This is a video of my dog, Sprocket. He is an ultra running Chihuahua.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Mid-Mountain Marathon
This September Ryan and I signed up for the mid-mountain marathon. We were facing a long, empty fall and winter without any hundreds and no other long races, at least for awhile. So, as has been our MO for most of the year, we approached a race at the last minute, untrained and 'ready' to go.
The race is held in Park City, UT, traversing along gently rolling single track through the ski resorts of Deer Valley, Canyons, and Park City. It was a cool morning, and a scenic drive through the mountains. After a pre-race briefing and finding the elegant ski resort bathrooms, I was ready to run.
The race begins with an asphalt loop around the resort and then its quickly onto the dirt. The field had thinned out by this time, and I was starting out hard and fast. I never do this, but for some reason, I had very little to loose in this race. My only goal was to make it to mile 18 before 1:00 pm to avoid timing out. I ran quickly and lightly through the trails that overlooked a scenic canyon where the leaves had just begun to change color. My ipod was full of several new songs, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
I thought about the book I have been reading lately, "Born to Run". I thought about how good it feels to run, and how natural it felt. The taste of dirt was in my mouth, the air was cool enough to wear long sleeves, and the day was shaping up to be an epic Saturday. I even managed to pass a few people at the start, though they would catch up to me later. I wore an old worn out pair of running shoes that had virtually no support. I focused on running on my toes, and paying attention to the feedback my feet gave me. My feet were surprisingly more agile and never got sore (though they felt like they were on fire the next day.)
I was feeling really strong for the first 10 miles, and was surprised that I had made it that far without taking many walking breaks, even on the hills. It felt like I had just gotten started. I had a 'rabbit' in front of me I was trying to catch, and no one behind me for a good ways. Eventually, however, someone behind me spotted me, and began to close the gap. I lost the lead on the guy in front of me, even though I had seen him walking on a downhill section. It was starting to get hot, and at mile 12 or 13, I ran out of water.
I figured the next aid station was probably right around the corner. In fact, it wasn't, and I kept holding out hope for what seemed like hours. When I could finally spot it, it looked really close. But, a secret corner and several switch backs later kept it farther than it should have been. When I arrived, I was so thirsty, I gulped down a glass of Gatorade (will I never learn?) I refilled my bottle and chatted with a girl who had been on my heels for the last few hours. This lady looked like she had taken a bad spill, and mentioned that she probably wouldn't finish. This lead me to believe that we were way behind schedule, but in fact she was just being pessimistic. When I asked her what time it was, being just 2 miles or so from the drop point, I realized I was right on track (11:30). With that, she took off, sprinting like a rabbit with new legs. I couldn't believe it. She could have passed me miles ago, but didn't. I started out and realized that the Gatorade I had gulped down was sitting like a brick in my stomach, and each step made it slosh around painfully. I was in a serious bonk.
The next few miles were a death march. I've done enough races to know a long distance will give you time to recover. I tried to stay positive, and eventually was able to recover after mile 18. I began to run again, and was soon on my way to the final aid stations. These spots had been fairly consistently within 2 - 3 miles of each other, which is why running into the aid station at mile 21, just after the 20 mile aid station threw me for a loop. Was I farther than I thought? No - I still had 5 miles to go - mostly downhill, but with one diabolical hill with a bad reputation.
Oddly enough, I never found the hill. I kept finding smaller ones and thinking, "Oh, this must be it". Only to find another one shortly after. When I got to the last mile, having no idea how far out I was, I spotted two runners before me. I hadn't seen anyone since about 18 and was thrilled to see someone I could catch. Its a mean thing to do, but Damn, it feels good! I raced out to catch a woman just as the trail lead to a parking lot at the base of a resort. Ryan was there cheering me on, having finished an un-godly 4:08 on the course, his fastest time yet!. As I was about to catch the woman before me, she stopped - exasperated - when she noticed we had yet another steep hill to climb. I flew by her faster than I had all day, and even caught the guy in front of her off guard. I rounded a round about, and flew into the finish. I could barely breathe, and Ryan couldn't catch me. It was weird to feel so fresh and finish so close to the last runners. I wonder how well I would have done if I had actually trained for it?
The race finish had a bar with a cold Corona waiting for me. It was the best thing I could have asked for and I enjoyed it in the shade in stunning Park City. This race was incredibly runnable, a complete trail marathon without devastating climbs. I felt so high and relaxed. I thought about what running does for me, how I am a better person at the end of the race. How I have more patience and am slower to anger. The next day, Ryan and I got in a good 6 mile hike/run with Sprocket, who had to miss us all day Saturday. The weekend was well spent and I can't wait to do it again.
The race is held in Park City, UT, traversing along gently rolling single track through the ski resorts of Deer Valley, Canyons, and Park City. It was a cool morning, and a scenic drive through the mountains. After a pre-race briefing and finding the elegant ski resort bathrooms, I was ready to run.
The race begins with an asphalt loop around the resort and then its quickly onto the dirt. The field had thinned out by this time, and I was starting out hard and fast. I never do this, but for some reason, I had very little to loose in this race. My only goal was to make it to mile 18 before 1:00 pm to avoid timing out. I ran quickly and lightly through the trails that overlooked a scenic canyon where the leaves had just begun to change color. My ipod was full of several new songs, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
I thought about the book I have been reading lately, "Born to Run". I thought about how good it feels to run, and how natural it felt. The taste of dirt was in my mouth, the air was cool enough to wear long sleeves, and the day was shaping up to be an epic Saturday. I even managed to pass a few people at the start, though they would catch up to me later. I wore an old worn out pair of running shoes that had virtually no support. I focused on running on my toes, and paying attention to the feedback my feet gave me. My feet were surprisingly more agile and never got sore (though they felt like they were on fire the next day.)
I was feeling really strong for the first 10 miles, and was surprised that I had made it that far without taking many walking breaks, even on the hills. It felt like I had just gotten started. I had a 'rabbit' in front of me I was trying to catch, and no one behind me for a good ways. Eventually, however, someone behind me spotted me, and began to close the gap. I lost the lead on the guy in front of me, even though I had seen him walking on a downhill section. It was starting to get hot, and at mile 12 or 13, I ran out of water.
I figured the next aid station was probably right around the corner. In fact, it wasn't, and I kept holding out hope for what seemed like hours. When I could finally spot it, it looked really close. But, a secret corner and several switch backs later kept it farther than it should have been. When I arrived, I was so thirsty, I gulped down a glass of Gatorade (will I never learn?) I refilled my bottle and chatted with a girl who had been on my heels for the last few hours. This lady looked like she had taken a bad spill, and mentioned that she probably wouldn't finish. This lead me to believe that we were way behind schedule, but in fact she was just being pessimistic. When I asked her what time it was, being just 2 miles or so from the drop point, I realized I was right on track (11:30). With that, she took off, sprinting like a rabbit with new legs. I couldn't believe it. She could have passed me miles ago, but didn't. I started out and realized that the Gatorade I had gulped down was sitting like a brick in my stomach, and each step made it slosh around painfully. I was in a serious bonk.
The next few miles were a death march. I've done enough races to know a long distance will give you time to recover. I tried to stay positive, and eventually was able to recover after mile 18. I began to run again, and was soon on my way to the final aid stations. These spots had been fairly consistently within 2 - 3 miles of each other, which is why running into the aid station at mile 21, just after the 20 mile aid station threw me for a loop. Was I farther than I thought? No - I still had 5 miles to go - mostly downhill, but with one diabolical hill with a bad reputation.
Oddly enough, I never found the hill. I kept finding smaller ones and thinking, "Oh, this must be it". Only to find another one shortly after. When I got to the last mile, having no idea how far out I was, I spotted two runners before me. I hadn't seen anyone since about 18 and was thrilled to see someone I could catch. Its a mean thing to do, but Damn, it feels good! I raced out to catch a woman just as the trail lead to a parking lot at the base of a resort. Ryan was there cheering me on, having finished an un-godly 4:08 on the course, his fastest time yet!. As I was about to catch the woman before me, she stopped - exasperated - when she noticed we had yet another steep hill to climb. I flew by her faster than I had all day, and even caught the guy in front of her off guard. I rounded a round about, and flew into the finish. I could barely breathe, and Ryan couldn't catch me. It was weird to feel so fresh and finish so close to the last runners. I wonder how well I would have done if I had actually trained for it?
The race finish had a bar with a cold Corona waiting for me. It was the best thing I could have asked for and I enjoyed it in the shade in stunning Park City. This race was incredibly runnable, a complete trail marathon without devastating climbs. I felt so high and relaxed. I thought about what running does for me, how I am a better person at the end of the race. How I have more patience and am slower to anger. The next day, Ryan and I got in a good 6 mile hike/run with Sprocket, who had to miss us all day Saturday. The weekend was well spent and I can't wait to do it again.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
SpeedGoat 50K, 2009
I told myself that if I could finish the SpeedGoat this year (after last year's drop at mile 25) I would never have to do it again. Never have to do it again, although I could choose to if I wanted to. Now I don't know what to tell myself.
Taking an approach of not pushing too hard this year backfired, and I missed the cutoff at an aid station and was told I could not finish the race. It was at mile 20, two thirds of the race behind me that the aid station worker radioed in that I was not to continue, but instead must hike out of the basin for 2 miles and catch the chair lift down to the finish. I had 15 minutes to make it 2 miles, so I protested, but they told me it was taking people an average of 2 hours (2 HOURS!?!) to cover the next two miles....
It was exactly like being fired at work, then told you had to finish out the week and train your replacement. I was so dejected and had a long climb ahead of me. I figured, "To hell with it, I will finish on my own anyways.." But, by the time I reached the snowbird tunnel (mile 22) the aid station wasn't even there. The course markers had all been removed and I had no idea how to make it to the finish on my own. And, I was out of water.
What a waste. This year's SpeedGoat occurred on the hottest day of the year so far. Both Ryan and I dropped, having asthma and breathing problems the whole day. Every climb I attempted consisted of a "take two steps, stop and catch your breath" method. The altitude slowed me down to a crawl. Last year, I dropped pretty far back in the pack, but I would always see people at the aid stations and leave them behind me when I left. Not this year. The only people at the aid stations besides the volunteers, was the crew waiting on me to get there so they could sweep the trail of course markers once I went through it. I was so slow. When I showed up for the race this year, I guess I just failed to show up.
It was the loneliest race I have ever done. The only other "runner" I ran into was a huge Moose (something you should pray never happens when you are on your own - as I was). I even told myself, the reason I am so far behind was because I had to hide from a Moose, but really...it probably only cost me 10 minutes. I have no idea how to prepare for this race. I usually take an energy gel every 4 miles, but what do you do when those 4 miles take you several hours?? I would try to make up time on the downhills, but even those were un-runable. I was even offered rides by ATV riders 3 times, and turned them down. Oh well.
On the one hand, the hardest 50K in the country would be disappointing if it were too easy. On the other, Dammit! I wanted to finish.
The volunteers at the aid stations were incredible. They really took care of the runners. The views were spectacular. The wild life, well...scary. So, I don't feel too terrible. At least I didn't quit this year. But it is still very disappointing. These races have been teaching me a lot of lessons about pain. Pain is very subjective to one's own individual relative experiences. Walking to the tunnel, sulking, I passed a family of tourists who had taken the chair lift up. A young girl walked into her mother's swinging arm and had taken a punch to the stomach. Doubled over, screaming and crying, this was probably the most pain this child had ever experienced. I walked by and smirked...thinking, "She's young, it certainly won't be the worst for long".
Monday, June 29, 2009
Logan Peak Trail Run....a "casual" mountain ultra experience
Maureen was kind enough to take a pic of me and Ryan at the trail headI signed my husband and myself up and before we'd had a chance to stress out about the race, we were off. We drove to Logan and checked in at Gibbons Park. I wasn't very hungry and it was slightly cool outside. I felt confident that I had prepared well enough, and was at a good point to do 28 miles (even though it was an 11 mile jump from my longest distance so far during my training).
The race began after a briefing from the director, and we made our way through a suburban neighborhood until we reached the edge of the wilderness. A freshly severed deer leg lay at the mouth of the trail leading up into a steep, long canyon. As I settled into a good hiking pace for the climb before us, I said goodbye to Ryan (AKA speedy) and continued to climb with Maureen, the lady who told me about the race earlier in the week. She and I had a similar hiking pace, and I knew it would be good to push each other along. I really want a faster uphill pace, and its something I have been working on this summer. The two of us froze our butts off on the climb until we reached an expanse of flatter, easier trail, and (at last!) sunshine. I began to feel better and took off on the downhill. I even passed a few runners, although they caught up to me again when we started to climb.
The scenery was intensely beautiful. There was a pungent pine needle smell in the air around me, and wild flowers all around. The trail itself was technical, not as well worn as what I am used to. And there were patches of ice and snow here and there with the occasional Moose track to worry about. Every so often I would have to climb over a downed tree covering the path. I felt great and caught myself singing along to some good music on my ipod. I always add new tracks the night before a race to see if they push me along on race day, and its a lot of fun.
As we rounded the back of the mountain, I looked up in the sky to see large snow cornices above us on the ridge line. "Is that what I am gonna be running on later?" I thought. Holy cow, that's gonna be tough. And it was tough.
We had a lot more climbing to do, but I figured the last half was mostly downhill and that I could make up time there. The day had started to warm up and I had reached the second aid station, which stood before the entrance to the hike to the summit. A young girl ran up and filled my water bottle. The crew at the station was so nice. I left after eating some fresh, juicy watermelon (Delicious!) and began to ascend to the peak. It was here that I ran into Ryan as he passed me coming back down. He gave me a kiss and I headed up the trail. Every runner that came down from the summit waved and offered a "Good job!". I love the ultra community. I approached a section that was covered in snow and ice and attempted to glissade the entire way down. I started off pretty well, but then sped up beyond the speed of light and careened out of control, landing spectacularly on my butt at the bottom of the slide. It was so much fun. There was lots of slippery ice for the next mile or so and I did my best to stay upright. The final push to the summit was a gooey, muddy, snowy mess. Just before reaching the last aid station about 300 yards from the summit, I stepped into a muddy spot and *Squersh* my foot, up to my ankle, was completely submerged into the orange muddy goo. I had a hard time even pulling it out. So now my shoes were bright orange with mud, cold and soggy. Oh well, at least it looked hard core.
Maureen had passed me to the summit and when we met at the top, we both tapped the tower at the top and prepared for the second half of the race. Interestingly, the mileage, altitude, and gravity of what I was doing never felt daunting or beyond my control. I knew there was a good chance I could see a bear or a moose, and that the only way to drop from this race was to be air lifted off of the mountain, but I didn't care. It was simply too pretty and too remote to worry about.
I often wonder why I do what I do when I am running these races. And I have a lot of time to think about it, being towards the back of the pack speed-wise. I am forced to think positively the whole time in order to survive, which is counter intuitive to my cynical nature. I'm also usually alone for quite some time and am left with only my will to continue to push me along. Its a beautiful thing, and I haven't found another thing like it. Even though the second half of the course never felt like the elevation chart I had in my mind, of a majority of downhill, and even though it was hot as hell on the other side of the mountain, and my SPF 50 was no longer working, I had never felt better. I even got my running legs back on the last 6 miles of the course, and ran harder and faster than I had the entire day. I passed a few more people in the last few miles, people I had not seen all day! I smiled when I passed the 27 mile mark, knowing full well if I had done a marathon I would be home by now. And I smiled when I was able to fly by some of the other runners. As I ran into the finish at Gibbons park, I dumped the rest of my water bottle down my shirt and on my head to cool off. I sprinted into the finish and jumped in the air across the finish line and into Ryan's arms. What a fantastic day! - No matter how bad a race gets, if you are able to finish strong, it makes all the difference.Overall Impression - an extremely tough mountain ultra. Highly recommended if you are doing any mountain races (like the Speedgoat) and need some extreme climbs to get you in shape.
Newly added tracks - "Heads will Roll" - yeah, yeah, yeahs; "2 close 2 Yr heart" - Samuraj Cities (a Swedish band, and amazing track); "Blue Flowers" -Dr. Octagon
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Slip and Slide Run - The 2009 Wahsatch Steeple Chase
This year, the Salt Lake area was experiencing a record amount of rain. Daily thunderstorms had soaked the desert soil and washed out many trails. The Wahsatch Steeple Chase would have to be run in the mud, and the local runners were willing to compromise.
The morning of the race was tense as the weather forecast predicted large storms. Lightening, Hail, and heavy rain could be hazardous. We were told we had a window of about two hours before the next round of storms was to roll in.
After checking in, Ryan and I lined up to begin the race. He planned on sticking with me for the first half, as he did last year. After a brief speech by the race director, and a warning to get off the ridge if you saw lightening, we were off. The course in this race begins at Memory Grove park in Utah. The course winds up a road into the canyon before cutting off onto a steep single track on the hillside. Its a 17 mile "marathon effort" race that takes you up 8500 feet of elevation in about the first 6-8 miles. There is technical climbing at the summit, the occasional rattlesnake lurking around you, and then a severe downhill that takes you back out of the canyon. To avoid being caught on a mountain top in a lightening storm, we would have to book it to the summit.
I was already having trouble on the long gradual uphills, and could hardly catch my breath. I had brought my long sleeve lucky race shirt to wear in the morning cold, but now I was dripping with sweat. I couldn't keep up with Ryan, but he wasn't too far out of sight. We continued to climb in an area of thick brush, until we came out on top of the hillside overlooking the canyon below. At this point, the trail mellowed out a bit in between large steep climbs. I began to warm up and felt better and so my pace began to pick up. I was able to run a few of the sections and caught up to Ryan. The sun was just cresting the mountains to the south and it was a beautiful sight. I hadn't seen the sun in days, and it instantly lifted my spirits. I began some positive mantras to push myself along and my thoughts drifted to all sorts of things. I honestly thought about Gandhi, and how at 70 years old, or so, he was somewhat of an ultra marathoner walking 300 miles across India. Ryan was really encouraging, offering me advice as we tackled the hills and telling me I was doing great. Before I knew it, we were at the first water stop at 4 miles. Its always a good feeling to realize you were further along than you imagined. I could see the "Big Climb" to the summit in the distance, and the dark clouds off to the right and left of it. The pending storm was an ominous omen, as it loomed in the distance, getting closer and closer like the inevitable energy crash I was trying to hold off for as long as possible. "If I can just make it to the summit before the storm hits, I will be OK".
The hills were covered in wild flowers, and it smelled so good. It felt wonderful to be outside. I am so lucky to have a place like this to run. My knees were hurting, and my back was aching (Yoga was so hard this week!), but I tried not to focus on anything negative. My goal was within visual distance. I remembered the old mountain ultra rule: If you can see it, it's not that far away.
Once we made it to the big hill, I stayed focused and steady. I was surprised, last year this hill had shut me down so badly. It was so hot then, and I kept stopping and gasping for air. This year it was nice and cool (I was now glad to have my long sleeve on) and I was keeping a steady pace. This hill takes forever....you are almost on your hands and knees.
Once we finally got to the top, I felt a few rain drops on my cheek. I needed to move, but my legs were now Jell-O. The ground around the rocks was slippery, and surprisingly, the top takes a while to get across. When we finally made it to the "Crag", I was dead tired. I knew we could open it up on the downhill though, and I began to climb the sharp rocks. Sharp rocks are a good thing and a bad thing. My hands were frozen stiff, and the rocks hurt. However, it was a good sign that there weren't many slippery spots. Down climbing with the help of the volunteers at the top, I could barely bend my knees, let alone drop down and try to stay steady. Ryan took my water bottle from me to free up my hands, and we made it across to the down hill.
Hard part's over, I thought....
Unfortunately, the backside of the mountain was a slip and slide. I could see ski tracks where people had slipped through the mud, and I left some of my own. It was incredibly steep and scary. I found out later that a runner behind me fallen and broken his leg, needing a helicopter to get him off the ridge. I could hear a mechanical clapping noise and knew that I was close to the aid station. There it was, a toy monkey banging symbols hanging in the trees. What a weird way to mark an aid station. Ryan was waiting for me there, with my water bottle filled up. We thanked the aid station workers and headed off. This is where Ryan had flown away at top speed last year. He must have been hurting too, so we stayed together, mostly, until we got further down. Here again were treacherous slides and wet muddy ground. It had begun to rain, and I was tripping and sliding through the mud. My feet would catch on roots, as the trail was completely covered from the brush. There were even ropes fixed to the trees for us to "repel" down on the scariest sections. I was covered in mud and scratches, but eventually made it to the bottom. When I finally had flat ground to run on, I felt great. I caught up to Ryan at the aid station and we took off together for the last 6 miles of the course.
I was able to run pretty consistently, though not fast, all the way down the canyon. The sun was peaking out and it had started to warm up. We stayed together and even passed a few people on the trail. We hopscotched with a guy for a while until he beat us and disappeared. Closer to the end, I was surprised at how well I felt. I was running over hills that normally shut me down. Ryan had picked up the pace as he thought we might be able to catch the guy who passed us earlier. I was afraid I would burn out, and I only wanted to come in before Ryan, as I knew it would never happen again. We caught a glimpse of the guy in front of us, but he was too far away. "we're not gonna pass him" I told Ryan.
Just then, the guy dropped his water bottle and had to stop to pick it up. Before I knew it, I was sprinting ahead of him all the way to the finish! I felt like I was going to puke, and it was great.
As we crossed the finish line, the sun came out, and we relaxed on the grass for a bit. It was a great race, and I was so glad we did it.
The morning of the race was tense as the weather forecast predicted large storms. Lightening, Hail, and heavy rain could be hazardous. We were told we had a window of about two hours before the next round of storms was to roll in.
After checking in, Ryan and I lined up to begin the race. He planned on sticking with me for the first half, as he did last year. After a brief speech by the race director, and a warning to get off the ridge if you saw lightening, we were off. The course in this race begins at Memory Grove park in Utah. The course winds up a road into the canyon before cutting off onto a steep single track on the hillside. Its a 17 mile "marathon effort" race that takes you up 8500 feet of elevation in about the first 6-8 miles. There is technical climbing at the summit, the occasional rattlesnake lurking around you, and then a severe downhill that takes you back out of the canyon. To avoid being caught on a mountain top in a lightening storm, we would have to book it to the summit.
I was already having trouble on the long gradual uphills, and could hardly catch my breath. I had brought my long sleeve lucky race shirt to wear in the morning cold, but now I was dripping with sweat. I couldn't keep up with Ryan, but he wasn't too far out of sight. We continued to climb in an area of thick brush, until we came out on top of the hillside overlooking the canyon below. At this point, the trail mellowed out a bit in between large steep climbs. I began to warm up and felt better and so my pace began to pick up. I was able to run a few of the sections and caught up to Ryan. The sun was just cresting the mountains to the south and it was a beautiful sight. I hadn't seen the sun in days, and it instantly lifted my spirits. I began some positive mantras to push myself along and my thoughts drifted to all sorts of things. I honestly thought about Gandhi, and how at 70 years old, or so, he was somewhat of an ultra marathoner walking 300 miles across India. Ryan was really encouraging, offering me advice as we tackled the hills and telling me I was doing great. Before I knew it, we were at the first water stop at 4 miles. Its always a good feeling to realize you were further along than you imagined. I could see the "Big Climb" to the summit in the distance, and the dark clouds off to the right and left of it. The pending storm was an ominous omen, as it loomed in the distance, getting closer and closer like the inevitable energy crash I was trying to hold off for as long as possible. "If I can just make it to the summit before the storm hits, I will be OK".
The hills were covered in wild flowers, and it smelled so good. It felt wonderful to be outside. I am so lucky to have a place like this to run. My knees were hurting, and my back was aching (Yoga was so hard this week!), but I tried not to focus on anything negative. My goal was within visual distance. I remembered the old mountain ultra rule: If you can see it, it's not that far away.
Once we made it to the big hill, I stayed focused and steady. I was surprised, last year this hill had shut me down so badly. It was so hot then, and I kept stopping and gasping for air. This year it was nice and cool (I was now glad to have my long sleeve on) and I was keeping a steady pace. This hill takes forever....you are almost on your hands and knees.
Once we finally got to the top, I felt a few rain drops on my cheek. I needed to move, but my legs were now Jell-O. The ground around the rocks was slippery, and surprisingly, the top takes a while to get across. When we finally made it to the "Crag", I was dead tired. I knew we could open it up on the downhill though, and I began to climb the sharp rocks. Sharp rocks are a good thing and a bad thing. My hands were frozen stiff, and the rocks hurt. However, it was a good sign that there weren't many slippery spots. Down climbing with the help of the volunteers at the top, I could barely bend my knees, let alone drop down and try to stay steady. Ryan took my water bottle from me to free up my hands, and we made it across to the down hill.
Hard part's over, I thought....
Unfortunately, the backside of the mountain was a slip and slide. I could see ski tracks where people had slipped through the mud, and I left some of my own. It was incredibly steep and scary. I found out later that a runner behind me fallen and broken his leg, needing a helicopter to get him off the ridge. I could hear a mechanical clapping noise and knew that I was close to the aid station. There it was, a toy monkey banging symbols hanging in the trees. What a weird way to mark an aid station. Ryan was waiting for me there, with my water bottle filled up. We thanked the aid station workers and headed off. This is where Ryan had flown away at top speed last year. He must have been hurting too, so we stayed together, mostly, until we got further down. Here again were treacherous slides and wet muddy ground. It had begun to rain, and I was tripping and sliding through the mud. My feet would catch on roots, as the trail was completely covered from the brush. There were even ropes fixed to the trees for us to "repel" down on the scariest sections. I was covered in mud and scratches, but eventually made it to the bottom. When I finally had flat ground to run on, I felt great. I caught up to Ryan at the aid station and we took off together for the last 6 miles of the course.
I was able to run pretty consistently, though not fast, all the way down the canyon. The sun was peaking out and it had started to warm up. We stayed together and even passed a few people on the trail. We hopscotched with a guy for a while until he beat us and disappeared. Closer to the end, I was surprised at how well I felt. I was running over hills that normally shut me down. Ryan had picked up the pace as he thought we might be able to catch the guy who passed us earlier. I was afraid I would burn out, and I only wanted to come in before Ryan, as I knew it would never happen again. We caught a glimpse of the guy in front of us, but he was too far away. "we're not gonna pass him" I told Ryan.
Just then, the guy dropped his water bottle and had to stop to pick it up. Before I knew it, I was sprinting ahead of him all the way to the finish! I felt like I was going to puke, and it was great.
As we crossed the finish line, the sun came out, and we relaxed on the grass for a bit. It was a great race, and I was so glad we did it.
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