mountain Recreation Area south of Abbeville, South Carolina, about 2 hours and 45 minutes from home. I was glad I had TomTom, as the trip required a lot of turns in order to arrive right smack in the middle of nowhere. Okay, maybe not as far in the middle of nowhere as Woods Ferry, but pretty far out.

After checking in and picking up a race packet (you get free stuff despite not paying an entry fee), Terri explained the course. You would run the trails first in a figure 8 pattern and then run the outer loop back to the finish. It made sense when you saw the map. After the race briefing, Terri simply said “go” and off we went.

The trail is a meandering single-track multi-use trail (mountain bikes and horses), but is in good shape. Unlike Woods Ferry, the trail was generally non-technical and flat. Okay, it rolled some, but the hills were so short that I felt compelled to run them all for the first three hours. Soon I realized that that strategy would not work for me. I am not very speedy on flat terrain and I usually rely on steep descents to make up time that I lose on uphills. I have no clue how to run when everything is so runnable. I don’t know how to actually pace myself, since the mountains usually dictate what pace I go.

As the day wore on, I began taking walk breaks on the hills and taking it easy in the hot sun. The weather was great for the first three hours, very fall-like, but the temperatures climbed quickly once mid-day arrived. The humidity stayed low, but it was still hot. I was also having trouble with my asthma. I got to one aid station and found that I had almost lost my voice. The culprit was the dust. It was very dry and you could see the dust hanging in the air. Once I figured that out, I tried to stay away from other runners and my breathing improved some.

Howver, about halfway through I became very concerned about my time. At aid station 5, they said it was four miles or so to the next aid station, the turn around point. I didn’t pay too much attention to the time, but it looked like I was running twenty minute miles on a section where I didn’t take too many walk breaks. It turns out that there were a couple of extra Hayes miles on that section, and when the race was over, runners’ GPS’s read that it was a 57 mile course. It was not Terri’s fault that it was so much longer, she was simply going off what the Forest Service map said the distance was. A lot of runners opted to stop at the thirty mile mark rather than continuing on. Thirty-two of the original 62 runners finished the 55 mile (as Terri is calling it) and others finished at distances ranging from 50K to 50 mile.

As I realized how long it was taking me, I began to get a bit frustrated with myself. Luckily, towards the end of the race, I ended up running with other people who took my mind off the time of day. I ran a section with Andrew, who was battling an IT band injury, and another with Orran, who had missed a turn and was going to end up short of 50 miles. One gentleman had lost toenails and was bandaging them up at an aid station when I came through. A few minutes later, he came sprinting past me, hollering like a banshee.

Although it made me feel a bit better about my slow time, I realize that I either need to stick to the mountains or figure out a way to train on flat ground. I jokingly complained to Terri about her flat course, but judging from how sore my legs are two days later, I apparently got an excellent workout using my muscles in a way they aren’t used to.

Despite my dislike of flat, hot places, I will go to more of Terri’s races because she does such a nice job of directing these runs. Hopefully she will continue to get enough donations to continue to do this.

Laurel Valley #7: It’s the Humidity

2010-08-19T09:06:00.000-07:00

At the finish of Laurel Valley this year, I told John Teed I still curse him on occasion. In 2003, I got an email from him about ultrarunning. I did not know John and he did not know me, nor did I know anything about ultrarunning. After discovering that email wires had gotten crossed, we began a conversation that led to me running ultras, specifically Claude Sinclair’s ultras. That year I ran three of Claude’s runs, Crowder’s Mountain, the Double Shut-In and Laurel Valley before tackling the Masochist and Hellgate. So, when I am having a particularly bad time, which usually occurs at some point during Laurel Valley, once in awhile I remember who got me into this mess.

After I ran Laurel Valley that first year I have only missed one, due to an injury. It’s not because I love Laurel Valley, in fact I actually dislike it, but there is something special about the run and I know I would regret opting not to run it. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s in the foothills, rather than high elevation. Yellow jackets try to sting you. There are a lot of annoying stairs. The course seems to blur together in my mind so I always think I am a lot closer to the finish than I really am. And then there’s the final climb as you try to crawl your way through the clean-smelling tourists who look at you strangely, as if the climb from the bottom of the waterfall can’t be all that bad. Despite all that, I keep coming back.

This year’s run was pretty uneventful for me. It was extremely humid and I had a tough time about 3 hours in. My clothes were soaking wet and I felt very tired and a little nauseous, but about 4 hours into the run, it started raining and my run and my attitude improved significantly. I did not get stung by yellow jackets this year, I did not pull a hamstring, I finished faster than the last two years (although way off my PR) and I got to see a lot of old and new friends, so all in all, it was a good run.

Course Description:

Laurel Valley covers 35 miles of the Foothills Trail. First the first few years I ran it, the distance was disputed and Claude even had his sweeps try to measure the course with a wheel, but the counter fell off somewhere along the way. Now we know it is 35 miles, but it always feels a lot farther.

The race starts in the dark in the Laurel Valley parking area, near Rocky Bottom, SC. Claude starts the race by firing an antique firearm and off you go. You start up some steep steps and then run on some tight, rooty single-track, rolling mainly uphill, for the first 30 minutes. Then the sun comes up and the trail opens up and for the next couple of hours, the trail is nicely runnable, alternating from single-track to double-track, running along a stream and past waterfalls, before you start some climbs. The lake comes into view and then a particularly tough section starts, consisting of a series of very steep stairs. I think it is 5 climbs before you hit the downhill, which is also a lot of steep and precarious stairs. For some reason, I always fill up my water before this section so I have the added pleasure of carrying a lot of extra weight. You run along the lakeshore briefly, before heading across a long swinging bridge and some more steps.

The next section gets pretty monotonous. It is an old forest road that rolls and twists and turns and everything looks the same. There is a long, steep climb near the beginning of this section, but the run starts to get fairly blurry at this point. There are a couple more bridge crossings and a nice section where you leave the old road for awhile and run along a stream on single-track. About two hours from the finish, there is another set of 51 steep stairs to climb, which I always use as an indicator of where I am. Then you are back to more double-track, more steep climbs, interspersed with some sections of single track. About an hour from the end, there are some signs for camping areas, etc., (ignore the mileage signs) and you head down to the river, parallel it for awhile, and then try to get across it safely by climbing up and down some boulders. The last part consists of a very steep climb with a lot of stairs from the bottom of Whitewater Falls to the parking area at the top.

The race is totally self-supported with no opportunities to drop out along the way. Claude’s races are pretty low key, but he always has the runners’ safety as his priority. He has a well-organized system of sweeps to make sure no one is left out on the course and only veterans are permitted to run it. (First-timers can sweep). Although there is no aid along the way, there is plenty to eat and drink at the finish along with a nice t-shirt.

NMAR 2010

2010-07-21T09:06:00.000-07:00

The A.D.D. Version:

105+ miles on the Appalachian Trail

19,000+/- of elevation gain

36:08 hours

1 wonderful husband

3 great friends

1 former student

3 wild hogs

1 set of BIG bear prints

1 creepy old guy with a gun

Who knows how many GUs and Chomps

4 monster blisters

2 days of good air quality

3 face plants

1 injured ankle

1 brief cry on Tony’s shoulder because I was just so darn tired

0 Hallucinations : (

6 episodes of What You Missed in History Class

1 prayer answered

1 monkey off back

The Nantahala Mountains Adventure Run is a Denise Davis creation, filling a void in my running calendar. The course description is in the previous post, but, briefly, it is an out and back on the Appalachain Trail, from the Nantahala River to Deep Gap in Standing Indian and back. The run was semi-supported with some aid along the way, but I was mainly responsible for finding water and carrying enough supplies to last me up to twelve hours. Just a fun weekend adventure!

The Long Version

“I can’t do the 100 in two weeks,” I told Tony after a training run. I had gone to run the AT from the Nantahala Outdoor Center 11.5 miles mainly straight up to Cold Springs shelter and back. The temperatures had been in the nineties that week and along with the heat came bad air quality warnings. After eight miles, the rest of the run became a struggle. If I could barely make it 23 miles, half of it downhill, I knew that a full 100 was out of the question. But lo and behold, a front came through the day before the run, delivering some rain and clearing out the bad air. The run would go on.

I started solo at the Nantahla OC at 6:20 Saturday morning, carrying six hours of supplies, and began the long climb. With the better air quality, I was able to make faster time than expected, despite intentionally going slow. I wasn’t concerned about how fast I finished, I just wanted to finish. After enjoying the view at the Jump Up, I continued on, refilling water at Wesser spring and Burningtown Gap. Shortly after Burningtown Gap, Sarah Lowell called to find out where I was. She and Katharine Brown had just returned from the trip out to Western States and wanted to join in on the adventure. They decided that they would take turns running some sections with me, so they met me at Wayah Bald and Sarah kept me company down to Wayah Gap. We talked about her WS adventures and our future running plans. I told her that the last 100 I finished was Grindstone in October 2008 and mentally, I really needed to have a good run. At Wayah Gap, Tony was waiting for me and I refilled supplies and headed up to Siler’s Bald. I was able to start carrying a little less until nightfall as access points to the AT would become more frequent.

A couple miles from Winding Stair Gap, both Sarah and Katherine met me on the trail, and Tony met me once more before heading over to Nantahala to fish and get some food. Katharine, a strong uphiller, joined me for the trek up to Albert Mountain, and we enjoyed all the colorful fungi on that section and noted how much wild hogs had torn up the ground in one area. Sarah met us a couple miles from Albert and after tagging the survey marker up top and enjoying the clear view, we continued down to Mooney Gap. Tony was there, along with Alan Buckner and his son, and Katharine. I took some time here, changing clothes, eating, and getting ready for the upcoming dark. Alan was joining me here to start the NMAR 100K and off we went to the turnaround point at Deep Gap. My feet started bothering me some on this section and I stopped a couple of times to relace my shoes. Dark set in on the long climb up Standing Indian, and shortly after, we were serenaded by a pack of coyotes barking and howling down in the valley.

Shortly after 10 pm, we arrived at Deep Gap, where Tony was waiting. We had decided that he would drop a cooler with supplies at Rock Gap and go home and sleep. So we loaded up with around 12 hours of supplies, in case something happened to the cooler, and headed back up Standing Indian. I stopped to doctor my feet and discovered I had developed blisters on the balls of my feet and the sides of my heels. I usually don’t blister, so I am not sure what I did differently. The trail was certainly rocky and rooty, and I think I may have left my laces too loose early on. The blisters slowed my pace, as I negotiated the rough trail. Once we got back to Mooney Gap, we opted to add about 1.5 miles by taking the gravel road to Albert Mountain, rather than the trail, to give my feet a break and avoid some dangerous sections in the dark. Back on the trail, my energy was good, but my feet slowed my progress. We made it to Rock Gap shortly before six, as the sky was starting to lighten up. We located the cooler intact, but also an armed strange person from Georgia who thought we were looking inside his minivan, several feet away from where we were sitting, repacking our packs. After getting tired of dealing with “John,” who had been sleeping in his vehicle, who was from “lots of places” and who “didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday,” we opted to take the paved road up to Wallace Gap, avoiding a short but rocky section of trail. (On a serious note, at the first Nantahala Fria, Sarah got behind a slow moving minivan, which most likely contained the killer of two hikers in Brevard and one in Georgia. Shortly after NF, the body of one of the Brevard hikers was found a half mile from the entrance of Standing Indian. ) I texted Sarah, to see if she was awake and would want to bring us some food (and to warn her to watch out for the weirdo) and she agreed to meet us at Winding Stair Gap. After a steep climb, we came back through the area where the wild hogs were still active, and there they were, plowing up the ground. We all startled each other, but Alan and I stuck to the trail, whereas the hogs bolted down the side of the mountain.

The next section was the climb up Siler’s Bald, which I can usually run in under an hour. I’m not sure how long it took, but it was very slow. My feet hurt badly, so we decided that we would add some distance once we got to Wayah Gap by taking the road rather than the rocky trail. It would also make it easier for Tony to find us, which he did shortly after we started up the road. I changed shoes and socks, ate an ice cream bar and part of a sandwich and then Alan and I headed down Wayah Bald and over to Tellico Gap. This was the worst time. I pulled something in my left ankle area, which really hurt on the downhills and in conjunction with the blisters (which were huge by this point), my pace was slowed to a crawl. I don’t remember the steep climb to Cold Springs being so long or bad, but it was. Tony ran out the trail to meet us on the other side and seeing him always lifts my spirits. It was getting hotter, I was fatigued and barely shuffling, but I only had one more section to go.

The climb to Wesser Tower was horrible and it took me twice as long as usual to make it. (Listening to podcasts of What I Missed in History Class distracted me some, but now I will always associate Wesser Tower with the Janissaries). From here it was pretty much downhill for six miles, but it was a lot steeper, rockier and rootier than I remembered on the way up. It took me longer to go downhill than it had on the uphill. About three miles out, I had a nice pick-me-up, when Daniel Hamilton, a former student who did a couple adventure races with me, ran out to meet me. I hadn’t seen him in awhile so it was a nice distraction to catch up with him and think less about the pain. Sarah met us a couple miles out, and as we neared the end, I could hear Katharine whooping and hollering. At the finish, they had strung out a finish line tape, had balloons on a walking stick (to help me get to the car), a card and a little goody bag they had put together.

36:08, 105+ miles. A personal best as far as distance goes. Alan finished the 100K in…I'm not sure! Sarah is interested in doing a ½ NMAR sometime soon, although I will try to talk her into the full thing. It will be fun to crew rather than run! (Tony laughed sarcastically at that, since I have never crewed, and apparently it sucks). Anyway, I actually wouldn't mind to do it again (although not this weekend...or this month...). If anyone else is interested and wants some help, let me know and I would be glad to assist you. You're on your own with weird guys and wild hogs, though.

Nantahala Mountains Adventure Run

2010-06-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

What: A self-supported 100 mile adventure run traversing the Nantahala Mountains. It will be a 50 mile out and back on the Appalachian Trail with a VERY rough approximation of 18,000 feet in elevation gain.

Where: Start on the Appalachian Trail at the Nantahala Outdoor Center and head south to Deep Gap in Standing Indian and then back.

When: I plan to start Saturday July 10th 6am and to finish sometime Sunday July 11th, hopefully by 6pm. Alan Buckner is running the last 50 with me, starting at Deep Gap.

How: This is a self-supported unofficial 100 mile adventure run. The only aid/crew/rescue that will be available will be what you provide for yourself.

Options: 50 mile run, either having someone pick you up at either end or doing a key swap with someone who wants to go the opposite direction. Or you could run to Winding Stairs and back.

Rough Course description:

Mile 0: leave NOC, start long steep climb to the top of Tellico Bald (approximately 10 miles of climbing)
Mile 8: forest road crossing at Tellico Gap
Mile 10: reach Tellico Bald, short side trail to view, start downhill
Mile 14: Burningtown Gap (trivia: I live near the bottom to the left). Trail is fairly rolling until a steep climb to Wayah Bald
Mile : reach Wayah Bald, observation tower closed, but view still great. Road access. Start rocky section of trail, rolling and then downhill
Mile : road crossing
Mile : road crossing at Wayah Gap. Start climb up Siler’s Bald
Mile 23: reach Siler’s Bald. Steep climb to the right to the top, great view. Start downhill to Winding Stairs Gap
Mile 27: road crossing at Winding Stairs Gap (trivia: my xc team does the Silers Bald challenge yearly. If they make it from here to Siler’s Bald in under an hour, they get a t-shirt) Start uphill, then downhill, including steep rocky section.
Mile 30: road crossing at Wallace Gap, trail rolling
Mile 31: road access at Rock gap shelter, start long climb to Albert Mountain ( with short downhill section in the middle).
Mile 37: Albert Mountain Fire tower. Side trail to the right head to parking lot. Start exceptionally steep, rocky descent.
Mile: Road crossing at Mooney Gap. Next several miles are fairly rolling.
Mile 43: Carter Gap shelter

Mile : Beech Gap, start climb up Standing Indian.
Mile : Standing Indian, side trail to left to view. Start descent.
Mile 51: reach Deep gap

On the way back, for safety reasons, the course will avoid Albert Mountain and the rocky approach to Wayah Bald. The run will still be 100+ miles.

Albert Mountain by-pass: At Mooney Gap, turn left on the gravel road. Bear right at the intersection to climb to Albert Mountain. At the parking lot, take the trail to the right. There is another short side trail about 1/4 mile to the left that takes you to the AT. Turn left on the AT. (If you miss this last turn, the trail still intersects with the AT).

Wayah Bald approach bypass: After crossing Wayah Gap, you will interesect with a gravel forest road in about a mile. Turn right and this takes you to the tower. Find the trail behind the tower.

Black Mountain Monster 24 hour: It is what it is

2010-06-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, instead of traveling to Old Dominion, I stayed close to home and ran the Black Mountain Monster 24 hour race, the successor of the Run For Africa and Blue Planet races. I was bummed at missing OD, as it is a special race for me. When I first met Tony, he lived in Woodstock and we worked the Mudhole Gap aid station. Running OD is like going to a reunion, seeing a lot of old friends and familiar faces.

I rode to the BMM with Sarah Lowell (training for WS) and Katharine Brown (pacing at WS). After I hauled all my gear, tent, etc., down steep stairs to the field, I found a lot of familiar faces here as well. This included Brian Bedhun, who had made a pact with me in the wee hours of Blue Planet that we wouldn't run around in silly circles again. Here we are, running around in silly circles.

The race started at 10 a.m. and it was already hot and humid. The high would reach 86 degrees and the humidity did not abate through the night. I'm not sure how many started, but the numbers were lower than the previous races, especially among the relay runners. As the day and the heat wore on, many runners cut their race short and at times, I felt like there were only a couple of other people on the course.

Course Description

The course was 100m short of 3 miles. I never got bored on this course, as every quarter mile or so, it changed. Double track to single track, grass to dirt to gravel to wood chips to pavement, fields to woods, etc. It was fairly flat for the mountains, just some rolling hills. The longest uphill was not much more than 100 yards long. There were lots of twists and turns and if you didn't pay attention, you were on the wrong part of the course.

My Race

After putting in a lot of training this spring, I felt like I could hit 100 plus miles. I was worried about the flatness, though, as I do much better on steep terrain and do not have a lot of flat areas to train on.

As always, lap 1 was a little fast, but I adjusted and decided where I would take walk breaks. After a couple of laps, I was able to run at a steady, consistent pace for the rest of the day. For the sake of full disclosure, though, I think I missed a turn as one lap was two minutes faster and I don't remember running through "Poison Ivy Patch." But I often zone out, so I'm still not sure. Anyway, I felt good all day, despite running in the the oven and I was pleased that I could put out even splits.

Then after 11 hours in, I began to have stomach issues. I tried adjusting my pace, what I was eating and drinking, but it never passed. Tony came to run the 12 hour night shift race and I did do 5 or 6 laps with him, but ended up walking the last two. Finally I stopped. Nothing I did seemed to work, and in the back of my mind was Blue Planet, where I pushed through nausea until at the end I couldn't walk to the bathroom. I have had stomach issues up until about two years ago when I figured out that the culprit was too much caffiene and sugar. With the exception of Blue Planet, though, the issues were usually post-race and did not interfere with my run. So I don't know what happened. I was having fun. I wasn't bored, I had plenty of energy and I was ahead in laps and on track for 100. I have thought about it and analyzed it for a couple days, but I finally just decided, it is what it is.

I came looking for the 100, but ended up with 72. It was enjoyable and I got to talk to a lot of people I have not seen in awhile. I got in a good 72 mile training run. Training for what, though?
Who knows, but I definately want to do more adventure runs this summer.

I would recommend this race. It is the first 24 hour I did not get bored at, and the race director and volunteers were all friendly and helpful and open to suggestions. Apparently I was not the only one who missed a turn, as the race director quickly ran out and put up some additional signage and markers early in the race. It was well marked at nighttime and they repainted some of the arrows that had been worn away during the day. There was aid halfway through the loops (water, Gatorade and fruit), as well as at the start/finish and porta-potties at both places. It wasn't the typical mega-choice ultra spread, but everyone had brought their own stuff anyway and pizza was delivered early in the evening.

I left at 4 a.m. and do not know the results, but was impressed with Annette Bednosky's 60 plus miles in the 12 hour and especially Anne Lundblad's 40 plus miles, which she walked in the 12 hours after having back surgery a few weeks ago. http://www.raceforawesomeness.com/?p=60

Woods Ferry 24 hour run: The Unexpected

2010-04-19T15:26:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, I ran the inaugural Woods Ferry 24 hour run outside (way outside) Chester, SC. This is one of Terri Hayes’ races and one in which she was celebrating by running her age in 24 hours. This race, for me, was primarily an opportunity to raise some money for The Butterfly Fund (see earlier post) but to also banish some ultra demons that have been hanging around with me for awhile. I had not finished a 100 or a 24 hour race since Grindstone, almost a year and a half ago.

Course Description
The course was a ten mile loop, basically a figure 8 on a stick. The trails (like in northern Virginia) are named for colors and the sequence was purple, blue, yellow, blue, purple. That was a bit confusing, but once you did a loop, it was not difficult.
Most of the course was single track, with some double track, and about a mile of gravel road that you could opt for that paralleled a section which ran through a power line cut. The trail was pretty rough, with lots of roots, a few rocks, and a lot of hoof prints which had hardened in the mud. (The trails are used as horse trails). The terrain was very hilly, with very few flat areas. The climbs and descents were not long, but they were frequent. There were around four pretty steep climbs, but they were short, in comparison to mountain runs.
The day started off warm. Sections of the area had been burned, and some areas were exposed with no shade. There was a breeze blowing in some areas, but by midday, it was very hot. By mid-afternoon, though, there was some cloud cover, and it got pretty chilly at night.
The terrain and the heat made it a pretty slow course. My earlier prediction that there would be several 100 mile finishers would not hold up.

My run
It was another good day. I was very relaxed, and knew that for every mile I covered, I was making $8.20 for The Butterfly Fund. It was nice to see a lot of familiar faces and I enjoyed talking to different people on the first couple of loops. After that, everyone spread out and I spent the next several loops solo.
My energy level stayed pretty steady and whenever my stomach started to have issues, I just slowed down for a little while. I avoided a lot of sugar and caffeine and that seemed to do the trick. After the first loop, I settled into a pattern of what hills I would walk and I didn’t deviate from the pattern the whole race. I slowed down a little each loop, but remained between 2:00 and 2:30 all day, until my last couple of loops, when I was pretty tired and had already realized that nine loops would be the most I could get in under the time limit.
After the first two loops, I was having some issues with breathing, and I think it was because I was running with people and inhaling a lot of dust. After that, it was fine, despite the high pollen.
For the first time, I ran farther than 50 trail miles in my lightweight road shoes (Brooks Ravennas). After a couple of loops, my toes started to hurt some from the downhills, but I guess they got used to it and didn’t cause any more problems. I had figured I would need to change out of the shoes early on and switch to beefier trail shoes, but all I did was readjust the lacing at one point. After 90 miles, I have no blisters or sore spots.
The high point of my run was when Tony arrived at mile 70 and ran with me. He hasn’t run much in the past four years because of knee and other issues, but he has started to run a little in the past month. He has probably logged about 20 miles in a month, but still ran 20 with me this weekend. On more than one occasion, I would watch his light slowly disappear up a hill, before he realized he left me far behind.
I used 5 hour energy, gels and chomps, and ate “real” food at the aid stations. I ate a half a chicken sandwich a couple of times and cream cheese crackers went down really well (although are hard to eat and run). Powerade didn’t work for me, and the Heed tasted like I imagine a cactus to taste like.

My review
I had a great time. Terri Hayes made it a very low-key, relaxed event. Families came and hung out and even ran some loops with their runners. With the campground right next door, some people went and took naps and then came back to run more. Some events are rather tense with strict rules about what you can or can’t do, but this was more like a fun run atmosphere. The aid station workers were all extremely helpful, including the cross country team that manned the outlying aid station. Although I dislike running in circles, the ten mile loop was not bad, and the figure 8 format, with the different trails linked together, kept it from getting too monotonous. You had the opportunity to see different people at different parts of their run, and it was nice to see the race director out there getting her birthday miles in in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t change anything about the race, but I would recommend making sure you have everything you need before you head there. I think the closest pizza place was over an hour away.

What was unexpected
1. The location. I didn’t know that there were areas in South Carolina so far removed from “civilization.”
2. The race entry fee. There was none.
3. The aid stations at a race with no entry fee. Great stuff. Pizza, soup, brownies, lots of Hammer gels and bars, potatoes, crackers, fruit, soda…
4. The terrain. South Carolina. Once you get out of the upstate foothills, it’s flat, right? Nope.
5. The difficulty. It’s a 24 hour run. Ten mile loops. If it all goes good, I should be able to get 100 miles in. It all went good. I barely got 90 in.
6. Doing more miles than anyone else and winning the race, on top of raising $739 for charity. Who would have thought it?

The $820 Run

2010-04-10T08:02:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, Stephanie, one of my cross country runners was diagnosed suddenly and unexpectedly with cancer. The team and I organized fundraisers, as did the school and community, but it took two or three weeks to get everything going. In the meantime, the family was getting hit hard with expenses; just one of her prescriptions cost $700. Other students in our school system had also been hit with tragedies and on my long runs, I began thinking that we ought to set up a fund in our school system that would give immediate aid to students in such situations. I kept thinking about it and didn’t do anything until last year (when I was prodded by butterflies…another story). I asked my colleagues what they thought about it and as result The Butterfly Fund was born. (Stephanie won her battle, by the way, and within a year came out and finished a 5K).
This year the Fund has given out two $500 disbursements. The first went to two elementary school sisters who, in the same month, lost both their home to a flood and their father to a stroke. The second went to three siblings who had already lost their father, and then just lost their mother, Marna Peck, a teacher at my school, to cancer.
The Butterfly Fund has been funded almost exclusively by the teachers and staff of our school district. The goal was to have $1500 in the fund and give out $500 disbursements when necessary. Obviously the Fund has been depleted this year and teachers and staff have been trying to bring it back up. Sarah Lowell raised some donations from her Nantahala Fria race and other teachers give what they can when we pass the hat, but we still needed a little more money.
So, I presented the idea to my faculty that I would run a 24 hour race and asked if they would sponsor me for each mile I ran. (They know that I have run 100 miles in under 24 in the past, so I wasn’t trying to slip something by them). I was hoping to get just a couple hundred dollars, max, because everyone had already emptied their pockets to help Marna’s family. To my surprise, when I totaled up the pledges, if I can cover 100 miles, the faculty will donate $820.
At Wood’s Ferry, then, next Saturday, I hope to plug along strong and steady enough to collect that $820 and refill the coffers of the Butterfly Fund. And then hope we never have to use it again.

Sweet H2O 50K

2010-04-05T13:55:00.000-07:00

This year, I have been looking for races that were closer to home that wouldn’t require an overnight stay. In years past, I have not really looked at Georgia and South Carolina races because, well, it’s flatter and hotter... isn’t it? But I took a look at the Sweet H20 50K in Lithia Springs, Georgia and was pleased to find that it was just on the other side of Atlanta, under three hours away. So at 3:30 a.m. Saturday morning, Alan and I left Tony sleeping and resting up for the first day of trout season and headed south.

Atlanta traffic on Saturday morning was light and we arrived at Sweetwater State Park in plenty of time to pick up the cool tech t-shirt and a number, get ready and head to the start line. I was pretty relaxed, as this was really a training run for the 24 hour run in a couple of weeks.

Lithia Springs was one of the areas Sherman visited and to connect the race to the area’s history, the starting gun was actually a cannon fired by a group of Confederate reenactors. The large crowd recovered from the shock and headed down a paved road out the park’s entrance and onto a highway. We passed by a couple of lakes (where the fishermen were asked dozens of times, “Have you caught anything, yet?) and finally onto the trail.

The couple mile paved run did allow everyone to spread out a little so there was not a big traffic jam as the crowd hit the single track. The trail was nice and rolling, padded with pine needles and running was easy, until the rappel down the sides of the spillway. Okay, it wasn’t really a rappel, but you did have to lower yourself down a rope down the concrete side of a spillway, run across the shallow water, and pull yourself back up the other side. Then it was back to the nice, soft, rolly stuff, interrupted by a couple of short, steep rocky and rooty descents.

The trail then followed the river, which had some serious flooding earlier and there was a lot of loose sand and debris in places. There were a lot of very rocky and rooty areas, some hills, but it was all runnable. The course finally veered away from the river on a flat, runnable trail. (I almost gained twenty places here as a crowd has missed a turn-off and was back-tracking to get on the correct route.)

After a run through a grassy area punctuated with very short, very steep drops to little creeks and back up, the difficult part starts. After a steep climb up a gravel road, you are treated to a view of hill after hill with little tiny people going up each one. If you are from the mountains, picture the power line cuts minus the power lines. It is clear-cut with a rocky clay trail that follows the very steep hills and very steep descents. It is as steep as anything I have run, but thankfully, much shorter. The longest ascent probably only took five minutes or so, but it was in the full sun and the repeated climbs wore you down.

Finally, you reached the top, ran through a pleasant area with shade and a breeze, crossing over “the top of the world”, which afforded a nice view of the Atlanta skyline to the next aid station. This area included a mile of out and back so you had an opportunity to see some of the people ahead of and behind you.

Then it was back to an area where there actually were powerlines with a couple of steep hills, and then down to river again, up a trail to the next aid station and back to the start/finish area on mainly single-track with a little gravel road mixed in. You then repeated that 15 mile loop, with the exception of a detour across the river and back. The race crew had long ropes stretched across the river, probably a hundred yards or so wide. This was an area of some almost waist-deep, cold whitewater, and you pulled yourself across the river, to where a rescuer was waiting on the other side. Then it was up another hill, and back down, and once more across the river.

The powerline cuts were even more fun the second time around, as you are around mile 25 or so. Once more, over the “top of the world” and back, down to the river and eventually finishing at somewhere over 33 miles, I was told. A barbeque dinner was waiting, along with a large group of people cheering the runners on.

This was one of those rare races where everything went right for me, except for leaving my water bottle at home. Despite the heat, my electrolytes stayed in balance and I remained hydrated (thanks to my high-tech Sam's Purified Drinking Water bottle). I used gels the whole time with the exception of some oranges, bananas and pretzels at aid stations. I had no stomach distress, either during or after the race, my asthma gave me no problems, and my energy level remained high. I probably passed 15-20 people on the powerline cuts on the last loop. Even though all the snow running didn’t help my speed this winter, it certainly made me stronger. I wore my Brooks Ravennas (road shoes) which happily worked very well on the rough and rocky terrain. Despite all that, I still felt like I was moving pretty slow, but steadily. I was happy with a 7:03 for a 33 or 34 miler and I was surprised to find that I had finished 51 out of 155 finishers, 9th in the women, and first in my age group. Not too bad for a training run!

The race well very well organized, all the aid stations had lots of goodies, everyone was friendly and helpful, and you ended up with a nice tech shirt and a tech hat. It was a challenging course, hot, yes, but not flat!

And Tony caught a 4-pounder, along with several other trout. A good day all around.

Not the Official Crowder's 50K

2010-04-02T14:38:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I ran the “unofficial” Crowder’s Mountain 50K. Aaron Ligon had organized a F.A. style run since this year the official race was on hiatus. Around 20 people showed up to run various distances, although most opted for the 50K.

It was a beautiful day, although pretty hot considering I had still been running in snow the week leading up to Crowder’s Mountain. The run started at the Linwood parking area, as the original race had done and followed the forest service up towards the top of Crowder’s Mountain. But instead of heading down the stairs, this route took a fun, rocky trail down the mountain and towards the park office and visitor center.

After leaving the park office, where Aaron and friends had left a cooler full of goodies, you followed the Ridgeline trail out to the 16 mile point at Kings Mountain and reversed course. The route included some steep climbs and descents with rocky terrain along with some rolling trail with a nice runnable surface. There were views along the way and a nice climb to the top of Kings Pinnacle. All in all, a very nice trail to run with rocky terrain that you wouldn’t expect right outside Charlotte. And as an added bonus, the route back included the long stair climb from the original course.

I finished pretty slow, 7:10, but I wasn’t in a big hurry and I enjoyed the run. Aaron and his friends did a nice job of organizing the run and providing better “aid station” fare than most regular races.

Fria'ing my Butt Off.....Nantahala Fria Run Report

2010-03-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

Three years ago, Sarah Lowell called me and asked me if I wanted to go run around in the mountains in the cold and snow for 100 miles or so. For some reason I agreed (although it would be nice to have a friend who calls and asks me if I want to head to the Bahamas or something) and thus the very informal Nantahala Fria Running Festival was born. Just a few local runners have participated, but this year, Sarah decided to invite more people to enjoy our “backyard,” the Southern Nantahala Mountains. By the day of the run, however, over ¾ of the runners who wanted to come cancelled (wisely) due to the weather and course conditions. Sarah had already altered the course away from the more remote and technical areas, but runners would still be dealing with 4” to 3 feet of snow along the way.

Only two of us planned to do the 100 and we each started at different times on Friday. The other runners would run on Saturday. I waited until the early afternoon to start because it was in the 30s with high winds and the winds were SUPPOSED to die down by 3pm or so.

Loop #1 was nice. It was cold, but not horrible and I got pretty warm on the initial 5 mile climb. The first section of trail was very snowy, 6-8” on average, but runnable. Once I intersected with the AT, there were actually a few bare spots in the trail, but soon it was back to all snow and ice. The problem with the snow this year is that the temperatures have been near or below freezing for a good part of the winter up there and it is actually ice that just looks like snow. Once I hit the couple of miles of AT that run along the ridgeline (at 5,000’), it was very difficult to run or even walk on the trail. Many hikers had sunk 6” or so into the foot of snow and their footprints had frozen solid. I couldn’t find a flat place to step, my ankles rolled constantly and I was frequently knocked off balance. It was worse than the worst sections of the Massanutten.

Once I got off the AT, it was all closed forest service road back to the start. But the first couple of miles were still all high elevation, exposed to wind, with deep snow (this is where the 3” drifts were). It was very slow going until the road dropped in elevation and the wind died down.

As I said, Loop #1 was nice. Alan Buckner came to run with me on Loop #2, since that started the night portion. Loop #2 was not too bad, but the high elevation section was getting downright cold. By the time we got back to start Loop #3, it was 24 degrees at the lowest elevation. As we headed up in elevation, I put on another shell (I already had 3 shirts and a shell on) and was toasty…for about 15 minutes. After I won the bet with Alan for correctly predicting at what point he would start projectile vomiting (always about 20 miles into a run), it got VERY cold. It was easily in the lower teens or single digits up top. And the wind was literally roaring at this point. On the road sections, as we tried to pick our way through the deep snow, the wind was knocking us around. The water in my water bottle first turned to slush, then ice. We couldn’t get the lid off until I put it under my jacket for a couple of miles. Then when we did get it off, I had to use a rock to chip away the solid sheet of ice that was in the lid, blocking the valve. And after already being cold and then putting a bottle of ice up against me, I couldn’t get warm. As the road dropped in elevation, it did not warm up like in previous loops and the wind continued to roar.

When we got back to the start/finish area, Alan decided he didn’t have the energy to go another round. I felt fine, but was very cold. Then I had one of those moments that my husband is proud of me for having (because they don’t come often). I actually used common sense. The run had become way too dangerous with the weather and the snow. There were no aid stations to get help at and only one other runner out on the course. Help would be a couple of hours away, way too long in those conditions. And my greatest fear is becoming one of those hiker/runners that they have to rescue. (As a teacher and coach, I would never hear the end of THAT from my students). So I decided to stop. Prince, the other 100 mile runner, also stopped when he came in on his next loop.

So I did 50 miles and then came back the next day for another 16. I am bummed about no 100, but as soon as it warms up (if it ever does), I am ready for round two.

BTW, those are Kahtoolas on my Brooks Ravennas. They are microspikes that are so much better than Yaktrax or screws.

The Nantahala Fria blog is at http://www.nantahalafria.blogspot.com/. I posted a course description and condition report there the week before the run.

Nantahala Fria 100

2010-02-23T12:30:00.000-08:00

This weekend is Sarah's Nantahala Fria Running Festival. This is the run we did in 2008, when she was working on an arctic slam, and we did a very abbreviated version in 2009. The conditions this year look to be appropriately "fria." We've had more snow this year than I can remember in the 20 years I've lived here. When I went up on the course this weekend, there was anywhere from 4" to 3 feet of snow. Sarah has rerouted the course, as the original course would be almost impossible to do an ultra on because of the ice and snow. I am planning to run the 100, although it will be slow going unless we get some miracle heat wave in the next few days (it's actually supposed to snow more tomorrow and Thursday). I am a little concerned about the 100, since I have not been able to get the miles in I wanted to because of the snow and because I didn't do a 100 last year. But it's 90% mental, right???

2010-02-20T08:20:00.000-08:00

2010 Goals

2010-01-15T12:18:00.000-08:00

Although I don't make New Year's Resolutions, I thought I would set a few goals down in writing:

1. Not to go to races that cost so much between fees and travel that I could have fed a hungry family for a month.
2. Do more fun stuff and just enjoy running through the woods.
3. Allow more time for the basics (crunches, pushups, lunges, etc)
4. Drag the darn tire up the mountain.
5. Spend more time in the gym : (
6. Do more speedwork, even when training for a 100.

Some specifics for the next few months:
1. Nantahala Fria 100
2. Crowders Mountain (?)
3. Burningtown 100K fun run
4. SCAR in under 24 when I-40 reopens
5. finish all 900 miles of trails in the Smokies (over halfway done)
6. A double ALTAR in warmer weather
7. An adventure race with Tony

Tsali Frosty Foot Fest 50K

2010-01-15T12:07:00.000-08:00

Plans kept coming unraveled in late December, early January. ALTAR was canceled because of the snowstorm, Nantahala Fria 100 mile was postponed due to date conflicts and I backed out of the double ALTAR attempt because of bad weather. So, I ended up running the Tsali 50K again this year, which was not a bad thing because it raises money for breast cancer research. However, I live 30 minutes from Tsali and am burned out on running there.

I asked Tony to drive me there and I am glad I did. It started snowing hard and by the time we got to Tsali everything (including the roads) was white. The Frosty Foot lived up to its name. Snow, ice, brisk wind, frozen ground and never getting out of the mid 20s all day.

The race was very well organized and all the volunteers were so cheerful despite standing in the middle of the woods freezing. My performance was okay. I ran 9 minutes faster than last year, but I have been training for 100s with a lot of uphill speed walking, not for a 50K. My legs felt very slow, but I felt good all-in-all all day. Only two issues: I kept having to blow the water back out of my Camelback hose because it froze very quickly and I got a very nice hip bruise when my foot caught a root sticking up and I landed on the (frozen hard!) ground. (I got up quickly to make sure no one had seen it.)

For my own future reference, the clothing choice was perfect. I only got cold on a couple of occasions when the wind hit me hard. (Brooks LSD thermal velocity pants, two layers under Brooks jersey- Massanutten long sleeve and a CWX, Brooks Vapor Dry 2 gloves).

2009: Time to have fun again

2009-10-10T05:47:00.000-07:00

After seven years of running ultras, I have finally gotten smart, according to my husband.

Earlier this year, running became drudgery. I felt like I HAD to log a certain number of miles a week and do certain workouts, because I just had to get better or at least run at a decent level. Because I work in a germ factory (aka public high school), I was sick off and on all winter and spring. I would get a good two or three weeks of training in and then I would be knocked back for a week or two.

I was sick over Christmas vacation and then did the Tsali Frosty Foot 50K in early January. I got sick, recovered, trained, got sick again, repeatedly. I did SCAR and was down for another three weeks. I cancelled Massanutten and then remained healthy enough to do Old Dominion. Unfortunately, due to a variety of circumstances (wrong shoe choice, wet, muddy conditions), I DNF’d around mile 60, after losing my quads for the first time ever. I kicked myself around for a bit after that and then started running again.

Then I read Born to Run. Besides being a good read, it reminded me of why I started running. It was fun. And somewhere along the line, it became not fun anymore. I decided that it was time to rethink what I was doing and why.

My training changed dramatically. Some days I didn’t run at all if I didn’t feel like it. I ran in places and on trails I liked. I went on vacation and spent time hanging out with my husband rather than feeling like I had to get up early and get a run in.

Around about July, after realizing that I finished a race since January, I signed up for Lansford Canal 50K. This went against all my newfound wisdom. It was South Carolina in July (I hate heat). It was flat (I like my mountains). A lot of it was on pavement (ugh). And it went in circles. Despite all of that, it WAS fun. I had no expectations set for myself, so I was relaxed and I just ran. When I started having stomach issues, instead of pushing through them (and making them worse), I slowed down and even walked some. I still had plenty of energy left and ended up setting my 50K PR there. (Plus got the Team Slug t-shirt I’ve coveted for years).

Laurel Valley this year was one of my slowest. I will admit that it was not much fun because I pushed myself hard to try to PR and of course that backfired. It was particularly hot and the most enjoyable part was sitting in the middle of a creek. Next year, I am going to just relax and have fun.

I spent a few weeks trying to decide between Iron Mountain 50 mile and Hinson Lake, two weeks later. Iron Mountain would be my type of run- single track with lots of elevation gain, but I had been told by many people that Hinson Lake was a lot of fun. I could not picture how it could possibly be fun running around in a 1.54 mile circle. The Black Mountain 24 hour races were bad enough, a 5 mile circle, but at least they were mainly on trail with some good climbs and descents. But finally, I decided to do both.

Iron Mountain was a lot of fun. Not many people had signed up and they missed out on a great race. The race director and volunteers were great, there were lots of goodies, excellent aid stations and the course was wonderfully challenging. LOTS of climbing, good gnarly single-track, some gravel road to make up time on and just a pleasant run through the Virginia mountains. I didn’t burn up the course, but I finished strong and enjoyed myself.

I knew deep down that I really didn’t want to do Hinson Lake. But I looked at the list of entrants and I knew so many of them that I figured I must be missing out on something. On top of that, two friends from Franklin were traveling over, one to complete her first ultra and the other to qualify for WS

My first sign that I shouldn’t go was the torrential downpour I had to load up our vehicle in and then the two hour later than desired start towards Hinson Lake. I ended up with about six hours sleep and then when we got to the lake, we had brought a canopy tent, but had left the canopy top behind. So we had an interesting open metal structure until Tony procured a tarp for the top.

The run was actually pretty fun, for the most part. I ran and talked to a number of other runners that I had not seen for awhile. Bill Keane gave me a digital lap counter to keep track of my progress. ( A copper ring that you moved from one of your digits to the next). I ran a few laps with Sarah Lowell, a fellow Franklin teacher, and got to celebrate with Katharine Brown, another Franklin teacher, as she completed her first ultra (40 plus miles).

However, running in circles on a flat sandy surface was not my thing, especially as the crowds thinned out after dark. Tony ran with me for seven laps, which is the first time he has run any distance with me in a very long time. I really enjoyed his company and when it came time for him to head back to the hotel, I decided to keep enjoying his company. I was running pretty slow and I would really have to push it to hit a 100 miles and I didn’t see the point in being miserable all night. It wasn’t like I had never run 100 miles in less than 24 hours. I began to think again why I run. I run for fun. Stopping at 15 hours with 100K plus would preserve that fun factor and I went back to the hotel with no regrets. As a bonus, I only slipped one place in the women’s race (from 6th to 7th) while I slept.

The race director and volunteers at Hinson Lake were incredibly nice and helpful. The food was plentiful and every 1.54 miles I was met with a lot of cheerful faces. If you are into the running in circles thing, or if you are trying for a certain distance in a certain time, you can’t go wrong with this race. I felt guilty for only paying $24 and getting all that aid, a quality venue, plus a t-shirt and a mug.

Now I just need to plan what I am actually going to do that is fun. SCAR in October sounds good…

SCARred!

2009-03-26T11:34:00.000-07:00

SCAR is the acronym for the unofficial Smokies Challenge Adventure Run, a one-day unsupported 72 mile run on the Appalachian Trail across the crest of the Smoky Mountains National Park. It gains over 18,000 feet in elevation and you only have one opportunity for aid or to quit. What first got me interested in this run was an article a friend had sent me years ago, about a woman who had run across the Smokies in two days, stopping at Newfound Gap and then coming back the next day to finish it. This was before I started trail running and I knew most hikers took five days or more to cross the Smokies. I was impressed and that article stuck with me.

Fast-forward seven years or so and I have run most of the trails in the Smokies, including all of the AT, although not at once. After discovering ultrarunning, I understood that that woman’s feat, while still impressive, was not all that unusual for some ultrarunners. What was unusual was the fact that some runners had done the whole AT in one day. I really wanted to do it, but I run solo and I knew trying to do SCAR solo would be pretty risky. Last summer, though, I found other runners who were going to run it and I joined up. After being rained on for the first half of the day, however, I opted to stop halfway and try again during better weather. Adam Hill went on to finish SCAR that day in less than 18 hours!

I decided this year that I would try SCAR as a training run for the Massanutten. After I finished it yesterday, in retrospect I realized that I should have done the Massanutten as a training run for SCAR.

My husband, Tony, drove me to Davenport Gap last Saturday morning (the first weekend of spring). The plan was for me to do the first half solo and then have a friend run the last part with me. I am very comfortable with the Smokies and have been on that section of the AT many times, so running solo was not a concern for me. And as it turns out, it is AT through-hiker season and I quit counting the hikers I passed after I reached 35. I even met a woman who recognized me from when I was running on the AT near home last weekend.

I love the section of the AT between Davenport Gap and Newfound Gap. You are at over 5,000 feet elevation for most of the time and the views are spectacular. There are several sections of “narrows,” where you are running along a steep ridgeline, which is only about a few feet wide and the views open up on both sides of you. The vegetation varies with the elevation. There are some areas with hardwoods and grass, some bald areas, and others with balsams and mossy rocks. The shady sides of the ridges were noticeably colder, especially along Mount Guyot, where there was still a dusting of snow. The trail for the most part is pretty runnable, although there are some very rocky and rooty sections. Some parts of the trail were still icy, as well, particularly at Ice Water springs. I am glad I chose to do SCAR north to south, so I could enjoy this section in the daylight while I still felt good.

Tony and Alan Buckner met me at Newfound Gap at 6:00 pm. It took me nine hours to do the first section, a little slower than what I wanted, but still much faster than the run last summer. My asthma was better than last time, but in the last couple hours I started to have some issues and I ended up slowing down some.

After spending over a half hour at Newfound Gap, changing clothes, resupplying, and eating the hamburger Tony brought me, I set off with Alan to do the last forty miles. I knew the section between Newfound Gap and Clingman’s Dome would be more difficult. It was getting dark and colder, it was uphill for eight miles, and the trail was at 6000 foot elevation (an issue for my asthma). Plus I had already run 32 miles. Alan was fresh and enjoyed the first part of the adventure. I can honestly say I really didn’t enjoy much after Newfound Gap.

I forgot how the trail profile made this section look deceptively easy.

After Clingman’s, it does go more downhill than up. But there are constant short steep climbs and long steep descents. Up, down, up, down, up, down, all night long. The trail is very rooty and rocky which is even more difficult to run in the dark. Some areas were covered with leaves, disguising the rocks and the roots. It was difficult to run at any speed on the downhills, thus negating the usual advantage of being able to make up time. I was having major problems with my asthma- my lungs ached and I was breathing hard walking uphill. Now that I have gone to the doctor, I found out that I was also running sick, with a virus.

It was not all bad, however. The lights from Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg were beautiful and you could see lights highlighting the entire horizon on the Tennessee side. North Carolina was pleasantly dark- just a few scattered lights here and there. The night started out with a cloud cover, but that eventually lifted, revealing a canopy of stars. (Unfortunately, I spent most of the night slightly dizzy, I guess from the asthma, and I couldn’t look at the stars and remain upright). The open balds near Rocky Top were beautiful, as you had a full panorama of stars and city lights. When you passed shelters, you heard snoring and envied those asleep as you passed quietly by. We scared a bear, some deer, and some other unknown creatures.

But back to the bad stuff. Getting water is a pain on this section. There are no springs and the water sources are off short, steep side trails near shelters. In the end, my Suunto recorded 75 miles rather than 72, some from wandering around the parking lot and bathrooms at Newfound Gap, and I guess the rest from going up and down side trails looking for water. In the dark it was sometimes hard to find a pipe and the water was too shallow to fill a bladder. I gave up at Russell Field shelter and ended up being out of water for a long time. (On the positive side, if you are out of water and can’t eat for a long time, your stomach settles down. You have no energy, but you feel pretty good!)

The worst part is that there is no aid and no opportunity to bail out. This became painfully evident when Alan started projectile vomiting around 4:00 in the morning. He pushed through his illness and lack of energy, and we were well prepared for emergencies, but this run is not for anyone who is not self-sufficient. This is also what makes SCAR and other such adventures worthwhile- being able to push past what you thought your limits were.

Once the sun came up, I was able to call Tony, who snickered at our miserable 2.5 miles per hour we were averaging at that point. That is what was so frustrating. We felt like we were moving okay, given the circumstances, but we were crawling uphill, and our “running” downhill was really just a shuffle. I used to hike faster than I was running.

It took me 26:16 to finish and although I was hoping for under 24:00, I am satisfied with completing it. Could I have finished it under twenty-four? Take away all the time I spent at Newfound Gap, the long rest break when we finally found water, projectile vomiting and asthma, maybe. But I guess I’ll never know. For at some point around 8:00 am, I decided first that I was dropping out of the Massanutten. A little while later, I decided I wasn’t going to run Crowder’s Mountain in two weeks. By the end of the run I vowed never to return to the Smokies again. I was going to make a trip to Wal-Mart, buy some needles and yarn and take up competitive knitting. I was never going to run another step.

But, then again, I really did enjoy that first half. I might do that part again soon. Maybe sometime between Crowder’s Mountain and the Massanutten.

Notes to anyone planning this run: It is very hard. If you are not used to long, self-supported runs, this is not a run for you. The Smokies really are a remote wilderness area once you get away from the main road. Be prepared for rapidly changing weather, the much colder temps on the ridgelines, the difference in running at 6,000 feet elevation, the very real possibility of being injured, spending the night and then having to walk out. In all the miles of trail I have run in the Smokies, I have only seen a couple of rangers out on trail. You can’t get a cell signal in most of the places. The side trails off the AT, especially the southern part, do not lead you to civilization. Some of them, although shorter, require multiple stream crossings. In the summertime, there are timber rattlers up high and copperheads down lower. People have died from getting lost in the Smokies. Bears generally don’t bother you, but two people have been killed in recent years in the Smokies. There are wild hogs, which have been aggressive. I carry pepper spray.

Notes to self: Carry more water. Yes, getting water at places like Mollie’s Ridge is a pain, but suck it up and do it anyway. Take some different things to eat. Luna and Lara bars get old. Take rest breaks once in awhile. (I didn’t sit down until about 12 hours in). Don’t try to eat while moving. Bring something to put in the water. Water doesn’t taste good after awhile and there are no aid stations to get something different. THINK POSITIVE

Grindstone 100

2008-10-08T14:32:00.000-07:00

The inaugural Grindstone 100 has been billed as the toughest 100 mile race east of the Rockies. It has over 23,000 feet of elevation gain and 90% of it is run on rocky, technical trails. It came with a 38 hour time limit and I was worried that I would spend most of the race chasing cutoffs and using all 38 hours to finish the run. Because this was the inaugural race, I had no data other than the very intimidating trail profile posted on the website. The other race with the claim to being the toughest, the Massanutten, was my first 100, five years ago and it was indeed tough. I finished with only a half hour to spare, 27 blisters and a black eye. I really hoped I would have a better experience at the Grindstone. This race was also unique in that it began at 6:00 p.m. on Friday evening. If you ran over 25 hours, you faced two nights and one day of running, compared to the usual two days and one night. The night running, combined with the rough trails, made for some very slow moving at times.

Thankfully, although the race was very tough, it turned out fine. I think the perfect weather, the exceptionally helpful and supportive volunteers, the well-marked course and the opportunity to have my husband pace me some all combined to make the race challenging, yet doable.

The course was beautiful- the lights of the cities down in the valley at night, the two sunsets, the spectacular sunrise at Reddish Knob.

Only one hallucination: As it started to get dark on night two, I stopped to dig my lights out of my pack and saw my husband up on the trail ahead waiting for me (he had been running out a couple miles from each aid station and running back in with me). He kept leaning out as if he was trying to see who it was. After I started back again, I found that my 6’, 225 lb husband was actually a fluorescent pink streamer blowing in the wind.

I finished in 31:29, but I had some asthma issues for a good part of the race, so I think if I had that under control I could have finished under 30:00. Just like in any race, I had some very good times and some pretty bad times (it’s amazing how a turkey sandwich can turn things around for you), but all in all, it was an enjoyable run.

As far as the toughest 100 in the east, I really don’t know. The Massanutten was certainly tougher for me, but it was my first 100. Old Dominion this year with the heat and humidity was tougher for me as well- it took everything I had to finish it. I’m just glad I was able to run the Grindstone in ideal conditions.

Note to Self: Bring light to Laurel Valley

2008-08-13T10:24:00.002-07:00

Laurel Valley is a 35 mile unsupported trail run on the border of North and South Carolina. There is no aid and no way to drop out, unless you go back to the start. You carry your own food and first aid and refill your water at stream crossings. The course involves single-track trail and some old forest roads that have been converted to trail. The climbs are very steep and frequent, but not incredibly long. The race ends at Whitewater Falls, the highest waterfall east of the Mississippi. Unfortunately, to get to the finish line, you start from the bottom of the falls and crawl to the top on a steep rocky trail. As race director Claude Sinclair has put it, this is a race that scares off some runners and attracts others. This is the fifth year I have run Laurel Valley and I just think of it as a long training run. I’m doing what I would be doing on the weekend anyway, running in the woods without any support.

This year, as I crawled out of bed at 3:30, I thought to myself that I didn’t remember getting up quite this early in the past. But I missed last year’s race because of my injury, so I didn’t trust my memory from two years ago. And then when we started the race at 6:00, it was very dark. It has never been dark before and I have never carried a light. I tried to follow people with lights, but that didn’t really help as the first part of the run is very rooty and rocky. So, in the dark, I tripped, “twanging” my hamstring. I learned later that the darkness was not nature gone awry, but the race started a half hour earlier than usual.

It got light enough to see around 20 minutes into the race, and despite the sore hamstring (and an inability to breathe at first) I felt pretty good. But about 45 minutes into the run on a nice downhill, I caught my toe on a rock and really pulled the hamstring. I stopped and stretched it, but could only limp down the hill. Lacking common sense when it comes to injuries, I continued on, thinking that maybe it would loosen up. It didn’t hurt on the uphills, but I was exceedingly slow on the flats and downhills. I was very frustrated as other runners passed me in areas where I should have been making good time. I knew that this year I could break my PR (7:53), but not now with my hop/limp/lope. After an hour or so of frustration, I decided that I might actually try to enjoy the run for once, since I was forced to do it at a slower pace. After awhile, my gait adapted, and although it was still very slow, I was able to “run” without pain. I finished the run in 8:50, an hour slower than I wanted, but I will take that with a grade 2 hamstring pull.

Boiling Hot at OD 100

2008-06-10T08:49:00.000-07:00

As the days drew closer to race day, I watched the predicted temperature for race day continue to climb, from the high 80’s to the high 90’s. I haven’t had much heat to train in, so I tried to acclimate myself in various ways. I sat in the sauna at the gym, tried to run in the hottest part of the day and rode around in the car with the windows up and the heat on. On Friday, the weather service issued a heat warning and predicted a heat index of 110 degrees, in addition to a bad air quality warning. I knew that this would be a whole different challenge for me, as I looked back at past results from the OD in hot years and saw the low finishing rates. This was not the day for setting PR’s and buckling again. I just wanted to be one of the survivors.

As the race started at 4:00 a.m., it was already hot and dripping with humidity. Several people had a strategy to go out fast and try to bank miles before the hottest part of the day, but I opted for a moderate start. I would run fairly hard, but I didn’t want to already be tired when the heat did hit. Any strategy was a gamble. By mile 19, the sun was up and hot and much of the course between there and mile 32 was open, exposed country roads. A lot of it is flat and very runnable, but as soon as my heart rate started climbing, I walked. I had to keep reminding myself to run my own race as people passed me.

When I got to mile 32, I was about 20 minutes behind my usual time and the heat was hitting full force. The official temperature was 97 degrees in Woodstock, but I was told it hit 100. I was dripping wet from the humidity and sweat. Tony was there with iced washcloths, ice in a bandana, and a water bottle to spray me with. I don’t think I could have made it through the race without him. I changed shoes and socks and headed back out. The next section involved a long uphill climb on trail through an area that had been burned a couple of years ago. The trees were dead, so there was no shade, and the underbrush had grown up enough to hold in the heat and keep the slight breeze from hitting most of your body. The heat took a lot out of me on that section and I could feel blisters starting to form on the balls of my feet. I lost a lot of time, but began to pass people who were hurting pretty badly.

The heat stayed very bad until around mile 60 or so. But then a rainstorm had came through, which didn’t cool things off but raised the humidity back up again. By mile 64, a lot of people had dropped out with heat-related problems (stomach issues, blisters, fatigue). I continued on, way behind my past times, and saw no one else until mile 75. By then, my blisters were pretty bad and the downhills were getting hard to run. I made a big mistake at Elizabeth Furnace and didn’t pick up my drop bag before I left, so I ran short of food on the next four-hour section and my energy level dropped. Ralph had agreed to safety run through Sherman and Veach gaps with me, but I don’t think he knew it would be an almost five hour trip. I was crawling the uphills and the downhills hurt too bad to run hard. I saw Tony one last time at Veach at 4:00 a.m., and then tried hard to cover the last half-marathon in four hours. It sounds ridiculous to think that it could take four hours to run 13 miles, but I wasn’t sure I could do it as bad as my feet hurt. I still had to climb back up Woodstock Tower and then pound down the other side.

To end this story quickly, I finished in 27:42, walking much of the last four miles. I was 21st out of the 22 who did finish the race and the 2nd female out of only three who finished. A lot of very talented, strong runners were taken out of the race by the heat, so I feel fortunate I had the help I needed to get through the race. Tony was essential, having a safety runner kept me moving on the hardest section and I prayed a lot in the last 13 miles! This race this year was as tough for me as the Massanutten was and the aftermath of the run was not pretty. My feet looked awful, not only from the blisters and a couple of toenails ready to come off, but they had stayed wet for 28 hours, despite changing shoes and socks a couple of times. Every place on my body where a piece of clothing, a seam, or my pack touched me was rubbed raw. I look like I have been whipped and I feel like it too! My legs haven’t been this sore after a race in a very long time. The extra four hours of being out on the course probably didn't help either.

The race personnel, aid station workers, and everyone I came in contact with were so helpful and encouraging. I was glad to see more runners at the race than in the past couple of years.

Blue Planet 24 Hour Run

2008-05-06T11:46:00.000-07:00

The Blue Planet 24 Hour Run (formerly the Run For Africa) was held this weekend at Camp Rockmont in Black Mountain, NC. The run raises money to provide clean drinking water worldwide. The format of the run is predominately a relay race, where teams run a 6, 12, or 24 hour race, taking turns running a five-mile loop. Runners, however, can opt to run solo, and there were more solo participants this year than last year.

The race started at 10:00 a.m., and the weather stayed mostly cloudy all day. The first time around the loop, all the solo runners and relay team members are pretty close together, but everyone gets more spread out by the second time around. The route starts on some steep single track trail and then heads down on a rough gravel/dirt road. It flattens out some on a regular gravel road and then heads around a lake on a grass trail. Then it's back uphill on gravel, then downhill and back to the festival/camping area, where you start the process again. It's not a flat, easy course, but since it is a five mile loop, the tougher parts don't last too long (but of course you get to repeat them 20 times). The atmosphere of the race is fun. The relay teams are camping out, there is live music and food (which unfortunately the solo runners can't enjoy much of) and even in the dead of night, there are relay runners passing you on the course. There were three aid stations set up, two with water and GU, and the other with a bit more food. It's very easy to be self-sufficient, as you pass by your vehicle/tent every five miles.

My race started off great. I rode to the race with our friend Alan Buckner, who was going to attempt his first hundred mile run. Tony was following later (and would set up a world class aid station for us). We discussed different strategies for running hundreds on the way up. Some people advocate a slow start to conserve energy for later. Others say it is good to bank some time early in the race for the inevitable slow-down later. And then there is my strategy: run whatever feels right at the time. Alan leaned toward banking time, I decided to try a slow start if I could.

Apparently my slow start wasn't so slow. I managed to set a 50K PR in the middle of the race (5:53), a 50 mile PR (about a 9:50), and a 100K PR (not sure, but it was somewhere around 13:30). Running felt great, which I attribute to actually being able to breathe for the first time (I was prescribed an inhaler for exercise-induced asthma) and my new and improved stride (as a result of my hamstring injury). Everything felt so easy and natural, until around mile 65.

Then I was hit with nausea like I've never had before. I usually get sick after a race, and some times have a bit of nausea during a race, but it always passes. This hit hard and didn't go away for the rest of the race (and is still with me 2 days later). I was able to get some GU down, but none of the good food that Tony had brought. At the worst point, I wasn't even able to run downhill. Earlier, I had passed Alan around mile 50, and then got about an hour in front of him when he started feeling sick. Luckily for Alan, he started feeling better, and then ended up finishing over an hour in front of me. I was able to keep the forward motion going (barely) and ended up finished 100 in 23:39 (one minute slower than my PR), 2nd overall behind Alan and 1st female.

I'm still not a big fan of the loop format, but I was more mentally prepared this time. My goal was to do 100 miles, so I focused on how much distance I had left to cover, not the hours. The nice thing about the loop is you get a chance to see and talk to a lot of different people that you might never see on a point-to-point. On my 18th loop, though, I made a deal with Brian Beduhn that we would email each other next year when registration opened and remind each other how grueling the pounding downhill on gravel becomes and the monotony of all those loops. However, I'm sure ultra-amnesia will set in by then and I'll be back running around in circles.

Crowder's Mountain 50K 2008

2008-04-29T13:39:00.000-07:00

In 2003, I ran my first ultra, Crowder's Mountain 50K. You would have thought I would have learned something in five years. More on that later in the blog, but for those of you who are interested in running Crowder's sometime, I'll start with a race and course description.

Crowder's is one of my favorite races, although I wonder why on my third trip up those stairs. The race is small and low key, usually 20-30 people, and the race directors, at first Claude Sinclair and now Ray K and Sam Baucom do a great job anticipating everyone's needs and even offered to go out and buy something if they didn't have what you wanted at the aid stations.

The course is three out and backs, or should I say ups and downs? The race starts on an ascending gravel road for about two miles where it tops out on the cliffs of Crowder's Mountain. Then you start DOWN the infamous stairs. How many are there? I lose count every time, but I know it's A LOT. And they are the typical forest service 8"x8" steps, mostly unevenly spaced so you can't get a good rhythm running down them. After the stairs, it's down a steep gravel road for about a quarter mile and to the first aid station. Then you turn on nice rocky, rooty single-track trail that is rolling, but with more down than up and it continues to the turnaround at around mile 5. And then, well, you turn around. Everything that was downhill is now uphill, including that really steep gravel road that leads to those darn stairs. And to make it more difficult, as the day goes on there are more and more hikers to dodge on the way up. Then it's two more miles of pounding downhill on gravel. Repeat this two more times and you're done.

This year I came into the race thinking I could finish in the five's. My last time there in 2006 was 6:05. Surely I could make up six minutes somewhere. Surely I'm in better shape. I've started using an inhaler for exercise-induced asthma (I didn't know until now that it it not SUPPOSED to hurt to breathe when you run). I've hit PRs in all my training runs lately. My hamstrings are better, not great but better. I've changed my running stride to a supposedly more efficient stride. Six minutes is all I wanted. I ended up running my slowest time of my three races there. Why? It was sooooo hot! I haven't trained at all in the heat, never mind run a tough race. But I should have been smarter and backed off some, but I wanted those six minutes badly. And even though I'm not a front of the pack runner, I just hate to get passed. In a three time out and backer, you know exactly where everyone is, so that pushed me even harder. The result was bad cramping halfway through. Shins, calves, hamstrings, some other leg muscles I didn't know I had and even my abs. I walked a lot more than I wanted to. After some Gatorade and a banana at the turnaround, I felt much better and went on to finish the third leg, but at a much reduced pace.

Although I would never had said this about three hours into the run, this is a great race. I get to see a lot of familiar faces and everyone (including all the hikers) is friendly and encouraging. I had to choose between Promise Land and this race this year, and was happy with my decision to stay closer to home.

Nantahala Fria 100

2008-01-09T11:33:00.000-08:00

About three weeks ago Sarah Lowell, the Arctic Queen, the only female finisher of the Arrowhead 135, emailed me with her idea for an Arctic Grand Slam. She is planning on running two Arctic 100s in February and then another in March (the Arrowhead, one in Alaska and one in the Yukon). In order to do a grand slam, you have to do four 100s in four months, so she needed one more to run. Travelling to races is pricey, and especially so for us public school teachers, so Sarah created her own winter 100 here in the mountains of Western North Carolina and invited me to run it.

The run was scheduled for last Friday, but Mother Nature cooperated with Sarah's "arctic" plans and dropped some snow and record low temperatures on Wednesday. So Sarah did her run early while the temperatures were around zero at night and in the low 20s during the day. She ran solo with no aid, except for what she brought in her vehicle (which was accessible once every 25 mile loop) and finished under 30 hours!

I, however, am not a big fan of the arctic, so I waited until Friday afternoon when the nighttime temperatures were supposed to at least be in the teens. Tony drove me to Standing Indian in the Nantahala National Forest, where we met Sarah, who had finished her run the day before and Alan Buckner, who was going to run with me.

Sarah's course is probably 80% single track. It starts out on a rocky, rooty side trail that takes you up to the AT. Once on the AT, you head towards Albert Mountain on a gradual uphill, then you get on forest roads for a few miles until you hook back up with the AT. The next several miles is pretty runnable, but there were a lot of springs seeping into the trail that were frozen and a couple of creek crossings that were tricky in the winter. (One included balancing on a snow-covered log that eventually became ice-covered after subsequent laps. Once you became a little light-headed, the log also appeared to be moving.) You got off the AT onto a side trail for a few miles, which took you to a forest road. That forest road, which was very runnable, took you back to the start (after you did an interesting balancing act on rhododendron limbs trying to get over a creek crossing). We did that loop 3 times (Sarah measured it as over 25 miles) and then a shorter one to finish at 100.

The first loop went well. A lot of the trail seemed very runnable and we made good time despite me carrying a heavier-than-normal pack. It was a big decision about what to carry. I get cold easily and knew that I would only have access to aid every 25 miles, so I packed more than I thought I would need. I also carried a full Camelback of water since I didn't know if there would be water available or just ice. We started at 3:15 p.m. and stopped to don headlamps and more layers at around 5:30. Most of the trail was snow-covered and the temperature was in the teens. I had put hex-headed screws in my Cascadias to help with traction and that seemed to work well, although the frozen springs were tricky. We finished the first loop in a little under 6 hours, but then spent a lot of time at the vehicle. Tony brought hamburgers and then we had to decide what to pack for the middle of the night with no aid available. We took off again and once we hit Albert Mountain, the wind began to pick up. I put another layer on and was fine for the rest of the night. Alan, who had only slept a few hours in the past few days, became nauseated and light-headed and by the time we were close to the end of the loop, he was violently ill.

We had to make a decision at that point. Alan did not feel like he could do another entire loop and I didn't want to head out into the night again solo. We stayed at the vehicle for awhile while Alan regrouped and tried to get some food in. We headed out again, with Alan going with me to Albert Mountain, where the sun began to come up. He headed back down and I continued on solo.

Every loop was different. There was a lot of snow on loops one and two, and the ground was frozen hard where there was no snow, but after the sun came up, the temperature warmed up quickly. By the fourth loop, there was little snow left and more mud to contend with. After loop three, I had a nice aid station waiting for me. Sarah came back out and cooked me breakfast and Larry and Alan were there for support. The last loop started off as the hardest. I had a two-hour period where I didn't think I was going to finish. But after a few adjustments, I got my energy back and ran the next five hours hard. It was the first time since my injury that I just ran all out and felt great. Sarah met me at the bottom of the last side trail and I walked in with her to the finish line, at around 28 hours. I was very glad to see Tony, who had been gone most of the time working.

Although I felt good during the run for the most part, when I got home I was sicker than usual. I had the usual stomach complaints, but I also had a fever and alternated between burning up and freezing. Once I slept, however, everything leveled out. I had been awake for over 40 hours, and as of today (a week later), I am still sleepy! On a positive note, I have very little muscle soreness and am planning on running a "fun run" trail marathon tomorrow. I think the change in my running style since my injury and the cushioning of the snow may have contributed to that.

Burningtown Loop/Burningtown 100K

2007-12-03T14:57:00.000-08:00

Burningtown Loop
56ish miles

1. Start at the Bartram Parking area at the end of Wayah Road, near the Raft Put-in Area. Head north on the Bartram up the first tough climb, to Cheoah Bald. Then take the AT south down to the Nantahala Outdoor Center. Crew access (and restaurant). 13.2 total miles.

2. Continue south on the AT, climbing back up to Tellico Gap. This is another tough climb. 8 miles. Crew access.

3. Head south on Appalachian Trail 9.3 miles to Wayah Bald. The Bartram will be running along with the AT for a few miles here. Crew access.

4. Continue south until the Bartram Trail leaves the AT. Take the Bartram toward Nantahala Lake. 3.9 miles downhill. Crew access at Sawmill Gap on Dirty John Road.

5. Continue steeply downhill to Nantahala Lake and the Lakeside Store. 4.1 miles downhill. Crew access.

6. Follow Bartram to Appletree Group Campground. 4.9 miles. Crew access.

6. Continue on Bartram to where you started. 12.4 miles.

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.

Burningtown 100K
62.3 miles
Goal: sub 18 hour

Course description with mileage and goal times.

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
2. Head south on Appalachian Trail 9.3 miles to Wayah Bald. Crew access there. 3:45 am
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
5. Follow Bartram to Appletree Group Campground. 4.9 miles. Crew access. 7:15 am
6. Continue on Bartram to Winding Stairs, where the raft put-in is. 12.4 miles. Crew access. 10:15 am
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.
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
9. Arrive at Tellico Gap, and head back down Otter Creek to the finish. 3.25 miles. 5:45 pm.

Zero to 54 in Six Weeks

2007-11-05T11:46:00.000-08:00

Well, my Cross Country team missed the state race by one place at regionals, so I had no excuse not to run the Mountain Masochist 50 miler on Saturday. I was concerned about running the race, since I've only been training for six weeks after three months off with my hamstrings. My longest run was 25 miles and my weekly mileage was low, so I was worried about my endurance. In addition, my pace is a lot slower as I am learning to run with shorter strides, so I was worried about not hitting the cutoffs even if my endurance was up. But one of our friends, Alan, was going up to run it, so I decided that I would go and run as much of it as I could. My two goals: not to reinjure myself, and run as far as I could before missing a cutoff.

The race started at 6:30 a.m., with the temperature around 32 degrees. It would not get light until a little after seven, but then it warmed up nicely into the 40s and 50s, depending on the elevation. The day was beautiful, with a clear blue sky and a lot of the leaves still holding their fall colors.

The first few miles of the course are on pavement- first on the Blue Ridge Parkway, then paralleling the James River. After that, you are in the woods on single and double-track and forest roads. I was hoping to see my husband, Tony, at aid station 4, but he was apparently still eating the breakfast buffet at the Peaks of Otter Lodge, so I sucked down another GU and headed on. I was a little concerned when Jay Finkle passed me, because where he passes me in a race usually indicates whether or not I am doing well. If it's not until later in the race, I usually end up fine, but during my only two DNF races, he has passed me early on.

The next sections of the course consist of a long, steady uphill on a gravel road, followed by an even longer downhill. I got frustrated on the downhill because of my shorter strides and I was passed by a lot of people. I reminded myself of my two goals, though, and just kept moving. Tony had shown up aid station 5, and it's always a good morale boost to see him at the aid stations. At the halfway point, I was on an eleven hour pace and was staying well ahead of the cutoffs. I relaxed a little and began enjoying the day more. The "5" mile loop was particularly beautiful, even though I had a bit of a low spot there on the climb. I forced myself to think about the here and now and not what was coming up in the run. I've made that mistake before in runs- thinking about how much farther I have to go and how hard it would be.

I got my second wind in the next to the last section (only 7 more miles, the sign says, even though it's more like 10-11) on the last climb. In the past, that climb has really sucked, but it didn't feel any harder than a trail I do on a weekly basis here at home. I thought about that, and not how I was about 48 miles into a run. I hit the top and felt good, and was able to run strong (not fast) the last six miles. Tony was waiting for me in the last mile and I finished 40 minutes ahead of the cutoff in 11:20. It was not a PR, but it was my second best time of my four MMTR finishes. Nothing hurt out of the ordinary, just general soreness. Not even any blisters (thanks Brooks!).

As always, I met a lot of nice people, several of whom were running the race for the first time. Alan finished his first 50 (ahead of me) and his wife Trish and our friend Larry got to crew for the first time at an ultra. (At least it wasn't Hellgate). The aid station volunteers were great and Dr. Horton puts on a first-rate race. I'll be back next year, unless my xc team is at state, which will be fine, too.

On The Trail Again

2007-10-12T11:56:00.000-07:00

After three months of no running at all, I am finally back on the trails again. I went to the Speed Clinic at UVA in August where they hooked me up to a 3-D infra-red computer and had me run on a treadmill. The computer spit out a lot of info and after they analyzed everything, I'm surprised I had ever been able to finish a race at all, never mind doing well at some of them. Anyway, I apparently ask way too much of my hamstrings and I put a lot of torque on them, which over time resulted in my injury. They sent me a DVD of my running, with a narrative explaining what I do wrong and what I need to do to fix my problems. The DVD included video of exercises and stretches to do to help me heal and prevent future injury. I wish I had gone there sooner.

So, after following the program for a couple of months, I am back running full time, although much slower. The main training intervention is that I have to take 180 steps a minute, which is a LOT shorter and faster stride than I usually do. My uphills are about the same, but my downhills are SO much slower. I am registered for the Masochist next month and for the first time since my first year of ultras, I am worried about cutoffs. (Maybe my girls cross country team will make it to state, which is held on the same day as the Masochist and then I won't have anything to worry about.) I ran my longest run so far yesterday, 20 miles, on the Appalachian Trail. It was beautiful and despite my slowness, I am just grateful that I am able to run again at this, my favorite time of year. Overall I felt good, although my injury to the ligaments in my ankle and hip, which contributed to the hamstring problem, still are not healed yet. Those are just a little stiff and sore, unlike the pain that I did have with the hamstrings. It was nice to just run mindlessly (except for counting those darn steps now and then) and enjoy the woods.

Broken Hamstrings

2007-07-17T06:12:00.000-07:00

After several visits to a doctor, physical therapist, chiropractor and orthopedist, I was finally diagnosed (they think) with partially detached tendons in both my hamstrings. Which means no running, for at least three months. I could dwell (and I have) on all the things I miss about running (especially when I have summers off and could spend a lot of time on the trails), but I am trying to be positive about the whole thing (which supposedly helps with the healing process).

So, on the positive side, I am not totally broken. I can still do a lot of things that do not put tension on the hamstrings. I am now a much improved mountain biker, although I melted my front tire when the bike rack was too low and the car exhaust pipe got it. I never had that problem with my running shoes. I can run a 6 minute mile forwards or backwards (on the eliptical), something I never achieved on the ground. I am getting good at walking backwards uphill (on the stair climber). My swimming is getting better and if only I could run, I think I could knock out that off-road Ironman this year. I'm spending more time in the weight room. Being injured also comes in handy when I get lazy. "I'd really like to wash those dishes, but leaning over the sink puts too much pressure on my hamstrings."

I am going to the Speed Clinic at the University of Virginia next month to get help with rehab and they sounded very positive about being able to get me running right again. So, I hope I can run the Masochist and Hellgate this year (I've never missed a Hellgate). In the meantime, I'll miss the heat, humidity, yellow jackets, and the climb up Whitewater Falls at Laurel Valley for the first time since I've been running ultras. But there's always next year.

DNF/BWT(Did Not Finish, But Wanted To)

2007-06-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

My husband Tony has told me over and over that it would happen to me eventually. I, however, am stubborn and refused to believe him. In the Smoky Mountain Adventure Race, I stood shivering in the surprise snowstorm, after my brakes on my mountain bike kept icing up so I couldn’t ride it, having to make the decision between going on or quitting. Tony pretty much made that decision for me, just minutes before they closed the course down because of the weather. So I don’t really count that as a DNF. Then in 2005, at Hellgate 100K, the course was covered with a few inches of snow with an inch or so of ice on top of it. Sometimes the ice broke when you ran on it, sometimes it didn’t. When it did, all the people running in front of me had chopped it up into big, sharp chunks that turned your ankle with every step. Anyway, I missed the time cutoff at mile 42 and got pulled from the race. So that was a DNF, but not a voluntary one. I went back in 2006 and corrected that mistake.

This year, one of my big races was the Old Dominion 100 mile race in Virginia. I have posted my report from last year, so I won’t get into another course description. I’ve had some things not go as planned leading up to this race, particularly my hamstring and ankle injuries. (One week prior to the Run For Africa 24 hour race in April, I pulled/tore something in both hamstrings, and then hit a rock wrong and hurt my ankle. I ran 95 miles at the Africa race, then two weeks later Promise Land 50K, and have spent the last four weeks trying to recover.) Because of the injuries, I haven’t been able to train like I wanted to, but was optimistic because of the miles I got in in April. I felt like I had more endurance, and would just suck up the hamstring pain. I’ve always had tight hamstrings and have dealt with that, and it wasn’t like I had broken anything. (Did I mention I am stubborn?)

The race started well. I had plenty of energy going up Woodstock tower and wanted to get in as many miles as I could before it got hot. The downhill after the tower went well, although I had to shorten up my stride. The climb on the single-track trail was fine, but once I hit the rocky downhill, I slowed down. Things started to get a little worse on the miles of country roads. The ibuprofen was wearing off after two hours, but I didn’t want to take it that often. It also got very hot (88 degrees at 11:30), but I was still ahead of my splits from last year at the 32 mile point. The next section is uphill trail, with a mile or so of downhill on pavement before you start several miles of trail. I ran out of water twice (didn’t get enough at two aid stations) and was having a hard time running on anything rocky. After the medical check station at mile 43, there is a long gravel road, mostly downhill, but I was walking a lot (in the rain, which cooled things down considerably) and by mile 47 was 20 minutes behind last year’s splits. On the long gravel road to Edinburg Gap, I was taking a lot of walking breaks on the downhill. I was telling myself to just lean forward and that either my legs would move me or I would fall. After I climbed up the ATV trail, I wasn’t running more than 10 steps on the gradual downhill before I started walking again. It wasn’t my hamstrings that hurt, however. It was my ankles, my knees, and my quads. My quads have never actually hurt during a race. They’ve been fatigued, and then very sore after the race, but never during. I think what my body did was compensate for not being able to use the hamstrings. Not only did I switch to using the quads, but I was taking shorter steps on the downhill and flats, so my legs got more of a pounding.

Last year I really enjoyed the race. I was very tired at times, but never to the point where I couldn’t run downhill. This year I quit enjoying the race at about mile 14. So, fifty miles later I decided that it was time to stop. I was 40 minutes behind last year’s splits and had no shot at finishing under 24 hours. I’ve done this distance before, so I didn’t have to prove to myself that I am capable of doing it. I love to run, I love that course, and my favorite section was coming up. I remember last year blasting down the road to Mudhole Gap and then rock-hopping the trail that follows it. The thought of walking the downhills and figuring out how to get across all of those rocks, however, convinced me to stop. So I did. The aid station workers at Little Fort couldn’t have been better. I got a massage, was told encouraging things and that as an endurance athlete, sometimes you just had to know when enough is enough.

So, that’s my first voluntary DNF. Tony thinks I need some psychological counseling along with physical therapy to help me deal with it. It is very traumatic.

Things to do different next year:
1. Don’t run injured
2. Back off even more in the hot sections
3. Carry the pack rather than just a water bottle
4. Wear road shoes (more cushioning) until mile 32, then switch to trail shoes (Brooks Cascadias).
5. Eat more whether I feel like it or not. Supplement the GU with more real food or do more GU more often.

Promise Land 50K

2007-06-06T12:09:00.000-07:00

David Horton’s Promise Land 50K is my favorite 50K, despite the fact that I have yet to have a really good run there. The course is beautiful and has a good mix of difficult trails and easier grass and gravel roads. The course starts at the Promise Land camp, some 15 minutes or so from Bedford. Many people choose to camp there the night before, but we usually get a motel. The race has a very early start, 5:30 a.m., so if you have to arrive late on Friday night, you don’t get much sleep anyway.

The course starts out, in the dark, on a gravel road which climbs uphill, steadily at first, and then rather steeply. At that point you get on a section of trail that you run the other direction during Hellgate 100K. The trail continues to climb until it dumps you out on a grassy fire road that is for the most part downhill. This section is usually beautiful. The sun is coming up, the grass is very green and the dogwoods and redbuds are blooming. Except for this year, because of a late freeze. And last year, when the torrential downpour and constant flashes from the lightning kept me from seeing very much at all. Anyway, after that section (which has some Horton miles in it, miles that tend to be much longer than the traditional mile), you head uphill again on trail and an old logging road until you reach the Blue Ridge Parkway. Then you have a nice, long, gradual downhill on a maintained gravel road which takes you to the only point your crew has access to, the Sunset Fields overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The next section is my favorite section. It is downhill on rooty, rocky, single-track trail. It ends up on some old logging roads, and then back on single-track that has way too many little rocks that turn your ankles. You cross a creek a couple of times (which was a little difficult last year in the aftermath of the torrential downpour) and end up at an aid station at the start of a road section. The road section is long and flat and pretty boring, but you can make up some time here as it is easy to run. Then you’re back on single-track and old logging roads and a couple more aid stations until you end up at the bottom of Apple Orchard Falls. The climb up Apple Orchard has gotten easier for me every year, but it is by no means easy. It is towards the end of the run and you climb back up to the Blue Ridge Parkway on steep single-track on legs that are already tired. There is a nice waterfall there that you cross in front of, but I haven’t paid too much attention to it. Once you make it to the top, you’re back on the single-track and gravel road from the beginning of the race, only it is now all downhill.

I didn’t have a great experience at the race this year. The week before the Run for Africa, I injured my ankle and then my hamstrings. I ran the 95 miles at that race and then wasn’t able to recover fully before this race, two weeks later. I should have just run this race easy, but I didn’t. When I got towards the bottom of my favorite single-track section, my hamstrings had started to hurt badly and I was unable to stretch out my stride. As a result, I started getting passed by many people on the downhills, which usually doesn’t happen. On the flat road section, I really started to hurt and the rest of the race was spent going very easy on the downhills and trying to make up for it on the uphills. On the last long downhill stretch of the race, Mike Day (who had run at Run for Africa, then Crowder’s Mountain 50K the next weekend) passed me and told me I could still get my PR if I hurried. I looked at my watch with a mile left and only five minutes more to get my PR, or so I thought, and with my legs not cooperating, I just took it easy. It turns out that I was mistaken about my PR and missed it by only a minute. Oh well. There’s always next year.

Old Race Report- Last Year's OD 100

2007-06-06T12:06:00.000-07:00

Old Dominion (The Original) 2006

Two years ago I ran the MMT as my first and only 100. Thirty-five and a half hours later, along with 28 blisters and a black eye, I decided that I liked 50Ks a lot more. This year however, I decided to give 100s one more chance and picked the OD 100 as my trial run. This turned out to be one of my better decisions. From the prerace briefing Friday night to the awards breakfast Sunday morning, I had nothing but a positive experience. Everyone I encountered was so helpful, enthusiastic and encouraging. There were aid stations every four miles or so and the volunteers and other runners' support crews (thanks Anita, Susan and others) helped me with everything from filling my water bottle and making me jelly sandwiches to finding tape to fix my MP3 that I dropped.

The race started Saturday morning at 4:00 a.m. at the Shenandoah County Fairgrounds. After a lap around the track, the runners were off with a police escort through the sleeping town of Woodstock. The first four miles or so were paved, but then gave way to a gravel road winding up the first significant climb to Woodstock Tower. I followed a veteran of many 100s, Dan Brenden, up the mountain, jogging here and there to keep up with his fast walk pace. He left me at the top, but I would see him off and on throughout the day. Joining me was Michael Oliva, from New York City, who was running his first 100. Not only was it his first 100, but he had also never run on trail nor in the dark. He would spend the first 50 miles with me and the last with Jay Finkle and ended up placing 2nd overall.

After the tower, the course followed gravel roads down deeper into the woods and then onto a rocky section of trail as it was starting to get light out. The weather turned out perfect- cool, overcast for most of the day, with low humidity and a breeze. After leaving the trail, the course followed winding dirt roads through the Shenandoah Valley countryside. The scenery was beautiful and the first 50K passed quickly and easily. The course again turned to trail, winding through mountain laurel in full bloom. The Duncan
Hollow Trail was the first slow section of our run as it climbed ever so slowly until it finally crested and dropped quickly to our first medical check station. We came up on horseback riders who willingly gave us trail and encouraged us in our run.
The next 12 miles or so again followed country roads and the race personnel had marked the 50 mile mark for us. At 10 hours and 36 minutes, it was a PR for me (although the Masochist is the only 50 miler I run!). It was at this point that Jay Finkle caught up with us and gave me good advice about finishing sub-24. He also pointed out the trail to Short Mountain, which thankfully we passed by. Jay would end up finishing 3rd overall with his best OD time.

The last half of the race is more difficult. There is a steep, rocky ATV trail, ("This is a monster hill, good luck!," said an ATVer who passed me) followed by another section of gravel road, and then the rocky trail with several creek crossings after leaving Mudhole Gap. This is followed by some nice downhill, to the next medical check station at Elizabeth Furnace at mile 75. (Brian Kistner, last years' winner, had been well in the lead when he was forced to drop out here due to a knee injury). Here I picked up my husband, who made the transition from my Happy Meal supplier (NFI) to my safety-runner, although he insists he is retired from running. The next eleven miles up and over Sherman and Veach Gaps are the slowest and most difficult of the race and I was very glad for his company. Joey Anderson is right- this part sucks. When I started the race, I was only hoping to finish. As the day went on and more and more people told me I could finish under 24, I began to believe them. Veach Gap made a disbeliever out of me.
I couldn't believe it took over 4 hours to cover 11 miles, 3 of them a stretch of dirt road. But after that section, something kicked in and I realized I only had a half-marathon to run. After the climb back up Woodstock Tower, blasting down the other side and a brief encounter with a skunk, who eventually yielded the way, I found my way back to the fairgrounds, completed the same lap around the track as I did in the morning (only I think they added a mile or two to it) and finished in 23:38. I was glad to see Fred Dummar come in shortly behind me.

I had a great experience and highly recommend this race. The course is beautiful with enough varied terrain and scenery to keep you distracted from the fact you are running 100 miles. There were bear and deer sightings, along with the skunks. The aid was excellent and frequent, the course well-marked, and the race was professionally run.

Run For Africa

2007-04-17T12:27:00.001-07:00

Run for Africa was my first 24 hour race. I found it to be much more difficult, mentally, than a point-to-point 100 miler. In a 100, I don't think about how many more miles I have to go, I just think of it as getting from one aid station to the next. The terrain is different between each aid station and you have the incentive to finish faster so you can get the race over with faster.

In the 24-hour format, all that changes. You know exactly what to expect and exactly how long you are going to be running. If you go faster, you'll get more miles in, but in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm, I found it very hard to be concerned about getting any extra miles in. In addition, our vehicle was conveniently parked at the three-mile mark, which made it very tempting to take extended breaks in the comfort of a nice dry and warm environment.

Run for Africa is a 24-hour trail race, actually set up as a team relay race. All of the proceeds go directly to support sustainable wells in villages in Africa. The race director, Will Harlan, himself an accomplished ultrarunner, agreed to allow solo runners compete in both a 24 hour and a 12 hour division. As a result, over 40 teams registered along with 15 solo runners, and the organization was able to raise over $20,000 for the cause.

The race was superbly organized. Prior to the race, Will was very helpful with questions I had and even mailed me a map of the course so I could go preview it. When we arrived on Saturday morning, the check-in was very smooth, and along with your t-shirt, you received a photo of one of the kids in Africa who your run was helping out. The pre-race meeting, a half hour prior to the race, was short and to the point and it was nice not having to arrive the night before a race to go to the meeting.

The race started at noon on Saturday and ended at noon on Sunday. The start/finish line was located in the middle of a grassy field where many of the runners had set up tents. The main food tent was there and although I didn't have a chance to take advantage of it, there was free pizza and beer for the runners, along with breakfast in the morning. Bands were playing throughout the day and evening on Saturday and it made for a very festive atmosphere. Then again, at 4:00 in the morning, in the rain, it was difficult to run by all those people sleeping soundly in their tents.

The course was a five mile loop with approximately 700 feet of elevation gain per loop. The first mile was the most difficult, as it climbed steep single track with wash-outs in areas, up to an aid station at about the 1.2 mile mark. Volunteers were there throughout the day, handing out water and Gatorade. Then you began a descent down gravel roads, with washouts in the beginning, but ending up on maintained gravel roads until it leveled out around 2.2 miles. The course then wound around beautiful Lake Eden, along with its many Canadian geese, on grassy paths. At the 3.1 mile mark, there was a fully stocked aid station with water, Gatorade, Cliff bars, bananas, etc.. The course continued around the lake and then wound uphill on gravel roads, and back down to the lake. You again passed the 3.1 mile aid station, this time at about 4.4 miles. You also passed right by the bathrooms and showers, which was very convenient so you didn't have to wait in line for the porta-potties at the start/finish area. However, it was also difficult stepping out of the rain and mud, listening to the hot showers running, and then going back out again. The course ended up with a loop around the field, where you checked in and started the process over again.

The first few laps of the course were very enjoyable. I met several other ultrarunners and we stayed in vicinity of each other for a long time, which made the time go by much faster. There were constantly relay team members passing by, some of which were elite ultrarunners themselves, who I usually only see at the start line of a race. (One was not running the solo event because he had just run across the Sahara!) The weather was overcast, but warm, for most of the afternoon, with occasional drizzle and sprinkles starting in the evening. By midnight, some of the solo runners and teams had stopped at the 12 hour mark and everyone became much more spread out. I went for long periods of time without seeing anyone. Tony (my husband) ran two laps with me at different times, despite his torn meniscus, and kept me company. After midnight, it started raining steadily, and then a thunderstorm moved in. My loops were getting slower and slower. I started out with 50 minute loops, which gradually lengthened, and had passed the 50 mile mark around 10:20 after a few breaks to change shoes and clothes. By 4:00 a.m., I was pretty frustrated. I was drenched, cold, everything hurt, my loops were taking around 75 minutes or longer, I still had eight hours to go and my goal of over 100 miles seemed unattainable. So, at mile three on the next loop, I climbed into the truck where Tony was trying to sleep, changed into dry clothes, turned on the heat, drank an Ensure and napped off and on for the next hour or so. As the sky started to lighten and the rain stopped, my spirits improved and I hobbled back out of the truck and onto the loop again. As I passed through the start/finish area, I learned that there were only 4 people left in the 24 hour solo and that I was leading in laps, but only by one. That motivated me a bit more and I finished shortly after noon with 95 miles.

Our friend and adventure racing partner, Alan Buckner, ran the 12-hour solo as his first ultra and finished before midnight with 50 miles. His longest race prior to that had been the Bartram Trail 21 mile endurance run three weeks before.

I can't say enough good things about the race director and volunteers. The aid station at 3.1 remained manned at all times despite the weather and the volunteers were handing out cups of water and Gatorade to everyone who came through. At the start/finish area, the volunteers checked on me every time I went through, asking if they could get me anything or if I needed anything. From my perspective, everything went very smoothly, despite having over 40 teams running plus the soloists. The results for the top three in each category were ready immediately after the race and some extremely nice prizes were given to the first place teams and soloists. The fact that 100 percent of your entry fee went directly to the charity made the race even more special.