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

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

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

Crazy Kate Freeman and me. Photo by Jayme Burtis.

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

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

Just before the long climb – photo by Jayme Burtis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me, Amy, and Hannah.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.  With Western States less than 2 months away I felt compelled to hit the trails and distance with gusto.  However, I had been spending proportionately more time on the flat roads prepping for the World 100k Championships than in previous build ups for the “Big Dance” and frankly quite glibly thought that jumping into Miwok 100k would be perfect.  The conversation I had with coach Ian Torrence went like this:

Me:  “Question – I have signed up for Miwok 2 weeks after Worlds as a long training run for Comrades and States.  I want to check with you though – your thoughts..”

Ian:  “Let me answer your question with a question: Can you go to a race (like Miwok) and truly not race?”

Me:  “That is a good question….

When I put on a number I tend to race.  I know that when race results are published I do care where I come out in the list since we don’t get to say “training run”.  Right?  But, I did do NF50 in SF in 2010 just for the experience and didn’t race hard and really enjoyed it.  SO, yes, I can do a race and not race it.  I think especially two weeks after a World Championship.  I did do States 8 days after Worlds in 2009.  All I wanted there was to get a top 10 so I could race the next year.  I love the Bay Area runners so it is as much as social event as a race.

So, yes, I can.”

Well, having said all that, it still turned out to be not such a good idea.

Kevin Rumon picked me up from the always hospitable Fitzpatrick residence at 3:15 am.  We arrived at Stinson Beach by 4:00 – plenty of time to  fuss about before the 5:00 am start.  The dark start up the long climb out of Stinson Beach was illuminated by the runners lights, but more impressively, by the full moon, low in the sky.  I fell in line with Jed Tukman and Charlie Ehm, following the shapely calves of another female runner.  We all joked and laughed throughout the long climb.  Finally I decided to make a pass around the female, and in doing so, bumped her wrist, knocking her watch off.  While she had to stop and find it, I started receiving jabs from Charlie and Jed about my true character – how I take the competition out by seemingly careless accidents.

The morning light approached and we turned our lights off as we hit the runnable, albeit heavily cambered, coastal trail that ran along the contour of the headlands.  Joking with Charlie and Jed helped pass the time, and as I did one minor face plant off the trail I was reminded by myself to never tell my daughter that I don’t fall anymore – which I had done a few days earlier.  Ahead I could make out the blue jersey of Helen Cospolich, but I didn’t seem to be getting any closer.  We hit Bolinas Ridge aid station  where I grabbed a gel and ran with Jed for quite awhile on the now widened road.  Eventually he pulled away, and I was joined by Jimmy Dean Freeman.  We chatted for a long stretch, during which I was passed effortlessly by a woman whom I still do not know.  The downhills were fun, and yet….I was feeling a little concerned that my legs were still a bit sleepy.

Running along Bolinas Ridge – Photo by Tanford Tahoe

After about awhile, the leaders of the race started appearing on their return trip.  Dave Mackey was running side-by-side with Chris Price, and they were followed shortly by Jesse Haynes.  Then more and more men until I eventually saw and encouraged the first place woman. Then Helen, and one more woman.  I reached the turn around at Randall aid station and was greeted by very enthusiastic supportive volunteers.  I drank some coke, ate a gel, and started the long climb, just as the woman I had de-watched came in – it was Jen Benna! It somehow felt more offensive that I didn’t recognize her at the scene of the crime.  “Jen!  I didn’t know it was you!  I’m so sorry about your watch!”  “It’s okay – I needed a new one anyway!”  She was soon fueled up and running back up the trail with me. We stayed together awhile and then I slowly pulled ahead.  I was pleasantly surprised and slightly hopeful that I would eventually reel in the girls ahead.  It was a fun section being able to say hi to friends and familiar faces.  Finally back at Bolinas Ridge aid station, I grabbed a gel and an S!Cap and scurried out onto the single track.  I was so happy to be on this section of single track – a fun, technical and runnable section back to the Coastal Trail.

Now this trail was feeling like work.  It is fully exposed west slope, so the views are spectacular.  The narrowness, camber, and overgrown grass made it more difficult than I anticipated.  It was beginning to feel like a lot of work so early in the day.  When I finally popped out onto the short bit of pavement, I heard a voice from a car – “You want a ride?”.  I looked over at the ever present “Tropical John” Medinger, and as he drove beside me I replied “Don’t tempt me!”  Before I could seriously ponder his request, I had to turn back onto the single track.  A few minutes later I heard a loud whistle from above and saw him above the trail, taking photos.  I gave him a wave and resigned myself to the task ahead.

View from the Coastal Trail. Photo by John Medinger.

There was a small train of runners closing in behind and we hit the Matt Davis trail together.  I offered my position to anyone who wanted it but they were content letting me set the pace.  The trail was steep, twisty, rocky, rooty, but lots of fun.  I was regaining a little confidence, but my legs were not used to running downhill.  I contemplated stepping out of the race at Stinson Beach, but when I arrived at the aid station I went into auto pilot – “I need water in my pack, and a gel.”  John Maestes, my friend Dana’s husband jumped in to help, taking my gloves and hat and getting my pack back on.  Jason Lehmen, a training partner from Portland had dropped from the race and ran with me a bit out of the station.  He asked how I was feeling and I said I felt like quitting.  I asked about the other women and he said they were at least 10 minutes ahead.  Ah well.  Keep going forward.

I climbed up Steep Ravine, seemingly the only one in the race, finally being passed up the top by a male runner.  We chatted briefly before he pulled away.  Another young guy caught me and introduced himself as Brandon – and this was his first 100k.  After he pulled away, Jen floated by, cheerful and supportive.  Next, Charlie caught me.  “What did you do, stop for breakfast in Stinson?”  “Hey Charlie – nah, my legs are junk.  No downhill in them.”  We ran together into the Muir Beach aid station, and then I started the long hike out.  Long, long, long.  Every crest brought another climb to view.  Finally the downhill into Tennessee Valley and my quads were not happy.  I had contemplated quitting again, worried about doing too much damage to my quads.  And again, I went into aid station mode, got what I needed, and started walking out with the next two women to catch me – Ragan Petrie and Nichole Sellon.  We chatted briefly before they pulled ahead as well.  Then I caught back up to Charlie, heaving by the side of the trail.  Yikes.  He recovered, caught up, and we trudged on together to the next aid station.  I spotted an avocado, begged it off the willing volunteer as well as a Popsicle.  Leaving the aid station, Charlie said his stomach was ready to go again, so I went ahead on the circuitous climb and decent to Rodeo Beach, across the sloggy sand, then back up and over the hills to Tennessee Valley.  I was fairly committed at this point to finishing.  Above Tennessee Valley, fellow Corvallisian and steady runner, Tia Gabalita, came up behind me.  She was doing well and danced down the rocky terrain around me.

Hanging out at Tennessee Valley aid station with Ted Knudson. Photo by Karen Bonnett.

We met up again at Tennessee Valley aid station where she goaded me – “Come on Meghan, let’s go!”.  I laughed “my legs are shot!  You go ahead!”  I chatted with Tim “Fitzy” Fitzpatrick,  who was waiting to pace his friend Vineer, and Tom Catts who was waiting to pace Erika Lindland.  Ted Knudsen was waiting for Charlie so I asked if I could tag along with them.  I had run 50 miles, the last 25 of which had been painful, and I was not planning on doing more than finish at this point.  Charlie came in, fueled up, and we meandered out.  His stomach had settled for the time being and I struggled to keep up.  As we climbed back over towards Muir Beach, I looked back and saw my dear friend Scotty Mills, grinning and quickly closing the gap.  “I’m so happy to see that you ARE human!”  We exchanged a few more jabs, before he gradually and gracefully pulled away.

We had more climbing with great ocean views before finally descending down to Muir Beach aid station again.  I was able to get down the climb only slightly smoothly, and the man in the red car was there again.  “Hey John!  I should have taken that ride when you offered this morning!”  He grinned and said “Well, you’re only 2 hours slower than last year!”

Mary Churchill and her pacer caught me at the aid station, where the volunteers were generous with their compliments.  “You guys are doing great!  You look fantastc!”  I looked at Mary.  “Who is she talking about?”  We laughed at how ridiculous it seemed.  Leaving the aid station, Charlie was feeling green again, and I patted him on the back as I ran by while he heaved into the bushes.  I hung out with Ted while Charlie emptied out and started over, and we were soon jogging down the road together.  They pulled ahead easily and were soon out of sight on the next bit of single track.  I meandered along, and slowly reeled them back in, when Ted turned around to run back to Tennessee Valley.  Charlie was feeling it again, so we slogged on together, silent and beaten down.  On the last major climb, he said he would need to walk it in, as every time he ran his stomach lurched.  I slowly jogged off, crested the last climb, and began the perilous (due to the thrashed legs) descent down Steep Ravine.  This was not pretty.  At the bottom, only passing the Saturday pedestrians, I was passed by one final female, who was incredulous that she was doing so.  On the final stretch on flat pavement (ah, my current forte!) I was able to finish with some decorum and a smile on my face.  As Tia placed the finisher medal around my neck, I asked her to give me #52 next year, rather than #1. Charlie eventually made it in, and the post race atmosphere made up for all the misery we had put ourselves through.

Finish line. Photo by Karen Bonnett.

Western States training had indeed started, in “baptism by fire” fashion.  Pretty sure I won’t be trying that method again.  This race also reinforced my earlier decision not to run Comrades.

Charlie having a well deserved rest. Photo by Brett Rivers.

Many thanks to RD Tia Bodington, Tropical John, and all the lovely volunteers on the course, my friends/competitors for keeping me honest, and the continued support of SportHill, Sunsweet, Garmin, Scott Shoes, and DryMax!

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.

The Duomo of Milan

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.

Me and Lynda in front of Lake Como.

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.

Michael and Giorgio.

Marija Varjic and me.

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.

Marija and me laughing about being too old.

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.

Tim leading Team USA in the parade of nations.

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.

Amy and me on the back stretch of the loop. Photo by Christophe Rochotte.

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.

15k to go!

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.

Kajsa Berg of Sweden.

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!

Amy coming for the win!

Finishing up in 4th!

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!).

Much needed post race massage!

Team USA!

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

Team USA bonding with Team Italia!