My OMGWTFDNF Report: The curse of the turkey or Cinderella or both.

Let's just get this out of the way: I got my first ever Did Not Finish last Saturday at Coastal's Cinderella trail run in the Oakland Hills. I don't like really like the idea of seeing DNF after my name, but maybe we can petition to officially change it to OMGWTFDNF. Takes a little of the sting off.

Here's me walking to my doom, I mean the start. 

It just wasn't my day. It was a series of unfortunate events.

• Almost ate it a few different times right off the bat due to some steep descents and gnarly footing
• On one of those times, my foot slid underneath me causing me to fling my arm out and catapult my phone out of the zipper pocket of my handheld into oblivion. Lucky for me, the girl behind me saw where it landed in the foliage. 
• Saw a girl get completely mowed over in front of me by one of the lead 10k runners that came barrelling up behind us on single track. 
• Saw a turkey. Pointed at it and said "heyyyy" with what was probably an idiotic smile on my face. 
• Took two more steps, still smiling like an idiot, and then sprained my ankle. The same ankle I sprained 11 months ago. That kept me from running for 3 months. 
• Cried. Cursed. Shook my fist at the sky. Slapped a tree. Got it together. 
• Hobbled/ran to next aid station 3 miles down the trail. 
• Got a chair and some ice and then my new friend Eric from the Fish Ladder aid station drove me back to the start/finish area. We talked ultras and party schools in the midwest.
• Got an x-ray and got to see my own skeleton for the first time. 

Currently, it seems to be improving and not as bad as my previous sprain. I think calling it a day at mile 8.2 and immediately icing it instead of continuing to run 30 miles is making a big difference. You live, you learn. 

Left Photo:2012, Right Photo, 2013

And now, to end on a happy note, here's a video of people running in slow motion to catch trains. I need to go ice some more.

The post about it.

By now we've all written and read the blogs and articles. Feelings have been expressed, and stories have been told. The news has moved on. For the most part, the sadness and rage have been diluted by time, and life goes on. You know what I'm talking about.

and then you get an email that a large road race you signed up for wants to assure you that heightened security measures are in place and no one is allowed to have a bag or back pack of any kind. 

and the news reports the number of people still in the hospital and some new lead that's been discovered. 

It's the guilt you feel because your life goes on, is going on, when so many others are still living with the aftermath. Well actually, we are all living with the aftermath. Life might go on for most of us, but something has changed.

It's not going to stop me from running urban road races, and, logically, I don't really believe this will actually ever happen again. What has changed is that, every urban road race that I run now, I'm going to have something in the back of my mind that is irrationally worrying me and telling me that my wife or friends or whoever is waiting at the finish line - every person or spectator is a little bit terrified to be standing there. It wasn't the runners that were targeted, it was the crowd, which happened to be the people there to support them, and even though running can be a solitary sport, we all know how much it means to see someone's face and hear your name yelled out as you cross the finish line. 

Well crap, now I'm getting the sadness and the rage again...

Like metal detectors in schools and taking your shoes off at the airport...times they are a-changin.

I didn't sit down to write about this. I sat down to write about my mountain run last weekend. This is what came out. 

I have never been more proud to be a part of a community than I have being a runner. I could tell you where I was when I heard, or that I was there when...and just missed...or knew somebody who...but none of that matters. 

I was there with you. 

I was running past the explosion when it happened. 

I finished two minutes before the bomb exploded. 

I finished ten minutes before the bomb exploded. 

I fell down when the bomb exploded and got back up. 

I got stopped after running 24 miles and never got to cross the finish line. 

I was worried about my wife who was waiting at the finish for me and couldn't get a hold of her on her cell phone for hours. 

I ran toward the blast to help.

I ran away from the blast because I was scared. 

Life goes on for a lot of us, but nothing will let us forget being there...even though we weren't. 

Way Too Cool 50k Race Report, My Second First Ultra!

Less than a mile to the finish, having been stuck inside my own head for the past hour or so, covered in sweat and salt, wearing water logged shoes, willing my legs to just keep moving, I heard a woman's voice behind me...

 "I'm TIRED!"

 I laughed. Hard.  "Me too!" I called back to her. 

"Sorry," She answered, "I hope that didn't sound negative."

In my opinion, when you get to the last mile of an ultra, you can say whatever you damn well please.


Let's start with Auburn, The Endurance Capitol of the World. (I'm not making that up) It's about 15 minutes from the race start at the Cool Fire Station, and driving in, there was a buzz that only hundreds of out of town runners in every hotel and bar and restaurant can create. The man at the front desk of the hotel checking us in made small talk...about Western States. He talked about the ice machines...in case I wanted an ice bath after the race. Downtown was crawling with people hanging around Auburn Running Company where check in was being held, and at dinner that night, in a packed restaurant, GeNene remarked, "Whoa, look at all the Columbia and North Face in here..."

It felt like being part of something big.

Race morning felt exactly the same way.

During some last minute stretching before the start, I looked up to see a bearded man running by warming up..."Well hell, that's Gordy Ainsleigh!"  I smiled. Cool.

Distances between aid stations
written on my handheld

The first 8 mile loop flew by with lots of meandering single track, pretty trees, tall grass, and a couple of crossings over Knickerbocker Creek. An hour and twenty minutes in and I was back at the start for the first aid station thinking to myself, enjoy this...nothing hurts yet! While I was out there I had a salt cap and a 2 gels. The plan was 1-2 gels between aid stations, salt cap every hourish, and real food every aid station. The plan worked until I forgot about the plan.

The Olmstead Loop took us out to Western States Trail.

And then we dropped down onto Highway 49 to hit the Lower Quarry Aid Station.

At the aid station I refilled my bottle, had half a banana, a little bit of coke and grabbed 2 gels to replace my empties as I ran off along the river with just over 4 miles to the next aid station.

Somewhere around mile 13 or 14 I saw the famous hat with the frogs and caught up with Allen who caught me feeling perky.

It was about 5 and a half miles to Maine Bar where I paused just long enough to grab a couple of potatoes dredged in salt and replenish my supplies. 16.7 miles in is when I began thinking about Goat Hill. I really had no idea what would happen when, after running 25 miles I'd be up against the hill that everyone talked about in this race and then still have five miles to go. "Oh, it's not bad because it's not that long...it's just REALLY STEEP." Sounds fantastic, can't wait.

Miles 17-21 is when things started getting a little kooky. Feeling like I was beginning to wind down, Layla (RFFT (Running Friend From Twitter))and crew caught up with me, so some chit chat was a nice distraction. Then, something magical happened. I found myself in the middle of some sort of unofficial mid race support group. There were maybe six or seven of us? And we had a leader. She ran at the front of the line and all of a sudden I was just being pulled along by an invisible rope. She would yell something out and we would all whoop and holler. Whoever all of you were, thanks.

We splashed through a creek that turned my legs to stone. There was an uphill on the other side, and the party train went on without me. I might have had a tiny moment of panic at this point because, well, if this is the shape I'm in now...Goat Hill is not going to be pretty. I put my head down and focused on just taking steps and not thinking about anything else having to do with miles or goats. It worked. I rolled on into ALT Aid at mile 21 where I grabbed sprite, gels, and a PB&J square. Because I totally always eat PB&J squares 21 miles into a run...

My aid station strategy began to deteriorate after about 20 miles. You live, you learn. I usually stick to bananas and potatoes and salt, maybe a couple pretzels, but when I got a little loopy I felt like I needed something more and that it was really smart of me to feel that way...like YES, this PB&J is what my body needs for fuel to get me through the next 10 miles, I am so smart right now. I spent the next mile out of the aid station trying not to ralph. Noted for next time.

I needed to zone out and cruise, so that meant time to break out the tunes. It did the trick.

Mile 22 went by...23....24...and then there was a sharp turn and the girl in front of me completely stopped. I smiled at her and said, "Well, here we go...!" Welcome to Goat Hill.

All I could hear was a voice that got louder and louder as I climbed. "You're awesome! All you runners down there that I can't see yet, you're awesome! I'm holding a sign that says you're awesome!"
He was very enthusiastic, and when I finally got to the top, he was, indeed, holding a sign that said "you're awesome". Thanks, super enthusiastic yelling guy.

At Goat Hill Aid I ate an orange slice. It was the best thing I had ever tasted in my entire life, so I grabbed another one before taking off to gut out the next three miles. There was one last nice big climb out of the last aid station, and then just like that I was running the last mile of Way Too Cool.

Photo courtesy of Ken Michal

Finished!

"Nice work!" A spectator had called out earlier in the day. 

"Thanks," a man behind me answered, "But it's not work...this is what we do for fun."

Taper Tantrum

It's so warm outside that the front door is open and Kiah is glued to the screen because there's a big fluffy black cat sitting on the other side. Every few minutes, he stands up on his hind legs panting a little, sniffing the air, while the outside cat just stares at him. Nobody's growling or hissing. Some sort of silent cat communication is happening. I'm keeping my distance. I'm pretty sure Kiah wants to rip the outside cat to shreds while the outside cat's just kind of like, hey man, what do you got going on in there, is that your climbing thing it looks pretty sweet.

Oh, now the cat left, sooo....

WELCOME TO MY TAPER YOU GUYS.

It's too soon to start obsessing about the race, but, like...I have no training left to focus on. For the next week all I have to do is run some easy miles and try not to eat everything in the house.

And do you want to hear something really hilarious? Next week, the week preceding my 50k on Saturday, my store is CLOSED for remodel. Fantastic, right? I'm super excited about the remodel and, hey, vacation time!

What the eff am I going to do with myself seriously I don't think this is going to be pretty. GeNene has already offered to tranquilize me if needed. I won't be distracted by work for 8 hours a day. I'll be running short runs while my legs want to keep on running....and then I'll start the race day planning: Studying elevation, distance between aid stations, reading race reports, do I need a drop bag, what's the weather forecast, how about now...how about now...how about now. AND WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR.

This would be worst case scenario taper madness: Too much time on my hands and nothing else to do but think about the race. My solution is to plan ahead to thwart the psychosis.

Things to do instead of flip out about the race:

1. Finish Lost. I started watching it while I was sick last month and got sucked in. One season to go...that won't last long.
2. Blog about stuff other than running. Ha! Yeah right, like what, the cat?
3. Shop for new running stuff. Totally doing this.
4. Paper Mache, Crochet, Faberge, Macrame...something creative. Perfect time to start a new painting...I've got nothing but time.
5. Read some books. Dust off the Bukowski or Tolkien or Virginia Woolf...or Carl Sagan! Something comfortable and familiar that I haven't picked up in 10+ years.
6. Learn a new roll on the banjo. Easier said than done. Mostly the banjo leaves me cussing, so maybe I'll stick to a new song on the guitar...or harmonica. YES! I'm going to buy a harmonica and learn how to play it. And a keyboard! I'LL START A ONE MAN BAND.
7. Tweet stupid stuff, Instagram everything I eat, Vine every moment of my life.
8. Clean, organize, weed through, declutter everything in the house. This will probably definitely happen. Then I'll get stuck reading my journal from 1998 or putting on my prom dress. Or both at the same time.
9. Wash my car, get an oil change...you know, something actually productive and not crazy.
10. Buy things off of Ebay, Amazon, and iTunes, register for more races, buy concert tickets, talk about crazy vacation plans because LOOK A GROUPON FOR ITALY.

Good plans, right? I think so. We pack up the store this weekend and come Monday after I pop in to do payroll I'm a free woman. No work, no thinking or worrying about work, nothing...except the impending race which shall not be named because it's too early for me to start being nervous.

Stay tuned for stupid tweets and blog posts about the cat, unless I lose it and get tranquilized.

I'll probably be tranquilized by Tuesday.

The Last Hurrah in Pacifica + A Boat Fit for a Hobbit

Chapter 1 - RACE REPORT

My 4:30am last Saturday and every Saturday.    

8 hours of work later, I was shoving Gu and tape into my gear bag in a frenzy so that we could blow town and head for the ocean. Allison came with us because she's NEVER BEEN TO PACIFICA. I know, right? There was a slight detour to REI in San Francisco before we made our way down the coast to Rockaway Beach.

I just started watching Lost
and I'm on season 5
so I pretty much have
a whole different perspective
when looking out at the ocean.

Shenanigans ensued during the evening. I've discovered Vine and took way too many videos, but I was in bed by ten...thirty...ish to be up in the morning for the 8am start of Coastal's Montara Mountain half marathon.

The lot at the park filled early, so everyone coming in was directed to park along the streets- the neighborhood streets, like sleepy Sunday morning neighborhood streets. Streets with houses full of people that in no way expected to walk out for their newspapers and see a guy with his shirt around his neck lubing up. <photo not included> <if you follow me on Instagram, you can totally see the photo>.

I had 2 goals for this race: 1. Don't do anything stupid like get hurt two weeks before Way Too Cool which you've been training for since December, and 2. Seriously, NO SERIOUSLY don't do anything stupid like get hurt.

I was cautious running back down the mountain on the first loop. There's a section that is covered in golf ball sized rocks, and when you want to use gravity to your advantage and make up some time, it's not always easy to back off on the downhill. I had to keep reminding myself to run smart.

Coming into the aid station I recognized Janeth, who seems to be either running or volunteering at a race every weekend and always smiling. She refilled my handheld and sent me off with some encouragement which gave me a little boost as I headed out for more uphill. The Hazelnut loop was killer; It was hot, it seemed endless, and every switchback looks the same. It was tough, but great physical training as well as mental.

Finish! 4th AG, and
nothing stupid happened!

Chapter 2......A glimpse into the future

Julie Fingar...AKA race director of Way Too Cool. 

We took a little trip into Sacramento to stay on the boat. It's a fun place to stay because it's an old boat that's now a hotel, and all the rooms are quaint and cozy.

Quaint and cozy meaning small and little.

We've stayed on the Delta King a handful of times and really enjoyed it. The truth is that the rooms are small (if you're medium sized, like me(5'5"), you can reach up and touch the ceiling in the room no problem...if you're small sized, like GeNene (5'0"), you can reach up and touch the ceiling if you have a water bottle in your hand.

So basically, the boat reminds me of Bag End.
And now I want to watch
Lord of the Rings.

This is the door to our room. 

I wanted a picture that would show the size of the door...but when I saw the picture I realize it was more along the lines of this.

Little Green Men. X Files. 

I had a great 5 mile run along the American River and then came back to shower and head to REI. There was a crowd of about 40 people to hear Julie Fingar and Don Freeman speak. I find that I learn the most when people tell stories...what worked or didn't work, what it felt like, what you experienced. The more I hear that you wanted to quit but kept going the better. I understand that everything's different person to person, you have to find what works for you blah blah blah...but tell me what you experienced, what you ate, how you felt at mile 70, how you yelled at your pacer...how you trained, how you run hills, whatever!

I learned a few really important takeaways from Don. The one most important thing is something that I feel like is a total rookie mistake. When I have an important race coming up on the weekend, I chug water like it's going out of style the entire week prior to hydrate as much as possible. What I didn't realize was that I was over hydrating. Basically I'm flushing the electrolytes and sodium completely out of my body.

Gandalf.

Ok so Goodnight. See you on the flip side.

Training Update, or, Training hasn't been perfect but TRAINING UPDATE

I'm not sure what we all did at jury duty before Twitter...

A couple weeks ago I sat in a room serving my civic duty with 200 people for three hours and was excused because the courts did not require my service.

What I didn't know was that one or more of those 200 people was
sharing their gross sick germs with me. 

When my fever finally broke and my antibiotics were done, I had missed the trail marathon I was supposed to run and totally disrupted a key week in my training cycle, so naturally I panicked.

Despite the fact that I hadn't really eaten anything let alone moved off the couch for 8 days, I thought it was important to get in a 20 miler, so yesterday GeNene and Allison and I took off for Lake Chabot!

Ready to crush it. 

I took off and went about seven miles out of the way, or as I like to think of it exploring and adventuring, before getting back to a trail I knew. My out of the way included lots of hills, a creek crossing, a parking lot with a weird bathroom with swarming boxelder bugs, and popping out onto a golf course. Oops.

To be fair, they looked at me the same way. 

Sometimes it's important to stop and turn around
and look back at where you came from...
and then keep moving forward. 

UNICORN SIGHTING! 

So, I don't think I could actually be
much happier than I am
right here
in this picture.

19 days until Way Too Cool...

Throwback Thursday: High School Glory Days

3rd at State. 4x8 relay.

New Prairie

Sophomore year cross country

Hi, I weigh 75 lbs.

Early 90's SELFIE

My mile PR is 5 minutes 8 seconds. It was 1997 (there's no expiration date on PRs right?). I'm sure about the year (pretty sure) and remember the race vividly: It was a home track meet, and I placed second (those two facts I'm sure of). My actual finish time, however, is subject to a plus or minus 4 second adjustment based on when I'm telling this story. I'm pretty sure it was 5:08, but it might also have been 5:12. It also might have been 5:14, and I maybe have even claimed a 5:04 somewhere over the years. All I know is that it was the closest I came in my running career to running a sub 5 minute mile. And it was close...by a range of 5-15 seconds according to my memory.



So there's a point to this regression. Last year my hometown put on a 24 hour run open to relay teams and individuals...a 5k loop on my high school cross country course. Only a handfull of individuals attempted the run among relay teams of 2 and 10, and only 3 female individuals gutted it out.

I kind of feel like I have to do this. If I'm going to challenge myself in this way, it would be really meaningful to do it on my old stompin' grounds. I'm considering it.

Back home again in Indiana.

Inside Trail 30k+I want to be a surfer.

On my way up to the turnaround point at the north peak of Montara Mountain, I looked up to see Caitlin Smith cruising back down.

Well, there goes my chance for an age group win today, I thought.
(that's a joke)

Someone should hire me to write course descriptions. 

Inside Trail celebrated its one year anniversary with a return to Pacifica, the site of their inaugural event. Last year I ran the half marathon distance, but this year my training for Way Too Cool called for an 18 miler. The past few trail races I've run have had a good amount of climbing, but for the most part, the entire second half has been downhill. I was super excited to challenge my legs to some late in the race uphill. (spoiler alert: legs were not super excited to accept the challenge)

I'm very familiar and comfortable with the first loop up the mountain. It's the longest and highest climb, but it's also the first three miles of the race when everybody's legs are fresh and rarin' to go. I tried to tuck in and keep a steady pace because the last five mile loop was what I was really focused on.

I hit the turnaround at the top with nothing but downhill ahead of me to the first aid station. I love out and backs because you get to actually watch the race you're running...you get to see the leaders and who's behind you. Having a stretch where you can give and get encouragement from other runners is always fun because trail running isn't really a spectator sport, and you can go for miles running completely alone.

Returning from the yellow loop. Photo Credit: Allen 

I only downed about a third of the water in my handheld on the mountain loop, so I opted to blow through the first aid station. At the start of the first climb of the pink loop I checked my Garmin  to note the time and distance. I remembered parts of this loop from last year being a big mental downer because of switchbacks that seemed to go on forever, so I figured I could occupy my mind the first time out by mapping the climbs and having some points of reference for the second loop out.

The first climb was about a mile up and a mile down...a little rough on tired legs and with hot sun over the exposed trail (January in California everybody) which led to the second climb. The second climb was 1.7 miles of switchbacks. 1.7 miles of switchbacks where every turn looks exactly like the turn you just made. 1.7 miles where about halfway through you start to question whether or not you're actually getting somewhere or maybe you traveled through some sort of wormhole where you just keep repeating the same half mile over and over again.

Like Groundhog Day, or that episode of the X Files "Monday"
but nobody would get that, so Groundhog Day. 

I noted the top of the second climb and flew downhill to the aid station where I intended to refill my handheld because I had drained it.

Coming back off of the first pink loop. Photo Credit: Allen

I walked out of the aid station to mentally regroup and focus on the goal I had set for myself: No one would pass me on this last loop. Basically, this meant I wouldn't wuss out or give up on this last five miles of climbing.

Going out for a second loop means you know exactly how much it's going to suck and how long it's going to suck for. I was prepared. I broke it down into the four sections of uphill and downhill. I knew the distances I was up against for each, and I powered through. It was awful. I thought my legs were going to just give up and fall off of my body a couple of times. If you were out there and heard someone yell "YES THANK YOU" that might have been me when I finally got to the top of the second climb with only downhill ahead of me to the finish.

Coming back off the second pink loop for the finish.
This might be the coolest shot ever.  Photo Credit: Allen

Finally realizing it was Allen behind the camera the entire race saying,
 "Heyyyy, it's Allen" Also, he managed to catch me mid air. 

Uh, pretty sure I touch the ground when I run. 

There it is. 

I hit the finish at 3:36. 6th in my age group. 10th female. 16th overall. Caitlin Smith did win the 30-39 age group. She was first female finisher. 2nd overall.

Coke. Sit down. That's all I want. 

I felt great about my run. Last year I finished the half at 3:00:48. This year I came into the aid station at the half mark at 2:24. My legs are sore, but it's a good sore...like I know I worked hard and mentally got through some tough spots, so I feel like training is on track.

swag: tech shirt and anniversary glass. sweet. 

I took off the next morning for a run along the coast. Tired legs, sore knees, but THIS...

I'm. Having. THE TIME OF MY LIFE. 

So also happening this weekend was the Mavericks Surf Competition down near Half Moon Bay. The call went out that conditions were right and surfers came from all over the world on a moment's notice. We didn't go down there, but the waves in Pacifica were huge, so I got to drool over surfers because I want to be one but I'm terrified...I'm from Indiana. Are you allowed to be a surfer if you're from Indiana? I'm not sure.

Take me with you!

The weekend was perfect. It was good running, and it was good ocean.

Week 4: Coastal Trail Runs Crystal Springs Half+Big Fun in Pacifica

A light mist was falling as I wound my way up King's Mountain Road to Huddart Park last Saturday morning. Running again in Woodside, the race company was different, but the course was exactly the same with an out and back added to make it a half marathon. My plan was to run steady and conservative on the first half of uphill and then cruise on the downhill.

The start is downhill across a wide open field to the start of the trail. Within a hundred yards there is a sharp turn around a fence that brings the pack to a dead stop as we funnel out down the single track. I knew I was running the first mile fast, but I like to think of it as taking advantage of the early downhills...plus it was fun. I flew, and then I began the long 5ish mile climb.

About a third of the way up my legs decided they were done. Like DONE. I felt like I was crawling. The week before I had plowed uphill steadily feeling strong, but now, my legs felt like cement blocks. Finally reaching the top after a final insulting steep climb, I refilled my handheld at the aid station and took off on the out and back. This added bit was rolling for the most part and I decided to run through the last aid station with about four and a half lovely downhill miles to go to the finish.

2:16:10, 6th AG

After the run we drove up kkkkkkknjmh

I'm leaving that in. The cat just walked across the laptop like no big deal.

We drove up to Pacifica to hang at Nick's and have some crab sandwiches and watch the surfers.

Perfect recovery meal.

Not a bad view off the balcony of our room.

It wasn't until the next morning that I woke with an angry knee and a sore throat. I decided, very reluctantly, to skip my Pacifica solo trail run because my body seemed to be saying things to me. Instead, we hit the hotel gym and then lounged until checkout.

Driving home, we hit up the new outlets in Livermore and did some damage at the Columbia outlet. Pants and a jacket for me, new hiking boots for GeNene. That's when I started to realize the sickness was creeping in. I didn't make it to work for the next three days with sinus pressure so severe I was sure my eyeballs would explode. I floated through a NyQuil haze sleeping more hours than I was awake. It was miserable, and it was deliriously glorious. I'm done with this flu season so let's get on with it. I went back to work today, still kind of in a haze and confusing my body by being upright for so long. Tomorrow, I'll run.

I feel like I've had a bit of a setback, being sedentary for so many days and not eating very much, but the race date doesn't change and the goal hasn't changed. Time to rebuild, recharge, and get back in action.

My sister, who just got back from the Notre Dame game in Miami, sent me a picture of Bon Jovi at 3:37am this morning.

And now we're all caught up. My thoughts are with you all as we muscle through another flu season.

Good luck.