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Fitness Habits

2011-12-18T09:33:00.000-08:00

I recently ran into this article on Pinterest about Fit People. I thought I would share. Also, what is the proper term for finding something on Pinterest? You Stumble Upon stuff, but that term is reserved for stumbleupon, right?
http://12most.com/2011/10/21/12-fundamental-habits-super-fit/

Antelope Island 50K/100K Nov 5th, 2011

2011-11-10T06:43:00.001-08:00

Saturday, November 5th, 2011 marked the last race of the season for me and victory in several ways at the Antelope Island 50k/100K. It was the first big snow storm of the season, 20-30 degrees, with 50 mph winds on the island. I had to be there before sunrise, and it was a huge win for me personally to get my ass out of the door and then out of my car once on the island. Second, this was the longest distance I had done since I sprianed my ankle back in August, and the biggest trail race I had done since. I had recently completed the St. George (road) Marathon, followed by the Mountain View Trail Half Marathon. But, this was a 50K. Was my ankle going to snap again? Would I have to hobble 20 miles to get help in the snow amidst the Buffalo?

Aaannnyway - Obviously it didn't. I showed up. I ran. I took it easy and hiked the uphills. I suffered through the Never Ending Uphill (next to Speedgoat and Logan Peak) and put my head down against the driving winds and freezing precip. It was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. I said "HI" to Tony at Elephant Head Aid Station. He asked about Ryan, who was at home in bed. I can't lie, this only made me feel tougher.

I said "HI" to Olaf and Joe at the next stop after a fast downhill. They too, asked about Ryan. I got to see the back of the island I had never been to. It was strangely beautiful. The lighting on the island plays tricks on you.

Disclaimer: sorry about this next part. I had to pee so bad, and it was too cold to find a rock or a bush to pee behind. This resulted in a bad stomach ache. Coming off of the horrible hill climb was the greatest aid station ever. I drank hot broth and had some potatoes. It was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten in my life. Starting out of the aid station was also the coldest I had ever been in my life.

I finally made it to the downhill, and found I was moving pretty slow on it. "That's OK, I'll recover" I said. And I did. Eventually. It took a lot of shuffling, and I began to sing out loud to my iPod (New Justice Album, thank you very much). I made it to 9 mile aid station and realized I was not that far behind some of the people who had passed me on the uphill. But, it was getting dark. "I must be really far behind schedule", I thought.

I began to move faster and feel better. As I got closer to the Fraery Peak trail head, I looked up and saw a figure on the summit. "I wonder if that is Ryan up there watching me run?" (it was)

The next aid station was a life saver. First - There was a porta-potty. Finally! Second, there were 3 people there resting. Bonus! I left the aid station and passed these three which made me feel so much better. Then I began to really move. I never stopped running, and without realizing it, I was running all the uphills. That's not saying much since the hills at this part are easy. But after 20-something miles in the snow, it was nice. I caught the two men in red coats that had passed me early on. I passed three more people. Then two more (who might have just been hikers).

The last mile was tough. It was a big climb and I kept expecting to see the finish. When I finally got there, I saw Ryan cheering me in. I didn't even check my time, figuring it was really late. Jim, the RD, congratulated me and I ran in and laid down on the dirt floor. Ryan got me some blankets and an extra coat, some hot chocolate and soup. I got a beer too. We hung out for a while chatting with other runners, until I was ready to fall asleep. When I got in my car to go, I realized it was just after 4:00 pm. What? Does this mean I beat 8 hours? Does it mean I might have had a PR? Well, I sort of did. Not by much, but a win is a win.

Running Lesson: Give People and Dogs a Second Chance

2011-07-10T11:49:00.000-07:00

Today I woke up at 3:00 am to go run a marathon. I didn't end up going, but I woke up and had all of my stuff ready. The problem was, I dreamed that my husband and I decided not to run it and instead hiked to a peak. I was so tired and worried about the run, I decided to sleep in.

To be honest, I just didn't want to deal with the hills. I'd be starting 3 hours early with one other person and I wasn't sure I could keep up. For an unsupported run, with no course markings, starting in the dark, the probability of getting lost was huge. I had already talked myself out of it, and felt great going back to bed.

When I finally did get up, I decided to do a 7 mile training run from Eastern Mountain Wilderness Park to Fernwood and back. It's a hilly trail with a few dips into the streams and cooler canyons along the mountains. I set out and had a good start. I had my new water bottle that was actually keeping the ice in my drink frozen, my iPod decided to work today and I felt good - not too sore from the trail 10K I did yesterday, the Farmington Festival Days Flag Rock 10K.

About a half mile from the turn around, I came across a young man with special needs and his companion. As I approached, the man held out his arm, and I took off my ear buds. The lady with him, wearing her hair in shocking red dreadlocks, asked me if I would kindly shake his hand and say "hello". I took his hand and said "hi". Immediately, the young man pressed his eyes closed and yelled out a panicked "NOOOO!" He began to repeat this and each time he did he'd squeeze my hand - hard. Not hard enough to hurt me, but enough to make me worry that this might end badly for us. She apologized and he eventually let go of my hand. She said "I'm sorry, he's autistic". I smiled and continued on. Just before the turn around, was another woman companion with an autistic young man. He was sitting with his feet in the creek and as I ran past, he took a handful of rocks and threw them across the trail. One hit me in the leg and I ran on, weirded out but thirsty and ready to hit the water fountain at the turn around.

As I started filling up my lovely new bottle, a large creepy insect squirmed out of the faucet! "WTH? Did that just happen?" I poured out my water and thought "Oooo - kay. I don't need water for the last 3.5". As I started back, I began thinking about the strange encounters I had had on my run. What a weird day. But then, it made me think about the encounters people must have when they meet my dog, Sprocket.

Sprocket is a mountain Chihuahua. A fierce 5 pounds of white fury and he's sometimes aggressive. He'll occasionally let people pet him, but he's unpredictable and can snap at people and dogs. I don't let him near small kids. How funny, I thought. My Dog Sprocket is like the autistic man I met on the trail. As I passed the young man throwing rocks this time, I slowed and waited for him to throw the rocks again, which he did. Then his companion helped him to his feet and they walked away. As I continued on it was beginning to get hot. I was trying to convince myself I really didn't need water. I had had 21 ounces, and was only going 7 miles, I should be OK. I can cool off in the creek ahead. As I rounded a corner, there again was the young man and is red headed companion. I stopped ahead of them and stepped off the trail so they could go by. This time, however, the young man came up to me again, excited, and held out his hand with an "H"-ey "Hiiiiiiii". I took his hand again and he shook it, repeating "Hi". His companion said "Thank you so much, he thinks you're pretty". I was flattered. I know I am not pretty when I run. I am a mess. I patted his shoulder and went on my way, thinking once again about my dog. He's been known to snap and then later accept someone and go up with tail wagging ready to meet them. It might be fear. It might be that he just has trouble communicating. But this is his reality, just like the young man's.

I decided it's always best to give people - and dogs - a second chance.

2011 racing

2011-06-14T06:14:00.000-07:00

So far this year, I have hit up some of my old favorite races and tried a few new ones.

The race year started as per normal in February with the Moab Red Hot. I did the 33K option this year and beat my time from the first year by over 40 minutes. My strategy this year was just to run, and keep running. Even if it was slow, even if it was a shuffle. I surprised myself by jogging a lot of the uphill, which normally I would walk - probably because I am lazy, but I would tell myself it was because I could hike faster than I could run an uphill, or because I was conserving energy. Not true. In fact, I think I spend less energy on a light jog uphill than a slow slog that ends up looking more like lunges. I love this race.

I gave everything I had in March at the Buffalo 25K. I ran the downhills as hard and fast as I could. I felt like death after the race, and it took a month before I could run downhill like that again. I beat my first year again by 40 ish minutes. I started to see a trend that I am knocking 20 minutes off each year. Hopefully I can keep this up.

I did the Gib Wallace 10K in Ogden, in a snow storm. The snow actually was amazing. It was so pretty and fun to run through. It was a great N.U.T.S. event and I passed people - me!

I also got to do the Steeplechase this year. However, there was so much snow on the course, they had to reroute it on the opposite side of the canyon to Dude Peak. I think it might have been harder. It was essentially like the BoSho marathon, endless climbs, just endless. I still am not sure what my final time was but it was just under 14 miles with about 4,o00 feet of climbing. I actually passed folks on this one too. Not very many, but hey, I guess trying just a little harder might actually have something to it.

This year I also started doing crossfit. I'm not sure if it is helping my training, I am often too sore to do a long run, and dead tired after work. But its given me some perspective that making it hurt won't kill me. I can push myself harder, I can run through pain and not die. It's also transforming me little. I have been afraid to weigh myself, because I fear I may weigh more, but I think I'm becoming more compact. I'm impressed how many muscles you forget to use when you run, but that you can use to run harder if you have them (abs, hips, certain legs muscles I guess were asleep when I raced before, arms and shoulders).

Next up is Logan Peak. My goal is to shave another 20 minutes off and come in just under 8 hours. I know I can do it. I didn't sign up for Speedgoat this year as I was tired of having it hang over my head all season long. I asked Karl Meltzer to reverse the course starting in Mineral Basin (like it was 3 years ago) but he said he'd only do it for $100,000. Since I don't have that, I decided not to run it. It gets harder every year, the mileage before the cutoff increases, and I needed a year off to do races that won't get pulled from.

Logan Peak Trail Run - 28 miles

2010-07-08T21:17:00.000-07:00

I just completed the Logan Peak Trail Run on June 26th, my second time running this race and I fully recommend it.

The race is exceptionally well managed, and the runners are very well taken care of. The course takes you up through Logan dry canyon, along the synch line and up to Logan Peak (9700 ft), then down, around the other side of the mountain and back to dry canyon. It offers some of the most beautiful views of Cache Valley and takes you on some serious technical trails and killer climbs.

This year, I broke a lot of rules for running. First, I got a new pair of shoes in the mail the day before the race....and wore them. I'd never even tried them on, and they were a different model than I usually wear. Second, I decided to try a whole slew of new energy replacements along the course. Third, I held nothing back and ran as hard and fast as I could when I could, instead of conserving for the long run.

Wow! What a difference. The shoes - La Sportiva Crosslites - were a-maz-ing. The energy gels (natural stingers, honey gels and chews) soooo good. Not to mention the coca cola and fruit at the aid stations. And the running, I don't know what happened after I got down from the big climb to Logan Peak, because this was my slowest section last year, but I went crazy. I got some crazy burst of energy, my ipod played the best power songs, and I started passing people and flew threw the trees like a crazy person.

The climbs were still slow, and I got passed a lot on those. This race has some serious hill work. But the downhills and flats were so much fun. I went into the race not knowing where my fitness level was really at and I planned on using it to gauge how well I might do at Speedgoat. I beat last year's time by 20 minutes, and would have probably done better but I had a hard time on the last 2 miles. I ran into a heard of cows, really, in the forest, got to talk to some great runners along the course, and exceeded my expectations of my ability.

Half way to go to Speedgoat

2010-05-07T14:53:00.000-07:00

I have a little over 3 months to go until the Speedgoat 50K this year, which is being held July 31st at Snowbird resort. It will probably be the hottest day of the year.

I just looked up my race entry on the site, and noticed that ultrasignup.com is now ranking you based on past race finishes. I am ranked 55%. Does this mean I have a little more than 50% chance probability that I will finish this year? Does it mean I am actually in the middle of the pack?

Who knows. I don't have killer training yet under my belt that makes me feel confident. I still don't wake up and run before, during, and after work....

Maybe I can turn it around this weekend....

Moab's Red Hot 50K +

2010-03-21T21:06:00.000-07:00

I have been avoiding reporting on this race for some time. The Moab Red Hot 50K + is 34 miles in the Slick rock country of Utah, running on extremely insane hills from the Gemini Bridges trail head and finishing beyond the petrified sand dunes to the bottom of the Poison Spider trail head. This was my favorite race last year, when I did the 20 mile option. But this year was different.

A record amount of snowfall in southern Utah left about a foot of sugary, sandy snow on the trail. One woman I met called it Snand. It was unpackable, and made the climbing extra hard. Ironically, this year's race day seemed hotter than last years, and I was taking off layers after the first few miles. Grossly under prepared for the distance, I quickly fell to the back of the pack. My one goal - not to finish last - was only briefly abated when I managed to come across one or two sad looking runners within the first 10 miles of the course. All of these runners looked like serious athletes that were really having a hard time with the course conditions.

I ran on, beginning to feel good after about 14 miles of misery, until I started the long climb to the 4th aid station at the top of Gold Bar Rim. Along the climb, I passed a row of trucks blocking the path. I didn't realize it, but these guys were supposed to turn back runners after the cut off. They never said anything to me, nor offered any water, and I had no idea they were with the race. Undeterred, I hiked up and up until I came to the aid station. The volunteers were just packing up ready to go, two men in two off road vehicles that had run out of water, and warned me that the last aid station (number 5) probably didn't have any water either. The 5 or 6 of us at the aid station were dejected, but didn't really have much of a choice but to go on. The jeeps could only take 2 of us back, and they carted off a young man who was puking his guts out, and a pretty lady who had had enough. So, I ran on.

I packed my water bottle with what I hoped was clean snow and waited for it to melt. Along the way, I told myself I would be OK. But I couldn't clear my head. I constantly thought of work. I thought about getting lost forever in the desert. My thoughts turned very dark...perhaps a result of the desert around me which seemed to have its own personality. It must have been in a dark mood itself, and I was unable to stay positive. During my trek, I was passed by the other runners from the last aid station. They would disappear immediately from my view, and one runner - who I never saw pass me, ended up miles ahead of me somehow. I was completely alone in the middle of no where, miles and miles away from any road or any people in every direction.

Eventually I would run out of clean snow to melt and I stopped eating or drinking. I just needed to make it to the last aid station, at which point I would ask them to cart me to the finish if they had run out of water as well. As I hiked, I began to see unusual things around me....dead trees that looked like monsters, rocks that I swore were snowmen complete with scarves and coal for eyes. And also, a young man reading a book and wearing old fashioned clothes, who appeared out of no where, walking past me and then disappearing from view. I know that this man (ghost? hallucination?) talked to me and said hello, but I have no idea where he came from, or where he went.

Having run the course the year before, I had an idea of where the last aid station was supposed to be. And when I got there, all I could see where tire tracks in the mud and snow. I assumed they had left me in the desert alone, and instantly lost all hope or ambition. I trudged along, trying not to cry as it began to get dark. As I got to about 2 miles from the finish, a man and his son waiting in a truck greeted me and said that they were, in fact, the lost aid station. The icy conditions on the course were too unsafe for them to drive. The young boy handed me his personal water bottle and they offered to drive me in. Not wanting to quit so close to the end I shook my head and stubbornly decided to keep going, running, shuffling, and walking into the finish. When I made it in, the race director and my husband were waiting. I was the last official finisher. They handed me a beer, and some hot soup.

I know that I had lost the battle before it began. And, I'm not sure why. I guess attitude has a lot to do with it. I was angry about the race, angry that I was without water for about 15 miles. Angry that the course beat me up. Angry that the course markers were so hard to follow, and that after running 32 miles, an aid station was planned for just 2 miles ahead of the finish. But I would learn later that a young woman from Colorado had had a very different experience than I did. She came in 4th place in her division, running the 20 mile option, and celebrated with her 3 friends who came out to run with her. She must have enjoyed the race very much - she loved to run, and she was very good at it. On the way home, her car was involved in a horrific accident, probably about the same time that I crossed the finish line, and she passed away. Newly married and devoted to helping people, her life was cut short. And yet, she made the most of her time on the trail while I wallowed in self pity and misery.

I have been uncomfortable about this because I know that running is important to me. I had planned on writing about all the things that went wrong about the race planning. But when it came down to it: the volunteers never left me. The first few aid stations (which only the 50Kers used, and both groups used the last two) were well prepared, but the last two simply ran out of supplies. And, the volunteers waited for me at the finish well into dusk. Besides - this was an ultra. No one was gonna let a foot of snow cancel the race.

I don't want to end up letting whatever darkness or depression I have inside of me infect what I do this way ever again. Running can be such an amazing experience. It can challenge you beyond your limits, and it can be very positive. What a waste it was for that woman to die, but at least she was able to enjoy doing something she loved with friends on her last day here. Strangely, I went to Moab with the strange feeling that I could die there. I know that sounds dark, but it is a weird place. It had been a long winter and I had not trained very well. But I would inevitably make it to the finish line. And I would run my next race harder than before. And the next one after that. And so on. Until I can no longer do it.

2009-09-22T15:07:00.000-07:00

This is a video of my dog, Sprocket. He is an ultra running Chihuahua.

Mid-Mountain Marathon

2009-09-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

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.

SpeedGoat 50K, 2009

2009-07-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

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".

Logan Peak Trail Run....a "casual" mountain ultra experience

2009-06-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

Maureen was kind enough to take a pic of me and Ryan at the trail head

Its race day morning at 3 am, and as usual, I'm feeling fat from not running the day before, and eating extra carbs and sugary foods. I have all my gear ready to go, and I've put out some food for my puppy to enjoy after I leave. Three days before, I learned about the Logan Peak Trail Race from a nice group of runners at Mueller park. I was getting close to my big race in July and had planned on taking a day off of work to put in 16 miles later that week, but the thought of a 28 mile mountain ultra, with full support in beautiful Logan, Utah was an opportunity I could not ignore.

I 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.

Laying in the shade of a tree on the freshly cut grass in the park after the race, I had a mental clarity and calm that I had not had in months. I felt completely present and alive and good - even though I was having trouble walking. Every breath I took left my mouth with a smile and I wasn't concerned with doing anything else that day (except having a victory donut and seeing Sprocket, my dog).

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

Slip and Slide Run - The 2009 Wahsatch Steeple Chase

2009-06-16T08:48:00.000-07:00

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.