Going to Italy means going on an adventure.  From the moment my friend Lynda and I arrived in Milan, it began.  No hiccups early as we took a train to Milan from the airport and made our way to the Duomo, via the metro, getting familiar with the public transportation.

A quick bus tour of the city in which I processed very little of what was about me due to jet lag, then back to the train station to head to the Lake Como region to meet team mate Pam Smith and her husband Mac for two days of acclimatization to the time zone.  The town was Cernobbio, very quaint, right on the lake.  Getting off the bus and unsure of the location of our accommodations, and so far lack of cell phone uses, I showed a man the address and he pointed us in the right direction.  We walked with luggage in tow to the street, looking for Via Cinque Giornate 4, but could only find odd numbered addresses.  Finally, I communicated the best I could with a man working outside his bicycle shop where this was, and between him and another fellow, decided it was in a tall apartment building across the street.  So, we luggaged across, came full circle around the apartment building but it was completely locked up.  I then asked a waitress at an outdoor cafe if she knew where it was.  She went inside to bring someone to help.  And the consensus was it was across the street by the bicycle shop.  So, we went on the street again, and asked two Italian women – “do you know this address” – pointing to it on the paper.  They said we were on the right street but no one could find number 4.  And then we crossed the street and again asked the bicycle shop owner for help.  I gave him the phone number of the apartment owner, and he went in, got his phone, came outside and called the owner, Giorgio.  After a very long and expressive conversation, it was revealed that the number was actually five, and the entry was next to the bike shop.  Since we couldn’t find a way to get a hold of Pam and Mac, Giorgio was going to drive over and bring us a key, and right about the time he arrived, Pam and Mac came walking down the street.  All sorted out now, we made our way to the apartment, schlepping our luggage all the way up 3 flights of narrow stairs, out a narrow door onto a balcony, and down to the very end. Once inside we were delighted by the place – very clean, modern and well supplied.  We spent the next two days sleeping a lot, eating wonderful food, and running along Lake Como.  Thursday morning Mac and I felt somewhat accomplished by asking for coffee, bus tickets, and bus schedules in Italian at various shops.

We left for Seregno, location of the World 100k Championships, Thursday morning.  Upon arrival we were greeted by no one, but soon saw Laurie Thornley and Hannah Shallice, my other two crew, coming towards the station with team mate Annette Bednowski and her husband George.  They had arrived sometime earlier and were trying to decide how to get a hold of someone who could transport us to our team accommodations.  Annette was eventually able to get a hold of someone, and after two hours of lounging outside the station, some of the LOC showed up.  Then there was much discussion between the officials on who would fit where, and finally we were being transported away.

First stop – the registration desk for the race.  We spent over an hour here getting our passports copied and discussing the lodgings.  It appeared that the US contingency was so big that we weren’t going to get the accommodations requested.  We would all be in the same place, but there were possibly going to be 14 of us in one dormitory type room.  That sounded a bit crowded, and eventually we were able to convince the organizers that our team management would be the ones to sort out the details, and that we really just needed to get there so we could start to relax.

The drive from Seregno to our lodgings took close to an hour.  It was a beautiful drive, ending with a 14 switchback climb that put us at about 4000’ elevation in the hotel Montanina.  While it was hard to believe that we would have to make this trek a couple more times before the race, it was pretty hard to complain about the setting.  The Dolomites were rising out of the hills closest to us, and the Alps could be seen further back.  We experienced all kinds of weather – snow, thunder, rain, sunshine.  The rooming was sorted out and I ended up in the very large dorm room with my crew, Amy, and our team manager Lin, so it was actually quite satisfactory.  Mexico, Canada, Spain, and Japan were also there.

Friday morning Pam, Amy and I went for a short run in the mountain area.  It was tough at that elevation, and quite cold.  Afterwards, Michael Wardian, George, and I drove to town as Michael and I were expected at a media conference.  We only got a little lost in Seregno trying to find the conference center while listening to the GPS lady as she took us through a pedestrian mall and the wrong way in a round-about, but finally made our way.  The panelists were Michael, Giorgio Calceterra (last year’s defending champion), and the Swede Jonas Budd, Marija Vrajik from Croatia, and myself.  We were each asked to just say a few words about the upcoming race and then we were whisked off the stage as things were running behind schedule.

I was then given a chance to talk to Marija  – a very positive engaging woman whose best time was 7:37 and was hoping to improve on that.  She talked about how she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be running like this as she was getting old.  “How old are you?” I asked.  “Thirty-seven”. I chuckled and said  “I’m the one getting old – I’m 51.”  She gasped and as she crossed herself exclaimed “You are SO OLD!” and we both burst out laughing.

We continued mingling then Meghan Hicks (Irunfar.com) asked Michael and I if she could interview us for the website.  Afterwards we hung outside in the very mild weather waiting for the start of the parade of nations.  Once the parade was over and we had all found a WiFi hotspot to check messages, we were on our way to the mountain top for the night.

Race morning Amy woke me up at 4:15.  I took a shower, dressed, and went down for some food.  I had rice and a cappuccino and a banana, and waited with the team for our ride down the mountain.  Finally a shuttle arrived, and all the athletes tried to cram in.  A few minutes later we picked up a few more runners, and watched as more runners tried to fit on.  Finally we started down the 14 switch back road to the next town down.  The charter buses were waiting, we got on, but the drivers were standing in the road arguing about who knows what, so Amy stepped off the bus, got the attention of the driver, pointed to her watch, and the driver came to the bus and got us going to Seregno.

When we arrived in Seregno, hopped off the bus and made our way to the start, we were informed by an official that the race would start 30 minutes late.  This was fine, as we had arrived a bit later than expected.  The weather was cool but comfortable, and after warming up and multiple “last stops” at the bathroom, we were corralled out of doors to the start line.  Team USA bunched together, wished each other luck, and after a teasing “eye’s on you!” from Mariaj of Croatia, we were off.

Like most races, there was a surge at the beginning.  Behind and to the right, motorcycles carrying officials beeped their way through the runners.  Amy and I fell into a nice rhythm, watching as our average pace settled in on our respective Garmin watches.  The course meandered on streets and bike paths, through neighborhoods, parks,  and finally into the shops in Seregno where our first aid station was.  I looked for Laurie and Lynda – Laurie deftly handed my bottle with Gu and an S!Cap taped to it.  I ripped the packet open, swallowed the contents, the S!Cap, and worked on drinking the water.

We were averaging 7:10 pace or better, but felt relaxed, and my heart rate was in the low 150s – so I was pretty stoked at the effort and pace feeling so easy.  Every now and then either Amy or I would pick it up and the other one would reel it back in.  Aid station 2 at 9km was reached we were pleasantly surprised by Andy Henshaw’s family being there ready to help us out.  I grabbed my water/gel combo from one of them and got it all down.

From 10 to 14 km or so the course paralleled a freeway on a bike path that undulated very gradually, and with the noticeable head wind this was the most challenging part of the course for me.  We maintained our pace through here though, and when finally reaching the end we were gifted with some very sweet, gradual downhill, and our pace picked up again, to the point we had to remind ourselves to slow down.

Our 15k aid station handlers were waiting, and Hannah handed me my usual – Gu and water – which I again swallowed quickly.  The next 5k (the last on the loop) we were feeling good and were still running sub 7:10 pace.  The crowds thickened as we ran on the circuitous path back to the start/finish.  Crossing the timing mat, the announcer spoke our names (“Sproston-a Amee!” “Arbogast-a Meghan-a”).  I hit my lap button and was pleased with the sub 1:29.  Our next aid was just past the finish line area, and not expecting help, I grabbed my bottle of the table just as I saw Heather try to hand me one.  I shouted my thanks and knew to look for her next time around.

Excitedly, I opened my first caffeinated gel of the day.  I swallowed it plus another S!Cap, downed it with water, and Amy and I continued in lockstep.  Now we knew the loop and we agreed that it was a great course for a 100k on the road – flat with a variety of scenery and long enough that it was hard to get bored with it.  When we hit 2 hours of running I said “We only have to do this for four and half more hours!” Amy corrected me to the reality of five and a half, but I was undaunted.  The aid station routines were repeated – gel and water every time, and S!Caps periodically throughout.  I was feeling on top of my game.  We ended the second loop in under 1:29 again and in 4th and 5th place.  At this point I had pulled ahead of Amy, but just slightly. I felt really strong and kept pushing myself, letting my heart rate creep up to 160.  My 50k split was 3:41 and I was feeling confident in what I was doing.  My bowels were speaking loudly to me so when I saw a patch of grass and a slight amount of privacy I stepped off the course for about 30 seconds, did my business, and hopped right back in.  Rolling back into town and the small out and back I could see Amy behind me, but more importantly, I could see Monica Carlin, Italy’s favorite, not far in front of me.  At the same time I had been getting reports “Due-ay minutay, prossima femme -  due-ay minutay!”  I stayed calm, and at the end of lap three (another sub-1:29) I passed Maria from Croatia in the aid zone, putting me in 3rd place, with Monica seconds in front of me.  Lap four was going to be my “zen-lap” in which I would just focus on running, getting through, trying not to slow too much, and saving myself for the last lap.  When I reached the first turn of the lap, I could not see Monica anywhere, and then heard the fans “Secundo!  Secundo!”  Somehow, Monica had stepped off the course – putting me in second place.  This was a new experience, but I was feeling mentally and physically engaged, although definitely beginning to feel the struggle.  I got through each aid station in the same routine – water, gel, occasional salt.  I was also utilizing the sponge stations to help keep me cool in the warming conditions.

At the short out and back, I could see that Amy was still not far back.  When I reached the end of lap four, my split was 1:33, and my 50 mile time was 6:00, a big PR for me.  I now was ready to put my head down and run hard to the finish – a mere 12 miles….Reports were coming in – the first female was only “Un minute!”  I grabbed my aid from Laurie at the 5k mark for the last time, and could see the first place woman with motorcycle escort just ahead.

I contemplated ramifications of passing her and being in the lead – would I be in over my head?  Would she pick it up?  Could I maintain this?  I focused hard, and was definitely pumping my arms.  In another km I caught her, ran beside her momentarily while we exchanged words of encouragement, and then went by.

Hitting the section by the freeway for the last time, I felt the wind leave my sails on the first little climb.  I willed myself to the top about the same time as the Swedish woman re-passed me.  I encouraged her along, and hoped for some sort of rebound.  A couple of minutes later, Amy caught me.  “Go get her Amy!  She’s all yours!” and she glided by in perfect control.  I was barely moving, feeling quite lightheaded, and recognized that this must be the point in a race, no matter how close the finish, where a runner may decide they are done and throw in the towel.  I desperately wanted to be on this team, wanted to PR, wanted to break 7:40, and wanted to FINISH!  I decided I needed to stay upright, keep moving forward, not lay down, not walk, and get to the next aid station for some help.  Moments later, a Russian runner passed me like I was standing still.  Finally, hearing Hannah cheering for me from the last aid station, I struggled in yelling for Coke.  I came to a complete stop, told the gang “I have bonked badly!” to which they handed me a black bottle of warm coke that I chugged with another gel.  Lin reminded me that we were going for the gold medal, and with that extra bit of incentive, I ran out, and within two minutes the Coke and gel kicked in and I started running hard again.  Faster and faster I went, but no where near any of the gals ahead of me.  I got to the finish stretch and sprinted it in – 4th female, PR by 5 minutes, and a new age group world record by 9 minutes.  I asked about Amy and was stoke that she had won!  In less than two minutes, Pam Smith crossed, and Team USA had scored the gold!

The men’s team fared very well also, with four top ten finish in David Riddle (5th), Jon Olsen (7th), Michael Wardian (8th) and Joe Binder (10th) scoring them the silver!  While Caroline Smith, Annette and Todd Braje had rough days, they finish with dignity and grace.  Sadly, Cassie Scallon had to pull out due to injury as did Andy Henshaw, but I’m sure they’ll both be back next year!

Many, many thanks to the Team USA crews!  Lin Gentling, Lion and Susan Caldwell, Tim Yanacheck, and my crew Lynda Fischer, Laurie Thornley and Hannah Shallice, to Matt’s sister and brother-in-law Heather and Darryl Schaffer, Andy Henshaw’s family, David Riddle’s family, and to Jon’s wife Doobie, Caroline Smith’s amazing family, and to the wonderful Italian fans along the course yelling “Dai rigazzi!  Dai, Dai, Dai!” (Go boys and girls!  Go, go, go!).

Also a big thanks to Team Sunsweet, Scott Shoes, and Garmin for product support!

The final 20 miles of Jed Smith were still seared in my brain when I began this delicious 50 mile trail run, and wanting to reverse the way my energy played out at Jed, I began relaxed and conservative.  Amy Sproston and Shawna Tompkins skittered off quickly and I didn’t attempt to follow closely, willing to let the chips fall where they may.  It was still slightly dark so I couldn’t make out who was ahead, and focused on staying upright as dawn slowly rose.  The beginning miles were technical and climbed steadily.  When I could finally see clearly, I started glancing ahead the far off trail to see if I could make out where the gals were.  I finally spotted Amy’s bright red Montrail shirt, glanced at my watch, and two minutes later was where she had been spotted, and we were only 4 miles into the race. Well she was definitely moving quicker than I, but it was early, so I didn’t feel compelled to go after her.

A thin coastal fog kept the sunshine at bay, but the temperature was quite mild.  I could hear excited chatter behind, and see runners ahead – the terrain was largely scrubby with Manzanita, Eucalyptis and poison oak, none of which were tall enough to obscure the views.  When I dared glance off to my left, I was given great oceans views.  Then, turning inland, the trail opened into a low meadow.  Running through here felt slow, flat, dead.  For a few moments I thought I was going to have a 45 mile death march, but when the ground firmed up, I felt stronger, and eventually eased my way into aid station 1.  I was followed in closely by dear friend Scotty Mills who was busy flicking “helpful advice” to his comrades.

My Nathan pack still had enough fluid, so I downed a gel, some coke, some GuBrew, took an extra gel for the road, and headed onto the first long downhill.  It was sweet single track, and it seemed to go on forever.  I was in a train of runners, and while I felt as if I could go faster here, I decided to chill and stay tucked in line where I was.  It seemed it would never end, and I wasn’t alone in my concern for how much uphill we would have to make up for this free ride.

It finally ended with a flat low section and shortly after we were faced with the price to pay – a steep, long, steady climb that was not quite steep enough to hike the whole thing.  I was jogging slowly when San Diego runner Angela Shartel ran up beside me.  She assured me that I didn’t need to worry about her, she was having a terrible day already and wasn’t sure she was going to do the 50 mile.  Her sciatic nerve was really hurting and her confidence was thin.  I encouraged her to not throw in the towel just yet – there were still several miles left before she had to make up her mind. I slowly pulled away, jogging and hiking the long climb, and at the top returned to the first (and now the second) aid station.  This time I filled my pack with GuBrew, ate another gel, drank from cups, took some salt, and when I was ready to go again I had no idea how many had passed me here.  I resisted the temptation to ask the volunteer keeping track of the runners when Amy and Shawna had passed through.  I just didn’t want to go crazy.  I hit the trail with no one in sight, as the shrubbery was higher here, and the trail was very circuitous, and a gradual downhill.  I could hear voices behind me, as well as the occasional “HOWWWLLLL” by celebratory runners.  On the next climb up I was overtaken by a male runner, commenting as he went by “I feel like The Court Jester passing The Queen.”  I chuckled and asked who he is – “Tyler Cates” – a runner from Eugene I hadn’t met yet, but who is among the lucky to be in Western States 100 this year.  He informed me he was running the 50k as he pulled away.

Alone again, I forged on, to a now more open view.  I could see runners as specks on the climb ahead, but didn’t get any closer.  One climb led to another down, and finally I could hear the welcomes from the next aid station.  I cruised in, grabbed drinks, gels, salt, and suddenly I was running like I meant to race.  I passed two men on the way out of the aid station, yelling “come on boys!” and felt like my body finally woke up and was ready to rock.  The next section was more lush, following along a creek bed.  I soon reeled Tyler back in, as well as Scotty Mills, who felt compelled to comment on being passed by someone “really old”.  I pumped both fists in the air shouting “Yeah!”  Tyler worked his way back in front on the next climb, and as he crested, the trails for the separate race distances divided.  He yelled something about “The Queen!” as he sailed towards home, and I turned left, 22 miles into the race now, and midway through the longest climb.

With only the 50 mile runners on this part of the course, I knew we would be very spread out.  I climbed and climbed, and my left knee began to complain.  Rats.  A tracking problem had emerged a few weeks before, and even though it had been straightened out by my massage therapist, there was apparently residual irritation.  Having bigger fish to fry in the months ahead (World 100k Championships, Comrades, Western States) I backed off a bit, and eventually the pain went away.  Relieved, I pushed on.  The climb was shaded in parts by dense shrubbery, some of which I impaled an eyeball on – wow that hurt!  I decided that the sunglasses would better serve me on my face, and after I could stand straight again I stumbled on up the trail. Having felt alone for quite some time, I was relieved to finally see another runner ahead.  It was Angela again, and she was walking slowly and resignedly.  As I passed her she jokingly chided me for encouraging her run the 50 mile, as her sciatica was really acting up now.  She said she was just going to do what it took to finish.  I jogged by and soon crested and started some downhill running  – and my knee started hurting again.  Buggar.  I worked very hard at keeping my feet under me, not over striding, and not braking with my quads.  It was a different kind of challenge, but eventually my knee stopped hurting.

This was well into the out-and-back section and sure enough, the men’s leader, Jorge Maravilla came floating towards me, so relaxed and fresh that I was confused about whether or not he was in the race.  I was then descending again, a very steep rocky road, realizing that I had to come back up, and I was fully engaging my hamstrings to spare my knee.  Surprising me again, Angela caught up to me, saying I was inspiring her and she was having a bit of a respite.  We came into the next aid station, where I drank and ate a gel, then scooted out for the 3 mile section to the turn around.  Now the rest of the lead men started to come by – Jorge Pacheco, Chris Price, Mark Hartell, Tommy Neilson, Jimmy Dean Freeman, and some I don’t know yet.  I was being given reports as to where Amy and Shawna were, but was soon to find out for sure.  Amy came around a corner, looking strong and composed.  She encouraged me and I shouted out “do you have any Advil?”  I got no response, and later she let me know that she thought I had asked her if she wanted to take the car keys since she would be finishing first – and she wasn’t about to add that complication to her race!  About 5 minutes later, I encountered Shawna, also looking very strong.  I made it to the turn around, drank a cup of water, and headed back.  About 2 minutes back from me was Angela, moving well.  Traffic in both directions was getting a little thicker, and it was great to be encouraged and to encourage in return.

The fog had burned off and it was heating up.  To this winter-chilled Oregonian, it was a welcome sensation.  I kept the salt going in, the gels going in, and the fluids.  My energy had been pretty good and steady all day, so while I may not have been running as fast as I sometimes do, I was not in a bad place.  I returned to the aid station, followed closely by Angela, refilled my backpack and began to hike/jog back up the steep rocky climb.  There were many families out enjoying the trail, all very encouraging to the runners.

Now the previously unrelenting uphill became the 9 mile long downhill.  My knee was cranky.  I was willing to take Advil (something I hadn’t done in years) to ease the pain in my knee.  I was also wishing for a pacer – someone to keep me company and keep me focused, when Angela again caught me.  “No frickin’ way!  Why do I keep catching you?”  I asked her if she had any Advil, but she stated that the stuff scared her.  I asked her if she wanted to pass, but she said I would just catch her again.  From that point on, we stayed together, managing our individual pains, sharing life stories, encouraging each other.  At the last aid station I took a gel, a couple of salt tabs, and drank 3 or 4 cups of fluids, foregoing a refill.  We had only 4.5 miles left, and Shawna was reportedly just a few minutes ahead.

My knee had stopped hurting now, and I was glad I hadn’t used any painkillers.  We had one more friggin’ long climb, and then a sweet long gentle down hill run to the finish.  We approached the finish line to the cheering crowd, and crossed side by side, tying for 3rd place.  Amy was there to greet me with a big grin and hug – I asked her how long she had been done.  “Oh, I don’t know – 40 minutes?”  Yowza!

This race is a keeper.  Well organized, single track, views of the ocean, and a great time of year to get out of more wintery states.  Thanks to Keira and all her volunteers for putting on this great event!

After spending a weekend in the Texas Hill Country outside of San Antonio crewing for my pals in the Bandera races, I spent a half a week in Schertz, Texas, with friends of the Thornley’s, the Zimmerhanzels, getting lots of rest and shaking the last remnants of a cold.  Craig had agreed to be my Athlete Support for the trials, so he began his duties early, keeping track of my sleep and alcohol consumption.  We had a great time with the Zimmerhanzels, with the highlight of the week getting to go horse back riding on their farm.

Craig and I hit the road for Houston on Thursday.  Upon our arrival, I checked in, picked up my packet, and Craig’s credential.   I had time to get a massage while Craig waited in the hospitality suite.

We checked into our house, then gussied up and headed for the BP sponsored banquet, featuring former distance stars Bill Rodgers, Frank Shorter, and Steve Jones.  They each gave some very entertaining words, and we were treated to amazing food.  At dinner, I had the good fortune of sitting next to Bob Larson, coach to Meb Keflezighi and Deena Kastor.  We had a great discussion on the importance of running form – something he and I firmly believe in.  And to top the evening off, Craig, Coach Bob Latham, and I had our picture taken with the super stars.

After the banquet we headed to the airport to pick up my pillar and best friend, Theresa Ridgway.  She has been to the Olympic Trials with me in 2004 and 2008, and she always has a positive influence on my experiences at races.  Friday morning the three of us went for a short, quick run, and I was feeling pretty peppy.  We headed to the race headquarters for the athlete technical meeting, where all athletes were required to be.  The rules and directives were delivered for race day.  Aside from Michael Wardian’s several questions at the meeting, the most entertaining topic had to do with the staggered start of the men’s and women’s race.  Imagine the reaction of the men to the following scenario – The men’s race was to start at 8:00 am.  The first portion of the race was a 2.2 mile loop, and it was estimated the men would finish that first loop between 8:11 and 8:12, after which the women would be led to the start line.  If in the event any men would take longer than 15 minutes, they would be held back while the women were assembled for the start.  That fact elicited quite a murmur of nervous laughter.  I believed that any man would hop on one leg if they had to in order to make that first “cut-off” time.

I got my special fluids bottles prepared and marked with some Beaver orange pipe cleaners, studied the fluids tables layout and learned that my bottles would be on table number 35 in position 7 in each of 3 aid stations that we would pass in each 8 mile loop.

We headed back to our house and I hit the hay early.  I slept decently, got up and had rice, banana, and coffee for breakfast, then Craig drove me to the race start.  We went into the conference center  where the athletes and handlers gathered. We had ample fluids and food, and were able to warm up in the long corridors.  The men were beckoned to go down to the start/finish area first, and 15 minutes later, the women.  We were all warming up outdoors together, and the men were called to the start.  I watched them start their race, then continued warming up and doing strides.  The men all finished the first loop in due time, and we were escorted to the start line.  At 8:15, we were finally off.

We were packed in tightly and the start was slow – we went through the first mile in about 6:35, the second in about 6:20.  Jenn Shelton fell in beside me and as we started on the second loop she stuck to me like glue.   My pace was increasing, but not by a lot.  I was working pretty hard, and waiting for my groove to kick in.  My goals were loose – I didn’t wear the heart rate monitor and didn’t take splits on my watch.  I just wanted to go by feel and was fully expecting to be running 6:20s.  I watched as my overall pace lowered to 6:15, and then started to inch back up.  I was in a pack of about 6 women, and most of them were pretty comfortable chatting.  I kept quiet, worried about the effort.  Off to the right I heard someone shouting my name, and finally recognized Mike Spinnler on his bike, rooting me on.  It was much appreciated.

Jenn dropped a gel, and I asked her if she had more at her bottle table.  She said she did, but also said she was going to drop at mile 10.  Her hamstring was slightly injured and she didn’t want to make it so bad that she wouldn’t be able to run.   I was continually amused how if she pulled ahead of me, she would look back and wait until we were running together again.  Later when I asked her about it, she said “I didn’t want to get too far away from Mama Duck”.

We reached the west end of the 8 mile loop, ran over the bayou below and began heading east.  One little dog leg allowed some vision of the women ahead, but not the leaders.  Here is where Theresa and friends Meredith and Paul were stationed, and their boisterous cheers lifted my spirits.   Shortly there after, I heard Craig and Todd Braje, and gave them a wave.  Jenn was still running comfortably with me.  We came to an aid station and as I grabbed my bottle it fell to the ground.   The woman overseeing the table reflexively started to grab my bottle, then remember she wasn’t allowed to help and jumped back.   I knew I couldn’t afford to skip it, so went back to get it.  At that point, Jenn pulled ahead with another runner, and when I finished the loop, she was no where in sight.

It was pretty exciting to go through the start/finish area, as there were grandstands on both sides filled with enthusiastic fans. My pace had slowed to 6:30.  Ugh.  I was just having a pretty off day.  I focused on keeping good form because if that went, I would really suffer.  I pulled in a runner ahead of me, Shannon Cody, and passed her with encouraging words.  As soon as we were out of the tall downtown buildings again and heading into some wind, I realized we didn’t really need to run apart, since we were both obviously not having a great day.  I eased up as she caught back up.  We stayed together for the rest of the westward route, and then as we turned to go east, she fell off the pace.

I had consoled myself before the race with the fact that if I did end up having a slow day, then I would at least get to see the lead men come by.  Of course, I hadn’t expected it quite so soon, but at their mile 22, the police and then the media trucks went by (my moment on TV) and then like a piece of machinery, Ryan Hall, Meb Keflezighi, and Abdi Abdirahman motored by me.  It was so awesome to be on the same course at the same time.  They looked incredible.  And then there was no one else.  “Wow – I just got to see the three men going to London” – and then surging by came Dathan Ritzenheim, fighting hard to close the gap.  It was near the dog leg, so I got to see them again, and I wondered if Dathan would be able to catch them.

Back in my own body, I trudged on.  It never occurred to me to not finish.  I was again cheered on by Theresa, and then by Craig at their various spots.  I was being passed by more and more men, all of them just flying, and I was intrigued by the bib numbers – our number reflected our seed in the race based on our qualifying times, so most of the men had low numbers, but occasionally someone with a high number went by, defying their seed substantially.  With about a mile to go for the men, Bend runner Max King came muscling by.  That man was worked and then some, but he was still full of fight and determination.  I cheered him on and got no response, but later he said he did hear me – and had wondered who it was.

Shortly after, my good friend Mike Reneau came gliding by, smooth as gelato, with energy to give me encouraging words.  He began to close in on Max, and they both set PRs for the day.  As I crossed the start/finish again, I saw Mike recovering, and as a testament to my inability to run fast for the day, I shouted out a congratulations to him and invited him to cool down with me.

Off I went for my final loop.  I was running solo, and although not doing well, I hadn’t been passed by anyone since the end of the first 8 mile loop.  I was cheered briefly by a shout from someone on the side yelling “Go Aged Ultra Runner!”

I also needed to use a bathroom and since time was not really of essence, I stopped at the porta-john.  When I came out, Shannon Cody had caught back up, so we ran together for awhile again.  We got to know each other a little bit – it was her first time to the trials, and as usual, I had to toot my horn about being the oldest runner there.  We stayed together for awhile but I pulled away again at mile 23, just as I started getting cramps in my abs.  Ugh – what next.  I passed Theresa, Meredith and Paul again, their enthusiasm as strong as ever.  I put my hands on my hips, trying to alleviate the stabbing pain, and finally it subsided.  At mile 24 Craig was standing in the road to take my picture as I came by, as there were very few runners left at this point.  I could smell the barn now, and began trying to run harder, only to have my hamstrings start to cramp.  Oh-for-crying-out-loud-this-was-ridiculous.  I just don’t normally cramp.  Along with a few training errors, I had failed to keep up on my electrolytes.  I suppose there is something about never ceasing to amaze oneself, but when it has to with stupidity it isn’t exactly a point of pride.

With a mile to go, the Marathon Maniac Crew of Tony P!, Chris Warren, and Steve Yee yelled out and high-5-ed me going by.  Shannon Cody caught back up and we ran into together, and at the last second she deferred to the aged competitor, and had me cross the finish line in front of her.  2:58 and change – and I was genuinely relieved to be done, and truly disappointed in my day.  I came in expecting to run 2:45 – I wasn’t injured, not sick, but in hindsight, my weeks leading up were not real focused, I had been sick a couple of times, had traveled a lot, and those things do not add up to peak performance. This lesson was more acutely felt, given that it was one race that only happens every 4 years, and it is not an easy race to get into to.  But on the truly upside, I was surrounded by my best friends and immersed in the culture I thrive in, and I am glad I am not to old to learn a lesson, and not too tired of racing to be full of determination and focus.  This event exists to put our finest athletes on the Road to London, and as soon as I could I find out, I learned that Meb, Ryan, and Abdi and finished 1,2 and 3 for the men, and that Shalane, Desi, and Kara brought it home for the women.

Afterward, Craig and I went to the awards banquet.  It was a privilege to see the 6 Olympians and hear what each one had to say about their day.  They were all humbled and modest and I feel very proud of their sportsmanship and support for one another.  The one interview that really stuck in my mind was with Kara, when she was asked how the race unfolded for her, especially in terms staying in the top 3 when there were 4 women battling it out for the bulk of the race – Shalane, Desi, Kara, and Amy Hastings.  In order to shake things up, the pace had to be picked up, and Kara remarked that her “comfort zone is 5:30 pace”  but she had to pick it up into the 5:20s if anyone was going to drop off – which is her danger zone.  So as a group they would pick it up, and Amy would drop back, but as soon as they eased up, she was back.  We know the result, but I was stuck on the idea that someone’s comfort zone was 5:30 pace.

This was a fabulous weekend, and I am grateful to my friends Craig and Theresa for their support during the race, and the many, many more out on the course cheering everyone on.  And a special thanks to coach Bob Latham for getting me to this race one more time!

In 2009 I ran this race, with a less than satisfying performance.  I bonked badly at mile 42 and struggled in, not really enjoying life, stopping at every aid station and eating things I never eat, just to make it to the finish.  This year, I vowed, would be different.

Fortunately, I was able to have friend and fellow 100k World Team member, Howard Nippert, crew for me, which would allow me to have ample calories and fluids of my choosing during the run, plus his no nonsense encouragement.  On paper, I was heavily favored, although there were a few unknowns and the unknowing-ness of one’s own performance on any given day.  I felt strong, swift, rested, and based on my workouts, no reason to think I couldn’t break the course record of 6:29.

There was a fair amount of hoopla surrounding the race.  JFK 50 is a storied event, the oldest ultra in the country and the largest.  The history I find very inspiring, especially given the year in which this started – well before the obesity epidemic we have here now.

The local paper, the Herald-Mail gave much press to this event as well. Wardian was going for the course record, and the men’s field was stacked with Matt Woods, David Riddle, Andy Henshaw (all members of the USA 100k Team) as well as others less well known to me.  The women’s field was not as deep, but definitely some women with creds – Cassie Scallon – a dark horse but with some quick times and wins in the past 2 years, and Ragan Petri coming off a solid win at UROC.  I was favored heavily, and was in the mindset that I would race the course record and that would keep me motivated.

Race morning was perfect for November – chilly, clear, and a bit breezy.  Howard and I made our way to the start.  I gave him the bottles and gel flasks with a list of aid stations that I would like to get them.  I set my bottle and flask down that I would start with and did a little more warm up, then went to the start.  At 7:00 sharp, we were off.  The fast men bolted quickly.  I was feeling nice and light, when I realized the reason for the lightness was that I had left my bottle and flask at Howard’s feet.  Hmmmm.  I decided that I could easily make it to mile nine on aid station support, given it was cool and I had topped off the tank well pre-race.  Cassie pulled up next to me and we got to know each other a bit.  We hit the Appalachian Trail in about 20 minutes and happily danced down the trail.  For awhile.  It was really, really rocky. I remembered that from before, but the longer I was on it the less I remembered it from before.  Cassie slid by and gracefully and gradually pulled away.  I did my best to focus on the ground in front of me, and not worry about where she was.  I wanted to get through the trail section and feel ready to run fast when we hit the tow path.

At mile nine, aid station 2, Howard was there with my forgotten bottle and gel.  “Forget something?”  I told him I was fine, I had aided at the first station.  Cassie was right in front of me, but I took my first pit stop, and when I came out, Cassie was completely out of view.  There were another 6 miles of trail to go, and I was starting to feel a bit wobbly on the rocks.  If I had weak ankles, they would have shown up here.  I went back and forth with the men on the trail, and we were now encountering the early starters.  The final bit of trail consisted of very gnarly switchbacks on leaf covered rocks, and a somewhat congested with early starters.  Everyone was congenial and supportive, and my only encounter with the ground came by sliding on the leaves from one trail down to the next on a switch back.  I did come back up with the help of fellow runners.

Down off the trail and close to the towpath, Howard handed me fresh bottles.  I asked how far ahead she was, and he said about a minute and a half.  When I finally reached the towpath, I got the official time – she was 3:40 ahead of me.  Well, that was more than I expected, but my 2:14 was as good as I needed to be in reach of a 6:29.  I focused on easing my way into a faster pace.  I knew I would need to average about 7:45 overall, and I was at 8:20 now.  Falling back to a previous experience this summer where I did a training weekend of a 50k training run followed the next day by a 3:02 marathon, I knew I could pull out a ‘quickish’ marathon which was the distance of the towpath section.  Having the Garmin calculating overall pace was priceless, and I knew from previous experience that I would need to show a faster pace on the Garmin than my goal pace, as the Garmin had already  measured an extra half mile.  As I started cruising it was fun watching the average drop.  I wasn’t planning on ‘chasing’ Cassie down, I planned on running a doable pace, just under that edge of “too fast”, and if I could get to the end of the towpath in 5:30, then I could bust my ass to the finish. I also predicted that Cassie would come back to me.  Aid station volunteers and fellow runners gave me various reports, but each time indicated she was further ahead.   Somewhere midway, she was as far as 7+ minutes ahead.  Wow – that was impressive – as my pace had been steadily coming down until now it was under 8 minutes.

The towpath section is actually, in my opinion, quite pleasant, contemplative if you will.  It has some long straight stretches, but some nice, natural bends.  I remembered to look at the Potomac and wonder what it was like in the 1800s.  The trees were losing their leaves, mostly golden, but one tree had shed bright green leaves.  These were mild distractions to keep me from being so inside my head that I forget one of my enjoyments in running is experiencing what is around me.

My stomach was doing pretty well.  I don’t normally have issues, but focusing on getting more gel and more fluids can tip the scales.  Whenever my stomach was at peace, I would take another shot of gel from my flask, then chase it with Hammer’s Sustained Energy in coconut water.  That would cause a bit of “ick” feeling for awhile, but eventually it would subside, and I would repeat the process.  My digestive system had not caught up to east coast time, and I made 3 more porta-john stops along the towpath.  With 22 miles to go, I imagined I was on a 22 mile run from my house for perspective.  I kept a good pace going, happy that I wasn’t falling into a slog.  As I got into the 30′s my pace was down to 7:55, and holding steady.  Then I heard that Cassie was only 6:30 ahead.  When I reached mile 40, I switched imagery to the Ice Cream Sandwich Run and started to gradually increase the effort.  I was done enjoying the towpath, had had enough contemplative mind chatter, was sick and tired of carrying my bottle and the gel flask, and quite frankly was sick and tired of gel and Sustained Energy.  When I finally made it to mile 42, Howard was ready with fresh supplies.  I threw my old ones and the ground and said “I’m done carrying stuff.  I’m topped off, I feel fine, I just need to run!”  My time was 5:33 – I didn’t know what kind of pace I could hold, but getting on the pavement felt very good, and I was stoked that I could actually push the pace right away.

A short steep climb slowed me a bit, and Howard drove by yelling “c’mon! c’mon! c’mon!”  As soon as I crested I opened up and started flying.  For a bit.  I reined it in, when an oncoming pickup driver slowed, rolled his window down and shouted “She’s only 2 minutes ahead!  You can get her!  Really, you can!”  I surged a bit, and stared ahead.  The road doesn’t stay straight for long, and it rolls, so it was hard to gauge how far away she really was.  I focused on a male runner, reeled him in, exchanged supportive words, and then I focused on the next runner.  Coming into an aid station I grabbed a gulp of coke, and kept charging on.  My overall pace was dropping again.  At mile 46 Howard was holding a bottle for me.  I yelled ahead to him “Coke!  Coke!” He quickly moved, and met me with 2 cups.  I grabbed one, spilled half of it all over me, snorted a good amount up my nose, and managed to swallow about a teaspoon.  Howard ran next to me, letting me know that I was running stronger than Cassie.  “It’s not over yet” I replied.  “I’m surging and sagging, but I’m not going to quit trying.”  He ran back to his car, drove on ahead and waited.  I kept running strong, but was definitely tiring.  With 2 miles to go, I caught him again.  This time he just waved and drove off, and I knew that barring a disaster for Cassie, she was not going to be caught today.

There was an orange jersey in front of me, and I finally made out that it was Sean Meissner, fellow Oregonian, and Cassie’s boyfriend.  I chuckled to myself that Cassie was ahead of Sean.  He saw me with about a mile and a half to go, and at that time he could see Cassie in front.  He was getting “chickwiched” and was pretty stoked about it.  I couldn’t close the gap, and at the finish Cassie was 6:31, Sean 6:33, and my time was 6:35.  No new course record but Cassie and I and run the 3rd and 4th fastest female times in the history of the race.  I broke the 50+ women’s record by 85 minutes, and the 40+ by 7.

It was a gratifying day and one of my best races of the year.  The volunteers and race staff were fabulous, and having Howard crewing for me was priceless.  Many kudos to all, and especially to RD Mike Spinnler.

Three short weeks after the World 100k, I was toeing the line in Minneapolis in my 7th running of the Twin Cities Marathon.  I love to come here for this race – it has been the USATF Master’s championships for as long as I remember, and the folks on the race committee treat me extremely well.  Even though I could set low expectations given my previous few weeks, I had every intention of  trying to run another Olympic Marathon Trials standard.  For the most part, I was easily as fit as a year ago when I ran 2:45, just with the added stress of the World 100k.  No worries….right?

Coach Bob Latham was present and supportive as is his usual MO, but never taken for granted on my part.  He has strengthened me into a much more consistent runner over the past three years, and I truly appreciate all he has done and continues to do for me.

In the masters division, I was ranked 5th, with Susan Empey, Wendy Terris, Sheri Piers, and Shannon McHale in the mix.  Susan was looking to run anything under 2:46 to get her qualifier, and we talked about running together.  My goal was to run 6:10-6:12 pace for the first 20 miles, then Hold on for Dear Life the last 10k which includes significant climbing.  I actually felt pretty decent the days leading up to the race, and the weather was looking perfect – sunny and cool and no wind.

At 8:00 we were off to the cheers of the crowd lining the streets.  I stayed calm and strong, checking my Garmin every few whiles to see if I was hooking into a good pace.  By the first mile, Susan glided by effortlessly.  My split was 6:22 – not too stellar, but keeping tabs on my HR, I was in a good zone.  I needed to keep it between 170-172 in order not to blow up.  I made it up the small hill in mile 2 with a 6:21, ran past the traditional tuba player into mile 3 with a 6:34.  Hmmm….not going super great yet.  I just kept monitoring my HR, and was glad to see it was at least maintaining the 170, but I was working fairly hard already.

Soon I hooked up running with Katie Caba from Bend, whom I had met the day before.  We silently worked together, but psychically connected as runners often do.  The next three miles I averaged 6:20 pace, so I was not really hitting the 6:10-6:12 pace.  I was working harder than I liked to at this point of the race, yet able to keep the HR up, so there was no reason to relent.

At mile 8, Katie and I lost contact.  The next few miles I was holding my own with 6:20 pace, hooking up with different runners along the way.  Mile 11 I was looking desperately for my good friend Johanna Olson, who had recently had brain surgery and was staying with her sister, Marnie.  Finally, Marnie burst up from the sideline, and I waved wildly at her and Johanna, feeling humbled by the gifts of health I had.

At the half marathon mark, 3 young women easily glided by.  They were right on pace for a qualifier if they could maintain what looked like a cakewalk for them.  I wished them well, and they returned the compliment.  I knew that my 1:23 half was not likely going to be followed by a 1:22 on this course and with the way I was feeling I was thinking a sub-2:50 would be pretty awesome.  At this point I stopped looking at my watch, just hitting the lap button at miles as they slowly went by.

Around mile 15, Katie caught back up, and ran by strongly.  She stayed within eye shot for the next couple of miles, and I slowly caught back up.  She started to fade but I said “stay with me Katie – neither of us is hitting our time goal, so we may as well suffer together.”  Mile 17-19 were unreal – I started to get lightheaded and had the momentary thought of “oh my god, I’m going to be a walker!”  Somehow, mind over matter, or just plain stubbornness, I made it through that rough patch.  The last six miles averaged closer to 6:35, so it wasn’t a case of the wheels coming completely off, more like slow leaks in all four.  Sub 2:50 wasn’t looking like it was in the cards.

Crossing the Mississippi after mile 19, a little bit of Running Goddess Ju-Ju visited me and I found a second wind.  Katie had sagged back, but I found myself running on my reserve strength.  Reserved from what, I don’t know, but I wasn’t about to question it. I hit mile 20 with no idea of my overall time, but ready to ‘geterdone’.  I was thinking “just keep it steady, don’t slow down, but no need to go crazy” when I saw a female ahead of me.  Damn.  Well, I may as well try to reel her in.  It was one of the three gals who had passed me about half way, and I encouraged her as I went by.  Again, I mentally settled to stay steady, but not go crazy, when I saw another female within striking distance.  Geez!  I reeled her in as well, and so it continued for the next 3 miles until I had passed 5 women.

I had psychically connected with another runner at mile 23, and we silently worked together on the long grinding final miles.  With his compact muscular body, I assumed that when we hit the last downhill and sprint to the end, he would leave me in the dust, but he had completely tanked and I out kicked him to the finish.  Hoping I was under 2:55, I was pleasantly surprised at my 2:52 and change.  I hit my seeded Master’s finish of fifth, and was 19th female overall.  Bob was there with his bear hug in tow, proud of me as always.  “I think I had a little of that 100k in my legs still” I commented to him.  I think one more week of recovery would have been helpful, which is merely an observation.  I wouldn’t have traded the experience – the weather was perfect, the fans were spectacular, and I persevered to have a unique experience.

 

 

Leading up to the World 100k Championships in Winschoten, Team USA spent 3 days together with all of the other competing nations in the Athletes Village, 30 minutes from the race.  It was the most time I had spent with the internationals, and I was feeling more comfortable with many of the same faces from my previous 3 years experience.  We had meals in the same facility, and each team ate together, like a tiny United Nations meal hall, with friendly interchanges of several languages at all times.  I had the privilege of traveling with Amy Sproston, whose travel ease was comforting and full of humor, with her inclusion of Pierre the Prairie Dog and her habit of speaking Spanish whenever she is in any foreign country.  It was her first time on the team, and she fit in beautifully.  Our team was divided up into the many bungalows, and Amy and I shared one with Joe Binder.

Our team meeting was like a family reunion and a new experience for Amy, Pam Smith, Annette Bednoskey, Andy Henshaw, and David Riddle.  Our returning team mates Carolyn Smith and Devon Crosby-Helmes for the women and Matt Woods, Chad Riklefs, Joe Binder and Mike Wardian on the men’s side boded well for both teams.  We had a generous supply of handlers – a few had their spouses, and few had an army – so the runners were to be well taken care of.  And keeping us all glued together, both individually and as a team, was our illustrious team management of Lion and Susan Caldwell, Lin Gentling, Timo Yanacheck and Ann Heaslett.

 

Like a typical Oregon fall, the weather was warm but wet.  The forecast for race day was another story – partly cloudy and in the 70s with some significant humidity.  I would have to take what the day brought, just like everyone else, and focus on keeping up with my hydrations and sodium intake, as well as the usual calorie and electrolyte beverage.

Thursday morning the team headed into Winschoten for a course preview.  Carolyn and Devon led the charge through the drizzle and rain and we were indeed going to be racing on a very flat course.  There were several turns, a few long straight aways, and some nice gentle curves as well.  It was varied enough that at the end I remembered little to the order of streets and turns, but I got the feel for the course.   While running, the women began discussing race plans and as a team we came up with a loose idea.  Devon and I would run together, trying to keep each other in check early on, Pam and Annette would likely be evenly paced, Amy was not sure where she might fit as it was her first 100k on the road but she was experienced enough to figure it out early on, and Carolyn was experienced enough to know that her training conditions in the heat and humidity of a Wisconsin summer had actually left her completely unsure of her fitness, so she, too, would have to wait and see.

Friday morning Amy and I took a short jog and inadvertently found a beautiful state of the art track surrounded by woods.  We took the opportunity to run a few strides on the forgiving surface, feeling like we were in some sci-fi movie where the lights turn on mysteriously at midnight and zombies come out to run.

At 11:00 am I participated in a panel for the press conference with Ellie Greenwood (last year’s champion), Sonia Vinstadt  from Sweden (4th last year), Jonas Buud from Norway, last year male winner from Japan, Shinji Nakadai, Daniel Oralek from the Chezk Republic and Georgio Calcetarra, the Italian champion from the 2008 race in Italy.  Nadeem Kahn, PR man extraordinaire, had asked us to each provide a couple of minutes of ‘blah blah blah’ on our race preparation, expectation, thoughts on the course, etc.  Ellie gave her report, and ended with a prediction for a repeat gold for her women’s team, so at the end of my schpeil I offered up that the US women were very strong this year and I predicted gold for us, giving Ellie a wink and garnering a few giggles.

The rest of the day was spent preparing all of my bottles for the 2 aid stations – one right after the start-finish line, and one at the 5k mark.  I planned for Sustained Energy as my electrolyte beverage which I would pick up every aid station 1, plain water and an S!Cap at every aid station 2, and to carry a gel flask full of Hammer Gel with caffeine so that it would be at my disposal at all times.

Friday evening was the parade of nations in the center of Winschoten, and we were given a show of young dancers in the town square, followed by a lengthy message by the town cryer, and then nation by nation, we paraded down the street to the warm and receptive Netherlands natives, giving out small American Flags, patriot pencils, and candy.

 

 

 

 

There was a well attended pasta party, then it was time to try to catch some sleep.  The race had a very civil start time of 10:00 am, which gave plenty of time for sleep, breakfast, digestion, and hopefully, elimination.  I was up at 6:00, cooking oatmeal and drinking coffee, showering, dressing, and laughing at Amy as she modeled the huggers.  They looked really good, but she chickened out at the last minute and went with the split shorts.

At 8:30 we boarded a shuttle bus to the race start.  I sat with Pam and we discussed various aspects of the day before us.  When we arrived and disembarked we were surprised at how warm it already was.  There were kids races going on and the largest crowd for the World Championships I had ever seen. This had been promised, as this particular race is very popular with the locals, and we were not disappointed.

Finally it was go time.  We girls bunched up, wished each other luck, and after the countdown we were oozing our way through the very thick traffic of bodies.  This was a nice way to ease our way into race mode without getting carried away.  Devon was shooting for a 7:30 over all time, and I was shooting for keeping my heart rate at 155 or so, hoping that equated to 7:15 pace.  We were soon in open road, very comfortable, and when we settled into a pace, my HR was about 155 and we were running around 7:10.  Amy, Annette, and Pam were right with us and it felt awesome to have the group.  The streets were lined with decorations, families in front of their homes, and on stretches of road between homes, citizens sat in folding chairs.  Children were busy all day offering water in cups and sponges to cool ourselves.  At aid 2, I looked for my handler, one of the many Andy Henshaw’s entourage (his beautiful girlfriend Lizzy Jewson) and we made an attempt of our first handoff of an S!Cap and water.  We succeeded with the water, but I dropped the S!Cap.  It was early enough and cool enough that I only made a mental note to slow down a bit more next time.

I took some swallows of gel from my flask, and worked on getting the water down.  Amy was still with Devon and I, and we had hooked up with on of the British gals, Joanna.  It was her first 100k, but she had proven herself at Comrades in May.  We got word from her support that Ellie was in first, followed by team mate Susan, and they were tearing it up already.  This took by a little by surprise, but then found out by Joanna that Susan is a fast marathoner and has a record in prestigious 50k race.  Well, Team USA had their work cut out for them.

The first loop went by easily in just under 45 minutes.  I felt very comfortable, as did Devon.  Amy said she wanted to take it down a notch, but it was some time before she fell back very far.  We were still running with Joanna, and a all three of us were getting annoyed at a Danish

male runner who wouldn’t leave us.  We all tried telling him he couldn’t run with us, but he didn’t understand and just smiled and stayed put.  And even more annoying was his shoes were already wet with sweat and water and were “squish-squish-squish-squish”-ing and driving us all nuts.  We tried to speed up and slow down to no avail. At aid 2, I managed to get both the S!Cap and the water.  We completed lap 2 in under 45 minutes again.

At the beginning of lap 3 as Devon and I grabbed our goods from Lin and Lion, Devon dropped her salt.  I slowed down a bit as she finally picked it up and got going again, and Joanna started to drift ahead.  Devon caught back up and I was starting to strategize a bit.  I didn’t like that Great Britain was already in 1 and 2 position, and their number 3 was ahead of both of us.  I suggested to Devon that we could pick it up, and that I wouldn’t last forever doing that, but I could rabbit her up there for awhile, just so we could keep contact.  But, she talked me down off the roof, saying we were already on sub 7:30 hour pace, not to panic, Joanna was inexperienced, and she was right.  We kept it real, and were still clipping along fine, and Devon’s stomach started to go.  As we came to aid 2 on lap 3 she shouted ahead to Nathan that she needed Immodium.  He had it for her and then she said she was going to stop in the porta-potty.  I said I would keep running and keep contact with Joanna best I could.

Within the next half mile or so, Joanna started to come back, and when I caught back up, she said her coach was scolding her for going to fast.  We ran along together, and squishy feet was still there.  Eventually, Devon made her way back up and we all held together for awhile, and then Joanna pulled away again.  We didn’t go with her, being conservative as planned.  Her stomach had settled some and we kept checking in with each other, and all seemed well.  We finished lap 3, again in sub-45, and I was starting to remember sections of the course now.

Lap 4 was much like the first 3, in about 45 minutes.  In lap 5 I told Devon I needed the porta-potty.  I told her to keep going and run strong.  When I came out less than minute later, she was still in sight so I kept my eye on her, but the gap only widened.  I was glad she was feeling strong, and I was content in keeping to the plan, as I hoped to have something in the second half that was might include some faster running. I still felt comfortable and at the out and back could still see Devon. At the end of lap 5, Devon was ahead by a minute, but about 3 miles in, I spotted her and realized she was coming back slowly.  When I caught her and asked what was going on, she replied she had knives stabbing her in the abs.  We both thought she might be behind on salt, so as I pulled ahead she asked me to relay her needs to our crew.  I yelled out to Nathan to get salt, and he was scurrying around in no time.  I hoped it would be the remedy to bring Devon back.

Even running conservatively for the first half wasn’t enough to combat the heat.  It was in the 80s with considerable humidity.  I tolerate heat better than most, but it still takes a toll.  Lap 6 was the beginning of the slow down.  Forty-six minutes, followed by a 48 minutes 7th lap.  I kept up with the fluids I had, but my abs would tighten up, prompting me to take in more fluid by volunteer families and children.  The course was also fairly populated with relay runners, and for one lap I had a relay runner trying to get me to drink more, staying with me for much of the lap.  I ran the best I could, and just tried to run what the course gave me.  Laps 8 and 9 were even slower, at 50 minutes a piece, and my heart rate had dropped to below 150.  With 2 laps to go I saw that Devon had dropped.  I was so disappointed for her.  She had been such a great help early in the race.  Soon after that, I saw a walking Ellie Greenwood.  This was a shock, as she had led early on and is a consistent, strong runner.  “What’s up Ellie?” I asked.  “I’m done” she replied.  I encouraged her to hang in there, and wondered from a competitive point what our chances of winning the race without her.

With a lap and a half to go, I heard a motorcycle approaching and was thrilled as he passed by with the lead man – Georgio Calcetera of Italy.  He flew by as if I was standing still.  “Georgio!  Allez!  Allez!” I yelled out to him.  He responded with “Meghan!  Allez!”  Such great camaraderie.

As in my first World Championship experience in Italy, Georgio would go on to win very decisively.  About 10 minutes later, Team USA men began to catch and pass me, in 2nd (Mike Wardian), 3rd (Andy Henshaw), and 6th (Matt Woods) position.  Each one of them exchanged very supportive words. They held their positions to win the gold for the first time in the history of the event.

At my final pass by Lin with 10k to go, she yelled “Go Meghan!  Run hard!  I want you to run 7:50!”  I accepted the challenge, and knowing the end was in sight, I pushed hard.

Of course I could only run hard for moments, then have to back down for a bit.  At the out and back section I could not see any USA women.  I was concerned that we wouldn’t have enough to pull it off, when I saw the second British woman walking – and she was not looking too happy.  I encouraged her as I went by but got no response.  With 5k to go, I couldn’t see Mac at his usual station to crew Pam and got worried that she too had dropped.  Not knowing where my team mates were made me anxious.  As I neared the final turn, I went into anaerobic pace, racing a few chaps hard to the finish, in 7:51:10.  Upon reaching Lin, she announced that she thought I had just set a world record for my age group and had placed 5th woman – coooool!  Annette in was not far behind in 7:54. Lin said that Amy was our third runner and that she had informed her that it was up to her to catch as many of the 3 Japanese women ahead of her.  In doing so, we were likely to secure the silver.  Unbeknownst to me, there were two Russian women ahead of me, and their third had come in after Annette. We waited with bated breath to see what Amy would pull off.  At 8:10, ahead of all three Japanese women, Amy brought it home, running the fastest last lap for all women, securing the silver medal for Team USA!

Pam and Caroline finished with determination, neither having their best day, but able to tackle their issues well enough to bring it home.  Devon was at the finish line for all of us, supportive and positive, and was incredibly instrumental in keeping me in check early in the race and cheering all of us on to the end.

There were many, many pictures taken by team management, and about a million taken by Matt Woods brother-in-law Darryl.  I’m adding a few here just to add some color to the story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preparation for my 5th Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run (WS) was better than ever.  I was fortunate to be able to train away from home for over 3 weeks – 10 days at Michigan Bluff, a couple of days in Yosemite, some canyon running in Utah and finally some altitude and heat adjustment in Flagstaff and Sedona.  I arrived at Squaw calm and confident that I would have a good day.  Since turning 50 I have been reminded about age group records that exist, but the one that intrigued me the most was Doug Latimer’s record for 50 year old men that was set in 1988, of 18:43.  I needed to shave 32 minutes from last year, and was thinking that the past month and half of training had made that possible.

The excitement in Squaw Valley was typical and it was fun hanging out with my teammates, crew,  and Andy Jones-Wilkins and family.  The day before the race included introduction of past top 10 runners as well as other contenders for the Cougar.  I borrowed the magic Thornley hat for the occasion.

Next morning I was up at 3:00, shouting “race day!  race day!” to my sleepy crew members Theresa and Hannah.  By 4:45 I had connected with my Sunsweet teammates Lewis Taylor, Craig Thornley, Jeff Riley, Dan Olmstead, and my final pacer Jed Tukman.

At 5:00 am, we burst up the trail, some faster than others.  I took my time and when I could see clearly, I spotted Craig’s red short about 50 meters ahead.  Having tried in the past to stay with him from the beginning, I wasn’t sure if I could catch him.  I decided to give it a shot to see if my altitude training had made a difference – and apparently it had as I was able to catch him and Lewis momentarily and we continued to climb together all the way to Emigrant Gap.  I was going back and forth with Kami Semick and Ellie Greenwood as well, and I felt grateful to be able to do this climb without feeling like I was having a panic attack.

After we summited, we began to fly down the trail and quickly into the snow covered terrain that would be our surface for the next 10 miles.  I stayed close on Craig’s heels until my first slide onto my hip, burning my skin and jarring my body.  I decided to back off the pace and stay safe.  Lewis passed me and I kept my eyes on him and Craig as long as I could.  They were soon out of sight but I fumbled past Kami as we both slipped around on the icy surface.  I caught and passed Aliza LaPierre and Ellie as we all tried to grip onto a 45 degree angle slope of ice.  I went down a few more times and was annoyed that I could feel the start of a blister.  Ellie was soon back and running ahead of me, and I admired her strength on the sections that we could actually hike.  Out in the open snow, the yellow flags that marked the course were not always easy to see, and she veered off course.  “Ellie!  This way!” and back she came, leading the way again.  Then she was veering off the other direction.  “Ellie!  Back this way!” and finally she seemed to start seeing the markings better and before long she too was out of my sight.

I had 2 other men running close by and we eventually came out of the snow and into the second aid station.  I choked down a chewy-from-the-cold gel, a potato,  hit the gravel road that was part of the snow course, and started running steadily for the first time all day.  I was now in the company of fellow Oregonian Dave Larsen and Brett Rivers from the Bay Area.  Up ahead I saw Craig and Lewis, so put in a surge, yelled out “Hey Sunsweet!” and got no response.  I finally caught them and we ran together for a bit, but I felt like continuing the surge, bringing Craig along.  I was absolutely ecstatic that the altitude was not bothering me!  We ran into the next aid station, I reminded Craig to take an S!Cap, tried to choke down a PBJ which only went down with coke, and headed onto the first real stretch of single track all day – the Poppy Trail.  We stayed fairly close together until Duncan Canyon aid station, mile 23, where I was in and out and on my way, now running with Brett Rivers onto the second adjustment to the course – but he soon pulled away for good.  A fair section of running on the pavement of Mosquito Ridge Road, I was enjoying the speed of the downhill.  As soon as the grade changed to up, I heard steps and then Kami was beside me encouraging me as she passed, and floated away in front of me.  We hit trail again and a long winding uphill – and suddenly Kami and Nikki Kimball were running toward me!  Yikes – did I get off course?  Apparently not – they had made a wrong turn and corrected quickly.  Kami pulled ahead, but I was soon running with a very upbeat Nikki.  This was a nice turn around for her, as she has struggled with an injury for a couple of years and now was running well again.  I left her behind for the time being and was now running near a new 100 mile runner, Chris Calzetta.  We were seemingly running a similar pace, so we struck up a conversation.  I tried to explain each bit of trail as we hit it.  We caught and passed a dejected Todd Braje who was feeling miserable.  I assured him he would feel better when he got out of the altitude.

Meanwhile, the blister that has started back in the snow was weighing on my mind.  I joked to Chris that I was going to practice gratitude for the blister as it was my body’s response to stress and trying to protect my deeper skin.  Scotty Mills’ words of wisdom from the night before where haunting me – “don’t ignore the small stuff – it isn’t going to get better in 100 miles”.

I came into Miller’s Defeat aid station, officially the end the of the snow course and I was happy to finally be on the regular course.  Chris ran with me to the next aid station, Dusty Corners, and after getting aid and a little hosing down, we left together.  The next section – Pucker Point trail – is a section that has gotten to me every year.  It is completely runnable, but still fairly high up.  This year I was running strong on it, and Chris sat behind me the whole time. We spoke not a word, except for when I pointed out what I thought was actually Pucker Point.   Emerging from the trail, I reminded him to drink down his bottles as we were coming to a weigh in at the next aid station, Last Chance.  My weight was down a couple pounds, which was good news for me, as I normally struggle with hyponatremia and weight gain.  I ate fruit, some chicken broth, a gel, grabbed my fresh bottles, got my head sponged off and headed out.  Marty Hoffman, director of research projects involving Western States entrants, was working the aid station and ran out with me, offering much encouragement.

Chris was right behind me again.  The stretch of service road before the next single track was, as usual, longer than I remembered.  I was really looking forward to the trail and when I finally hit it, I was disappointed that the blister was causing me to put the brakes on and I felt like a jack hammer running down the trail.  Try as I might to relax and float down, it was a rough ride.  My quads weren’t happy so when I crossed the Swinging Bridge at the bottom of Deadwood Canyon,  I did not hesitate to sit all the way into the creek that was up the trail, fully immersing my legs.  Then I began the steepest climb of the race up to Devil’s Thumb.  I was feeling okay, not super.  About half way up, I heard a woman give a hoop and holler of joy.  Very soon after, Nikki was back on my heels, and she was feeling great.  We ended up in the aid station together, she got herself out of there a few minutes before me.  I was content grazing the food options, took an S!Cap and gel, a Popsicle and  ambled out.  Once I reached the next down hill I let my legs go, and had an okay but not great descent into El Dorado canyon.  I passed Chris again, commenting that he would catch me on the climb up to Michigan Bluff.

At the aid station in El Dorado Canyon,  I looked up to greet Craig and Aliza as they arrived just behind me.  Aliza commented that Craig ran a lot faster when he thought he could catch up to me.  She and I left together, hiking and jogging and encouraging each other.  I told her about my blister and that was considering changing shoes at Michigan Bluff.  She told me what I wanted to hear – take care of it as soon as possible.  As expected, Chris caught us on the climb, and Aliza and he both went by me. I finally crawled out of the canyon.

As I cruised into Michigan Bluff I was greeted by Carol Hewitt and her posse of past Western States runners.  I rounded the corner to the aid station, and John Ticer was yelling at me to give him my pack.  I weighed in, grabbed a few quick items from the table then was engulfed by my crew and Craig’s.  Renee and Greyson started icing my legs.  I told Hannah to take my shoes and socks off, and Theresa to get me a pair of dry socks and shoes.  I told them I needed my lighter pack at the next aid station and to give me just one bottle and one flask for now.  Laura Riley put ice in my hat.  They were like a machine.  Everything I told Theresa was replied to with “That’s good information”.  I put on the fresh shoes, and was told to get up and start moving.  As they escorted me out, Jed was giving me the splits of all the ladies in front of me.  Tracy, Ellie, Kami, Nikki, Aliza were all in front, but there were no huge gaps.  i reminded myself that we were barely half way there.

Chris was running with me again out of Michigan Bluff.  As soon as we started to climb, he pulled ahead.  My feet felt much better now, and when I hit Volcano Canyon, I wasn’t feeling too bad.  I reached Volcano Creek in time to watch Chris cautiously  make his way in the knee deep swift current.  I shed my hat, glasses, pack and proceeded to plop all the way down, leaving only my head above water.  I sat up and splashed my head good, then grabbed my goods and told the next guy – “take 30 seconds here, and save yourself minutes in your overall time”.  Feeling refreshed, I made my way up to Bath Road.  John and Hannah were there, and after swapping some bottles, Hannah and I jogged/walked out.  We passed Chris and his pacer, just as Theresa came running down, and the three of us gals picked up momentum and really cruised in quickly to Foresthill.  Theresa had my replacement pack ready to go.  I swapped it out, then hit the road with Hannah.  Timewise, I figured if I made it out of Foresthill by 4:00 pm, I had a shot at 18:43, and it was 4:04 – close enough to keep after it.

I had definitely gained momentum from the awesome crowd and was so happy to be moving well.  Hannah stayed right on my heels, keeping me company with what she had seen during the day, random life stories, and always attentive to my drinking, eating and taking S!Caps.  We rolled into Cal 1 (Dardenelles) and were taken over by a flying Karl Hoagland.  He was having a good day, and I was jazzed for him.  He flew out before us and I never saw him again.  It was heating up in this section, but I was still moving well.  My goal was to break 3 hours from Foresthill to the river, something I had not come close to in previous years.  Nearing Cal 2 (Peachstone) I passed a hurting Anita Ortiz, and then Scott Jaime, both talented athletes who had seen better days.

My feet were only happier now as long as I was running flat or uphill.  The blisters and hot spots were rather annoying, and I knew that I would never forgo the tape job again (I had concluded that I had roughed my feet up so badly in the previous weeks that they would not blister – but the slope of the snowy run in the high country proved my wrong!).  We reached the Elevator Shaft and I let out a few expletives on the steep descent, but at the same time I was very glad to have gotten to that landmark.  We reached Cal 2 and got out quickly.  I did some math on the split and realized a sub-3:00 was very possible.  We ran the very sweet downhill that wasn’t too bad on my feet and encountered a spent/sick Ryan Burch and his pacer, making their way back to Cal 2 to drop.  It is such a tough situation to find yourself in, and I felt for him.  Hannah and I pressed on, and I was actually looking forward to the steep “6 minute hill” that awaited us.  We reached it and I decided to clock it just for kicks.  We powered up and I was stoked to get there in under 7 minutes.

We ran steady the rest of the way to the river and the waiting spectators.  My split was 2:54!  Western States icon Tim Twietmeyer appeared beside me the same time as Jed and Theresa.  He gave Jed some indirect flack by telling me he hoped I would drop him in the next 22 miles.  In the spirit of us older runners, he was still hoping I could pull out a win.  Theresa was all business, handing me a fresh bottle and getting me down to the river.  I took the opportunity to do a full body dunk before getting in the boat to get my legs a chance to revive before the last pull.

John Ticer was on the other side of the river, and I couldn’t shut up about my Cal street split.  He and Jed were a bit tired of me delaying, and pushed me to get on my way.  Jed and I hiked/jogged our way to the Green Gate.  From this point on, Jed was a machine – one minute telling me how amazing I was running, and the next calculating how far to the next aid station, when the sun was going to go down using the boy scout rule of holding his fingers in some boy scout secret way, and telling me when it goes down it will cool off and I’ll feel so much better.  We got to ALT in the light and had a little more daylight running towards Brown’s Bar before I stumbled once, so decided it was time to turn on the headlamp.  Chris and his pacer had finally caught up again, and they settled in behind us.  Jed continued his math calculations and telling me how far left to Brown’s Bar.  “2 miles to go”, then “1.75 miles to go” and “1.5″.  With less than a mile  I heard someone gaining on us quickly.  We all turned around and shone our lights on Rory Bosio, who was just flying.  “Rory!  Awesome!  Where’s your pacer?”  “I dropped her” she said smiling.  She cruised by quickly and disappeared fast, putting me back into 7th place.  Incredible.  Jed was still clicking off the partial miles, equating them to laps around the track, and I said “this has to be the longest track ever.”  Finally the music of Brown’s Bar aid station was upon us.  I had potato soup for the first time all day, and it gave me a much needed boost.

The next downhill section is pretty acute, especially on blisters.  I was projecting little grunts of pain and frustration all the way down, remembering how much easier it was last year.  But then every time I run this race problems arise, and at least this is one I can easily fix next year.  We reached the quarry road, and Jed pulled in front of me and vocally pulled me along up and down the rolling terrain.  I was able to run most of it, albeit slowly.   We passed Lon Freeman, and had dropped Chris back at Brown’s Bar.  Jed was still doing math, and talking about the next couple of sections before the next aid station.  He kept pulling ahead, chatting away, until I couldn’t hear him anymore, then he would turn and see me and wait.  Two more climbs up a rocky trail and we could see the lights for Highway 49 aid station.  In my excitement I stumbled and took 5 or 6 giant flailing strides before going to the ground.  I hopped up quickly and kept going, giggling.  We cruised into the aid station as they were announcing my name, and Theresa and Hannah stepped in to crew.  This last weigh in I was up a few pounds, but I convinced the volunteer that I was feeling fine, taking S!caps and eating and drinking, so she let me go.  I waved to Craig’s crew as they cheered me out.

Jed was still keeping me going with splits and predictions, and I finally said “Jed, you need to stop doing math.  We’ll get there when we get there.”  I knew it would be close, but it looked like I would at least break 19 hours.  We had another long section of downhill that made me want to bite a bullet, but I knew it was only blisters and that they would heal, so just told myself to shut up and run.  Lights behind us didn’t catch us before No Hands Bridge, and I ran right through the aid station, surprised by the  voice of Ed Willson cheering me on – one of my long time crew members who had to miss out on his duties this year due to recent surgery.

Three miles to go with significant climbing and only 30 minutes for that record.  I moved the best I could, taking in more gel, drinking more Gu-Brew, but not having much pep.  Chris caught us one last time and reached the last climb just before me.  We hiked hard out, and when almost to Robie Point were greeted by Hannah.  We got to Robie at 18:35, and Jed thought we still had a chance.  I knew we couldn’t run a flat 1.1 mile in  7 minutes, and we still had a big climb to go.  Theresa met us, and we four trudged up the climb, hit the runnable stuff running, and finally the white bridge.  Eventually my legs unwound, my stride lengthened and I could see the track.  I was running hard now, and Theresa said “now there’s the Meghan I know!”

The track felt as smooth as butter.  I accelerated and wished that Craig was here to race that last 250 meters as we had done in training.  Turning the last corner and crossing the finish line – as sweet as ever.  18:50.  Only 7 minutes to shave off next year!

A special thanks to all of the volunteers on the course, my crew Theresa and Hannah, pacer Jed, and all of the Eugene support – Renee, Greyson, Laura and John, and my sponsor Sunsweet!  Let’s do it again next year!

 

Sunsweeter DanO (Dan Olmstead) and I headed south to sunny weather leaving The Soggy Willamette Valley on Thursday.  Breaking the trip up with a night in Ashland with more birds of a feather (Rob and Susan Cain, John Price and Erin Keller) made the 9 hour drive much more tolerable.  We rolled into Larkspur to bunk down with the wonderful Tim and Diana Fitzpatrick.  At the number pick up I reconnected with many citizens of the strange country of ultra running, and met a few faces to put names with.

Tim offered me the guest room, and Dan his daughter’s room, with the warning that he might come out as a teenage girl in the morning.  I quickly staked my claim on the daughter’s room with “I want to wake up as a teenage girl!”  After a short but decent night’s sleep, I arose at 3:15 to a pot of coffee.  I ate oatmeal and felt like a teenager who got up too early.  Tim and Dan were soon stirring, and by 4:45, we were out the door on our way to the beach.

It was chilly and breezy, but the forecast was promising mild temperatures and sunshine.  In the dark it was hard to make out faces but I ran into Sunsweeter Lewis Taylor, Salem Super Star Pam Smith, and my Western States River to the Finish Pacer Jed Tukman.  On the walk out to the beach start, I connected with my Corvallis contingency of John Lebeiskind, Ken Ward, and Frank Schnekenberger.  Huddling on the beach, Scotty Mills held me close for a bit to warm me up.  Such love in this community!

RD Tia gave us a briefing, then the countdown, and we were off, trudging through the sand to the single track at the end of the beach.  The group came to a halt as the bottle neck formed.  It was early, the trail was short, and it just didn’t really matter.  I inched around a couple of folks and was soon running, with Jed right behind.  We soon fell into a good rhythm and chatted about how our training/running was going.  Unfortunately Jed was still recovering from a nasty chest cold and not sounding good.  We hit our first long steady climb on the pavement.  I caught and passed Darla Askew, as cheerful as ever, and looked ahead to see Amy Sproston, Pam Smith, and Helen Cospolich ahead.  I guessed Krissy Moehl was up there somewhere too.  Jed and I caught up to Karl Hoagland, and Jed held back and ran with him.  Gradually the girls got closer and eventually we became a bit of a mass of gals, including Krissy.  Onto the beach for the end of the first loop I was now in the lead, and not entirely comfortable with that, but I was running on feel and my HR was actually behaving, so I just went with it.

A pretty steep climb met us – lots of stair steps, and then more single track up.  I kept my breathing under control, and HR was reasonable.  I had memorized the miles for each aid station, and having the Garmin with the running total was comforting for my brain.  I maintained a good effort and the lead into the Tennessee Valley aid station.  I refilled my bottle, asked Devon to take my hat off for me,  and cruised out.  The cheers were as always, heartening.

Another long climb and we had 9 miles to the next aid station.  I kept focused, and sensed that there was a woman behind me.  Soon enough Helen caught up to me.  We had not met before, so chatted a bit, then she pulled ahead, claiming her blood doping effect from living at 11000 feet lasts about half way through, followed by a bonk.  She pulled ahead, but at the next level place I gained back, passed and headed downhill.  I was cruising comfortably on an open dirt road, sweeping around a turn, saw a sign that said “Tennessee Valley 1.7 miles” and kept going, thinking it odd that we were going back that way, when Helen yells out to me from behind “this way Meghan!”  Holy Hannah, I had missed the turn, and thankfully Helen was close and kind enough to call me back.  I gradually caught back up to her, thanking her profusely.  I didn’t really want to run and extra 3+ miles it may have turned out to be.

Gradually pulling away, I heard footsteps again, and was soon passed by Elvis.  He knew me by name, so I had to ask “and who are you?  Besides Elvis?”  It was Ian Sharman, an incredibly fast dude, wearing what had to be a pretty uncomfortable and hot costume.

The trail section we were now on was  sweet!  Switch backs, runners voices, eucalyptus, lupine, grass, sunshine, ahhhhh.  It was bliss.  I had the slightest hint of hot spots on my right foot and tucked the thought in my brain that I might want to change shoes at Pan Toll.

After the lovely downhill, we crossed a road and began a very long climb.  At the start I was feeling a bit slow and thought “uh-oh – was I too ambitious earlier?  Am I going to get eaten alive by the ladies behind me?”  But as I went along I felt stronger and stronger and could hear no one behind me.  Eventually I could see Mark Lantz in front of me and was glad to see him out as his last race was ended with an injury 10 miles short of the finish.   I followed him into the breathtaking Redwood stand, trying not to trip over my jaw at the beauty I was running through.  Once I caught up to him we ran together, taking inventory on what was going on – he hadn’t had a lot of training because of injury and work, and I was behind on the mileage from training for Boston, but we both really wanted to finish 62 miles today.  We cruised into Pan Toll together, and Devon was there again, and this time I asked her to take my sleeves.  I told her she could sell all my stuff on Ebay.

Mark and I left the aid station together, and I was nipping at his heels as we headed onto the next section of beautiful single track.  I was feeling quite good, so Mark asked me to lead.  We flew along and I reminded myself it was not a 50k, reined it in a bit and BAM! I was chest to the ground.  It was a good volleyball flatout, so I jumped up and kept running.  “Just a flesh wound!” My knees were a bit knackered, but everything hurts after awhile anyway, so I ignored them and tried to maintain a reasonable pace.  Mark stayed right on my heels, and we both did our fair amount of gasping and groaning, but with about a mile to go before Bolinas Aid Station,  he said “I’m tired, I gotta rest”, so I suggested he not rest for too long and continued on.

I hadn’t heard any voices behind or in front, and when I cruised into the aid station, I was surrounded with all kinds of help.  I got out quickly again onto what would be the toughest section for me – Bolinas to the turn around at Randall.  I was slowing down and running alone, feeling a bit comfortable in my lead.  I was sometimes reeling a guy in, but the undulations of the dirt road were not feeling good.  My quads were feeling jelly like and the hot spots on my right foot were chatting to me.  I analyzed that for awhile – maybe I should be planting better with the left foot, maybe I should land more flat footed, maybe the Rogue Racers were too minimal – then the front men came charging towards me – How Cool Was That!  They were still in a decent pack of 4 (Dakota, Mike, Dave, Hal) and not far back was DanO in about 7th place.

I heard a quick cadence coming up behind me, and finally looked back to see Pam metronoming her way up.  “Pammy!  Good job!”  She caught up, took a few steps in front and said “I just wanted to be able to say I lead the race!”  She was moving better than I, and although she thought I would catch her on the downhill, I wasn’t sure I could even catch myself.  We saw Lewis, Elvis, Nathan, and a few others, and Pam slipped out ahead.  I told her I would see her at the finish, but she still wasn’t banking on staying ahead.  “Regardless, Pam, I WILL see you at the end.”  She pulled out of sight, as I jolted my way down.

Thirty-three miles into the race at 5:05.  Yikes, I wasn’t sure I’d break 10 hours, but I really wasn’t all that worried about time as much as not bonking or being reduced to a miserable-sack-a-woe from lack of training, so I paced myself back up the hill, being greeted by more and more and more runners.  Finally seeing Scotty Mills, who stopped to give me a hug and some love, reminded me of Theresa’s epiphany at Boston (Why am I running this?  Because it’s 26 miles of love!).  For the next few miles it was a great celebration of the folks that make up our wacko reality, all supporting each other in our physical and mental misery, but finding such great solace in it all…..well, that’s what it does for me, anyway.  And right after that, Tim flew down, whooping “Life is GOOD!”  Exactly.

Mark finally caught back up to me, and we started working together again.  I made it back to Bolinas in good shape, asked someone to help me with my gel flask, Diana fished around for an extra S!Cap for me (I went through 10 already!).  I asked Mark to lead back along the Coastal Trail, and it was me who was struggling to keep up now.  I focused on his feet, and stayed with him until we spotted a male runner ahead.  We were both in new territory now, neither of us running more than 40 miles in well over a month, so it was great that he felt competitive enough to go after him.  I kept an even effort, still running, just not tearing it up.  We still ended up at Pan Toll 2 together, fueled up, and this time I lead the way out for awhile, but at the next downhill, he stretched it out and I tried to preserve my quads and feet.  My hot spots never really got worse, so I had that to be grateful for.

A runner was coming towards me, and I assumed someone out for some training, but he says to me “can I pace you?  I’m Kevin!”  “Absolutely!”  Tim had suggested him as a pacer but Kevin had hurt his back the day before and was unable to commit.  Fortunately, he was in fine form now, and went to task immediately.  He had run from the finish line all the way out, so he knew exactly which way the course was going, where every nook and cranny and nettle and pothole were.  He said Pam was fading, but still a good 6 minutes or so ahead.  I knew I could only go so hard, but we fell into a good rhythm in the now flat, shaded single track.  We exchanged a little of life stories so we wouldn’t be complete strangers by the time we finished.  I was happy that I could cruise as fast as I was.

We reached Muir Beach Aid Station, and as per my instruction, Kevin made sure I drank from the cups there, had my  bottle filled and ate a gel.  We scooted out and began the climb out.  I remembered this section from the NorthFace 50, only it was more runnable this time.  Mark was ahead about 200 meters, and as I turned back, I saw Krissy arriving at the aid station.  I felt strong enough to keep a good effort going, but I wasn’t breaking any speed records.  I ran when I could, hiked when it made more sense.  Kevin was very encouraging and always a few steps ahead, pulling me along.  I ran the downhill good and hiked decently, and finally we arrived in Tennessee Valley.  Again, Kevin made sure I got what I needed and we ran out.  Krissy wasn’t anywhere in sight, so I felt fairly comfortable.  As we began running out the switchbacks, I looked one more time and saw a yellow jersey come in, and thinking it was Krissy, was glad that I had some spring left in my steps and stayed focused and strong.  Kevin continued to describe each section, how much climbing before we crested, when I should be able to hammer.  I pushed hard and flew when we got to the last downhill.  I asked Kevin to look back and see if we were being chased.  He said two guys were coming fast, one in a yellow jersey.  “Are you sure it’s not Krissy?” He said it was most definitely a guy, and soon they blew by.  Kevin blurted out “did you guys just start running?”  Only later did I learn the yellow jersey was Jimmy Dean Freeman and his pacer, on a mission.

At the bottom, Kevin promised only one more hill and it “wasn’t too bad!”  I made a turn to find Mark bent over fiddling with his shoe.  He got up and joined us, as did another male runner.  Kevin described what was ahead – “we’re going to cross the road here, and turn by the barn, then a short climb up to that road.”  It all sounded so easy but the road he was speaking of looked as high as the Empire State Building.  Mark was running next to me as well as the other guy, and I told Mark “stay with him” and they pulled ahead.  Jimmy Dean and his pacer were just ahead, and Kevin insisted I run the whole hill.  I didn’t walk, but it was a bit of a stretch to call it “running”.

Kevin was great at stretching the truth.  If it were the beginning of the race, what he described would be believable.  But I lose all sense of relativity and something that is close means 5 meters, not half a mile.  But his pushing me really helped.  We hit the paved road and he verbally whipped me into top speed.  “Okay, just let ‘er rip!  Let’s chase those guys down!  Toss your bottle, I can come back and get it!”  I tossed my bottle and my flask and started flying down the road.  I passed a couple of men and kept the others in sight.  I was straining my eyes for the finish, and finally saw Tropical John cheering me in.  I rounded the corner to the finish, a hug from Tia, and a sense of relief and satisfaction.  I was second to Pam by 5 and half minutes, 9:45 overall.

I am eternally grateful to the Fitzpatricks for hosting me and setting me up with Kevin, for Kevin pacing a complete stranger and doing a fabulous job and to all the wonderful volunteers on the course!