Back in March, I was honored with an invitation to run in the Tokyo Shibamata 100k road race, and inaugural event, all expense paid, with $1000 appearance fee to boot. Having never been to Japan, or offered an appearance fee (!?!) I was thrilled to accept. The elite recruiter, Souhei, was very helpful throughout the planning, all the way to meeting me at the airport, and escorting me via train to my hotel in the old city of Asakusa. He is a small, polite, patient and friendly man, and helped me tote my big-ass bag up and down stairs, checking me in, and letting me know what tomorrow’s agenda was. My room was comfortable, complete with slippers, robe, fridge, hot water pot, and the toilet had several settings – bidet or splash with variable pressure, plus a heated seat. I could get used to that. Refreshing.

One goal I had for my visit was to eat sushi everyday, so I accomplished this on day one, after which I collapsed in my bed for a decent night’s sleep. Next morning, Amy and I met up for a run along the river to get the kinks out.

Can you say “Tokyoooooh”?

We had the day to relax and do minimal exploring, so as not to be on our feet for too long. Amy had discovered a phenomenon in Japan called “Cat Cafe” – a place where folks who are too busy to have pets can hang out with a bunch of kitties and get their fix without the responsibility. So driven by that curiosity and love for cats, we found one near by, hung out for an hour playing with them and doing some internet catching up. The owner uses her place for a sort of half way house for homeless kitties – she likes to be able to place them in homes eventually.

Cat Cafe Asakusa

Amy being entertained

The next place we stopped for lunch was itself an small adventure. Both feeling like some noodles, we spotted a tiny sidewalk cafe, and tried to squeeze into the counter/kitchen/one-man-show, first through the front door, and seeing not much space, went to the side door. The cook/owner came out and through sign language, grunts, pointing, we were instructed to go back to the front. He then pointed to a box-machine on the wall and instructed us to pick out what we wanted. A kind patron got up from the counter and helped as Amy shoved money into the machine for the both of us, it spit out two tickets, and we gave them to the cook. We watched as he served up large bowls of noodles, veggies, and broth to the customers before us, and finally we had ours. It was delicious.

Real Ramen

That evening, the local organizing committee hosted a dinner for Amy, Georgio Calcettera and his partner, Veronica, and I. It was served by women in traditional kimono, and there were a few pre-dinner welcoming speeches that we didn’t understand except for the important message that we were very welcome and they were so happy to have us there. Then the food started. Small roe dish, then crab legs, followed by tempura. Next out came the hot pot, with a huge platter of meat and some veggies for each table of four. The kimonoed ladies kept dipping the beef into the pot and putting it on our plates, then some veggies, and then doing again. Our beer glasses were continually being filled, although it was not strong enough effect us much. Finally, when we were all about to pop, they brought out the sushi, and oh my it was a sight to behold. Photos of everyone finished the evening, with so many poses and variations that it felt a bit like a family reunion.

A little bit of beef.

Some veggies

No comment necessary

The never empty beer glass

Me, Souhei, Georgio, Amy

Friday morning we runners were picked up in a van and driven to the race venue. First we were driven out to one of the early aid stations so we could get a view of the course. One of the organizers, Rui, sighed and said “well, I think it’s actually pretty boring.” But at least it would be a potentially fast course with the only real turns being the two out-and-back sections, and the hairpin turns on some switchbacks going off the levy to underpass several bridges.

As far as the eye can see….

We headed back to the race venue and Georgio, Amy, and I were interviewed for one of the TV news programs, which was a lot of fun, with Souhei acting as translator. After returning to the hotel we rested up, and that evening had dinner with our Japanese ultra running friend who lived in the US until recently, Mikio, who planned on coming out to watch us race the next day. A good night’s sleep ensued, and Saturday morning I was up at 4:45 to slowly get ready for the race. I ate rice, egg, chia seeds, coffee, and fixed a bottle of Vitargo to sip on afterwards. Our van came to pick us up at 6:15, and before 7 we arrived. Our holding room was inside a community building, and at 7:20 we headed to the venue. The masses were gathering, complete with some mascots of Japanese characters that somehow I had missed out on in my childhood, like Monchichi. But Amy seemed to know him and enjoyed having her photo taken with him. Souhei asked us if we would each please say something in Japanese as we were each introduced on the stage. I chose “Konichiwa”. A Japanese drum line got our blood pumping, and we made our way up to the start line on the narrow bike path. The three of us were instructed to stand at the very front of the racers, the LOC chairman made a grand speech, a countdown ensued, and then we were off.

Our plan had been to run together for hopefully a couple of hours. Amy and I are similarly enough paced that it made sense to stay together as long as possible. Working with someone on a flat paved long straight road has a lot of appeal, especially if there is any wind involved. Before long we were clicking of 7:07 miles. We didn’t need to run that fast, but we were comfortable, and I use my heart rate monitor during races to keep myself in control. For the first couple of hours it was 155 or lower, which was right on target for a sub-8 hour day. Aid stations were frequent, some with only water, others with traditional aid station fare. I carried a gel flask full of hammer gel, plus some S!Caps in my sports bra. I took little nips from the flask regularly, and S!Caps every hour initially. The course was pretty much unchanging, although the buildings on the horizon came and went more quickly than I imagined they would. Aid stations did not have gels that we are accustomed to in the US, but did offer “Amino Vital” Jelly at about 25k. I picked up one, and after failing to figure out how to open it, had Amy twist the top off for me. And then I took a swallow. Ewwww. Weird. It was like jello that had been in the blender. But it was wet and it was calories, so I forced it down. At 40k or so, we finally saw the lead men coming toward us. The South Korean runner Sim Jae Duk was leading, followed by a young Japanese runner, and in third was a very comfortable looking Georgio. Knowing full well that Georgio is a patient and smart runner, I wasn’t surprised at his placement here. After him, there were probably only a few more men ahead.

It was beginning to heat up, and by the time we hit the 29 mile mark/turn around it was pretty toasty, and our average pace was about 7:15. At this stop I drank a little soup, ate a banana, drank more water, and we were soon on our way back towards the finish. Twenty-nine miles away. Since the turn around section was actually a lollypop loop, it was hard to be 100% sure there were no women close behind, but it was some 15 or 20 minutes before we saw another female. At this point Amy asked if, since we were still running together pretty well, if we continued feeling the “same-ish” for the duration, did I want to finish together. “Works for me!” It made sense to work together. The field was very spread out, the view before us seemed a bit like infinity, there always seemed to be some wind coming at us, and, well, misery loves company. We also both didn’t want to kill ourselves prematurely, or at all for that matter. We both had Western States coming up, and I wanted to follow Craig’s advice of “Don’t leave your Western States race in Japan!”

I continued to nip away on the gel, drink water or sports drink from the aid stations, and ingest S!Caps once or twice per hour. I needed to use the toilet  pretty badly, and stopped at a porta-john, and opened it up on some poor unsuspecting runner. Now, there are several versions of toilet in Japan – some of which are very low to the ground, as was this one – and the person using it was seated on it facing away from the door. I still don’t quite understand how that works, and I apologetically shut the door quickly, and decided I could make it to the next aid station.

Our pace was continuing to slow, and we both alluded at times that if the other one of us wanted to pull ahead, it would be okay. But Amy did have to wait for me through 3 port-a-potty breaks, and those breaks were pretty awesome. It felt so good to sit down for a few seconds. We continued along, striving to get “there”, trying not to really know how many hours we had left. I had one more chance with the Amino Vital jelly, which was just as weird as the first time, but my gel was gone and I really needed the calories to continue. Seemingly miraculous, we reached the 90k mark which was at the start/finish venue. The time was 6:59, and we had 10k to go. Veronica was there yelling at us “See Georgio? See Georgio?” We replied we had not. She replied “maybe retiro!” and proceeded to hand us the gels she was saving for him. I was very grateful as I knew they were basically sugar and caffeine, and I was definitely in need. Mikio and Souhei were also there, cheering us on.

Amy and I back to the start/finish, with 10k to go.

Amy had proposed some time before that we treat the last 10k like a cool down. That helped mentally prepare for leaving the finish line area. We really had no intention of slowing down. A fair bit of the course turned to gravel, and my feet weren’t particularly happy about that. I followed Amy on the path that had shown the most traffic, or else ran on the grassy section next to the gravel. There were several sporting events going on to our left – baseball and cricket mostly – and the late afternoon air was pleasant. The last aid station which we would visit coming back as well had watermelon, and it was magical. At this point we had only seen 2 men ahead of us, a Japanese runner, and the South Korean. Wow, this course had taken it’s toll on the men’s field. When we had about 1k to go, we saw Georgio running toward us! He hadn’t quit, and we learned later that he had really had a bad day. I was impressed with his finish and his humility.

The caffeine and sugar from the gel was now fully kicked in. Amy and I were gathering momentum, and it felt good to be running hard. We neared the finish, joined hands, and crossed together. Our time of 7:50 and change was one of my faster runs, and I was happy to have any time under 8:00. We enjoyed a cold beer, a finisher’s towel, and a post race interview. We awaited Georgio, then hung out for another couple of hours for the award ceremony.

Post race interview

It was at this time we learned that my big ol’ foot had crossed the finishing mat ahead of Amy, so technically, I was first. I didn’t really like being declared the “winner” as we had tied. Our mindset was definitely different than if we had raced to the finish. We both had good days, worked well together, and helped each other get through the slow grind of the second half.

Lanterns lighting up the road to the finish as dusk set in

The following day we had time to be tourists and met up with a friend of Amy’s to visit Tokyo. We saw the Imperial Palace, and some downtown shopping districts. In the evening we had another amazing meal with Amy’s cousin and her husband. And next day, we were on our way back home.

It’s amazing to me how many things can be tempura-ed!

It was a whirlwind trip, and I would love to do it again! I loved Japan with its warm people, ease of getting around, cleanliness, and safety. I fulfilled my dietary fish requirement for at least a month. I felt honored to be so well taken care of before and after the race.

Farewell Japan!

As always, thanks to my sponsors Injini, Scott-Sports, Garmin, and to Coach Ian! A very large thanks to Souhei for his invitation and hospitality at the Shibamata 100k!

Competing in the Montrail Ultra Cup Series has provided me with incentive to branch out from the west coast and run ultras in other parts of the country. For that reason, three years ago, I ran the Ice Age 50 mile in Wisconsin, and the experience was well worth repeating. This year, I needed a 50k race from the series to add to Bandera 100k, Lake Sonoma 50, and the upcoming Western States 100, so the Ice Age 50k was a no-brainer.

I arrived Thursday before the race and stayed in unique childhood home of Cassie Scallon, whose parents Joyce and Mark, and dog Milo made me feel completely at ease. Cassie and I had a nice warmup run Friday morning, then I took a side trip to the grave of one of my ancestors in Wheeler Prairie, Amos Miller.

My Great-Great-Grandfather was a farmer in Wisconsin.

After a home cooked pasta meal, courtesy of Joyce and Mark, I had a great night sleep in the old roadside bar they have called home since  Cassie’s childhood.

Cassie was up and gone to race in the earlier starting 50 miler by the time I awoke. I had breakfast of instant brown rice and a banana, plus coffee. Mark and I drove in together, taking every possible back road to LaGrange, where the race took place. I’m pretty sure back roads aren’t necessary in rural Wisconsin, especially on a Sunday morning, but I thoroughly enjoyed Mark’s directions and his stories along the way. But the biggest take home message I got from him is how stinkin’ proud he is of his daughter.

Once at the race I got my self warmed up and my gear situated. I carried the ultraspire backpack I had worn at UTMB, as it is light weight and comfortable. It was cool and threatened of rain, so I kept 3/4 length tights, arm warmers, gloves, and warm beanie on. And at 8:15 sharp, our 50k race began!

We spread out quickly, and I was on my own for a good while, trying to dial my effort in. A 50k is pretty much like a marathon, so I wanted to put quite a bit of effort into it. I had a goal of 4:00 more or less, and knew I had to run below 8 minute pace for that, so early on I was in the 7:30 range. From 3 years ago, I remembered that the course was relatively flat, with a few small hills. Turns out my memory wasn’t that great. There were LOTS of small hills, all very runnable, so I charged up each and everyone of them, thinking they would stop. They didn’t. But at least I wasn’t getting passed on every climb by the male runners behind me, so I felt like I was having a good climbing day. About 4 miles in, Bruce and Nic from Wisconsin caught and stayed with me. I invited them to pass, and while Bruce wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, he did go around. Nic stayed put. Before the 6.5 mile turn around, the two lead men glided towards and around me, effortlessly, then Bruce, so I was first female at this point. Nic stayed on my heels through the next few miles, and we greeted many runners on their way out. It appeared I was in a comfortable lead of 6 – 7 minutes. However, my average pace had slowed to 8:30 pace due to the hilly nature, and as I made my way back to the start/finish area to begin the 2×9 mile loops, I was convinced a 4:30 overall time might be all I had today.

Chilly Day in the Kettle Moraine!

Luckily, the course flattened out over wide grassy expanses, and my pace picked up considerably. I was soon running with Nic again, and we kept a decent pace, and I watched my overall pace start to come down. We hit some deep rollers, but I was able to maintain the pace and by the time I finished the first loop, it was down to 8:15. I was pretty stoked, and had been battling with my will about how I would approach the the last loop. The part of me that was getting tired said it was okay to run the same pace, but the part of me that was competitive said I should simulate Ice Cream Sandwich run, wherein one runs as hard as they can the last 9 miles of a 50 mile day after eating an ice cream sandwich and a caffeinated sugary beverage. I finished lap one in 71 minutes, and I decided to go for it. I threw my pack off, and even though it is light weight, I felt several pounds lighter. I started to relatively fly. Nic had pulled ahead, but at this point I blew by him. Wheee! I worked the ups and downs hard, passed Cassie’s dad, passed runners who fed my ego by cheering me on. My pace continued to drop and when I finally crossed the finish line it was just under 8:00 minutes, the last lap taking 67 minutes, and I had finished in a satisfying 4:04. The two men who had led early on had DNF’d, leaving me to finish 3rd overall, 1st female.

I spent the rest of the morning waiting for Cassie, Little D, Ken, Jeff Browning, Mr. David Riddle, and others, plus met a slew of real nice folk. It was also a bonus to be able to spend time with my team managers for the World 100k Championships, Timo Yanachek and Lin Gentling.

Dinner with Denise Bourassa, Ken Sinclair, Mr. David Riddle, and Jeff Browning at “Someplace Else”.

Many thanks to RD Jeff Mallach and his numerous volunteers, Scott-Sports, Injinji, Garmin, and Ian Torrence of McMillan running.

While the men’s field was sick with competition for Lake Sonoma 50 Mile, the women’s field was nothing to shake a stick at. I studied the entry list on more than one occasion, and felt that top 10 was not a given, but on a good day I might make 7th, and an awesome day, a top 5 spot. Being distracted by the beautiful vineyards, the quaintness of Healdsburg, and the stunning accommodations provided by John and Lisa’s friend Mary Prschal, served to keep me relaxed the day before the race.

Beautiful home of Mary Prschal, who put up with Craig, Laurie, and I.

Race morning was calm – coffee, oatmeal, liquids, plus a prerace interview conducted by Mary.

Shortly after, I made the 30 minute drive to the race start. I picked up my reusable cup – a great alternative to paper cups at the aid stations – and then left it in the car where it would serve no purpose to me at all. Thankfully I was carrying a full bladder of water.

Warming up away from the hubbub of the race, I saw another lone runner escaping, and was pleased to see it was fellow Scott-Sport athlete and young phenom, Sage Canaday. We introduced ourselves and wished teammate luck, and gradually made our way back down to the start line. Here I was greeted by my friends and competitors – Denise, Amy, Jen, Bree, Kathy, Joelle, Cassie, Rory, and many others.

Dawn broke before the race started, and as RD Tropical John advised to “have fun” he sent us down the road for the crowd separating first couple miles. I ran a bit with Denise, then with Jen, then with Kathy, and a little with Bree. I checked in a few times with myself, trying to figure out how hard to go, since I would be going about 8 hours. The pavement ended, and the single track was welcome. I fell into place with Kathy, she and I exchanging positions over the next few miles, but staying fairly close through 6. As promised, the course was relentless in nature – up, or down, or straight, or curved, or shady, or sunny – but all beautiful as we traipsed on said trail around the lake.

Stream crossing near mile 12. Photo by Noe Castanon.

If I was correct in my assessment, I was in 5th or 6th position. I knew that Cassie, Joelle, Amy and Rory were ahead, but not sure who else besides Kathy who was basically with me. But by mile 10, she had faded, and I was working on leap frogging the men around me. True to form, I would nip their heels on the descents, and turn into a old truck on the climbs, but I was truly feeling strong and having fun! It was sunny, mild, and verdant. Weaving in and out of each drainage, I glanced back and saw Denise “Little D” Bourassa, and wondered if she would catch me soon, but with some easy terrain, I appeared to hold my position. Finally reaching the aid station at mile 18, I mentioned I didn’t have a cup, and one of the nice young girls offered me an entire can of coke – I gratefully downed about half, and told her if she kept it aside, I would drink the rest when I came back through. Then I began up the next very long ascent, gently trotting the entire length up the gravel road, before hitting the single track down hill, where I opened up my stride. Finally, the front runners began to come towards me – first Max King, then Cameron Clayton, and finally Sage. It was fun to encourage and be encouraged. And the course began to thicken up with runners coming back – Tim Olson, Joe Uhan, Dave Mackey, Nick Clark, Jacob Rydman, and more, all helping distract me from the fairly relentless climb. Just before I reached the lollypop section, RD Tropical John greeted me with his camera. Then I saw Joelle and Cassie in contention, but no other women. I hit the loop section, and saw Amy just before I got to the turn around aid station. It was a festive, hopping aid station, and they had me fluid filled and pumped with enthusiasm in very short order.

Mile 23. Photo by Tropical John.

Heading home – only 25 miles to go! I fairly galloped down the long hill I had just climbed up, and was greeted and cheered by the folks on their way up. Many reports were coming back to me, such as I was 5th place woman, and Rory and Amy were only a few minutes ahead. That sounded like striking distance, but there was a lot of time for things to go badly if I wasn’t careful. It was heating up a bit, but I remained comfortable, pushing myself on the climbs, recovering on the downs. Hitting back on the single track after almost missing a sharp turn, I kept after it. I reached the horse watering hole once more, and was told by Greg Lanctot that Amy and Rory were still only a couple of minutes ahead. I had no company here, and just worked at working and at not getting in too deep.

Andy Jones-Wilkins came into view, but only after I heard his booming, ever positive voice rattle in the hillsides back to me. Wow. AJW was going to get “Queened” for the first time ever. A runner had just passed him, and then he caught me out of the corner of his eye. “Is that Meghan?” he shouted back. I affirmed and was soon on his heels. We exchanged some fun barbs, and he told me, again, that Amy and Rory were about 2 minutes ahead. I reasoned to myself that I only need to continue doing what I’m doing and eventually I’ll pull them in. Wishing each other luck, I passed by and continued my effort.

The climbs began to wear me down again, nevertheless I had this undying thought repeating mantra-like in my brain – “I love running!” Inching my way to the next aid station up a switchback trail, a volunteer shouted to me “They are only 1 to 2 minutes ahead! DO THIS!” Motivated by her confidence in me, I used a little to much turbo fuel before my descent into the aid station, grabbed gel, drank coke, and began the last 12 or so miles.

Up, down, up, down. Each climb was short, so I looked at the top of each one and asked myself, “can you run to the top?” and invariably, I would answer “why, yes I can!” Completely smoked legs by the time I reached the top, I struggled to unwind my legs, trying to gain back momentum, and eventually ran myself into a cramp fest in my quads. I took more S!Caps and they relaxed. My eyes would strain ahead looking for runners, and my neck was getting sore from turning around looking for Denise to come storming up. But I was alone, and saw no one until the short out and back to the final aid station, where Rory was just coming back up. She wasn’t about to have a repeat of the Way Too Cool finish, so I didn’t expect to catch her, and Amy was long gone by now. I got down to the aid station, filled my bladder, and then trudged out. Hitting the trail with 5 miles to go, my legs were a bit fried, and it was challenging to keep going. I was hoping for a low 8 hr time, and I could see it slipping away. I kept up on the gels and fluids, but was really finished before the finish line. Below the trail, boaters were enjoying the sunny weather, hanging out, partying, and I looked forward to being in the party mode. One stray party-er made his way up to the trail, beer in hand, started to jog with me and asked if I wanted a pacer, but before I could accept he thought better of it.

Wow, the climbs just kept coming, and what else could I do but keep running. After what seemed like 5 miles, coming toward me on the trail I met Ken Sinclair on his way out to encourage Denise in. “You look strong! Only a couple miles to go!” Shoot. I wanted to hear that the finish was around the corner, and now I knew low 8 would be a stretch. I kept running as hard as I could, and finally hit the only flat section of the course – the last 50 meters, cruised into the finish to the warm hoots and hollers of the happy crowd. Time, just under 8:16, 5th woman. I was satisfied with my time and place, and left everything on the trail that day.

Me and Super Star and new course record holder Cassie Scallon.

Post race activities were nothing but fantastic – tamales, beer, sunshine and friends. Thanks to John Medinger, Lisa Henson, and Mary Prschal, and all the volunteers, to Scott-Sports, Injini, Garmin, and to coach Ian Torrence for bringing it all together.

Three weeks after Bandera 100k, I found myself toeing the line again – this time at the Ray Miller 50k, across the road from the beaches north of Malibu, into the trails of the Santa Monica Mountains.  Feeling fulling recovered from the flu and from Bandera, I was anxious to race and see what I could do.  I had some smart-ass goals – beat Craig by 30 minutes and run 4:45 which would break the course record. The women’s field was strong – course record holder Jen Benna, Kate Freeman, Bree Lambert – all contenders for the win.

With a start time of 6:00 am, it was advisable to have a light.  Thankfully, I remembered mine, and with the most technical, rocky section occurring in the first few miles, I’m sure it saved me from a scraped chin.  From the “GO!” I felt strong and light.  In the dark I was unsure, but thought I was the first female after a good 10 minutes into the race.

As we reached the highest section of the early part of the race, the sun was coming up and shining on the Pacific.  I was in a short train of runners with Jimmy Dean Freeman and Chris Rennaker, and few others I couldn’t determine.  Winding up and down we eventually bottomed out in a grassy meadow.  I hung onto the train of men as they cruised by for awhile, then two women caught up to me.  Kate Freeman, and a new ultra runner, Mandy Hicks.  We all chatted a bit, and they pulled away, with Mandy taking the lead. She had run some marathons, but this was her debut at the 50k.  She wasn’t sure what would happen after 26.2 miles, but for now she looked pretty damn awesome.  It was early in the race, and I didn’t want to get into trouble yet.

Crazy Kate Freeman and me. Photo by Jayme Burtis.

At the first aid station I drank from the cups, ate one Clif Shot gel and swallowed the salt supplement they had available.  My hydration pack was full of coconut water, and I intended for that to last the whole race as long as I drank from cups at each aid station.  I was also sticking to downing a gel in between aid stations – roughly every thirty minutes.

On the climb out, I was joined by Thomas Reiss, and we chatted for awhile until he finally pulled away.  I was soon joined by Chris Rennaker and offered to let him by, but he said he was right where he wanted to be.  We hung together on the very, very, long and sweet switched back descent, until he got antsy and decided he would rather be going faster. The flat section at the bottom was treed, sheltered, cool and runnable. I cruised along with the men, and commented to one that I was worried about all the downhill, since it meant a big-ass climb was certainly to follow.  And I was right.  When we reached the road that would take us to the aid station, I began my slow jog up. I passed a few men on the climb, and was passed by “man in blue shorts” – very tan,  very toned, and very fit.  I could see Kate ahead, and was glad she hadn’t got too far ahead. I pledged to run as much as I could, and maintained that all the way to the top and to the aid station, mile 10 or so. The volunteers were as good as any I had experienced – asking me what I needed, and hurrying me out.

Just before the long climb – photo by Jayme Burtis

I jumped on the trail, a slight uphill, which quickly turned to downhill. I cruised with some intention, but not too aggressively. I caught Blue Shorts boy again, and asked if I could go around.  He gladly let me by, and I felt like I was flying, until I heard AJW and Jen Benna chatting rather casually. AJW spotted me , and yelled “you’d better hurry up Meghan!”. Yikes! I felt like I was running kind of hard already, but decided to push it harder. When we reached the bottom, I was still ahead, and at the water only aid staion, I high fived Jesse Haynes, and cruised through. A climb quickly ensued, and I look down to see Jen. I yelled back to her – “come on Jen!” fully expecting her to catch me.  Surprisingly, I gapped her, and passed a couple of men.  For the second time in the race,  I saw a sign “Awesome Sauce”, which made me feel good, but Blue Shorts was done with the platitudes. “If I see another Awesome Sauce sign, I”m gonna punt it out of the park!” Dude, I said to myself, you need to chill.  This is what we do for fun.

He passed me again on the climbs.  I could see Kate still, on the climbs ahead. Gradually she came closer, but after every climb, she gapped me on the downhills. Sheesh! I ran the downhills harder and harder, until finally I caught her on a climb. As she let me by, I remarked she would catch me on the downhill, but I managed to put enough space between us that by running like a jackhammer down the next hill, I maintained my lead over her.  As the course flattened out again, I caught up to and ran with Mike McMonagle, a runner I had met at JFK 2011, and we ran together the next couple of miles to the next aid station, just under 20 miles. I had seen Kate not too far back, so ate a gel, drank some coke, downed some salt, and yelled to Mike “let’s go!”  He was soon behind me as we began another long climb. He felt good, and I let him pass.  We both caught Jimmy Dean Freeman, walking, but upbeat.  He was planning on dropping, just not doing well at all. But he encouraged me to go after the first place woman, Mandy, as she was only about 4 minutes ahead.  Motivated by that and by the desire to stay ahead of Kate and Jen, I soon caught back up to Mike.  He was beginning to cramp, and told me that he didn’t actually feel right running in front of me.  I chuckled as I went by, and in a few minutes I was alone.

Fortunately the weather was very cooperative.  Dry, 60+ degrees, with a light cloud cover.  I had been fairly relaxed with the salt given the mild temperatures – maybe too relaxed.  At some point a muscle on my lower left leg stopped firing, and my foot toed out and sort of flopped against the ground.  Wow, that was weird. Not knowing what else to do, I consciously started using my glutes and core more, and took an S!Cap.  It started working again, and I changed my focus to running a hard effort to try and maintain my lead over Jen and Kate, and perhaps close in on Mandy.  I finally reached the turning point for the 50 milers to do their out and back 20 mile section, and found myself careening downhill.  I was having fun, yet getting a little banged up from the jarring.  I ate another gel, and pulled out the S!Caps again, took one, and decided to pop one ibuprofen to ease the pains.  There were several technical creek bed crossings, twisting trail sections, some short steep climbs, long ascents down open fields, and I pushed hard through it all, calling in the memories of running the Ice Cream Sandwich run on Cal Street for Western States training.

Cheers greeted me at the last aid station, and sign telling me I had 4.5 miles to go.  “You’re second place woman! Good job!”  “Where’s the first place woman?” I asked.  They pointed up on the hill behind them – and I could see her blue shirt, about 4 minutes ahead.  I ate another gel, drank coke and Heed from the cups, and took off on a fast section of gravel road for about a quarter mile, then hit the single track and began the climb up.  It felt like more than 4 minutes to reach where she had been, but I began to get beta from hikers and runners on the trail coming in the opposite direction.  “You’re closing in on her!” On the last very steep ascent, she was about a quarter mile ahead at the top, and looked over her shoulder, spotting me.  I put my head down and ran almost the whole thing.  When I crested, she was no where in sight.  Running flat again, out of a bend, I saw her, and again, she saw me.  There was a stretch of dirt road, and onto single track – the wonderful Ray Miller trail. Every turn to that trail, I could see her.  I was closing in but running out of real estate.  And then, BAM!  My left calf cramped like there was a small rodent inside it wiggling around.  Wow – that was weird.  I slowed way down, grabbed an S!Cap, and sucked the last drop of fluid from my pack. The calf relaxed,  I’m sure due to my slowing, and I picked it up again. This was all in about 30 seconds time, and I was chasing her down again.  BAM!  A rodent in my right calf now.  Wow, this was so weird. I grabbled another S!Cap, just for lack of anything else to do, since we had only about a mile to go.  Gradually I picked it back up, and resumed the chase.  We both passed Laurie Thornley and I yelled out to her – “I don’t think I’m gonna catch her!”

Mandy continued running fast, and looking back at every turn, ultimately keeping me at bay, finishing in 4:46:57 to my 4:47:49.  She greeted me warmly, and we had some good laughs over that last section, where she was sure I would catch her.  Shortly thereafter, Jen Benna came in, then Kate, and Bree.  Post race atmosphere was celebratory with good food and friends.  Laurie and I spotted Craig when he was about 5 minutes from the finish, and I’m afraid I schooled him a bit much – he was 40 minutes back, and proudly announced himself as 6th place female.

Top 5 women – Jen Benna (4th), Kate Freeman (4th), me (2nd), Amanda Hicks (1st), and Bree Lambert (5th). Photo by JB Benna.

Keira put on a wonderful event.  Her volunteers were well attuned to the needs of the runners before, during, and after the race.  Post race socializing continued for hours as we waited for many of the 50 mile finishers. Running in such mild weather in February is a great draw as well.

As always, many thanks to my sponsors – Scott Sports, Injinji Socks, and Garmin! And to my coach Ian Torrence of McMillan Running!

Two years ago I competed in Bandera 100k, and was thoroughly schooled by the rocky, undulating, sotol cactus infested course.  A 50k loop run twice, I ran the first too hard, and slogged through the second, to a third place time of 10:19.  Now, all trained up and ready to run the not-so-unfamiliar course, I was going to overcome that first experience.  My game plan – run the first loop super conservatively, and try to run the second loop only 20 minutes slower. I was going to ignore all my female competitors, as that is one factor that can result in my going out to hard.

Race morning was pleasantly mild – in the low 60s with a heavy fog sitting atop of the Hill Country State Natural Area.  It had rained heavily the week before, and the stories of shoe-sucking-mud were being tossed around. It didn’t concern me – I knew we all had to do the same course, and I just remained bent on keeping my goal of running easy.  The women’s field was good – Liza Howard, Stephanie Howe, Melanie Fryer, Michelle Yates, Sabrina Litlle, and some fine young women I did not yet know. And the men’s field equally exciting – Sage Canaday, Dave Mackey, Karl Meltzer, Jeff Browning, Gary Gellin, Paul Teranova.  It promised to be exciting.

My experience with the sotol cactus led in my decision to wear capri-tights.  Short sleeves and arm warmers were sufficient to keep warm, and my gloves proved their worth, protecting my hands from random grabbing at sotol, and keeping the sticky gel from my fingers and driving me insane.

The race started at 7:30 sharp, and I kept my eyes focused down on the ground, not letting my brain argue with me by seeing the women ahead.  I kept a very easy pace, was patient when I was behind slower runners, and generally stayed relaxed.  The first few miles climbed gradually and rockily, and I used small efficient steps up, and relaxed strides on the downs.  Like clockwork, at 30 minutes I took my first Powergel.  The field of runners was still fairly congested, nice for conversations, and lots of me getting passed on the climbs, and me passing runners on the downhills.  I arrived at aid 1 – Nachos – in 57 minutes.  Very conservative.  I ate another gel, drank from the cups, took an S!Cap and was on my way out. The course took a gradual and twisty downhill, crossed a park road, and then ran down to a creek bed.  Running beside it, the mud became part of the story.  Not too bad here, but definitely sticking to the shoes.  There were a few short steady climbs, and I was still going back and forth with runners near me.  I struck up a conversation with a runner who was running his longest race ever.  We passed the time to the next aid station discussing races, nutrition, shoes.  Finally at aid 2, I drank from the cups, ate another gel, and was on my way.  I was still running slow, keeping myself contained and not concerning myself with the women ahead.  There were multiple long sections of muddy trail, and as the mud accumulated and made me taller, it was wearying.  At times, I stopped and scraped the gluey mess off for a short fresh start.  Finally hitting the Cross Roads aid station, I appreciated the supportive volunteers inside and out of the tented area, and was soon on my way to the 5 mile loop that would bring me back to the same station.  As much as I would have liked to think I was slow from being conservative, I was beginning to doubt my ability for the day.  I started the long climb section, catching a young man who said “oh, man, you caught me!”  He was worried about his day, as he felt it was falling apart, and that he may not make the cut-offs.  I tried to reassure him that he was having a bad patch, and there was plenty of time to rebound.  I bumbled along in front of him, and when I hit a level stretch, heard footsteps approaching.  Hoping it wasn’t female, I was pleasantly surprised to see Timothy Olson running the 50k, closely followed by a fellow competitor.  We exchanged supportive words, and I began to think that Denise “Little D” Bourassa would be passing me, even though their course put them 5 miles behind us at the start.  I was definitely getting into a funk.

When I arrived back to Crossroads, I blew into the tent and almost crashed into my good friend and travel buddy Stephanie Howe.  Her eyes welled up as she told me “I’m done.”  I quickly hugged her as she told me that she was having difficulty breathing and was pretty worried about it.  We had both had the flu (respiratory) ten days earlier, although her cough had developed into something far worse than mine.  Regardless, it was sad to leave her there, but encouraged her to crew for me and her boyfriend Zach.  She was definitely planning on that, and I looked forward to her help back at the end of loop one.  I told her I was going to run faster the second loop, since I didn’t think I could run any slower.

The last nine miles of loop one included some nice runnable territory, and I met up with many of the 25k runners.  I cruised into the last aid station, then began the last 5 miles back to the start/finish, which included some serious, rocky climbs.  My right shoe had rocks in it that no matter how much I tried to wiggle around would not find a comfortable place to hang out, so I stopped, emptied the rocks, snugged the shoe up, and kept forging on.  I had been passing a few 100k men, but no women were evident.  All the math I did kept putting at the end of loop 1 later and later.  I had hoped to be around 4:50, slower than 2 years ago, so I figured a good conservative split.  Now I was hoping to be under 5:00.  With each climb I added more time, until I finally stopped as it was not doing me any good.  I hit the last rocky descent, and was gingerly dancing down the slippery muddy rocks, happy to know I was almost done with 50k.  Running past a volunteer, I smiled.  He replied “Nice smile and smooth stride!” to which I replied “Why not – I’m doing what l love!”  Not that I was loving my running at the moment, but in the big scheme….

I came into the start/finish.  Steph was ready with my fresh pack.  I swapped mine out, ate some banana, drank some coke.  Then took off, vowing to run faster and work my way up.  But it was not to be.  Try as I might, my legs were not interested.  By the time I reached Nachos again, I was 11 minutes slower than my first loop. Aye-aye-aye this did not bode well.  I drank, ate, and left.  I seemed to have very little resiliency in my legs. The analyses began.  “It’s humid. The mud wore me out.  I’m old. I’m not fit enough.” And then I would get a hold of my whiny self and replace the negative chatter with – “I’m so lucky to be here.  I am healthy.  I don’t have cancer.  I’m suffering First World Problems Poor Me.”  I didn’t feel much motivation, and was stunned at how much slower I kept getting.  Next aid station I filled my bladder, ate some soup, drank from cups – I was definitely keeping up on the nutrition.  I ambled out and onto the previously shoe-sucking-mud section to find it had dried to tacky over the last 5 hours.  Well at least I could “run” without stopping.  I hadn’t seen a soul other than volunteers for 16 miles when I finally heard footsteps approaching.  A young woman came up beside me and asked how I was doing.  I blurted out from a childhood book – “I’m having a terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-day.”  Jeez, what a whiner.  I went even further and told her all of my problems, including that I had the flu just a week ago, oh poor me, and that this course just rips me up.  “That’s Bandera for you!” she said cheerfully as she glided away.  I would have left me as quickly as possible too.  Just ahead, Steph and Little D were exuberantly cheering for me, giving me love and support.  I told them I didn’t think it mattered how slow or fast I ran the first loop – 31 miles of it destroys my legs.  They pushed me on into the aid station at Cross Roads, and asked if I would need anything when I returned in 5 miles.  “Well, yes, I’m going to need a headlamp.”  Yep – in my arrogance I had not brought one as the plan was to be faster than 2 years ago, and I finished in the light then.

I fueled up again – soup and Heed, filled my hydration pack, and off I went.  For about 5 minutes I felt a little revived and got hopeful that maybe my very long bad patch was going to disappear.  I watched the woman who had passed me increase her lead.  Soon I was back on the single track, but the rockiness was more than my legs were willing to take.  I tried to stay relaxed, but was pretty beat up.  The downhill turned to uphill, which was more comfortable, but harder.  I was now going so slow that all of my excuses just could not add up to what I was experiencing.  I was not too old, I was not under trained, the shoe-sucking-mud was not THAT bad, it wasn’t that humid.  I was struggling from the after affects of having the flu.  Knowing that at the next aid station I had 9 miles to go, I hoped I could talk Steph into pacing me to the finish.  I planned on using the tact of “you didn’t get to see the entire course, wouldn’t you like to see it!”  When I came in, she had a headlamp for me, and I posed the question, but with different words. “Would you like to experience the last 9 miles at an embarrassingly slow pace?”  An innocent bystander said “As someone who has run Bandera, there is no such thing as an embarrassingly slow pace!”  Steph was more than ready to run with me, having hoped I would want that.  It was good to have the company, especially once darkness fell.  We passed precious few runners from the 50k, and when a cold breeze picked up I was even more grateful to have the company to share the discomfort with.  And try as we might, neither of us could let go of the fact that we should have gotten a flu shot, and how tired we both were. The last two long climbs seemed to go on forever, and I was overjoyed to finally reach the bottom after a long, rocky, slippery, dark descent.

When we finally reached the last 100 meters, I didn’t even have a kick.  I jogged to the finish, to the warm welcome of RD Joe, who expressed only congratulations and jocularity, plus my award – in Joe’s mind, a master is a 50 year old, not the traditional 40, so I was the Bandera Master’s winner, receiving a unique piece of art.

I am 0 for 2 in satisfaction with my performance here, which is unfortunate, because it means I feel compelled to again return next January, with a flu shot, and put myself to the test once again.

I want to thank all of the volunteers, RD Joe Prusaitis, Stephanie Howe and Denise Bourassa for their support during the race.  My daughter Ruby for reminding me how lucky I am to be able to run at all.  My sponsors, Scott Sports, Injiniji socks, and Garmin.  My coach, Ian Torrence, of McMillan Running.

Shortly after Western States, Coach Ian sent me a message which included this question – “in the meantime…any interest in getting a taste of Europe at the Speedgoat???  If so, I will talk to Karl.”  Well, of course I’m going to say “yes!”  I had heard about Speedgoat 50k over the years but had never found an excuse to go.  Or the desire, really.  It sounded ridiculously hard, requiring great climbing ability – not features I normally seek in my races.  Ian astutely pointed out “We already know that you can run 100 miles…so getting in those tough climbs and really working that aspect will be important.  It’s all about working on the weaknesses.”  Sigh. And so, one month later I found myself at the start line of what we be the hardest 50k of my life.

Speaking with Nick Clark the day before the race, he assured me that the race “isn’t that hard.  Basically you’re either walking uphill or running down.”  That didn’t sound so bad, and at the start of the race, the first climb out, I was feeling strong in my legs, conservative in my effort.  I could see Denise “Little D” Bourassa in front of me a ways, and I used her as a gauge to stay connected.  The climb went up and up and up and I thought – “hmmmm, when is the first climb over?”  Each time a break in the climb came it didn’t last long.  We ran on single track and gravel road, and then on switch backs on a scree field of huge rock – some of it quite stable, other, not so much.  I remained cautious and patient and finally hit the last stretch of gravel road to the top of the first climb, 10 miles in.  Holy crap, that was hard!  JB Benna was there (that guy is everywhere!) and as he filmed I asked him what place I was in.  He thought about 10th or so, which seemed about right.

Downhill now, I kept the brakes off.  Wheeeee!  Very fun, but each time there was the slightest flattening or up-slump, the air was out of my tires.   I fancied myself somewhat acclimated to altitude, but anything about 8000 ft proved to be, uh, challenging.  None-the-less, I enjoyed the descent, the views were spectacular, the wildflowers astounding, and the volunteers fantastic.  At mile 12 the course entered onto a dry, rocky, narrow riverbed.  I kept the brakes off and had a blast, enjoying that I could manage the technicality with pleasure rather than anxiety.  I passed several runners, including 3 women.  Oh yeah, I was the sh**!

At the end of the wonderful free fall, was a slight uphill one of the only “runnable” sections of the course – an out and back flat section.  I counted the women in front of me, but I was so far back from the first couple of women (including Anna Frost) that I could only guess that I was in about 8th or so.  Little D met me on my way out, and was surprised that she was ahead of me, shouting “Where have you been?  Did you do an extra loop somewhere?”  I chuckled as I approached the aid station, and welcomed the cooling wet towels the volunteers put on my neck.

I was still feeling pretty good on this flat section, holding my own, and then we began to ascend again.  One by one, every man, woman, and child I had passed on my fun filled downhill, was easing by like I was standing still.  But at least the aspen forest we were running through offered great beauty, and I knew that eventually…..eventually….when??? would this uphill end?  The climb was indeed long, and I saw some carnage along the way.  It was heating up, and my bottles were going dry, when I saw a pipe with water running out. It was cold and wonderful, and I yelled as poured some down my back, but it gave me a needed boost.  On and on I hiked, and f i n a l l y I reached another summit.

Keeping track of my time and miles, and looking at previous women’s times, I naively imagined that 6:30 would be a reasonable expectation.  By the time I reached 15 miles, I was at 3:20, and well, that seemed close enough, but now at mile 20 in  4:40, it seemed quite a stretch that I could run 12 miles in less than 2 hours.  The next downhill was short and sweet, and then it was time to hike up hill one more time.  At the aid station before the climb, a volunteer insisted that I top off my bladder, as the climb was indeed long and hot.  I took the time, and ran a short section before the climb started.  I thought it was pretty steep, but then it got even steeper, rockier, and s l o w e r.  I kept my eyes on a woman that had just passed me, and imagined she was actually not pulling ahead, but then another woman caught and passed me quite easily, commenting on my downhill running ability.  Yeah, that was sure helping me out now.  Steeper and steeper, slower and slower.  Three steps, rest, three steps, don’t fall back down the hill, rest.  At the top of this wall, real single track on a ridge line took me higher yet.  I was barely moving.  I could see the top of the final peak off in the distance, trying not to stare at how far away it looked.  A nice group of running fans, presumably waiting for friends or family, cheered rather enthusiastically for me.  When I said I had been waiting for them all day, they cheered even louder.  One of them gave me a Popsicle and gave me the bad news that I was to run down hill now.  What?  The peak I could see was a destination, but I had to go down hill to get to it?  That seemed wrong.  But I could only follow the arrows, down to the infamous tunnel, where the aid station folks fed me watermelon, popsicles, and let me hang around for a bit before I took off.  “Through the tunnel, then some downhill before the last climb.”

Sadly and gladly – yin and yang – or better yet, Jekyll and Hyde.  Yay for the downhill!  Oh no, the further down, the further up to the top!  Stop going down!  NOOOOOO!!!!! None the less, I flew down and down, and finally, back down to 9000 ft, I got to climb again.  Twenty-five miles in 6:23.  Could I cover 6 miles in one hour?  7:30 seemed okay now.  I began the slow hike up, and went slower and slower.  If I could run any sections, I found myself hyperventilating, and walking again.  I threw down some 30 minute miles.  Yeah baby, I was still the sh**.

Now the final summit was in view – for a very long time, in fact. Maybe an 8:00 hour finish wouldn’t be so bad.  In fact, a finish at all would be pretty spectacular.  Cheering crowds at the top pulled me up, and the aid station volunteer helping me described the last five miles ahead – “After a heinous downhill, the rest is relatively smooth!”  I began to pick up speed down the rocky road, and followed the flags onto the same big-rock-scree from early in the race.  I could see about 5 runners ahead in the distance, gladly, as I was uncertain that I was on the course.  It seemed we should be on a dirt road, but the single track continued on.  Eventually, no runners in sight either before of after, I paused.  I looked back up to where I had come from and knew there was no way I was going back up if I was off course.  I was exhausted and felt it would be pointless.  I gulped back the impulse to cry, and continued in the direction I had been going, thinking I might have my first ultra DNF.  Suddenly I arrived at a well marked intersection, affirming I was indeed on course, and hitting the smooth dirt road to take me down to the finish.  Hugely relieved, I let gravity have it’s way with me and I hammered downhill, passing runner after runner, hoping to see at least one set of pigtails to race.

I could hear the finish line festivities and picked it up even more, but as usual, I could hear it well before I could see it.  My idea of an 8:00 finish was still on my brain, but as I dashed across the finish in a near collapse onto Bryon Powell, an 8:03 was the best I could do.  He asked me “What are you doing here?” referring to my sea-level existence and trying to run at plus 7000 ft.  “Ian thought it was good training for UTMB.”  That made sense to him, and when I thanked RD Karl Meltzer for letting me play in his back yard I told him “I think Speedgoat is really good training for Speedgoat!”  He replied “Exactly!”  I placed 11th female, “only” 1:37 after Anna Frost’s winning time of 6:26.

Afterward I learned that we actually reached a summit of 11,000 feet three times, so I felt less defeated by that.  I enjoyed the views immensely and was satisfied that I had covered the 50k.  It was a course I wouldn’t likely do on my own.  Thanks to Karl and all his fabulous volunteers, Coach Ian Torrence, Garmin, Sunsweet and Scott Shoes!

Statesmas.  I was feeling like a little kid in December, counting the days down, getting excited about seeing my friends and fellow competitors.  I was rested, fit, somewhat heat trained, and had spent a fair amount of time at altitude.  And then I read the weather forecast and it was as if Santa decided not to come.  And what really disappointed me was that I was so deflated by this!  As if I was going to be the only one getting wet and cold.  Indeed, I took it personally.  Humph. Fortunately I had brought enough warm clothes to deal with the inclement weather, and Amy graciously offered me the lightest weight Mountain Hardware wind jacket I have ever seen.

Three a.m. Saturday morning I awoke to my alarm – which meant I actually slept – took a hydrating shower, drank coffee, ate white rice, banana and peanut butter – a formula that has been working well at keeping my bowels under control during hard efforts.  I dressed in my race clothes, then bundled up another 3 layers to stay warm before the race.  My crew of Hannah, Larry, and Brian and I headed over to the start area a little after 4:00.  We waited outdoors near a blazing pit fire, hanging with Craig and Andy – Craig continuing his apprenticeship as Asst. Race Director, and Andy – out this year to a knee injury – a little bit of an empty feeling knowing they wouldn’t be on the course in the same capacity.  Nevertheless, I insisted on the usual pre-race picture of me and my boys.

Craig, Me, and AJW. Same annual photo, different story.

RD Greg Soderlund counted us down the last 10 seconds, and we were off.  As usual, I was quickly passed by throngs, and the crowds lining both sides of the road were cheering for their runners.  The steep ascent was both walked and run, and I connected with many of my friends, trying to find my stride.  Jed Tukman, Jen Benna, John Trent, Pam Smith, Ashley Nordell, Darla Askew.  I was trying to figure out if I was being hampered by the altitude, but without Craig in the race to key off, it was hard to tell.  The higher we got, the windier and colder it became.  Then something started to come from the sky – sleet or hail or some combination.  I was not in a happy place.

Cold, miserable climb to the Escarpment. Photo by Jeffery Genova.

My plan was to take a gel every 30 minutes during the entire day.  Whether or not I would succeed, I at least had a plan.  The first aid station I drank from the cups, not filling my bottles as I wasn’t exactly sweating, and grabbed an extra gel.  The next steep scrambling section was somewhat sheltered, but the wind at the top of that was just plain mean.  I lowered my head, tried to make myself even smaller, and wedged my way through the wind to the Escarpment.  It was a pretty slow ascent, and I knew I had quite a number of women ahead of me. Jed motioned me to go first, and we were flying down the trail into the Granite Chief Wilderness.  Again, judging by the the size of the conga line, I knew I had a pretty slow start.  I was patient for the most part, but occasionally either Jed or I would scramble around a group of runners.  The weather gradually changed from cold to cold and wet, to colder and wetter.  I rolled into Lyon’s Ridge aid station a bit behind Pam, and she was soon out and up the next climb.  I remembered sections of this trail, but it looked different in the cloudy wet weather.  There were no views to speak of.  Jed was still following, and we came upon Pam emerging from the bushes.  I expected her to take the lead back from me as she is a superior climber, but she was beginning to succumb to hypothermia and fell behind.  We continued on, passing more male runners and eventually winding our way down to Red Star Ridge.  Tim Twietmeyer gave me encouraging words, and when I saw AJW with a clipboard I was sad that he wasn’t in the race, but happy to see him.  We exchanged quick hugs, and I asked him what place I was in  – about 20th?  He said, no, he thought 6th or 7th.   That didn’t seem possible, and I really didn’t want to be that high up so early in the very stacked field of women.  After leaving the aid station I reasoned with myself that there really was no way I was even in the top ten, which proved to be true.

Continuing in the high country, the runners became more and more spread out.  Jed finally decided to go ahead about a mile from the next aid station.  I was getting excited to finally see more familiar faces, and when I cruised in I remembered to cheer up and be grateful for all the folks sacrificing their time, standing in the cold, wet weather, to see me for a very short time.  I pulled in and Hannah and Larry were at the ready.  Hannah stuffed 2 gels in my pack, replaced my bottles, and gave me some chocolate milk.  Larry asked me if I had been taking salt, and said that my ass looked good.  Ah, nice – they both remembered their instructions!

It had taken me 20 minutes longer to get to Duncan than anticipated, but oh well.  I headed off into Duncan Canyon shortly after Ashley, but she was soon out of sight.  I was eventually caught by Topher and we encouraged each other along.  About 3 miles shy of Robinson Flat, I heard a some yelling – which took me aback – who would be out this far cheering us on?  As I approached the noise I saw a runner on the side of the trail, back arched against a log, with 3 runners hovering closely.  I ran up and recognized Kami on the ground, having the most horrendous asthma attack I have ever seen.  I quickly got down and scooped her head and shoulders into my arms and tried to talk her down, hand on her belly “breathe into my hand, Kami.  Do you have your inhaler?”  She whispered “no” as she went from slowed breathing back to fast shallow breathing.  “I need to pass out”.  I said it’s okay, I had her.  She danced on the edge of consciousness briefly.  I suggested to Topher to start running to Robinson Flat to get someone to get medical.  Kami had the wherewithal to start apologizing and telling us to run, which we all adamantly opposed.  Soon there were 5 more runners on the scene – including Tyler Stewart and Pam Smith – both with inhalers.  One of the men administered the potion while I held her head.  Finally she was able to breathe, but she was not in a good way.  We eventually got her standing up.  I told her I would walk with her, but she wanted the ladies to be racing, so one male runner in the group said he would walk her in.

It had been the longest 5 minutes of the race for me.  I ran on, eyes straining ahead for the medical volunteer to come towards me.  It was probably 20 minutes before I saw him, and I asked if he was going for Kami.  He assured me he was, and then Tim Twietmeyer appeared, running out to help her in as well.  I had gotten colder with stop and worried about Kami becoming hypothermic on top of the asthma attack.  She did make it out, was taken to the hospital, but fully recovered and came to the race finish in good shape and good spirits.

I was still shaken by the time I arrived at Robinson Flat.  It was the first weigh-in, and I wobbled as I stood on the scale.  Craig was there, and asked if I was okay, as I was behind schedule a bit.  “Yeah, just a little shaken by Kami.  Nothing like a little race day perspective.”  He ran through the aid station with me, wished me well, and I was soon climbing out just behind Topher.

Craig walking me through Robinson Flat aid station. Photo by Michael Kirby of the Auburn Journal.

We chatted briefly about Kami, then he scooted ahead of me.  The rain was coming down earnestly, and when I began the descent from Little Bald mountain, I was at least happy that my legs were doing well.  I had a pretty good run down the switchbacks even though it was hard to see through my wet eyeballs.  After the technical trail, out on the flat dirt/mud service road, I caught one of the two rocks in the road, went down hard, and hit my head hard on the other rock.  Damn.  The runner ahead heard me fall and asked if I was okay.  “Yeah, sure, fine.”  Ugh. I got up gingerly and wondered if I had a concussion, but I was fine.  I started running again, and noticed that my right shoulder/upper rib area was fairly sore.  As time went on it was apparent that I had damaged something as the pressure it required to blow my nose was a bit painful. (One week later I found I had dislocated a rib – which is by far easier to deal with than a bruised or broken rib).

At Miller’s Defeat, I drank two cups of hot broth, cursed the rain, blessed the wonderful volunteers, and made my way on towards Dusty Corners.  I caught and ran with Denise Bourassa for awhile – her first Western States – she was struggling in the cold, but otherwise doing great.  I hit the downhill section before Dusty and allowed gravity to pull me in quickly, just behind Topher.  Hannah and Larry crewed me again, and Hannah informed me I was in 13th place, and 12th had just left.  I was soon on my way to Pucker Point trail.  I don’t normally like this section in that I tend to struggle with the flat sections and the feeling that it will never end.  This time, however, I was feeling relief from the rain, and it was starting to heat up.  I passed Tyler Stewart, moving me up to 12th female, and number 11 was right in front of me.  I caught Liza Howard just above the Last Chance aid station, and we ran in together.  My weight was still stable at 120, but my bottles were pretty full, so the volunteers were concerned that I wasn’t drinking enough.  I had been doing a lot of my drinking from the tables, and I wasn’t sweating much, but decided to try a little harder to drink on the run.

Now approaching some sweet technical single track, I found myself smiling spontaneously for the first time all day!  I was finally warming up, drying out, and when I started this descent, my legs actually felt pretty good!  I flew down to the Swinging Bridge, and began the ridiculous hike to the Devil’s Thumb.  I hydrated, ate gel, and decided to take an Aleve – something I don’t normally do – to take the edge off the pain in my rib.

Reaching the top of the Devil’s Thumb. Photo by Veronica Whittington Schmidt.

I had a good split to the top, 38 minutes, spent a little time at the aid station removing my layers, shoving them in my pack, weighing in, grabbing a couple of gels, and then I was on my way to my favorite descent into El Dorado Canyon.  I passed a nice Aussie, who asked for the beta on the next ascent – “is it as ridiculous as the climb to the Devil’s Thumb?”  I described the next section as sweeter and more mellow.  He seemed relieved as I passed him by.  I was having so much fun now, and when I hit the descent into El Dorado Canyon, I was in heaven.  Faster and faster, I let gravity pull me down.  I passed a couple of men on the way down, and was welcomed by the aid station at the bottom.  “What do you need?”  I ate some water melon, drank some coke, a gel, took an S!Cap, and headed up the trail to Michigan Bluff.  About half way up I was caught by my Aussie friend again, who said he did appreciate the relative run-ability of this canyon.  I saw no other runners on this climb out, and was pleased at the number of times I was actually able to run on the ascent.  As I entered Michigan Bluff, my movie man, Jay Smith, was there, running after me, filming on the fly.  My crew of Larry and Brian was there, and quickly switched my bottles off, gave me a drink of chocolate milk, and I was on my way to Foresthill.  Twiet was there again, telling me “Go Meghan!  Show ‘em how it’s done!”

Cruising into Michigan Bluff. Photo by Marianne Wedell-Wedellsborg.

On to the last canyon – Volcano – involved a section that is usually quite hot, but the mild temps made this section quite bearable.  Here I caught Sunsweet Teammate Joe “Drama Queen” Palubeski.  He was in very good spirits, but starting grow weary.  We chatted a bit, and I was caught by my Aussie friend again.  I dropped them all on the descent, and when I arrived at Volcano Creek, I went down on my knees to ice my quads.   Refreshed, I continued on, and finally emerged at the base of Bath Road to the greetings of my pacer Hannah, and Sunsweeters Bev and Jeff.  After some quick team hugs, Hannah and I slowly jogged up the road.  Hannah filled me in with the race dynamics.  She confirmed that I was in 11th place, with Ashley up by 5 minutes, Amy about 20.  And because AJW runs the Bath Road section, so did we, albeit at a somewhat pedestrian pace.  Before we crested we were met by my other pacer, Mark Richtman, and Brian, and the four of us built more and more speed running into Foresthill.  Another weigh in, plus a cheek swab for the research study, and I was ready to go.

Cruising out of Foresthill is always so thrilling, and this time there was the added excitement of being chased by one film crew of Jay Smith, and chasing JB Benna who was filming from his bike, riding in front of me.

Leaving Foresthill with Mark, Brian, Hannah, and cameraman Jay Smith in tow.

I saw so many friends along here that I found myself running a little outside of my head.  When the crowd finally thinned and the cameras were gone, I felt a bit winded.  But at the same time, I was excited and motivated.  “Hang on Hannah!  We’re going hard!”  We hit the trail, and in a few minutes, came upon Ashley and her pacer. At the same time, a dog entered the trail, aggressively, and I yelled at it as I ran by Ashley, and in all the confusion, I was now in 10th place.  We hammered the downs, cruised the flats, and ground up the short hills on this section to Cal 1 aid station.  I told Hannah all I wanted was to drink from the table and to eat some melon.  We were in and out quickly, but Ashley was still right behind us.  We came to the infamous “Mackey Hill” and I struggled as Ashley closed in.  Hannah asked if I wanted her to go in front.  I said no, as I was redlining already.  I made it to the top, started running again, and every downhill I put space between me and Ashley, but every up hill, she brought herself very close again.  This game went on for a couple of miles when I finally admitted that if I kept working that hard to stay ahead I would soon dig myself into a very deep hole.  The next time Ashley got close, I stepped off the trail.  As she passed I said “I’m working way to hard to stay ahead of you!”  She sweetly passed, and in no time was completely out of site.

Hannah and I were in and out of Cal 2 quickly and onto one of the fastest/sweetest downhill sections.  Mild switch back after mile switch back. Hannah told me stories, and I assured her she could talk all she wanted, but that I wasn’t really listening.  We hit the six minute hill, which took me seven minutes this time, but we cruised the next downs nicely, all the way to Sandy Bottom.  I didn’t mind running here, as I knew we were getting close to the river crossing.  As we finally popped out on the last road section, I realized my Cal Street split was going to be a personal best.  I was stoked to be moving so well, and when we arrived at the river, my time from leaving Foresthill to here was 2:46.  A very good time for me on race day.

I weighed in right at race weight, was given the go ahead, and we ran to the river.  Plunging into the cold water felt very good.  Sean Meissner was pacing his runner across the river, and it was fun catching up with him through the chilling flow.  Mark and Brian were  waiting on the far side of the river, and after a hug from the lovely Diana Fitzpatrick working the aid station, we began our trek up to the Green Gate.  I was getting filled in on where the women were, especially those in close proximity, when suddenly I spied Joelle Vaught walking slowly.  “Joelle!  What’s going on?”  And like last year, she smile broadly  and said “I’m really a 50 mile runner!  I haven’t eaten for awhile, and can’t really get anything down.”  And so it was that I moved into 10th place.

After the Green Gate, Mark and I headed onto the trail to Auburn Lake Trails (ALT) aid station.  Darkness finally overcame my ability to see, and I switched on the light before the aid station.  At this point I didn’t really want to look at my watch anymore as the miles were starting to drag on.  Mark was a great pacer – some stories and some reminders to eat, and recognizing that I am working hard and don’t need pushing.  Finally at ALT, I weighed in, drank some liquids, and on our way out, finally ran into Jed again, fiddling with his lights.  We wished him well, and cruised on.  This next section is quite runnable – annoyingly so. I felt myself ebb a bit, and Mark suggested that calories might be prudent, as there was still significant distance left.  He was right, so I bit the proverbial bullet, opened a gel, and downed it all at once instead of nursing it like a baby.  And low and behold, in about 5 minutes I was running strong again.  We relatively clipped along, and caught Paul Terrenova a bit later.  His countenance was, as usual, cheerful and positive.  I bragged to Mark that Paul was running his first 100, with the goal of completing not only the Grand Slam, but topping off the 4 races with Ironman Hawaii.

Brown’s Bar aid station music reached our ears, and as I began the steep ascent into the lights, I heard “Is that Meghan?”  and I raised my fists.  The resounding cheers were deafening and so appreciated – this aid station was manned by the Ashland contingency, and I had many dear friends there.  They quickly fed me soup, gave me gel, and told me that Ashley was about 5 o4 6 minutes ahead, Amy probably 20.  I was more concerned about who might be behind me.  Running in 10th place is not exactly comfortable, and I so badly wanted to stay in that position at the very least.  Mark and I high tailed it out of the aid station, and I fairly scampered the intense downhill section to the quarry road that paralleled the American River – I only had blisters in the arches of my feet, which weren’t preventing me from running hard.  I found myself actually running the uphill sections of the quarry road – not always the case in previous years.  The final long climb on single track I mostly hiked due to the technical aspect, until I heard cars and saw car lights, where I picked up the pace and ran across the road to the Highway 49 aid station.  My crew quickly aided me, and we were on our way out again.

My pace from here to No Hands Bridge was honest.  I ran the down hills hard, and didn’t struggle badly on the climbs.  At the colorfully lit bridge, I quickly grabbed a cup of coke, chugged it and hit the bridge running.  Across the bridge, it finally felt like the wheels had pretty much disassembled.  I shuffled along for what seemed FOREVER before reaching the final single track up to Robie Point.  Hannah and Brian were there, and the four of us began the final 1+ miles to the finish.  Somehow I found myself running again, and then running faster and faster.  We hit the white bridge and I was building momentum.  On the track I heard Tropical John Medinger over the PA “Ah… The Queen!” Such a nice welcome.  I churned my way around the track, crossing in 19:45, 10th woman, and greeted by Craig, without whom I would never have made it this far.  I secured yet another chance to dance here, taking 1:05 off my previous best for the regular course, and full of ambition to do it better next year.

Many thanks to my friends and crew, to all the runners who made it to the start line, Coach Ian Torrence, Sunsweet, Drymax, Garmin, and Scott Shoes.  You are all a part of my success.

The great Ellie Greenwood and me. Photo by Brian Wood.

Me, Amy, and Hannah.