tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70502462024-03-13T00:25:47.912-05:00I'd rather be outside now...The meanderings of a rogue scientistKarenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-89410151317365619762013-09-21T12:03:00.003-05:002013-09-21T14:11:31.662-05:00Racing the workoutAll over the place, you see people blogging and tweeting about not over-running workouts. ...about how you should keep your eyes on the prize (goal race) and not finish your speedwork lying on the grass in exhaustion. Before any of my fitness blogger/professional friends jump all over me, I will say I agree to some extent.<br />
<br />
If you are training for a specific race, and that specific race is coming up in the next 1-2 mos OR if you're in the midst of racing season and have aspirations of victory or qualifying for something or financial gain, you are probably right. You don't want to blow your proverbial (you know - the lesser known dirty proverbs) wad on a workout. But you already knew that.<br />
<br />
I will also concede that you should probably reevaluate your training if you are over running your workouts EVERY WEEK. At some point that will bite you in the ass in the form of injury or overtraining. Moderation and training cycles are very important in maintaining a healthy running life (nod to fitness/health professional friends).<br />
<br />
The point of this ranty post, though, is I won't concede that it's never okay to spontaneously run the bejeezus out of a workout because you feel good. Wait. What? I feel like there were too many negatives there. Let me rephrase that. IT'S OKAY TO SPONTANEOUSLY RUN THE BEJEEZUS OUT OF A WORKOUT BECAUSE YOU FEEL GOOD. There. I have given you (and myself) permission.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7015/6623925341_845e69a780_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7015/6623925341_845e69a780_b.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thanks to www.oiselle.com for <br />
this highly appropriate image</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For those of us with no hope of Olympic qualifiers and whose careers are not really tied to our running prowess, running is supposed to bring us joy. And fitness. And health. And a host of other fantastic benefits. But you could get those benefits with any number of fitness programs. We choose running because we <i style="font-weight: bold;">ENJOY</i> it. We enjoy going outside and communing with nature. We enjoy the fact that in running, you get to go further and potentially see more than you would on a similarly timed walk/hike. We enjoy going <i>fast. </i>Given those things, why on Earth should we say to ourselves "hey - I know it's a beautiful day and you're feeling light and fast and amazing and the birds are chirping and the trees are singing to you, but the training calendar you downloaded says this is supposed to be at half marathon pace, so rein it in"? Actually, if the trees are singing to you, you should probably slow down - you're clearly suffering from some sort of hypoxia-induced hallucination. Up to that point, though, I firmly believe you should go ahead and FLY. Why would you deprive yourself of that feeling of being the fastest person on the planet and a part of some cosmic symphony of bliss? For the sake of a race 4 mos down the road that might take place in a blizzard when you have the flu and an entire squad of elite Kenyans in your age group shows up? I think perhaps not.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
Now don't get me wrong - I'm all for a little discomfort for the sake of future rewards. ...and anyone who says winning's not fun is pretty much lying. That's why I haul myself out the door at at the crack of dawn all summer when the temperature is in the mid 70s with 99% humidity to train for a fall race (not that I'll win, but maybe an age group award or a PR or something...) I'll do the dreaded 20x400 workout because I know that as much I'd rather stab myself in the eyeball at the time, it will make me faster and stronger in the end. But all that crapitude is also why I think that I should get to extract as much pleasure as possible from that day when the stars align and the 12x(100m on, 100m off) workout feels awesome. When the 'on' segments are more like 5k pace (or faster) and the 'off' segments are still somewhere around marathon pace. When even the warmup and cooldown are probably faster than my current half marathon pace.<br />
<br />
In case you hadn't guessed, that exact thing happened to me this week. ...and it was AWESOME. I rode that high ALL DAY. ...and you know what? No matter what happens at that race next month, I had an awesome run last week. ...and I'm not sorry.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7SKkhaHwiT2Uny0bv2pU4kSKy_Y0J3zqFRUUpQjf2-L5SeVf8wwjtCWTjtz95UtntNlRUNqlvI_mTRCe1WpLgzzS80E_R929jglrdd14B7Jge-AcQVpOxEbqk7FAXEvWIiKN/s1600/263476_4526869537327_1713887310_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7SKkhaHwiT2Uny0bv2pU4kSKy_Y0J3zqFRUUpQjf2-L5SeVf8wwjtCWTjtz95UtntNlRUNqlvI_mTRCe1WpLgzzS80E_R929jglrdd14B7Jge-AcQVpOxEbqk7FAXEvWIiKN/s320/263476_4526869537327_1713887310_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay- full disclosure - this was from a race, but <br />
the race involved an obstacle called the 'poo volcano', <br />
so we'll count it as a training run. <br />
...and it was also AWESOME</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
End endorphin-fuelled rant.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654577011803983664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-78029946183364952592013-05-18T15:04:00.003-05:002013-05-18T16:46:13.921-05:00Musings on 100 milesI started this post around a month ago, but I have to admit I wasn't sure what to say. I have at the same time everything and nothing to say about this run. How do you condense 100 miles of running (well "running") into a post that someone will want to read? I wrote something up for my track club where I split it into laps, but it was still super boring. I mean really - nothing interesting happened. I started running at 6AM, and after 2 laps, I felt pretty good, so I launched into my 'sub 22:30' plan, which involved starting at 10:30/mile and slowing down 1 min/mile each lap. Which I did. Basically, everything went according to plan, and I surpassed even my stretch goal of 22:30 (I considered 'realistic' to be something around 24:00) by finishing in 22:08:37. I'm definitely happy. But here's where things get weird and philosophical. <br />
<br />
I know I could have gone faster. I was intentionally very conservative because goal #1 was to finish. ...and goal #1 was VERY important. I can't overstate that. After Vermont last year, I <i>needed</i> to finish. So I'm happy I stuck with the plan and finished. ...but I was also less than an hour out of 2nd place. And while one of the people ahead of me was still kicking ass and taking names (cheers to you, 62-year-old Maria Shields - you are awesome!), the other two were definitely not. One was a good friend of mine, and according to all reports, was definitely maxed out by the end. The other had been in second up to about lap 6 and had started a precipitous backward slide in the standings after that. So some little part of me wonders where I would have finished if I had been a wee bit more aggressive, as I was completely lucid and conversational the whole time, and could walk like a normal person by about Wednesday of that week. This is not to say I regret anything, nor do I have any ill will toward those nice ladies ahead of me - just a bit wondery about the whole thing. What's funny, though, is how resolute I still feel about NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN.<br />
<br />
It wasn't at all a bad experience. I mean sure - there were parts that I enjoyed less than others. ...and I was reminded a couple weeks ago that I told my lap 7 pacer that "this (was) stupid" and "not fun at all", and that there was "no reason for anyone to be doing this". But really, nothing was ever <i>terrible. </i>Also, training went really well. I got all my loooong runs in, and still managed to keep my pace up on my speedwork. Aside from a couple naggy parts of my body, training actually felt great, and I was in at least the second best shape of my life going in to the race. So that was awesome. But here's the thing - I missed NOT running on the weekend. I had to skip a number of events I would have loved to attend because I 'had to run 35 (or whatever) miles that day'. Training for a normal race, you can just get up early or shuffle your days around if you have something you want to do that day. Not so much for a 40-mile run. Even starting at 5AM, you're not off trail till at least 1, which seems like you could get to something, but let's be real: if you get up at 4 to start a run at 5AM, then rush home and shower by say 2 or 2:30, you are not going to be a whole lot of fun at a 3PM event. ...and that's a best-case scenario. Training through the winter for an April race is infinitely better than training through the early summer for a late July race, but it still wasn't what I'd call fun. For me to want to do that again, I'd either have to become independently wealthy or work part time so I could get my longass runs in during the week, or there'd have to be some promise that I could drop many multiple hours off my time. I don't think that even getting into the 20 hour ballpark would be enticing enough. Also, while I'm totally convinced I could drop significant time, I'm not convinced I could drop 2 hours. So that's that. I wonder how much better I could do, but not enough to actually do it again. Is that weird?<br />
<br />
Anyway, sorry for the weirdness on this one - I felt like I should write something about this big ol' life milestone, but I didn't know what to say as it's at once momentous and a non-event, and I'm at the same time ecstatic and wondering what could have been. I don't want to leave you on a low note, though, so here's a fun picture from the race: <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykOa2yyhHqDpGwHN4MxV-biPl58nVMGMFQxRmHsR1lBZnRlsQ4xM2fD6O3Df43PZvHg82UN1Io-0GcS3NkYWCF4KJw9Ff2NpyoPsCNNyrAK9gwNuf7qKW0gH-bo951f2tfsEH/s1600/62622_10151346523926945_1668830220_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykOa2yyhHqDpGwHN4MxV-biPl58nVMGMFQxRmHsR1lBZnRlsQ4xM2fD6O3Df43PZvHg82UN1Io-0GcS3NkYWCF4KJw9Ff2NpyoPsCNNyrAK9gwNuf7qKW0gH-bo951f2tfsEH/s320/62622_10151346523926945_1668830220_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was actually on lap 3 or 4, <br />
but it's similar to how I looked at the finish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I also need to thank the amazing race directors and volunteers out there - the amount of time and energy spent to help a lucky few of us achieve our bucket list goals, is amazing, and I hope they (you) know how much we appreciate it <3<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
OOH! As an addendum, I also give you my favorite epiphany from the day: being a girl is AWESOME because when you pee, YOU GET TO SIT DOWN for a minute. I have never been so excited to hydrate in my life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654577011803983664noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-44850912764282696302013-01-13T19:03:00.001-05:002013-01-19T10:20:36.636-05:00Neusiok Trail RaceOnly one week late! *High Five*<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://neusioktrail.org/img/pic%2001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://neusioktrail.org/img/pic%2001.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
<br />
So sometime last fall Ronnie started talking about something called the Neusiok Trail Race. I mostly ignored it because really? Like I really wanted to spend ANOTHER weekend traveling over the holidays? But he persisted and eventually I figured that if it was so important to him, I would survive another weekend of travel. Also, I needed a long run that weekend anyway, so why not do one with aid stations?<br />
<br />
SO with the stars thus aligned, I signed up for the 21.5-mile and Ronnie, in a fit of I-don't-know-what decided that the 43-miler would be fun. Let's recap that conversation:<br />
<br />
Me: You know you're doing a 40 a month later, right?<br />
Him: Yup! This will be a good warmup!<br />
Me: Um. Exactly what training plan suggests that?<br />
Him: The one in my head.<br />
Me: Okey doke - suit yourself, crazy! (I know which battles to pick)<br />
<br />
And so it went.<br />
<br />
A quick look at the entry list suggested that Ronnie would be spending a lot of time alone out there (only 11 people in his race) and the trail would be super crowded for mine (~70 in mine). No big deal, though - it was a <i><b>training</b></i> run. In fact, I planned to run an extra 6+ at the end to a) pass the time while I waited for Ronnie, and b) get me a little closer to the 30 I was supposed to run that day. Take <i>that</i> race!<br />
<br />
So the race began. Whoever said the ocean moderates temperature (so it isn't as cold on the coast) forgot about lovely ocean breezes. When it's below freezing, that lovely breeze is called a wind chill and it is brutal. The universal sentiment at the start was that racing was kind of out the window for a bit and we would all be running to warm up for the foreseeable future. This was facilitated by the handful of beach running segments in the first couple of miles. Kind of unexpected, but I don't know why. I was glad I had decided to wear my awesome gaiters here as the sand content of my shoes remained at 0 the whole time. Woohoo!<br />
<br />
Also during this time, we heard periodic activity from the firing range at Cherry Point. The guys in front of me said something about it maybe being duck hunters, and I tried to be funny, saying "I think the ducks are returning fire." I thought it was funny, but nobody laughed. I'm hoping maybe some of you will find it amusing...
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://blog.planetinfo.co.in/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/ducksarmyguns-funny-photos-and-funniest-images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://blog.planetinfo.co.in/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/ducksarmyguns-funny-photos-and-funniest-images.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Around that time, the girl behind me decided she didn't want to be behind me anymore and dodged around. She pulled a bit ahead and kept looking back, which I thought was a little odd 4 miles into a 21.5 mile race, but didn't worry too much about it. Also around that time, we started catching and passing the 43-milers, which was kind of fun. I tried to be encouraging without seeming like a jerk as I trotted by in my little weenie short race. Somewhere in here, we were supposed to see unmanned aid station #1, but I never saw it. It wasn't a big deal, though, as I had plenty of water in my handheld and it's not like the temperature was rising particularly rapidly. The final exciting event of the first 6 miles was the first of many MANY skinny boardwalk-style bridges. Which were covered in moss. And frost. Having spent some quality time sliding on bridges at Uwharrie, I took these pretty carefully and while I slid a bit, nothing too exciting happened. Let's call this foreshadowing.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.alscofirstaid.com.au/images/first_aid_station_lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.alscofirstaid.com.au/images/first_aid_station_lg.gif" width="134" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. Not First Aid Station.<br />
First. Aid Station. Silly!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The theme of section two was bridges. MORE BRIDGES. Someone at the start said that one of these was 1/2 mile long. I'm not sure if that was true, but it was pretty fricking long. There were also a few of these that had been moved around by hurricanes and were thus a little less than level when they were put back where they had started. I hit one of these a little faster than I should have and SURPRISE! I slid off. And tweaked an adductor muscle in the process. Luckily, I apparently don't use those much on long runs, so it wasn't a big deal (until the following week). That was the first of four bridges I slid off. One of them I didn't have a prayer. I was actually walking at the time, but the combination of whatever my soles are made of and the angle of the tilt was just too much to be hindered by friction. Luckily, I was pretty good at falling off bridges by that point, so I took it in stride (almost literally).<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/maridav/maridav0910/maridav091000004/5641822-puddle-young-woman-jumping-happy-in-a-puddle-during-autumn-rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/maridav/maridav0910/maridav091000004/5641822-puddle-young-woman-jumping-happy-in-a-puddle-during-autumn-rain.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was kind of like this. But the puddles were bigger.<br />
And I was wearing running clothes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As I came out of the second aid station, I saw a flash of pink about 200 yards up ahead and had to contend with a bit of a mental battle: did I rally the troops (by "troops" I mean Sam the fast twitch muscle and any of my slower muscles that he could coerce into working too hard) and reel her in, hoping I could hang on, but likely eliminating the chances I would be able to add on at the end, or did I stick to the plan? Stick to the plan was the answer. Always stick to the plan. (I'm actually really bad at sticking to the plan most of the time). I tried to stick to the plan, but I think I sped up a little because by the time we got to the woods again ~2 miles later, I had cut the lead to maybe 125 yards. Even worse for the plan, this section involved about 3 miles of trail-consuming, 20- to 40-yard long puddles ranging in depth from ankle deep to well over my knees. They were awesome! I had so much fun plowing in and discovering that some spots were deeper than others and generally splashing around. About halfway through this, I caught up to the pink lady, who looked like a deer in headlights and took off when I came around the corner. Unfortunately for her, she did not share my love of puddles, and at the next puddle I passed her as she picked her way through the bushes on the side of the trail. I yelled something encouraging, but again, not wanting to seem like a patronizing asshole, I kind of just got out of the way as quickly as possible.<br />
<br />
<br />
At this point, I knew I was in first, and I also knew the nice lady I just passed wasn't very happy about it, so I had to throw the plan out the window and push the pace if I wanted to hold my position (I'm all for being nice, but come on - who doesn't want to win?). I made a deal with my plan that if I did manage to win, I would be okay with dropping the add-on miles and pushed on ahead, metering my energy such that I was pushing hard, but not so hard that I couldn't make it the final 3.5 miles. Which was unfortunate because as we got closer to the finish, the scenery was absolutely beautiful. I considered still adding on as I went through just so I could actually enjoy the view, but pressed on to the finish.<br />
<br />
When I did finish, I discovered that not only did I win, but I was 5th overall, only 4 min behind 2nd overall! Wow! That was unexpected! After I picked up my finishers award (a neato handmade wooden bluebird house) and consumed a cup of my favorite long race food (ramen), I started getting cold and got up with the aim of heading back out for a couple miles. Unfortunately, while I was sitting my knee/IT band tightened up and I decided to bail on the scenic out-and-back. Instead, I opted to put on approximately 14 layers of clothing and huddled around the fire with a nice group of gentlemen from Fort Bragg while we cheered for finishers and waited for the (warm) van ride back to the start.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U2cCiq0cribRlr2vdfokU-vPSzBeTd_XkdurcpjlMzw24CPdbHyELjkJvWFjHdzMeHGhr30mbPoGkPk2fmXs6wraav0iPkI7ED82SZnfyB-sLKRv0dnrKRM-bXQ01g3-g8Sa/s1600/duck+house.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U2cCiq0cribRlr2vdfokU-vPSzBeTd_XkdurcpjlMzw24CPdbHyELjkJvWFjHdzMeHGhr30mbPoGkPk2fmXs6wraav0iPkI7ED82SZnfyB-sLKRv0dnrKRM-bXQ01g3-g8Sa/s1600/duck+house.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretend this is a finisher's picture. Also, I think our <br />
houses were slightly wider, but you get the idea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When we had enough people to mostly fill the van huddled around the fire, Race Director Brandon held an informal award ceremony where the winners received what he described as "a very large wood duck house" and second place finishers received screech owl houses, also hand made by members of the Carteret County Wildlife club. I was a little unsure about fitting my new giant award in my Elantra, but my new friends from Bragg at least helped me get it into the van back to the start. In the end, it did fit in my trunk, and, as Ronnie also won the 43, HIS giant wood duck house fit in the back seat. As an added bonus, because this was the first year the race ran these distances, Ronnie and I also hold the course records! I fully expect that to end next year, but it'll be awesome for the next 51 weeks :)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.neverstopexploring.com/.a/6a00d834f4a66953ef0168eb8c64b4970c-800wi" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://www.neverstopexploring.com/.a/6a00d834f4a66953ef0168eb8c64b4970c-800wi" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watch out - some of these guys are a little tilty <br />
and covered in frost</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Overall, I really enjoyed this race. Brandon and his army of volunteers were all great, the trail really is quite lovely, and my fellow runners were all very friendly and encouraging (except the guys who didn't think my duck joke was funny - they are not my friends). I would very much recommend the race to anyone looking for a relatively flat winter trail race. It probably isn't great training for Uwharrie, but it was definitely a nice change of pace from the usual weekend venues.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Until next time, happy trails all!Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654577011803983664noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-10014655837921114892012-12-08T19:25:00.001-05:002012-12-08T19:30:03.348-05:00a random postThis blog has been super quiet for the past several months. I've actually started a handful of posts on a variety of topics, ranging from my eternal love for my Lululemon Dart n' Dash shorts to musings about the injury prone-ness of a certain group of runners and how that might relate to their scores on the (scientifically validated) neuroticism scale. I also started a post about my run at Shut-in and sent something out to my fellow <a href="http://bullcitytrackclub.blogspot.com/2012/11/shut-in-ridge-trail-run.html" target="_blank">BCTC friends</a>, but I wasn't feeling terribly inspired to write a long, funny blog post, mostly because I was kind of ridiculously busy at work and having difficulty finding time to sleep, let alone write long, witty blog posts.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s3.amazonaws.com/ksr/projects/28897/photo-full.jpg?1302451579" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/ksr/projects/28897/photo-full.jpg?1302451579" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you image search 'no time', this picture comes up - why??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Now, three weeks later, I'm still not inspired to write about Shut-in, as there's just not anything that was terribly inspiring (either positively or negatively) about that run. It was a lovely day, but I had a cold, so I did a long slow run up a mountain, allowing me to enjoy the rest of my weekend in Asheville. I wasn't super hyped up about the race going in, so not having a great day wasn't really that disappointing. so meh. But I feel compelled to write. So here goes a post about the likely reason I'm not feeling particularly amped up about races. It hearkens back to something I did (or, to be more accurate, did not do) in July. I did not finish. I'm not depressed about not finishing. I'm not in some failure-induced malaise (at least, I don't think so...), but I do have this feeling of unfinished business. When I bailed on Vermont, I thought I wouldn't. I thought I would be okay with my body telling me I shouldn't do that. ...but alas, my logical side was not strong enough to suppress my stubborn, I can do anything you can do side. So one day in September, I rushed into work after my Saturday run (because work has gigabit hardwired ethernet and TWC in my house...er...does not). I spent 3 solid minutes hitting ctrl-F5 over and over again until the button appeared, and I clicked and crossed my fingers. After a brief pause, the registration page for the Umstead 100 appeared, and I knew I had 20 min to fill in my info before my slot was returned to the pool. After about 3 min of careful typing, I had my confirmation page. I had been accepted into the Umstead 100. I had also joined the community of people who had said things like "[there's no reason to run farther than a marathon.] Anything more and you're just being an asshole." ...and "I would never sign up for the Uwharrie 40. That's just stupid." No, I'm not talking about the ultrarunning community (I entered that club of stupidity years ago), and I'm not talking about 100-milers (I tried that back in July, and I have not yet finished 100 miles, so that can't be it). No - instead I have become a certified member of the Eating One's Words club with my own failure to adhere to "I would never run the Umstead 100. I know the trail too well and 8 laps around the park just sounds awful."<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEe0oE7wCiOTm4WXFhJ9LuWUwu9gTHehPVP8zyRD4jrOJoQ8fa99LxmtN8iqi2Td0gs3wnHM1UN4ZPXTiODp5ve23QssKgES92Kz6KYna7cEfH0-uEJKjUs7AAGP52hlSHUvy4gw/s1600/Eat+your+words+(10).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEe0oE7wCiOTm4WXFhJ9LuWUwu9gTHehPVP8zyRD4jrOJoQ8fa99LxmtN8iqi2Td0gs3wnHM1UN4ZPXTiODp5ve23QssKgES92Kz6KYna7cEfH0-uEJKjUs7AAGP52hlSHUvy4gw/s320/Eat+your+words+(10).JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OOH! My words taste like brownies! Awesome!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After the initial exhilaration about winning the race to enter the race wore off (which lasted about 10 seconds), that feeling of regret and remorse set in "what have I done? Oh boy was that a bad life decision." I remembered how much I hated training for the last round. How much I missed seeing my friends. How much I missed everything in my life that was not working or running. But on the upside, this go round I would not have to worry about travel. I would not have to try and bribe people to fly somewhere with me so they could spend hours in a minivan waiting for the 2 min they would be able to see me before I dodged back into the forest again. ...and unlike the last round, where I was the outsider listening to local runners chat with aid station volunteers while I friendlessly picked through the bowl of cantaloupe (emotions get a little ridiculous 45 miles in), this time *I* would the home team. I reasoned this would be great because a) it might help keep me feeling a little happier in the later stages, and it also would add a little more pressure to keep going in the face of adversity (despite my Catholicism-induced guilt motivation, I also acquired a deep seated fear of shame at some point). So logically, this was the correct answer. However, I'm still battling that feeling that this was a bad bad choice. <br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6RPy7y2i8ipodrYc9H_jwQCa30797v-_6IlQDdZB3SwmxkDYIZLuXe-veGPNv32DKuWIbH5CukgMVIB-hP6Q2cYCWRMFkpaHf8IuQP-06eXLOjDOXwi6NauSO4hwIC7T7WwO-/s1600/milk+was+a+bad+choice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6RPy7y2i8ipodrYc9H_jwQCa30797v-_6IlQDdZB3SwmxkDYIZLuXe-veGPNv32DKuWIbH5CukgMVIB-hP6Q2cYCWRMFkpaHf8IuQP-06eXLOjDOXwi6NauSO4hwIC7T7WwO-/s320/milk+was+a+bad+choice.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
Regardless, the deed is done and here I am, back where I swore I wouldn't be - training up for another hundred. This time, however, apprehension and excitement have been replaced with a sort of resigned determination. Unless something is actually sticking out of me (and even then, if there's less than 20 miles to go...), I'm going to do my darndest to get my butt across that 100-mile line. It won't be fun, and there will be crying and probably multiple temper tantrums (I seem to have 1-2 in a 50-miler, and I expect the curve to be exponential), but I *really* don't want to do this again, and I *really* don't want to end this endeavor with a big, fat DNF, as I'm not particularly good with the word "can't". As a result, pretty much everything between now and April is a training run toward this goal. Lots of repetitions of boring courses to get used to repetition and boring, and lots of loooong runs with checked egos (I'm supposed to run slow enough that feel like I could still run more at the end? wha????) It also means that I am absolutely not supposed to go all out at races between now and then, which is a little bittersweet (I mean - I was only 13 min from 8:30 at last year's Uwharrie, but on the flip side, I was THIRTEEN minutes from 8:30, so that takes a little pressure off...) So here we are with a long winter of running ahead (how much fun is winter running anyway? Don't answer that), but it will be worth it to be able to check this beast off the bucket list as the home team. <br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://getfitwithles.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/winter-running-dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://getfitwithles.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/winter-running-dog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I actually love running in the snow - it just adds such a lovely<br />
bit of silliness to the mix</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654577011803983664noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-69087594067474273072012-07-28T16:54:00.000-05:002012-07-28T16:54:11.489-05:00I did not finishI'm not sure where this post will take me, but as a week has now passed since the unfortunate premature end to my Vermont 100, I feel like I should write something more than the little snippet I sent to my friends with the Bull City Track Club.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggW9FhQWGyZ3viOwbk2a1YTOstVhyphenhyphenTWA-R0MYso8hOYl1-d9lKcMWR3HrVHLxzC3ByS-2QggCrkIA6XtvdbmkAUQHKQXFshhRFjaKoIoN1jYsnnenL5u0keP27Z7hCSzyUYCX_iA/s1600/failure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggW9FhQWGyZ3viOwbk2a1YTOstVhyphenhyphenTWA-R0MYso8hOYl1-d9lKcMWR3HrVHLxzC3ByS-2QggCrkIA6XtvdbmkAUQHKQXFshhRFjaKoIoN1jYsnnenL5u0keP27Z7hCSzyUYCX_iA/s200/failure.jpg" width="147" /></a></div>
<br />
I entered the race knowing the will was there, and I was pretty sure the muscles were trained, but as anyone who has run 100 miles will tell you, 100 miles is a long way, and there's no way of knowing what's going to happen on any particular day. So I tried to keep my expectations realistic (read: tempered). That being said, I was, let's say, about 75% sure I would finish going in to the race, even with the waves of apprehension that washed over me as race day drew nearer. I knew going in that my body has historically not responded well to high mileage training, but reasoned it had always held together for the high mileage races, and had been impressed with how well I endured the increased mileage in training. Spoiler alert (in case the title didn't grab you): I did not finish.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NQTY9yoCU_aGfD5hE8Y5wsD-7zMH93lVO2039BuHwrE1-EkZjg8T5gQispa_vjXVXHObi6DEOKvjpkE5UqeKeWKpM8vPJDNZ91D0bW8H6NwlSKMrGRtZOjqkYJLKzntDRMqPkg/s1600/IMG_0988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NQTY9yoCU_aGfD5hE8Y5wsD-7zMH93lVO2039BuHwrE1-EkZjg8T5gQispa_vjXVXHObi6DEOKvjpkE5UqeKeWKpM8vPJDNZ91D0bW8H6NwlSKMrGRtZOjqkYJLKzntDRMqPkg/s320/IMG_0988.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading back onto the trail at mile 40-ish.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Even as far as 40 miles into the race, things were feeling pretty good - the 'quad busting' downhills hadn't busted my quads, and I was receiving compliments on my awesome climbing abilities (I apparently walk uphill like a champ). I was still flirting with the preposterous idea that I could perhaps slide in under 24 hrs even with the somewhat ridiculous number of rather steep hills (though rationally, that was stupid because factoring in Joe/Blake's 1.3x differential between the first half and the second half, I would have to set a PR for the first 50 miles). Deep down, I figured 25 hrs was a more reasonable goal, but I was out there for a long time - I figured I should be allowed to dream a little, right? Regardless, I still felt good at 40. Except my feet hurt. And I had this nagging shin-splint-y feeling on the front of my ankle/foot area that popped up around the time we trucked through a long pavement stretch that involved descending about 800 feet in roughly 1.5 miles... around mile 12. I had kind of been ignoring it, though, because there had been other little silly problems that had come and gone with the downhill pounding, so I figured this would go away, too.<br />
<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, this was not the case, and between 40 and 57.5 miles, the shin splinty feeling intensified until it felt like someone was kicking me with every step my right leg took. I was still feeling pretty great on the uphills, but I was no longer able to run much by the time I pulled into the aid station at 57.5. I had been thinking I would just pop some advil or tylenol and motor on out, but when we took off my shoe to look at it, we noticed a nice knot had formed, which was a little scary and changed things dramatically in my head. Now we were looking at a potential actual injury that might extend my planned month off after the race to something more closely resembling the achilles tendon PT/rehab debacle of my late teens. I still took some tylenol on the recommendation of someone who thought the kidney-failing potential of advil might be too much of a risk, and decided to walk the next section to see how things felt. Unfortunately, after the lovely ascent, in which I actually passed a couple people, the long descent confirmed that we (the royal we) would not be running any more that day, so faced with the best case scenario of walking for 37.5 miles and sneaking in just under the cutoff (still disappointed) and worst case scenario of walking 33.5 miles, missing the cut at the last aid station, and making whatever was going on worse, I bailed in favor of a full night's sleep in a bed and salvaging the rest of a nice mini vacation.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwFkuchr32A8tmI1vNUYk_7p60RXCBeKSlEL98Rfm2Tq_l2o2UZvTw7JosojRs61X3XMyqaL0b6qaMIM8lRZwzJcgknQwuGF_pT-633GQSVAHXxemv84TZpmUImsdwdwPbxlONg/s1600/411569_10150939193806945_923237219_o.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwFkuchr32A8tmI1vNUYk_7p60RXCBeKSlEL98Rfm2Tq_l2o2UZvTw7JosojRs61X3XMyqaL0b6qaMIM8lRZwzJcgknQwuGF_pT-633GQSVAHXxemv84TZpmUImsdwdwPbxlONg/s320/411569_10150939193806945_923237219_o.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fuzzy picture of the ankle the day after. <br />I named my cankle Sam.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It was the logical decision. I don't regret the decision. I know I made the smart choice. If we had been at mile 85, it probably would have been a different story, but with that far to go and visible focused swelling in the region of a tendon, there was no reasonable way to go on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgET7e1CVFDYu5IB7HDpHdtXqDSU6QaoWzCdCoqGJawK6-kMr5aoop9Gpou3pETBSDu4aYO8Z5PT7-8ezyQvzNuqAnYVFhOwn4USFxuh4od2OMvJrPPbGbkTRYwnb4mJUrQZ7gBvA/s1600/IMG_0490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgET7e1CVFDYu5IB7HDpHdtXqDSU6QaoWzCdCoqGJawK6-kMr5aoop9Gpou3pETBSDu4aYO8Z5PT7-8ezyQvzNuqAnYVFhOwn4USFxuh4od2OMvJrPPbGbkTRYwnb4mJUrQZ7gBvA/s320/IMG_0490.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Largely unrelated, but I like this picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
...but that doesn't mean I'm not disappointed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...and perplexed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's odd, but I actually felt better at the time I dropped than I did after reading all the nice supportive things people said about 62.5 miles still being really impressive. I don't want to sound ungrateful because I really do appreciate everyone's kind thoughts, but telling me 62.5 is really great and impressive just kind of makes me feel like a heel. It's not that great or impressive. I just ran 53.5 a month ago. 62.5 is not that much farther. It is decidedly anticlimactic. I didn't even make it 2/3 of the way through the race. I can accept that my body fell apart and couldn't make it the full distance, but I can't accept that being counted as a successful outing. I'm glad I made it that far, but it still was not successful. <br />
<br />
So now I am left in a pit of confusion. Do I try again, knowing that my body may decide (again) that 100 miles is just too much to bear structurally? My heart leans that direction, as I'm not a big fan of failing to complete something, but my head remembers how much I hated training for this attempt.<br />
<br />
When I stopped, I was resolute about not trying again. My appendages sent me a message and I was going to listen. Perhaps train for something a little more reasonable - something that I could do in ...say... a morning. But the reverse psychology of my facebook page has me thinking maybe I should learn what I can from this one (long, steep downhills are not my thing) and try again with something a little more suited to my strengths (whatever those are - do they have 100-mile hikes uphill with no descent?) and be a little more low key about my approach. We do have an awfully nice local 100, you know...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://hikeclimbsurfrun.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Umstead100_EnduranceRun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://hikeclimbsurfrun.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Umstead100_EnduranceRun.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's like a crazy beacon... calling to me...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Fortunately, I don't have to decide until September, but I'm just not sure how I'm going to decide.<br />
<br />
Until then, I'm back to the trails. I'm very much looking forward to seeing many friends that I haven't seen in a while because I had to do some outlandish, ridiculously slow run that day (all the days). The swelling is gone and I was able to run/hike 6+ miles this morning with little more than a twinge in the traitorous tendon. So the answer, I guess, is we'll get back to some sort of routine, and see where the coming weeks take us. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2KT5RlRPCRUF3vrbCrADAwXOvRugI-Y3hA9OJ44GriWIazWlv3ucmSM_txLJA4tr_7NTI3eTuwYzSIXl2KH9swe-_lLIKq1OkojTZ99uHzOB880I4TIwEiwFhjtI1tzuLjh3hg/s1600/funny-pictures-therapy-cat.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2KT5RlRPCRUF3vrbCrADAwXOvRugI-Y3hA9OJ44GriWIazWlv3ucmSM_txLJA4tr_7NTI3eTuwYzSIXl2KH9swe-_lLIKq1OkojTZ99uHzOB880I4TIwEiwFhjtI1tzuLjh3hg/s320/funny-pictures-therapy-cat.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">/catharsis. Thanks for listening <3</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-33619855780121421592012-07-08T14:39:00.002-05:002012-07-08T14:39:21.607-05:00I ran 100 miles in one week*I should post about the Bolder Boulder. I really should. I should back up my undying love for this race with an effusive post about how great this year was. About how the weather was perfect (it was), how the crowds were fantastic (they were), how the elite race was really interesting (it actually was), but alas, though the race was fantastic as always, I just don't have anything witty, amusing, or even interesting to say about it. I'll give the executive summary for those who are interested (bullet pointed to facilitate reading):<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAGXgtYBESnrO5dn_irPKHeNncEbYjWlEJ0XKIugj2ESiFecWNryMRGwdW9mqmHgxxIM38J9r-7S4uOMN1gIzbIX9AEpcfqjdjudOoNIavNco0LACgfDPYJb3pMJdsSKBhopxTw/s1600/bolderboulderstart.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAGXgtYBESnrO5dn_irPKHeNncEbYjWlEJ0XKIugj2ESiFecWNryMRGwdW9mqmHgxxIM38J9r-7S4uOMN1gIzbIX9AEpcfqjdjudOoNIavNco0LACgfDPYJb3pMJdsSKBhopxTw/s320/bolderboulderstart.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>I have been training for a 100 (you know this), so I wasn't sure what 'speed' meant to my legs at this point</li>
<li>I ran faster than expected, logging my 2nd best time at the BB (hooray), feeling mostly pretty good the whole time</li>
<li>I skipped the slip n' slide (the horror!)</li>
<li>I got the massage (was awesome)</li>
<li>The expo was lovely as usual - we may or may not have made 3 trips to the free popsicle booth and there was an ample supply for everyone else to do the same</li>
<li>We got to meet up with our super awesome friend David to watch the elite race</li>
<li>It was too windy for the skydivers (massive bummer - the Memorial Day festivities are not nearly as cool without them)</li>
</ul>
<div>
Overall, a really nice day - definitely a nice iteration of my favorite holiday.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span> It was, however,</span> decidedly uninteresting compared to my feat 2 weeks later, which was to run 100 miles in one 7-day period.<span> </span>Now THAT was epic. Now, I mocked Ronnie when he did his 100 mile week last year, saying "Wow. You ran 100 miles in a week. You know you're going to have to do that in a day in Utah, right?" But truth be told, jamming 100 miles of running into a week is kind of tricky. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumblarge_186/1190133134rcI39K.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumblarge_186/1190133134rcI39K.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't really say if there was no gas that week, <br />but it would be awesome if it was true!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, I have to admit I kind of cheated because,
due to my travel setup and my father’s work schedule, I did my weekend long run
from the week before on Monday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus,
with a 42-miler on tap for the following Sunday, I really only needed 30 miles
in the other 5 days to make it happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> When I tell people this, they unfailingly point out that this doesn't matter - I ran 100 miles in 7 days. That's a hundred mile week. I still feel like it should get an asterisk, though. Anyway, asterisk or not, it was still a big deal for me, so I feel compelled to share how it played out:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday</b> – 27 miles in Denver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Started at 6AM - ~60 degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finished
at ~10:30AM - ~80 degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, I
forgot that the last 10 or so miles were going to be paved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And have no shade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Regardless, I made it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday</b> – 0 miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, I had an off day in my 100 mile week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday</b> – 6.5 miles at Fullsteam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Got there late, had to sprint to catch up,
short cutted (made up for it by parking way far away).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Got my 6.5 in, though, so all was well. Also, my semi altitude-adjusted legs probably helped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday</b> – 5 miles – usual run with Nancy – all was well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday</b> – Walked to work and back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had to take an outlandishly indirect route to
get 8 miles in total.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I know that
walking is different from running, but I sure will be doing both in Vermont, so
I’m counting it in my weekly 'running' mileage. Also, it's not like I <b>ran</b> all 42 miles of Sunday's run, so yeah.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fittvo.com/wp-content/uploads/piriformis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.fittvo.com/wp-content/uploads/piriformis.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See where those circles are? Imagine someone <br />stabbing you right there over and over again. That's what it felt like on Saturday.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday</b> – OHMYGOSH - apparently you use totally different muscles for walking and running. My rear end was SO sore. SO. SORE. Still did my 12 singletrack miles in Umstead as planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Felt pretty good when I cut out at 2 hrs, but
definitely had a heavy sense of impending doom regarding Sunday (and was praying to any god that would listen that the shooting DOMS pain in my a$$ would go away (literally) overnight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday</b> – 42 miles on the ‘triathlon of pain’ course. Sadly, my prayers from the day before weren't entirely answered and lap 1 was decidedly uncomfortable. Ronnie was a trooper in putting up with my whining, but I was feeling a bit apprehensive about laps 2 and 3, where the role of Ronnie would be played by Mandi, who I didn't know as well, and who was apparently showing up on a mission to get me through these two laps 'on pace'. Oh dear lord. The theme for lap 2 was heat. Also, apparently horseflies like Mandi better than me. Sometime toward the end of lap 2, my feet and quads told my butt muscles to quit their bitching, which was nice - things still hurt, but it was a nice change of pace. Managed to manipulate myself a break halfway through the third lap by becoming enthralled by the insect ecosystem that had set itself up on a pile of horse doody. It was super interesting to be sure, but really I just wanted to sit down. Picked up Brandy about halfway through Turkey Creek and together, we all shuffled our way back around toward the cars, where I passed the 100-mile mark for the week. Mentally self-fived myself because a physical self-five would take too much energy, braved a swarm of yellow jackets to refill my water bottle, and shuffled back to the car to celebrate with some nice watermelon. Whew.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So ended the epic 102-mile week. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://thedailyeater.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Cat-Sleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://thedailyeater.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Cat-Sleeping.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-55683612853511663442012-05-19T17:13:00.000-05:002012-05-19T17:15:41.107-05:00Nuggets of wisdom from today's longass run<div style="text-align: left;">
Today I did my longest ever training run. To simulate the mental beatdown that 100 miles might be, I made it a 3 loop course. To simulate as much as possible the terrain that I might find at Vermont, I made that course include Turkey Creek at Umstead. Here are today's lessons learned/weirdo epiphanies:</div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>If you're going to be running 42 miles, and some sizeable chunk of it solo, it would be best to expose yourself to a variety of musical options in the week preceding the run. While I do like Gotye's "Somebody That I Used To Know," 28 or so miles of the chorus was a bit much.</li>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/8UVNT4wvIGY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now you, too, can sing this for 42 miles!<br />
<br /></div>
<ul><br /></ul>
<ul><br /></ul>
<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://favim.com/orig/201105/07/Favim.com-37473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://favim.com/orig/201105/07/Favim.com-37473.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...or this may have a more lasting effect</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Fresh socks make you feel like a new person. For a while, anyway.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
<ul>
<li>I thought I was really clever when I came up with the idea that I was doing a triathlon, complete with transition zones, except all the events were 'run'. I'm still mildly amused by it (enough to include it here), but it is not 'really clever'.</li>
<br /><br />
<li style="text-align: left;">The promise of cantaloupe is very motivational.</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ecigexpress.com/images/cantaloupe-sig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.ecigexpress.com/images/cantaloupe-sig.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">doesn't this make you want to take on the world??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<li style="text-align: left;">I forgot to put body glide somewhere. Much sadness.</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<li style="text-align: left;">Vespa is still awesome.</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<li style="text-align: left;">Shannon is also awesome.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeQ1DGSsQeUpEfqYeW7acgeb_jP4CX4tcdoux5rO4f2hd_UJVDk1cc1LMauPX1sdkfYE4y6YPld5AyTHjhkHE62FRFFzRZxxOmKn5nmE9nBX0YtfFzNGx3-hywrYdMO3FtHMH/s1600/P1200186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeQ1DGSsQeUpEfqYeW7acgeb_jP4CX4tcdoux5rO4f2hd_UJVDk1cc1LMauPX1sdkfYE4y6YPld5AyTHjhkHE62FRFFzRZxxOmKn5nmE9nBX0YtfFzNGx3-hywrYdMO3FtHMH/s200/P1200186.JPG" width="167" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yaaay!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
I'm sure there were other things, but I have probably blocked them out with the memory of the pain (okay - it wasn't really that bad, but I think repeated loops caused me to save over some memories from previous loops).
<br />
<br />
Thanks for indulging this silliness!Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-52895784580963986632012-05-18T13:37:00.004-05:002012-05-18T13:44:31.198-05:00Saturday's plan (because I didn't want to post a novel on facebook)We (possibly the royal 'we') will be starting around 7:30 at the I-40 overpass between the Black Creek Greenway and Umstead Park on Old Reedy Creek Rd. We will be running THREE (count them) laps around the park, essentially mimicking the Umstead 100 course (Reedy Creek -> Turkey Creek ->Graylyn->Reedy Creek).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b>The theme of the first lap (starting at 7:30) will be "no miles under 10 min - you still have two more laps to go"</b></li><br><br>
<li><b>The second lap will start around 10. The theme of the second lap will be "hooray! Shannon is here!"</b></li><br><br>
<li><b>The third lap will ideally start around 12:30 (no promises, though). The theme of the third lap will be "ohmyfrickinggod this sucks - just try to keep moving forward" I also may not be great company at this point.</b></li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
Each lap will be 14 miles, and I will be going back out to my car each time, so if you want to join me or just point and laugh, be at the appointed location at one of those times. <br />
<br />
If you want to break into my car, come other than one of those times, but be aware that your options for thievery will be as follows:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>5-10 year old camp chairs </li>
<li>a yoga mat</li>
<li>a first aid kit</li>
<li>a roadside assistance kit</li>
<li>maybe some pb&j sammiches</li>
<li>perhaps some nasty running shoes</li>
<li>things that are original parts of my 13-year-old car (with the exception of the battery, which I think is only about 7 years old)</li>
</ul>
<div>
For the folks who are more running-oriented, though, I'd love to see you, but I'm also totally fine to slog through it alone, as I'm sure there will be many solo miles in Vermont :)</div>
<br />
<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-80946449679400073432012-05-13T14:30:00.000-05:002012-05-13T14:30:41.346-05:00Training for a 100As some/many (okay, let's be honest - only 3 people actually read this) already know, in a fit of Turkey-induced delirium, I signed up for the Vermont 100 last Thanksgiving. SO I thought it might be fun to share a little of what I've learned over the past few months (and going forward into the actual race). Today's topic will be funny things I've thought/said/noticed in the past few months. I'm trying not to make this sound narcissistic, but I think I may have failed in a couple of spots. Apologies if I come off as narcissistic. Anyway, back to the topic at hand:<br />
<div><ul><li>I now run at "Party Rock" pace (every day I'm shufflin')</li>
<li>Some days it's just mentally easier to tack 14 miles onto an already completed run than to face 30 the next day.</li>
<li>I've started taking the most boring route possible on training runs as a mental beatdown training</li>
<li>I can rationalize sleeping in and running later as "heat training"</li>
<li>Sometimes you have to cut a run short. I had to do this yesterday because apparently my body did not want to run 35 miles whilst battling a cold. So I disappointedly cut my run to 24 miles. </li>
</ul>I just really hope that I am able to regain a sense of what is normal and what is not after this whole adventure is over.<ul></ul></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-90997965190432853832012-04-26T15:08:00.002-05:002012-04-30T09:35:06.093-05:00Extremely late and uninteresting Mountains-to-Sea 50k report<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was my weekend of all things running-related. It started with a mad dash out of work at 4PM
Friday to head to BCRC to help with packet pickup, continued with a 6-hr shift
at the Umstead 100 on Saturday, and concluded with a 31-ish mile jaunt through
the MST 50k and some cleanin’ up/truck loadin’ afterward. All in all, it was fantastic and
exhausting. I wanted to wait till I
added some kickin’ picturs, but I also need to get this race report out the
door as I’m still looking at a half-finished report from the Green Legs and
Hamstrings half 3 weeks prior to this week (executive summary: Ronnie and I
both got 2<sup>nd</sup>, and we learned that the triangle seems to have the
edge over the Danville area in trailrunners if this race is any indication, as
our crew of 6 came away with three of six overall awards and two more age group
awards). But I digress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still feel like a bit of a goober writing up a 50k after
watching several friends and an even bigger number of total strangers embark on
an amazing journey through Umstead Saturday and Sunday, battling early morning
rain, mid-day heat, a surprise midnight thunder-downpour, and, well, 100 miles
of running, but as this was the inaugural running of the 50k distance at
Mountains-to-Sea, and Kim and Jason worked so hard to put it on, I figured
someone might be interested in how it went.
Executive summary here: it went well.
Extended version below.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGm0erHr7zISW5hWlPeCmdted1hyuDoAojnEr-qHkKJhHCq-UPIjwlOgri-0qi0gwYvcyGYADTcSF0VuQRMcRDMca1m_5ZRuVw10uUIVdp9vlNV4XC3X7zfuTMneOLy1eQcqcYSQ/s1600/mst50kstart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGm0erHr7zISW5hWlPeCmdted1hyuDoAojnEr-qHkKJhHCq-UPIjwlOgri-0qi0gwYvcyGYADTcSF0VuQRMcRDMca1m_5ZRuVw10uUIVdp9vlNV4XC3X7zfuTMneOLy1eQcqcYSQ/s320/mst50kstart.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the start - a lovely crew, don't you think?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was telling Kim on Friday that I have never gone into a
race so mentally unprepared. Which is
not to say that I didn’t think I could do it or anything like that – just that
I hadn’t been mentally gearing up for the past couple weeks (partly because we
didn’t know if we’d be able to run until about 2.5 weeks ago due to Umstead
volunteering obligations). There is also
something about a race where you sleep in your own bed and only have to drive
30 min to the start that makes the whole thing seem rather un-race-like. This is perhaps why, when regular running
buddy Nancy took off from the start, my immediate thought was “why are we going
so fast???” Fortunately, Nancy’s head
was more in the game than mine, so I just latched on to her and we started off
down the trail, settling into a position that seemed reasonable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having run the 12-mile the past two years, I had a pretty
good feel for that section of trail, but the first 3.5-ish of the new 50k
course was completely new to me, and thus kind of interesting. Unfortunately, I was busy chatting through
this section and failed to take note of landmarks or anything about where we
were going or what we were doing.
Observe foreshadowing here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About 35 min into the race, we popped out at the 12-mile
start and got to run right in front of the 12-mile starting line, where I saw
some friends, including eventual 12-mile winner Ben Godfrey (congrats!). Then we dodged back into the woods, this time
in more familiar territory. Somewhere
around 7 miles in, Nancy and I realized that we literally could not see another
soul in the forest. …and hadn’t for a
while. It was very odd. I asked her if the race had been cancelled
partway through and everyone but us had gotten the memo. She wondered if something horrible had
happened to all the other runners. We continued to develop increasing elaborate
explanations for why there were no people around, but Nancy astutely noted that
we had seen Kim at 6 miles and she hadn’t seemed upset, so we really were just in
some sort of race limbo, running along at nobody else’s pace (thank goodness we
had each other). Around this time, I
also began to appreciate the little game where I still referred to the aid
stations according to their position in the 12-mile race, but then felt all
special being able to add 3.5 miles because we started before the 12-mile start
line. It gave me a nice feeling of
accomplishment (This is the 6-mile aid station…but we’ve run 9.5 miles!) Also, somewhere along here, I hit my elbow on
a tree. Kind of like when you are
walking through a door and clip your shoulder.
I have no idea how this happened; it wasn’t a particularly narrow or
twisty part of trail, but it is a testament to why I don’t play sports that
require actual coordination.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We also played the game through here wondering a) when the
12-mile fasties would catch us, and b) when the 50k fasties would start coming
back at us. We decided the 50k people
would be maybe around 13 miles, and the 12-mile pass would take place maybe
somewhere around mile 12 (our mile 12, not theirs). Sure enough, somewhere in that range (can’t
remember exactly where), I heard my name from behind, and turned to see Ben
blazing towards us. Finally. Confirmation that the world had not opened up
and swallowed the other racers. At this
point, we were pretty excited to see other people after over an hour of feeling
like we were the only people left in some bizarro apocalypse that left all of
nature completely intact. A couple miles
up the trail, we finally saw Ronnie and Ken, the 50k leaders coming back at us
(and were gratified to note that we had made it farther than expected before
seeing them). From there, it was ~1.5
miles of dodging 2-way traffic and cheering on friends as we made our way to
the turnaround. After the solitude of
the abandoned forest, this was quite the change, but thankfully we eased into
it with the progressive increase in traffic before we pulled into the
turnaround, which was bustling with activity like a hive of excited bees. As we pulled in, Jason grabbed my water
bottle and Mandi cheered for us as I dug into my drop bag looking for another
precious Vespa (I may be bordering on junkie status here), and while Nancy
grabbed a handful of sammich quarters, I downed some more Fluid (with a capital
“F” – this was apparently the source of much frustration and slap-happy
amusement at aid stations: “we have water and Fluid!” “Water IS fluid!”
“No! Fluid is a sports drink!” “What???”
“Here. Drink this.”) Then we were off! Well…almost.
It took a couple seconds of confused wandering around before we figured
out that we were supposed to head DOWN the hill instead of back the way we
came, but THEN we were off to do a little loop around some foresty area at the
dam before returning to the main trail.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The way back started the way the way out ended (wrap your
head around THAT little brain teaser): cheering for friends coming at us from
the opposite direction. Unfortunately,
as we approached the first aid station, I started feeling that familiar bonky
feeling, which I now refer to as “Vespa head”.
Fortunately, I knew what to do, so I let Nancy know I would be walking
this aid station and I tossed a Roctane in my mouth, chasing it with a nice
glass of Coke. UNfortunately, I still
needed to wait the requisite 15 or so minutes for it to take effect, and I knew
that keeping up with Nancy during this time was not going to turn out well, so
I convinced her to go on ahead and I slowed down to a not wholly embarrassing,
but still a bit slower trot. I also
noted at this point that my fun game from before with the aid station mileage
had turned around to bite me. Now,
passing the 9-mile aid station, I still had 12.5 miles to go. Bummer.
Fortunately, my Vespa head cleared relatively quickly, and I resumed
trotting along, twice stopping to pick up somebody else’s discarded Gu packet
(SHAME on you, discarders of Gu packets in the woods!) The rest of the way back to the 12-mile
start/3.5 mile aid station was pretty uneventful – passed some people walking
and/or running more slowly than I was.
Used eating an Accel Gel as an excuse to walk up the only really long
hill. Gave the stink eye to a couple
whose off-leash full-sized poodles came charging at me on the trail. You know – the usual.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now it’s time to remember my foreshadowing from the
beginning. We were back in uncharted
territory. I remembered there being a
road and that someone said it was at ~2 miles according to their Garmin (for
what that’s worth in the forest on zig-zaggy trails). I picked it up a bit because I had passed a
girl in the last section and I didn’t really want her to catch me, but as I
wracked my brain for memories of the way out this morning, I turned up
nothing. SO I plugged along hoping this
section would pass quickly as I was getting kinda tired and it was getting
kinda warm. Finally, after about 15
minutes, I popped out on the road, but was very confused as I could have sworn
we were supposed to cross over. But I
didn’t see the rest of the trail. muh moh.
Fortunately, as I scanned the area, I found some flagging peeking out of
the forest down the road a couple hundred yards. Nice job, faulty brain. You remember one thing about this section and
you remember it totally incorrectly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I turned back into the forest, I saw the sign indicating
we were entering Blue Jay Point Park. I
reminded myself that we still had 2 miles left and not to get excited about the
fact that I was entering the park that also contained the finish line. This was by far the most diabolical part of
the race, because about ½ mile into the park, I saw a bench. “ooh!
A bench! I must be close to the
finish – they wouldn’t put a bench in the middle of nowhere!” (yes they would) This was followed shortly by, “OOH! A guy with two small children! I must be close to the finish! They wouldn’t have walked very far to get
here!” (true, but you don’t get to go the way they came) ..and then a bit further down the trail, “OOH! Wood chips!
I must be close to the finish!
They would only make the trail this nice close in” (Oh. The wood chips stopped.) “OOH!
LOOK! A trail that leads to the
left! I know the finish is to the left”
(there is a line spray painted on the ground indicating I can’t go there). “OOH! Another trail!” (also no.) This mini roller coaster of
emotion (magnified her for dramatic effect) continued on for literally tens of
minutes until I was left with, “Oh good gravy!
Can I please just turn left???” (yes, but you’re going to zig-zag back
and forth a couple of times before actually getting to that break in the woods,
so don’t get too excited yet, my pretty).
I also internally chastised myself in here with “people ran much farther
in hail and lightning last night – you’re going to have to seriously man up if
you’re going to make it through 100 miles in July” I think I also channeled my friend, Steve at
some point in there and called myself a “wuss-bunny”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, I started hearing music, which was a little
confusing because I thought we still had to run all the way across a big field
to finish. Thankfully, Kim and Jason
took pity on us and put the finish line right at the edge of the clearing. Whew.
And so concluded my trek through the inaugural MST 50k. The old MST guy at the end said I was 5<sup>th</sup>
female. Of course, he also told the girl
behind me she was the 5<sup>th</sup> female.
And at least 3 girls were the 8<sup>th</sup> female. So I won’t put too much stock in his
assessment. I was pleased with my time, though, and am not feeling too terribly
worse for wear today, so this bodes well for Vermont in July. All said, it was a lovely, well-organized
race, and I would totally recommend it to anyone looking for a local 50k.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf0EoiejmppwCIDtB3rVDtvlOFd7Jl1zf0HynSvw77N7hmxYOVtNbkkW0uU8ny3N1Mff6GTYw9AYd3oWvkuhKN5iQPBzyQF4hMFTZr349w7KcwyAqzkLGxLqb65Z8nUPo7slXEw/s1600/mst50k.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf0EoiejmppwCIDtB3rVDtvlOFd7Jl1zf0HynSvw77N7hmxYOVtNbkkW0uU8ny3N1Mff6GTYw9AYd3oWvkuhKN5iQPBzyQF4hMFTZr349w7KcwyAqzkLGxLqb65Z8nUPo7slXEw/s320/mst50k.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">happy finisher :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And congrats, again, to the 100-mile superstars. </div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02654577011803983664noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-85689964480694054492012-04-02T17:38:00.001-05:002012-04-02T17:40:19.489-05:00The Umstead 100 - a random personal declaration<div class="MsoNormal">The Umstead 100.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve volunteered at this race for (I think) the past 5 years, and it’s always been a moving experience. The first year, we worked at the pacing desk, and though our job there wasn’t that exciting, we ended up being an improvised support crew for a runner and her pacer, who were both struggling after finishing. The second year we spent 4 hrs from 2AM-6AM in the timing tent. This sounds like a terrible job, I know, and it is hard – it gets deceptively cold at that time of night when your job is to sit still and type numbers, but it’s also an amazing job because you get to see the runners finishing. It gets exceptionally exciting during those hours because, the winners long gone and in bed, these are the runners who set out to break that somewhat arbitrary, but universally understood and embraced 24-hour mark. Running 100 miles in one. Single. Day. At 2 AM, you see the people who surprised themselves and ran much faster than expected. At 4 AM, you see the people who thought it was possible if everything went right, and everything did. They are elated. At 5:30 AM, you see the people who executed a plan and finished right where they hoped. At 5:45, you see the people who spent that last lap battling demons, knowing they could do it, but trying to prepare mentally for missing the mark. And at 6:03AM, you see disappointment and frustration. These people will probably look back and realize they have accomplished something amazing, but they will also be back next year, with a bone to pick. You see other people during these times as well, of course. There are people finishing in 22 hrs, who thought they would finish faster, there are people who have finished several times previously and are just in it for another go – not terribly worried about where exactly their time fit. But the people with the 24 hour goal have always seemed special to me. Probably because I’ve always fancied that this is where I would fit. Even before I had any aspiration of running that far (because that would be stupid), I saw people I had run with in other races finishing in that range, and thought “yes. That’s where I should be in the lineup.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since that first night shift, we have spent three more night shifts at the park, and with each year, I became more and more intrigued by this spectacle, and felt increasingly close to the runners out there, circumnavigating the park no less than 8 times. You start to recognize people from previous years, and even though you’re not REALLY a part of their community, you feel like some small part of the greater Umstead community. For 2 years now, I’ve been aware of the day when registration opens and this past year, my hand hovered over the mouse on that fateful Wednesday at precisely noon. But again, I did not jump in. So this year was another volunteer year. Due to a conflict with another, much shorter ultra (isn’t that a fun statement?), we needed a day shift, so we spent all of Saturday afternoon holed up in a cabin entering data from Aid Station 1. We could see the runners out the window, and I managed to catch a few friends coming into the timing area, darting out the door of the cabin to encourage them, but I have to admit, I missed our night job in the trenches. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This year brought another set of emotions to the table as well, though. This year brought trepidation and inspiration…and I’ll admit…a little bit of jealousy. Because after wavering on Umstead signup day, and inspired by my husband’s 100-mile finish at The Bear last September, I took the plunge and clicked ‘submit’ on the Vermont 100 page. So as I watched my friends struggle through their journey, in the back of my head, I thought two things: “That’s going to be me in 3 months. I hope I’m as strong as they are.” And “Boy do I have a lot of long, hot North Carolina summer runs to do between now and then.” So I’m posting this as the official commencement to my Vermont training season. I finished a 50k yesterday and don’t feel terrible. I’m considering that a good jumping off point. Now I just need to channel Mark, Shannon, Jay, Ronnie, Joe, and all my other 100-mile friends and commit to spending some quality time in the NC summer heat, cultivating both the mental and physical toughness necessary to take on this next challenge. If you’ve made it this far in my weird cathartic ramble, I’ll ask you for just one more favor: if you see a Karen-shaped heap on the side of the trail this summer at Umstead, please just pick me up, water me, and send me on my way.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks friends, and happy trails…</div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-20815567424825558462012-02-05T19:01:00.003-05:002012-02-06T09:21:03.996-05:00Uwharrie 40-mile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs22/f/2007/310/b/f/Sad_Panda_by_ra3ndy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs22/f/2007/310/b/f/Sad_Panda_by_ra3ndy.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>Well, it's February again, which can only mean one thing!! UWHARRIE TIME!!! I entered this year's race in kind of an odd place mentally. For whatever reason, work seemed to be taking more out of me than normal (whatever 'normal' is), and, of course, the holidays managed to disrupt my training schedule. It would be much more convenient if we could put the holidays in October or something so December and January could be devoted to long runs. I tried pitching this idea to my family, but they were somewhat less than supportive. As such, I wasn't feeling super positive about my ability to dislodge the 9 hour monkey from my Uwharrie back. ...and as a follow-up, I was feeling less enthusiastic than usual about the race, which made me sad.<br />
<br />
In the week leading up to the race, alert friend Brandy posted an <a href="http://www.active.com/triathlon/Articles/The_taper_blues.htm" target="_blank">article</a> about taper-induced depression to facebook and as I mentally checked the box next to all the symptoms, I began to feel a little better about the world, just hoping against hope that that last box (the one that says most people feel fine and ready to go on race morning) would also be checked off before 7AM on Saturday. <br />
<br />
I started my race day with a race anxiety dream (apparently Uwharrie was now in the jungle and it took my friend Shawn and I ~3 hrs to make it to the 5-mile aid station), which left me wide awake at 2AM. Our upstairs neighbors must have also had an anxiety dream about that time and decided to combat it by doing step aerobics for the next 90 min, as that's the only explanation I could come up with for the noises coming from above. From there, it was really just counting the minutes to the 5AM alarm that signaled it was go-time.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/69299_166359740043000_161122550566719_539802_624797_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/69299_166359740043000_161122550566719_539802_624797_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hotel rooms were spacious, sure, but these ladies were LOUD!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
We arrived at our appointed parking area a little after 6AM to find that there had been some confusion among the 20-mile racers about where to park, leaving some 40-milers with no space in the lot. Thankfully, we got in just under the 'lot full' sign, so we weren't directly affected, but this did lead to a ~20 min delay in the race start, which might seem like an irrelevant detail, but becomes very important later on.<br />
<br />
I started the race with Mandi (fellow BCTC-er and Run at the Rock buddy), having touched base with Uwharrie friend Jay about starting "somewhere in the middle of the pack". I suspected Mandi was going to lay the smack down on me at some point during the race based on her comment that she was hoping to automatically qualify for Western States, but I figured I might be able to hang with her as long as we were stuck in traffic walking up the big hill. I was right, but traffic broke up faster than expected, and Mandi was off down the trail ahead of me before we got to the first mud pit. Luckily, I also had managed to find Heiko around this time, and we chatted a bit before he, too took off down the trail. At this point I began to wonder about my pacing, as Jay also was not in my general vicinity. I was feeling like I was just on the edge of exertion, though, which is a dangerous feeling when you're at mile 1.5 of 40 and those 40 are in the Uwharrie National Forest. So I trucked on, thinking I would assess the situation when I hit the "2-mile" mark. I hit that mark in ~26 min and realized I had no idea how long it was supposed to take me to get there, which left me slightly frustrated. I did, know, however, that I had reached the 5-mile aid station in 45 min the year I went out WAY too fast in the 20, and had a vague recollection of taking ~1 hr to get there in the previous year's 40, so at least I had some guidelines there.<br />
<br />
Around this time, the thought also hit me that we had started 20 min late, which I combined with my (as it turns out totally faulty) recollection that there was a head lamp cutoff of 4 PM at the 38 mile mark. I did some quick math and realized that I was going to have really step it up or I was going to be pulled off the course for lack of headlamp. I was irritated at my stupidity for not planning for contingencies by at least dropping a headlamp in my drop bag, but reasoned how was I supposed to know we were starting 20 min late? In my head, my only choice at that point was to go hard to the turnaround and hope I had enough to get myself back in time. I cruised through the 5 mile station in 56 min and the 8-mile station in 1:37 (note to readers - the "8-mile" station is well known to be closer to 4 miles from the "5-mile" station). This, though, is where I had my first hard benchmark, as I knew I was close to 2 hrs coming into this station last year. Yes, I was ~20 min ahead of last year's schedule, but as you'll recall (because I know you've internalized my writeup of last year's race), I went out WAAAAAY too slow last year.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.espshow.com/picts/C1Flagpic3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://www.espshow.com/picts/C1Flagpic3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wanted my cheering for David to invoke this</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://bodaciousboomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/octopus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://bodaciousboomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/octopus.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In reality, it probably looked more like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I continued cruising along, wondering if the 20 milers had started late like we did or if I would have to readjust my estimate of where they would begin to pass us to account for only 40 min of head start as opposed to the full hour (one has to occupy one's mind somehow when one is in the forest for 40 miles). Coincidentally (really, not just for literary effect), I heard my name being yelled from behind. I wondered which of my 40 buddies was gaining on me and turned to find that the amazing <a href="http://beautyandchange.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">David Roche</a> was flying toward me. I had heard he was planning to take it out hard, but my head could not process the idea that it took him a mere 9 miles to make up my 40+ minute head start. I mean I know he's fast and I'm slow, but DANG. Luckily, I composed myself enough to cheer wildly for him and quickly step out of his way before he disappeared over the next ridge. This also got me thinking about how our late start would affect the logistics of the rest of the race. I usually start seeing 20-milers around mile 15 or so, and start getting passed by mortals (meaning lots of dancing around so 2 bodies can pass on a single-track trail) after the big hill. Getting passed by David at mile 9 meant there would be a lot more dancing for a lot longer, but meant that maybe there would be less two-way traffic on the way back (when we turn around and make our way back through the second half-ish of the 20-mile racers). I was still pondering this as I pulled into the 11-mile station where I found Jay and his friend James. Feeling fairly confident that Jay was good at pacing, I hitched my wagon to their train and we made our way onward.<br />
<br />
As we passed through the 14-mile station, I noted that we were well ahead of last year's pace (mission accomplished thus far), but also a bit ahead of Jay's professed goal of 4:15 at the turnaround and a ways ahead of my goal of 4:20-4:25. After a brief panic, I made a comment about being ahead of schedule and when they seemed unafraid, I took a breath and decided to go all in. Even when James, spurred on by terrain that was "mostly flat or downhill" (lies) put in a fairly lengthy surge, I hung on and was surprised to find "the hill" at 16 miles to be less daunting than usual (what kind of crack was I on and where could I get more? More importantly, when was the crash coming?) At this point, we were seeing 20-mile friends pretty regularly, and our fast 40-mile friends were coming back at us, including Ronnie, who was leading the race! Also around this time, I got my favorite cheer of all time from unofficial race photographer and previous year's winner, Shannon: "Holy Shit, Karen!! You're doing awesome!"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://files.sharenator.com/holy_shit_awesome_2_Amazing_Feats_Fails_WIns_Lolz_and_A_Contest-s550x440-158432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://files.sharenator.com/holy_shit_awesome_2_Amazing_Feats_Fails_WIns_Lolz_and_A_Contest-s550x440-158432.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am like water skiing off the back of a jet. It's true.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Riding high on laughter and profanity, we pulled into the turnaround around 4:08. Jay and James had decided to forego their drop bags, so they were in and out in what seemed like 10 seconds, and I was left chasing after them, trying to stuff a vespa into my handheld without tripping over anything or running into anyone. I finally got myself organized after a half mile or so, but by the 17-mile aid station (for reasons I can't explain, I don't continue counting up after we turn around, so I use the mileages from the start), I was starting to feel a little overtaxed and woozy, and was having a little trouble focusing. I was hoping this was an electrolyte/glucose issue and not the beginning of a precipitous bonk, so I downed a Roctane, an s-cap, and some Mtn Dew, and wandered out of the aid station at a slightly more relaxed pace, reasoning that I just had to make it back in ~5 hrs to PR for the race.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvYjm1hYauIcCcwN2XKRdt5T40QYxMWtouVi87OyNbg7kXzfgFoa4DF7NLmAMzDAT6e0OpxkuWmgeAbSCm6cepfTrhDjrxamb5tvWyO7Teo5HV3mFE1QcqJz_dfykDnL4hoZn/s1600/giraffe-kosher-404_676944c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvYjm1hYauIcCcwN2XKRdt5T40QYxMWtouVi87OyNbg7kXzfgFoa4DF7NLmAMzDAT6e0OpxkuWmgeAbSCm6cepfTrhDjrxamb5tvWyO7Teo5HV3mFE1QcqJz_dfykDnL4hoZn/s320/giraffe-kosher-404_676944c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I identify with these guys: we're not terribly coordinated, <br />
but we sure can walk fast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>James must have seen the look in my eye when we pulled in to the station as he and Jay discretely let me slip back without comment and moved on down the trail. Fortunately, my electrolyte/glucose theory held up and I began to sharpen up as I made my way toward the backside of the 16 mile hill (see? I really can't do the mileages back!!) At this point, as I generally do during a long race, I started pondering my finish time projection. Barring some sort of total meltown (which was still totally possible), I figured a PR was well within reach (I recalled - incorrectly - that I had finished in 9:12 last year), and a sub 9 finish was well within reach. 8:30 seemed numerically possible, but not terribly likely. As I pondered such things and power-walked my way back up the hill, James and Jay came into view and I felt like I might not have lost as much as I thought with my little crisis (though I was reasonably sure their daring and my pansiness would lead to a widening of that gap on the ensuing downhill). This diverging of paths put my pacing and strategy back in my hands and allowed me to run to my strengths (lots of long granny gear bouts punctuated with long, gangly-legged power-walking up the steeper hills), which was somewhat disparate with James/Jay's (fearlessly bomb down hills, surge on the flats, recovery shuffle up the hills). Fortunately or unfortunately (depending on your appreciation for heckling - I think we were all pretty okay with it), this led to a fair amount of see-sawing, and though we really never ran together again, we were within about 200 yards of each other for the rest of the race. At every aid station, I grabbed a Mtn Dew or Coke, and two fistfuls of potatoes, but still felt that familiar bonk feeling approaching shortly before the 5-mile aid station. Remembering I still had a Roctane in my handheld and figuring it had been long enough since my last Vespa, I downed my final Roctane and another s-cap and waited (hoped??) Fortunately, the magic still worked and I was able to power my way through the next three miles to the 2-mile road crossing.<br />
<br />
Over the last 15 or so miles, I had been projecting aid station arrivals and adjusting my finish time accordingly. With my bonk around 5 miles, I had figured I would hit the 2-mile station around 8:20, and slide in to the finish somewhere around 8:50, as I am notoriously bad at picking my way through the final rock field-y ledge heading back into the finish. After my re-up with Roctane, though, I started feeling pretty fricking awesome, and invoked the inner football coach, who kept asking me what I was saving it for. I picked up the pace and rolled into the 2-mile aid station at 8:13. Then I got angry...or something. Something in me decided it would be a grave injustice to cap off this performance with a 30+ minute pick through the last 2 miles (I think that's about how long it took me to get in last year), and I bombed down the hill with (for me) reckless abandon, constantly reminding myself to stay focused on the trail to avoid an epic collision between some part of my body and some relatively immovable piece of nature. As Jay/James drew into sight again, I knew they would kill me going down the final hill, so I made it my mission to get as close as possible to them before that final descent.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0smORAES_bR79Oa5dP08roL67JNGwG8Av9W0Hvnc3ROf4LNhSwTzzkXU0s8rldhSBW-V3s32IYfDad5HiZ-h_VoV3Mc2hZaTSU-hFRhHhgTJwI1G7ectk6KPQjP3fefcIa-l/s320/IMG_1118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0smORAES_bR79Oa5dP08roL67JNGwG8Av9W0Hvnc3ROf4LNhSwTzzkXU0s8rldhSBW-V3s32IYfDad5HiZ-h_VoV3Mc2hZaTSU-hFRhHhgTJwI1G7ectk6KPQjP3fefcIa-l/s320/IMG_1118.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THIS is why the last 2 miles takes 25 min<br />
(photo credit to Scott Lynch)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I closed the gap to about 40 yards by actually running(!) up a good part of that last hill and then shifted my focus to keeping moving through the rocks. I took a quick look around me and barreled off down the hill, alternately exhorting myself (possibly out loud - you weren't there, so you'll never know) to pay attention and to have quick feet. As I made the turn on to the mercifully less rocky trail into the finish, I was tempted to check my watch, but refrained in favor of staying focused on the trail (and not breaking my face). As the finish area came into view, I heard someone yell "Finisher!" and the customary cheer as the crowd encourages runners across the line. This was followed by my friend Carolyn yelling "Ronnie! Your wife!" as my husband apparently was otherwise engaged at the moment. As such, I came across the line laughing, and upon checking my watch to find I had covered that last bit in ~25 min (still sounds long for 2 miles, doesn't it?), meaning I had finished in 8:38-ish, let out a "YESSSS" combined with a fist pump that I hope nobody caught on film. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUErVc0QC7MCtYMAiizS94OoCAy5-oR_WiUPuHXnNw0bKsIL3MJeRySEVAdf8UZGuhqVHLLq3rVJ7_D2rz1t2SIYDqSbzJXc3IVhAJ8uC5N21ZGEqacfHuVDoIAcnqieWkU1tF-w/s1600/430783_3031561075550_1458587041_32830979_33457159_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUErVc0QC7MCtYMAiizS94OoCAy5-oR_WiUPuHXnNw0bKsIL3MJeRySEVAdf8UZGuhqVHLLq3rVJ7_D2rz1t2SIYDqSbzJXc3IVhAJ8uC5N21ZGEqacfHuVDoIAcnqieWkU1tF-w/s320/430783_3031561075550_1458587041_32830979_33457159_n.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am married to the wearer of the buffalo head in the foreground<br />
(photo credit to Anthony Corriveau)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
All in all, with two minor blips, I'm absolutely ecstatic about this performance, as I have launched the 9-hour monkey into the next zipcode (but because I'm me, making sure he has a parachute lands comfortably on pillows among friends because I don't even want to hurt a metaphorical monkey - yes, I'm aware there's something wrong with me). The realization that I never have to run the 40 is a little bittersweet, though, because...well...it wasn't so bad....<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.free-extras.com/pics/h/hugs_for_you-1446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://images.free-extras.com/pics/h/hugs_for_you-1446.jpg" width="155" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awww... I love you 40-miler</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Author's note: I actually ran a 9:21 last year, not 9:12, so this was a 43-minute PR <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://scienceblogs.com/startswithabang/upload/2011/07/weekend_diversion_the_physics/fireworks.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="http://scienceblogs.com/startswithabang/upload/2011/07/weekend_diversion_the_physics/fireworks.jpeg" width="200" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(/shameless self promotion)</div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-10459509245214510042011-12-10T09:07:00.015-05:002011-12-10T10:40:12.220-05:00Run at the Rock<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Well, redemption day finally arrived. A tad melodramatic, perhaps (okay - definitely), but this is probably the most amped up I've been for a race in a while. This really isn't saying a whole lot as I still got the better part of a decent night's sleep and was chatting with people on the starting line until 1 minute before the gun, but I had been thinking about the race for the past couple weeks, and had been legitimately concerned about the health of my newly temperamental and angry hamstring for the past week. I even adjusted my final "speed" workout backward one day to give the hammy a little more time (but still wanting to tune up the one fast twitch muscle fiber I possess in case I should need him - I call him Zach). Yup - I actually THOUGHT about the race beforehand and executed a reasonable and logical workout plan in the week leading up to the race. I'll admit that a little more activation of my sympathetic nervous system before a race might be beneficial, but this tends to backfire on me big time (for a brief run-down, see <a href="http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2010/11/des-moines-marathon-part-i-or-how-i.html" target="_blank">this previous post</a>), so this level of preparation was really pushing the envelope of my running karma. Also, I have to compensate for Ronnie, who has enough weird nervous energy and pre-race crazy for both of us (why do you put on clothes you're not going to run in only to change into - yes <i>change, </i>not strip down to - your running clothes when we get to the race?). I feel that by my being more low key about things, we have the right amount of energy if you average us... which would be awesome if we were entering a 3-legged race. Or maybe that would be terrible? Regardless, we competed individually at this particular race, so it's a moot point.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div>Back to the story at hand, though (sort of). We loaded into the car and arrived at the surprisingly frigid Cedarock park (yes, that's right... Cedarock... we have a multi-year conversation going about whether it's Cedar Ock or Ceda Rock because we can't allow Cedarock to be one word...yes, our marriage is based on nonsense like this).<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZ2-5Gi3deVWCueQ2WJ550bjxev0fR6vd6san2lOwqmvK7fqR8z0bYfl60axupixcBp0YFVUtjZu20i14NsdndU8ES-krZ2YjNWRaBSfsahS5LD8zw1_tGOlcPTyHkjKnj55MWA/s1600/cedarock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZ2-5Gi3deVWCueQ2WJ550bjxev0fR6vd6san2lOwqmvK7fqR8z0bYfl60axupixcBp0YFVUtjZu20i14NsdndU8ES-krZ2YjNWRaBSfsahS5LD8zw1_tGOlcPTyHkjKnj55MWA/s1600/cedarock.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This just can't be one word</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Facebook had alerted us to the fact that we would be seeing some friends here, and it didn't take long for us to spy friend #1 all decked out in her Canadian best maple leaf hat and mittens (I wish I had a picture to post here - Canadia would be proud, Kim!!). We then proceeded to pick up our numbers and powder blue sweatshirts and speed walked back to the car to huddle for warmth between bouts of warming up and trips to the bathroom line (at least we knew we were hydrated!)<br />
<br />
Arriving at the starting line, we were greeted by a sea of orange and blue BCTC singlets and a number of other friends out to enjoy a challenging course on a lovely day. As the race director counted down the minutes to the start, those of us who had no business on the front line inserted ourselves somewhere in the middle of the pack and we were off! As I bid my faster friends adieu and trotted off down the road toward the woods, I heard the unmistakable sound of jingle bells and looked back to find that I was being chased by a 6'2" elf with surprising foot speed. For a minute I felt like I did in my first marathon when a marine carrying a 4' American flag blew by my bonking self at mile 18, but as he darted around the 10 people ahead of me as well, it became abundantly clear Santa had given him a good dose of mad running skillz for early Christmas and I moved my thoughts back to my original "starting the race" plan (try not to do anything stupid).<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_HfiQyf70OF1t-HUotwr5b-muafcY1AzdySCHw8xVjFQG6wLyAXAZfptI7f-RGbbYRxL8jdK0bx8ffUPZeF1p-v0mZOMG4awpdx9uh4HvwE9OraFL5xMcSFmhPKAeouI-7JO2g/s1600/384279_10150444416273699_293036403698_8489494_1682382380_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_HfiQyf70OF1t-HUotwr5b-muafcY1AzdySCHw8xVjFQG6wLyAXAZfptI7f-RGbbYRxL8jdK0bx8ffUPZeF1p-v0mZOMG4awpdx9uh4HvwE9OraFL5xMcSFmhPKAeouI-7JO2g/s320/384279_10150444416273699_293036403698_8489494_1682382380_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">These are some of my friends... I am much farther back....</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcDoz687UTmhl4T0QYBdOCVoMdmnWkOJ3s97-dDfSdSDHv66Z3P2q7YakrMICn_rfJNlodx28vcr37-SKULraUJk1Cfpi1XVKvBduhOgVQArWFfEMS_MlzQPPE1xdQL29o5SRIg/s1600/387537_10150444543868699_293036403698_8490196_280763717_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcDoz687UTmhl4T0QYBdOCVoMdmnWkOJ3s97-dDfSdSDHv66Z3P2q7YakrMICn_rfJNlodx28vcr37-SKULraUJk1Cfpi1XVKvBduhOgVQArWFfEMS_MlzQPPE1xdQL29o5SRIg/s320/387537_10150444543868699_293036403698_8490196_280763717_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">... closer to this guy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I had a vague recollection of my PR on the course being somewhere in the 2:05 range, so my goal was to be as close to 2:00 as possible (who doesn't love a nebulous and thus highly achievable goal?). As I<br />
checked my watch at the few mile markers I saw, though, it appeared I would be going through the halfway point around ~62 or 63 min, which was puzzling because I felt like I was moving along pretty well. Fortunately, I was able to drop a sub 6 min 7th mile to get back on track, going through the 7-mile mark a little under 61 minutes (or perhaps that mile was a little short? ...hard to say...okay, not really...that last mile was more than a little short). The second loop was a slightly stickier, gooier version of the first loop, but with more new friends, including new friend Mandi, who is also running the Uwharrie 40 and looking at a summer 100. I think I may have conned her into accompanying me on some Umstead runs between now and then... fingers crossed that she wasn't just trying to get me to stop talking.<br />
<br />
As I made my way up the final hill toward the finish, I glanced at the clock at the finish line to find it hovering around the 2:04 mark, meaning I may or may not have PR'd on the course. So much for instant<br />
gratification. As our merry band reconvened, we made our way to the food tent and scoped out the finishers list to find that our friends had a very productive day, with David Roche setting both the<br />
7- and 14-mile course records (encumbered by a shirt, even!!), and many others netting overall and age group awards. I know it's kind of jerky to say, but it's nice to have a bunch of friends around cheering each other on as everyone picks up their awards. Mandi and I ended up finishing 1-2 in our age group to join the merry band of Run at the Rock giant mug award owners (someday, we'll all have to get together for giant coffees!)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0mePBhy-gFbXnmUDyhM2MJcMVDv-SDy96ZJr9IjbIY9d640hmwjYIkc6JbuqG4xInyKIETzUvTLpblmfN-lo1Fda5CCY7F9wQeu-mTKwWfpSHe_k4jynafrGfAXcep8OZH923Q/s1600/387535_10150444612813699_293036403698_8490867_949533730_n+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0mePBhy-gFbXnmUDyhM2MJcMVDv-SDy96ZJr9IjbIY9d640hmwjYIkc6JbuqG4xInyKIETzUvTLpblmfN-lo1Fda5CCY7F9wQeu-mTKwWfpSHe_k4jynafrGfAXcep8OZH923Q/s320/387535_10150444612813699_293036403698_8490867_949533730_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">this picture does not do justice to the giant-ness </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">of these mugs</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>For those who care, I matched my previous PR on the course. To the second. I was initially a little irritated at this, but two voices of reason pointed out the following: 1) I would be REALLY irritated if I<br />
had been 1 second slower than my previous PR, so I should look at the glass as half full, and 2) I was in pretty solid running shape when I set that PR, so I should take this as a positive sign of progress. So<br />
I say thank you to my two voices of reason, and I do feel less irritated, but that doesn't mean I'm not still thinking of all the spots where I could have gutted out a few more seconds. That's healthy as long as it's motivational, right?<br />
<br />
So, to sum up, it was a lovely day for a run, a good course, and I feel more or less redeemed. The only downside to the day was Mandi may have sacrificed a pinky finger to the trail gods in an attempt to test gravity and get a close-up look at the terrain as she made her way down a muddy hill :(.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-1728910119027039832011-12-03T19:42:00.003-05:002011-12-03T22:01:58.115-05:00Skinny Turkey Half MarathonAfter the Shut-in disappointment, I was pretty determined to redeem myself at Run At the Rock, so I trained really hard (for the whole 4 weeks between the two) with an eye to realistic pacing and some pseudo tempo runs (run one of my "long runs" each weekend a little shorter and with fast people). It seemed like a decent strategy, but I still wasn't super confident in my ability to pace myself with any level of intelligence. SO I decided I should do a tempo run with known mile markers just to check in. The Godiva Thursday run would have been ideal in this regard, but alas, this little revelation occurred the weekend of Nov 19... you know... the weekend before a certain pesky eating holiday that meant no Godiva run. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOsE5tkL1SK51n59flpCu_slPF-nkj9RrNWxX0gKrJ2jH44QTYYrv0mtu0QmY4hWqDhjXacImtJRmzlwkknmrIt8RnHe3oz88SXRuttSF1y0__OMKY5v3s7GvCEbpftMepICdgg/s1600/921201117826_st_logo+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOsE5tkL1SK51n59flpCu_slPF-nkj9RrNWxX0gKrJ2jH44QTYYrv0mtu0QmY4hWqDhjXacImtJRmzlwkknmrIt8RnHe3oz88SXRuttSF1y0__OMKY5v3s7GvCEbpftMepICdgg/s1600/921201117826_st_logo+copy.jpg" /></a>Inexplicably, my mind drifted to something my running enabler friend Doug had mentioned during the week prior about a Thanksgiving half marathon in Extreme North Raleigh. I had initially rejected the idea as silly because the course involved two (different) out-and-backs on ROADS and Extreme North Raleigh is FAR. But alas, it would probably be the best way to get a feel for how hard I should go out (effort-wise, not time-wise) at Run at the Rock, so I went ahead and signed up with the goal of finishing out my regular training week and running 8:15s for the first 10 miles and seeing how things went from there.<br />
<br />
My regular training week ended up being a little harder than normal thanks to a second hard-ish long run Sunday (to try out my awesome-tastic new hydration vest) and a more intense than expected speedwork session Weds morning (who put those two giant hills in that second 2k?), so I was feeling a little sluggish and beat down Thurs morning, and I was definitely apprehensive about my ability to even maintain 8:15s.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXaY1y9IvMo23jaQtWscyRCvvg5hZWh0-EYDdgrxoh68pSuNcfkj3bmmIs_VvZKL0VmOTARMA2w1XROtdDgillPWLzSkuUvRlwqo_IYxLcS7Sga4Z3sbadPmHhA4jUbUGHu6Cgg/s1600/3278381633_7de696beeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXaY1y9IvMo23jaQtWscyRCvvg5hZWh0-EYDdgrxoh68pSuNcfkj3bmmIs_VvZKL0VmOTARMA2w1XROtdDgillPWLzSkuUvRlwqo_IYxLcS7Sga4Z3sbadPmHhA4jUbUGHu6Cgg/s320/3278381633_7de696beeb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Luckily, the first two miles are downhill, so maintaining 8:15s was SUUUPER easy... also, so was maintaining 7:45s... heh. heh. uh oh.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, I was able to rein myself in to a couple of miles in the 8 min range and didn't feel too much worse for the wear. The next couple miles involved some hills (including ascending the mile 2 hill) and some disgruntled gentlemen who weren't super excited about being passed by a girl. The second half(ish) of the race wound through a nice older Wakefield neighborhood with some good rolling hills and then wandered up a straight road I never caught the name of only to turn around in front of some old gas station/store and come back to the start/finish (where we would need to re-ascend the mile 1 descent). In the back of my mind, I kept track of all the downhills on the way out so I would know what I would have to contend with on the way back (did I mention there were two giant hills in the second 2k of the workout the morning before? I was beginning to think this might come back to haunt me as the hill counter kept ticking upward). I figured the leaders would be coming back at me about the time I hit 8 miles (their 10), so I was a bit gratified when I breezed by the 8 mile mark with no leaders in sight. About half a mile later, I saw a familiar wiggly gait coming up the road toward me following the lead bike and went to high-five my lovely husband, Ronnie, who was apparently winning the race! This was almost a beautiful moment except instead of the expected "good job!" or "love you!" I heard "Are you okay?" escape his lips. <br />
<br />
Ummm. Hunh? I think so... So then there were a few moments of deep self-examination upon which I concluded that a) I was fine, b) Ronnie was probably delusional from being in the lead, and c) this was definitely going to get mentioned a BUNCH of times in the coming weeks!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiboyJysuAGaiTQFX0cUimFGXFpfWkFdXyhJjvh8NVY5DVzlTOzOlI9hUdPDkev4jzIqLAFSuw5zRKLDSUqJ7Jr6Mn5MgMxb1aEgSFQsR3lEJ0jD9F-QmQsl4MSiMb5HOoMuVKZg/s1600/shame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiboyJysuAGaiTQFX0cUimFGXFpfWkFdXyhJjvh8NVY5DVzlTOzOlI9hUdPDkev4jzIqLAFSuw5zRKLDSUqJ7Jr6Mn5MgMxb1aEgSFQsR3lEJ0jD9F-QmQsl4MSiMb5HOoMuVKZg/s320/shame.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The rest of the race went pretty smoothly - I made it up all the hills (though I did feel the legs a little bit toward the end) and did not do anything heroic and stupid that would jeopardize my ability to obtain sweet sweet redemption the following weekend. The only slightly disappointing bit was I missed my "stretch" goal of feeling good and finishing under 1:45 by 2 seconds. TWO. SECONDS. Sigh.<br />
<br />
Also, I would find out the next day that I may have slightly strained my hamstring with the combo of back-to-back hard-ish runs and launching off at 7:40 pace on a cold morning with no warm-up. You'd think I'd learn at some point, but... well... no - you wouldn't think that at all.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-51911710356098293132011-11-07T15:02:00.003-05:002011-11-08T09:13:02.373-05:00Shut-inSO. Once again, I was lured into signing up for the Shut-in Ridge Trail Run with the promise of a lovely weekend in Asheville in early November (which sounds absolutely outstanding when one is sweltering in Durham in August). I wasn't sure at the time how ready I would be given that I had really just started running again after my body made it absolutely clear that I should NEVER sign up for a road marathon again (for the full story see <a href="http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2011/07/return-to-motherlandor-how-to-hurt.html">http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2011/07/return-to-motherlandor-how-to-hurt.html</a> and <a href="http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2011/07/return-to-motherlandor-how-to-hurt_30.html">http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2011/07/return-to-motherlandor-how-to-hurt_30.html</a> ). That, however, would not deter me, as due to various injuries and/or hard races run just weeks before, I have turned this race into a nice hike on more than one occasion before (like 3 out of the 5 times I've signed up). A lovely hike in Asheville in early November is also very nice (actually, probably nicer than the grueling grind up Mt. Pisgah that comes with "racing"). That being said, training this early fall had been going well, and I was feeling pretty good about my running, so I entered the weekend thinking a PR was plausible (note foreshadowing here - with a sense of foreboding). I tried to temper my high hopes with the realism that I hadn't raced a step since the road/toe incident above, and I thus had no real idea where I was fitness-wise aside from making through 8x"hundreds of doom" on the track and some random back-to-back long runs that felt surprisingly good. I was not terribly successful in this tempering. I'll admit I had some pretty lofty visions going into the starting line. I also had a touch of caffeine-induced mania/invincibility, as I also discovered in the past couple months how much awesomer one feels running after a nice coffee filled with sugar and french vanilla.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMOPquVyezYBbOhYmLW7we1QQILhsH_6gyihYZLYjz_LM5Ty3NPx4TXifC-Wq_145pJrCCuiJvA74rGmyCH3FTqlF1qLsx4nkGDCrwlCefHkbClHgtH_VIYw18FHz02n98U4VTA/s1600/300360_10150385806359222_563309221_8072058_2114557806_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMOPquVyezYBbOhYmLW7we1QQILhsH_6gyihYZLYjz_LM5Ty3NPx4TXifC-Wq_145pJrCCuiJvA74rGmyCH3FTqlF1qLsx4nkGDCrwlCefHkbClHgtH_VIYw18FHz02n98U4VTA/s320/300360_10150385806359222_563309221_8072058_2114557806_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't I look invincible here?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLjAUAOPPcv-Uv1BctMl6K5FNU0Rxgm8-vm2UpoGhSqJbMk38vHcB4DtCY-f1hfdtbwrLxvaN0bHRiSUwqAz1N4GU-BUFBqSB8BVjdB3erWK2lTShO7ZSUza2HP74ZuBP522v2w/s1600/smiley-face-coffee-cup1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLjAUAOPPcv-Uv1BctMl6K5FNU0Rxgm8-vm2UpoGhSqJbMk38vHcB4DtCY-f1hfdtbwrLxvaN0bHRiSUwqAz1N4GU-BUFBqSB8BVjdB3erWK2lTShO7ZSUza2HP74ZuBP522v2w/s200/smiley-face-coffee-cup1.jpg" width="185" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>In hindsight, this may not have been the ideal venue to test how well that coffee effect transfers to races. Now lest you think this is going to unravel into a story about GI distress and "roughing it" in the truest sense of the phrase, let me assure you it is not. Instead, it will be a story about discovering one's own mortality at inopportune times. So let me set the stage for you: for those unfamiliar with the race, Shut-in is a lovely 18-mile jaunt up Mt. Pisgah with something on the order of 6000 feet of elevation gain (and 3000 of elevation loss). Also, the aid stations only have water. Lots of people combat this by having crews to bring them goodies, take their clothes, talk nice to them, etc., but unfortunately, my most likely crew candidate tends to be about an hour ahead of me on the trail, so as a couple, we have learned to be self-sufficient on trail. This is usually not a problem, as I'm no stranger to the 20+ mile long run with nothing but Gu, water, and the occasional deer to cheer me on, but at the ~9.5 mile mark on Saturday, I sure could have used a coffee refill. But I digress. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EmM6CTC3xAI7HYipTCwezSc6zJYaAV4GCc2UJkF0G1AiTguxz3p8mfE3gUEO9bflU0uhvlN0DIAm4XkLK6tmTw00gw0S36GONy3qF6LQbvIbhvsbrbbhdHj5JdQZGSs7q2Pq5g/s1600/311705_10150385808314222_563309221_8072074_857233073_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EmM6CTC3xAI7HYipTCwezSc6zJYaAV4GCc2UJkF0G1AiTguxz3p8mfE3gUEO9bflU0uhvlN0DIAm4XkLK6tmTw00gw0S36GONy3qF6LQbvIbhvsbrbbhdHj5JdQZGSs7q2Pq5g/s320/311705_10150385808314222_563309221_8072074_857233073_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still feeling bionic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Let's talk about the first half of the race first, because let me tell you: it was AWESOME. I felt light, lithe, and lively (I don't know if that's exactly true, but I liked the alliteration, so I'm keeping it). Alliteration, aside, I did feel something bordering on invincibility, which was great fun and led me to stupidly scamper up the first couple of hills ahead of my much smarter buddy, Nancy. The invincibility continued for the next several miles, and I actually continued to feel pretty darned awesome through the nice flat area leading up to the 9.5-mile aid station. During this stretch, I also found a very nice lady to run/talk with, and we chatted about common running acquaintances and what it was like for her to be raising two children while living on a small college campus (the short story - it's awesome). Unfortunately, as we chatted and marveled about the weather and the views, I think we sped up a wee bit, and about a mile short of the aid station, I started to get that nagging "um...I'm getting a little tired..." feeling. If I was smart, I would have let the nice lady go and downshifted just a wee bit to keep the energy outflow in check. Unfortunately, "smart" is not something I'm often called with respect to running, and I was socially invested with this woman, so I pushed on, reasoning that I would stop at the aid station, collect myself, and bid her adieu as I throttled back on the wee climb that is Ferrin Knob (about 800 vertical feet over ~1 mile). <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8q-v8BZx1FTzse4XICMv2xMAsEiqqMZa-E0dne7YcRTQKk1StDq0SXsztn1n0DGBVFcTLG3a27cQk7CKR1zKf79P6DeRT3hzx6OgTvcydsJjck4BblajTFiGvjVzIR4ED5PRPmA/s1600/PICT4145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8q-v8BZx1FTzse4XICMv2xMAsEiqqMZa-E0dne7YcRTQKk1StDq0SXsztn1n0DGBVFcTLG3a27cQk7CKR1zKf79P6DeRT3hzx6OgTvcydsJjck4BblajTFiGvjVzIR4ED5PRPmA/s320/PICT4145.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I felt like... a sad, powered off robot<br />
...made from cardboard boxes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unfortunately, it turns out that my new friend was also socially invested and wanted to climb with me, so I probably (or obviously, depending on your perspective) didn't throttle back as much as I should have... and by this point, all traces of coffee-induced superhumanity had worn off, so I was feeling like movie robots sound when someone unplugs them. Thankfully, I think my new friend sensed the imminent unraveling (or perhaps she actually heard the wheels fall off as they bounced down the mountain?) and moved on ahead as I dragged myself up to the crest of the hill and more or less spilled down the other side. During this time, the smarter friend Nancy from earlier in the story caught me and scooted on by, reminding me that she is really just an excellent runner and climber, and also much much smarter than me. Fortunately, she's also a lovely human being and did not actually call me a dumbass out loud as she passed by. The other positive thing I can say here is I did succeed in taking it easy through this section, and did find a second wind after the next aid station, meaning I was able to catch back up to and hang in there in Nancy's general proximity for the next 5 or so miles. The only other interesting note during the grind that was this section was that I tripped at one point and very nearly fell off the mountain (one leg went over the edge of a rather cliff-like dropoff, but thankfully, the rest of me fell toward the mountain and I lived to run another day). <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, one more challenge remained, and my earlier dip into energy reserves meant I didn't have much in the tank for the final 2 miles, which involve another 1000-foot gain over ~1.5 miles and then a lovely, quad-busting descent down leaf-covered rocks the size of medium-sized rottweilers. From previous hiking years, I knew going in that you could pretty much walk the entire section in 42 minutes. This was both comforting and soul-crushing as I pulled out of the last aid station, but I soldiered on with four-inch strides for the next 40-ish minutes (see?? I ran enough to finish TWO WHOLE MINUTES faster than I would have if I had just walked the whole thing!). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdkXsRQmNaZkOByYKYsIrm-iqQp1SNxNzeo8WjdCpFn_vuuv-ZAz9nE_auRqZ3WW6kf-MHVfH2eNWoTbaYtfDC1GdeuUXJzUN5EVEyPp88vMppdDJNDQ3rSz3wPOGTXKzjCqvrA/s1600/376574_10150385810269222_563309221_8072098_644473892_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdkXsRQmNaZkOByYKYsIrm-iqQp1SNxNzeo8WjdCpFn_vuuv-ZAz9nE_auRqZ3WW6kf-MHVfH2eNWoTbaYtfDC1GdeuUXJzUN5EVEyPp88vMppdDJNDQ3rSz3wPOGTXKzjCqvrA/s320/376574_10150385810269222_563309221_8072098_644473892_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember I *didn't* walk the whole thing...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
All in all, I'm not terribly happy with my time, and I'm definitely not happy with my strategy/pacing, but it was a lovely weekend to be out and about in Asheville, and at least I have some idea where I am fitness-wise (oh THAT's what tempo runs are all about...). Up next: Run at the Rock, where I seem to excel in years where there is ankle-deep mud (fingers crossed). Until then, happy trails, all!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfTC8zGfKoJOvsqb7gfJwkJLv-mPgSXqCy7Pagd9muO6C6n4wMCI8XHFuHghzv18e2BAzBWg9HzqJ6jYgxV0QgBNMAgYv2z1zAMcuXOx6c1m7Go8hSVlhueNptqAR7spg-au99Q/s1600/379871_10150385811894222_563309221_8072114_1895421437_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfTC8zGfKoJOvsqb7gfJwkJLv-mPgSXqCy7Pagd9muO6C6n4wMCI8XHFuHghzv18e2BAzBWg9HzqJ6jYgxV0QgBNMAgYv2z1zAMcuXOx6c1m7Go8hSVlhueNptqAR7spg-au99Q/s320/379871_10150385811894222_563309221_8072114_1895421437_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011 Godiva Shut-in Runners</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-21197963695665546882011-07-30T23:20:00.002-05:002011-07-31T10:40:38.534-05:00Return to the motherland...or "how to hurt yourself with what are, at first glance, really great ideas" Part IIOkay, it wasn't actually blizzarding in Steamboat - it was blizzarding on Rabbit Ears pass getting into Steamboat. Steamboat looked much more pleasant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVv2xp7V6x_lbo0qsaz75dsuuOnPKUJqCmMmnSyt0u0ylcQOP7-pYhhFbuER7lX8eAhq0wlSwabVCYYCe9zdiyILQPVksWBQRLyd8FNhL85Z4dD62Dfqx1-MMX3gn5TkC2BBjtg/s1600/255018_10150203786891945_708356944_7321988_5905743_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVv2xp7V6x_lbo0qsaz75dsuuOnPKUJqCmMmnSyt0u0ylcQOP7-pYhhFbuER7lX8eAhq0wlSwabVCYYCe9zdiyILQPVksWBQRLyd8FNhL85Z4dD62Dfqx1-MMX3gn5TkC2BBjtg/s320/255018_10150203786891945_708356944_7321988_5905743_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It turns out that was only the beginning of the pleasantness. In true motherland fashion, it was roughly 75 and sunny every day we were there. We ran on beautiful trails, up mountains, around waterfalls, through unicorn nests, etc. for an entire week. It really was an incredible week, as we were able to spend it with an assortment of our best friends from a variety of stages of our lives, but as gushing isn't funny, I'll leave that segment of the trip at that. On the funny side, we were inspired by Josh and Becca, who are fancy and buy art when they go on vacation so they have something to commemorate the trip, and bought a moose carved out of a log by some guy with a chainsaw... because we're klassy like that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCv1fkenSjm-qKrVzznSj06b-oTjCj8zv2f8yINqjc9Mo8ObxF5JwfkqBJOw-EmF-dJSvcOFO1V6qG7ptIeXe1n3ZTSaWVWFWoggBvDadERAEviEYy4L8wh_M4KMIy_MSnfDSVQ/s1600/cc5927742e3a87cebe7bd4852847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCv1fkenSjm-qKrVzznSj06b-oTjCj8zv2f8yINqjc9Mo8ObxF5JwfkqBJOw-EmF-dJSvcOFO1V6qG7ptIeXe1n3ZTSaWVWFWoggBvDadERAEviEYy4L8wh_M4KMIy_MSnfDSVQ/s320/cc5927742e3a87cebe7bd4852847.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pretend this is a moose. and not holding a welcome sign. <br />
yes, i'm too lazy to go upstairs and take a picture of the real moose. <br />
and also too lazy to use capital letters.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On packet pickup day, we walked to the 'expo' venue and picked up our stuff. We also met the Honey Stinger guy, who was to become our new best friend. We ran into him approximately 14 times over the next 48 hours and will be working with him for the Umstead marathon next year. So if nothing else positive came from this whole trip, the marathon got a gel sponsor. We also figured out that the bus pickup on race morning was about 3 blocks from our house and the race finish was about 1.5 blocks. Talk about random dumb luck (okay - Steamboat's not that big, but seriously - 1.5 blocks??? That's some serious serendipity there.) Once we had our packets, we scoped out the rest of the expo, which consisted of our Honey Stinger friend, some guy peddling some sort of oxygenated water (??), a new recovery drink, and a tent outside from a local running store. The water guy warrants additional mention because was all sorts of happy to talk your ear off and had a table full of his fancy water, but I'll be darned if I saw him give away a single sample. He seemed weirdly protective of his stash. Or maybe didn't want to give the whole field an advantage??? If you listened to him, you would be convinced that you would pretty much sprout wings and fly to the finish of the race if you drank his miracle water, which, as far as I could tell, was filtered a million ways and then had oxygen bubbled through it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqkdrX_0m4kLhRXxH7GoqLI-mityYHUjLvRIiIY9Pa63m31O46yz14TvEazQpGpsCIIibypmLI0tHOG-dmPksyP4j_IDV2Z45AJIxKkK9mo9ebGTSJiWUac6E9X-a12GZoFbB_w/s1600/82907-512-018f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqkdrX_0m4kLhRXxH7GoqLI-mityYHUjLvRIiIY9Pa63m31O46yz14TvEazQpGpsCIIibypmLI0tHOG-dmPksyP4j_IDV2Z45AJIxKkK9mo9ebGTSJiWUac6E9X-a12GZoFbB_w/s320/82907-512-018f.jpg" width="213" /></a>So race day finally arrived and our house full of assorted friends began to ready ourselves for what looked on the published course profile as a<a href="http://www.steamboat-chamber.com/SBCCAssets/files/main/Marathon09_full_marathon_map.pdf"> run off a cliff</a>. This included a 300-mile bus ride to a lovely little outpost in southern Idaho, where some weirdo was maniacally peeing on a wagon wheel while holding a thermometer.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBtSxJ30b79jj_VDSNksM1tUr56LwQN1YYpIVSAu9Yi100JczmBLtiNVjETs9Dsm4OBTK-nJ_7mbtKQIxCqqIXWZXTeFY83YpKlIZYK6pgSSwAqaBDjExfsEig5OR5Pt77Sno8A/s1600/82907-492-021f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBtSxJ30b79jj_VDSNksM1tUr56LwQN1YYpIVSAu9Yi100JczmBLtiNVjETs9Dsm4OBTK-nJ_7mbtKQIxCqqIXWZXTeFY83YpKlIZYK6pgSSwAqaBDjExfsEig5OR5Pt77Sno8A/s320/82907-492-021f.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This actually isn't even the start - I have no idea why they <br />
have this in my official race photo set</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At about 7:15, we were instructed to put all our drop bags on a bus, which then cruelly drove off down the road, leaving us half naked in the cold morning air, waiting to initiate the destruction of our quads. (did I mention we were to be running off a cliff??)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1IfVgW3Uf08wufjBIfyKEzURngmj9Ng4_5CY72PNqcfVUJ9F4l1BC9JDrfL6Z5i33plsfzVhA04Vm2S427G9gRNsWYnnk4M5xj9AKILp7h555tKuPuk_xin2Vaqbv_xxPckp_g/s1600/82907-539-029f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1IfVgW3Uf08wufjBIfyKEzURngmj9Ng4_5CY72PNqcfVUJ9F4l1BC9JDrfL6Z5i33plsfzVhA04Vm2S427G9gRNsWYnnk4M5xj9AKILp7h555tKuPuk_xin2Vaqbv_xxPckp_g/s320/82907-539-029f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As we made our way through the early miles of the race, I realized two things: 1) I was not in marathon shape and was relying on inborn talent that did not exist, and 2) the apparent cliff in the race profile had masked some not entirely insignificant uphills. Regardless, I was making not entirely embarrassing progress through about mile 15 when the somewhat annoying 'something's not quite right' feeling in my left foot turned into what felt like a cherry bomb exploding in the vicinity of my second toe inside my shoe. I stopped momentarily to determine if I had stepped funny and just fired off a weird nerve impulse or if I had done something dramatic, convinced myself it must have been the former, and loped off down the road, a little slower than before, but still making forward progress.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIuTGVPVvsD7bhmNGEx7UrXMVM75RyYIkFf2zQHiPJPBVL-UJaMEZVPSr1fPyMhqacWX1ooHZ6rPuSIo55c0SFIhxApDJDhp5s2P25rfBxaZSJlkuAin-VcfJArLF8TMISbdNpg/s1600/82907-686-002f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIuTGVPVvsD7bhmNGEx7UrXMVM75RyYIkFf2zQHiPJPBVL-UJaMEZVPSr1fPyMhqacWX1ooHZ6rPuSIo55c0SFIhxApDJDhp5s2P25rfBxaZSJlkuAin-VcfJArLF8TMISbdNpg/s320/82907-686-002f.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">forward progress...sort of</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I reached the aid station at mile 17-ish, I stopped for some stinger chews and gatorade, and as I tried to start off again, it became abundantly clear that this was not going to be a possibility. I literally could not run, and even walking was causing intense pain in the region of the toe that I was pretty sure at this point had actually exploded in my shoe. So there I sat, 100 yards from the aid station, wondering if I was actually going to have to settle for my very first DNF. The very strong argument against such a thing was "You CAN'T DNF. YOU brought all these people here. How much of a tool would you be if you didn't finish???" The possibility was just too much to bear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6u3LA8cXctHbN1MkYUZanRrlEBEhBuVJdQeqAwMA_lo4XJRf_VflwpwOs0DubkcYS6e_N_7Zff82WnjBk9D-BjMMsC6a18rk2K38J4nUyKScvOGS9lUIkX7TXA_xXZwInGZ4Rbg/s1600/82907-687-034f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6u3LA8cXctHbN1MkYUZanRrlEBEhBuVJdQeqAwMA_lo4XJRf_VflwpwOs0DubkcYS6e_N_7Zff82WnjBk9D-BjMMsC6a18rk2K38J4nUyKScvOGS9lUIkX7TXA_xXZwInGZ4Rbg/s320/82907-687-034f.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my new slower pace allowed me to <br />
fully enjoy the scenery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So I sat down by the side of the road and took off my left shoe to assess the situation more fully. I found that my toe was already turning a different color and my foot was a different size and shape than it was when I started (the downside). The upside, however, was that it didn't hurt nearly as much now that my evil shoe was out of the picture. So there I was on the side of the road, performing some quick calculations to determine whether I had time to walk the last 9 miles in before the cutoff. After determining that I did if I kept myself under ~18 min miles, I headed onward, barefoot, aiming to reassess at the next aid station (which was 2.5 miles down the road). I met a number of very nice individuals this way, including a bike monitor who checked up on me periodically for the next 4 miles and a police officer who drove by twice, trying to convince me I should just take a ride back to the finish.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibcB4-bNX4wR9zxmp3MPWY-rtVF8gI28JrMtblr9IQ2fqe5R5-Hq0vKiPuV63ytjexUxOdRSMQQNo9y8yBrKbTMdx0kPfKVrqesxbeHIFr3SnHxTHyDWyn87ifpOhICwhnL2rQlw/s1600/82907-737-031f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibcB4-bNX4wR9zxmp3MPWY-rtVF8gI28JrMtblr9IQ2fqe5R5-Hq0vKiPuV63ytjexUxOdRSMQQNo9y8yBrKbTMdx0kPfKVrqesxbeHIFr3SnHxTHyDWyn87ifpOhICwhnL2rQlw/s320/82907-737-031f.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">you can tell I'm excited because you can see <br />
my belly button</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unfortunately, something about the way I walk and the status of the pavement caused me to develop ~2 inch blisters on the backs of both heels after about two miles, and I was forced to put my shoes back on. Luckily, the fresh air had done my toe some good, and it was content to hang out inside the shoe as long as I didn't try to run anymore. So that's how I finished out the race. Clipping off 15-minute miles, taking in the scenery (which, to be fair, was quite lovely, and I probably would not have enjoyed as much had I been attempting to race back into town). Luckily, my friends fared much better, with Ronnie running a solid 3:06, Jim close behind at 3:11, Becca taking 2nd female overall, and everyone else turning in reasonable performances. Except maybe Josh, who also apparently had some special moments of his own out on the course, but now has empirical evidence that you do need to train for more than 7 days if you want to run a good marathon.<br />
<br />
So all in all, toe-sposion aside, I would call it a successful trip - we learned some things, we had some good times, and I can now cross Colorado off my states list if I ever decide to get into that sort of thing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...for those who are interested, we never did figure out exactly what was up with my toe (after ruling out a clear break and determining the course of treatment would be pretty much the same regardless, we decided to forego additional imaging), but I got to spend 2 weeks in a super sexy surgical shoe, and avoided horsefly season at Umstead almost entirely with the minor caveat that I then got to spend most of July learning how to run again. Oh. And I am taking this as a sign that my body had totally rejected roads as a running option. No big loss there.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvydPb2LYHE2NN3AKWv0yi7XdoPrsw3-P9kwS7YYNAWa1FtGmzMJWD5GCcmOQPdr1OrNDVq682BfXswX7nMV4F9R291FrzJvxR00Ef1oqUuSIpfFnJjjoTx8ksUb5xDKDkidpFg/s1600/82907_front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvydPb2LYHE2NN3AKWv0yi7XdoPrsw3-P9kwS7YYNAWa1FtGmzMJWD5GCcmOQPdr1OrNDVq682BfXswX7nMV4F9R291FrzJvxR00Ef1oqUuSIpfFnJjjoTx8ksUb5xDKDkidpFg/s1600/82907_front.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure this guy beat me</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-64288930194863922992011-07-30T22:11:00.002-05:002011-07-30T22:15:18.404-05:00Return to the motherland...or "how to hurt yourself with what are, at first glance, really great ideas" Part ILet me just preface this story by saying it's all Doug's fault. Doug is generally my default scapegoat as a result of a particularly insidious combination of years of misguided race selection and uncanny powers of persuasion (or perhaps just really malleable friends?). In this particular instance, however, I have documented proof that it really is Doug's fault - if not completely, at least mostly. Without him, none of this would have happened.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>So the story begins sometime late last year with an IM from Doug saying something to the effect of "would it be stupid of me to do this?" followed by a link to the Steamboat Marathon. "Probably." Was my reply. This is generally my automatic reply to such queries. However, I followed the link and noticed that the race date was June 5, which, after a quick cross-check to confirm the date of Memorial day this year, placed it slightly less than one week after my annual pilgrimage to Colorado for my favorite race in the whole world (and that's saying a lot given my feelings about <a href="http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2011/02/uwharrie-40-miler.html">Uwharrie</a>), the Bolder Boulder. So now that I've actually typed those words, I have to pause and pay homage the the holy grail of 10Ks. Okay, I paid so much homage, it turned into a <a href="http://cotrailrunnernc.blogspot.com/2011/07/bolder-boulder-why-memorial-day-really.html">separate post</a>. Back to the task at hand.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.steamboatpilot.com/img/photos/2008/06/01/marathon_4_6-2_t620.jpg?fbf2daa044e08a86b24c9c38cd7501865a0e2373" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://media.steamboatpilot.com/img/photos/2008/06/01/marathon_4_6-2_t620.jpg?fbf2daa044e08a86b24c9c38cd7501865a0e2373" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't these people look happy and injury-free?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
So anyway, as I am always looking for an excuse to spend more time in CO and the race website had pretty mountain pictures on it, the wheels started a-turnin' in my head. The quest then began to convince Ronnie that we should a) honeymoon in CO, and b) that it would be awesome if Doug came with. For those who don't know us that well, this may seem super weird, but for those who do, you know that Doug is an integral part of our running adventures, and that NOT having Doug along would be even weirder. To ease the confusion of who was going to sleep where (Doug and Ronnie have probably shared a tent more times than Ronnie and I have), we suggested Doug bring his girlfried Erin. We also invited ~10 other people to share the week with us so we could rent an unnecessarily large house in downtown Steamboat.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://imagesth.cyberrentals.com/Images/AHQ/7049270/13_320x240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://imagesth.cyberrentals.com/Images/AHQ/7049270/13_320x240.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hooray for off-season rates!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
I had been planning to only run the half marathon because I was a little dubious about my ability to bounce back from Boston and then train effectively in the weeks leading up to the wedding, but somewhere along the way, Jim managed to convince me that I should run the full because "what if the pretty part is at the top?" So I did what anyone would do - registered for the full and then convinced everyone else to also register for the full. Peer pressure has an awesome snowball effect - we even managed to convince Becca, who had no intention of running period, let alone running a full marathon, to run the full. So now we had a plan. All we had to do at that point was get married and train.<br />
<br />
As is usually the case in my life, I found that I was a little overcommitted with the above plan, so I downgraded to 'get married and rely on inborn talent and a penchant for doing stupid running-related things'. Joining me in the second half of that plan was our friend Josh, who was trying out the new 7-day marathon training program in the week leading up to the race (you start with a 10k and work your way up to the marathon 7 days later).<br />
<br />
Once we had the married part out of the way, a good chunk of the crew assembled in CO for phase one of our trip: the Bolder Boulder. Because we were of varying abilities (and had varying levels of qualifying times available ... oh and a distinct lack of organization), we were pretty much all in different waves. Ronnie and I had initially planned to run in our wedding clothes (and he was going to drop back to my wave), but alas, it was about 50 degrees the morning of the race, and I deemed it a tad chilly for my wedding dress. The minute I bailed on the formalwear, he bailed on me in favor of running with Jim (makes a girl wonder what happens if she gets fat??). So I was left alone in Wave C with just my thoughts and some guy dressed up as a banana.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7Aa-U7y-yM4HMebLRgaiQ3d4POlgRDw1ZpVEn1Ruz8ERxj0MunhEyLj3R4wJ3uQXVKGdpGfv0l7CPYiYC5jSfHHbWM2fd1Q61Emz5LBM54iwkpHowTSUtIUu0w5vlPC0IC_AkQ/s1600/79529-4299-024f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7Aa-U7y-yM4HMebLRgaiQ3d4POlgRDw1ZpVEn1Ruz8ERxj0MunhEyLj3R4wJ3uQXVKGdpGfv0l7CPYiYC5jSfHHbWM2fd1Q61Emz5LBM54iwkpHowTSUtIUu0w5vlPC0IC_AkQ/s320/79529-4299-024f.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">slip n' slide induced race number attachment failure</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My strategy this year was 'you're running a marathon in 6 days - try not to break anything', which seemed vaguely attainable, though I have blown out an achilles tendon at this race, so not entirely in the bag. One thing contributing positively to the goal is they changed the course this year (don't get me started on how this messed with my flow), removing the .75 mile downhill that used to start the race. The downside: you lose the .75 mile downhill and now start at the lowest point on the course. The upside: you do not lead out with a 6:00 mile (while this may seem reasonable to some of you, this is totally unsustainable for me - yes, I know from personal experience). The other downside: I apparently have some sort of muscle memory of there being two miles of uphill in the first half, which I was now burning through in miles 1 and 2 instead of 2 and 3. Thus, when I got to mile 3, my body was much dismayed despite my feeling that I was running at a totally reasonable pace. Fortunately, I spied an improvised slip n' slide to my right, which brought my body and soul back into balance, and made my clothes and shoes very heavy.<br />
<br />
Just as that was resolving itself, I spied ANOTHER slip n' slide. "Wow!" I thought to myself, "I have a golden opportunity here to set a Bolder Boulder slip n' slide PR!" (a speed PR was WAY out of the question). So I did. And ripped my number. Which I then had to hold with my hand as I was finishing so they would let me make the turn into the stadium and finish. Totally worth it, though. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglaGnL5edf9ROgV9ocE4xzGyL3fZTVntOAbHPFOcKLU3QODCK02i-BgcyIT1199ja34gKVteNHUdKzucL2P-GHIItQo7b0l6KyvN_ggml64IaIGDzyv_PvGDoAhtW7UvbE5SVuWQ/s1600/247222_10150203786761945_708356944_7321985_2732436_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglaGnL5edf9ROgV9ocE4xzGyL3fZTVntOAbHPFOcKLU3QODCK02i-BgcyIT1199ja34gKVteNHUdKzucL2P-GHIItQo7b0l6KyvN_ggml64IaIGDzyv_PvGDoAhtW7UvbE5SVuWQ/s320/247222_10150203786761945_708356944_7321985_2732436_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9VG9lhvZsc4ItBPveICfQ3l6HL_h1sG11u4PHkGIIOvhi_r5FKf23eJycdUh8448crmyNjhD9dMifA_w7l-56LbkEHU5OZKf9B-Luqc0pnBmZ0CZ-5Q2LHi57rcNn1yjuAzl0g/s1600/255112_10150203786786945_708356944_7321986_623881_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9VG9lhvZsc4ItBPveICfQ3l6HL_h1sG11u4PHkGIIOvhi_r5FKf23eJycdUh8448crmyNjhD9dMifA_w7l-56LbkEHU5OZKf9B-Luqc0pnBmZ0CZ-5Q2LHi57rcNn1yjuAzl0g/s320/255112_10150203786786945_708356944_7321986_623881_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Then we left Boulder to make our way to Steamboat Springs. ...where it was blizzarding.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-29089567836260455592011-07-11T12:56:00.002-05:002011-07-11T13:00:39.330-05:00The Bolder Boulder - why Memorial Day really IS my favorite holiday<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Seriously. If you haven't run this race, you need to. Not because the course is particularly inspiring (you do get 6 miles of Flatirons views and a nice little tour of Boulder, but I've run far more scenic courses), not for the challenge (it is a net uphill now, but it's nothing that compares to most of the hills we run every week at Umstead), not because you hate oxygen (though it IS a crutch), and not because you think you might win (you won't). You should run this race because the whole <i style="font-weight: bold;">experience</i> of the race is something you won't get anywhere else. There are bands along the course, ranging from people you might actually see at a legit music venue to some random family band (not quite the Partridge Family), there are belly dancers, there are more people in tutus than you would expect, there are multiple opportunities to stop for a beer, there are runners and spectators in costume, there are people holding signs to make you laugh (my favorite was during a drought year that read "Are you all sweaty yet? If so, please roll around on my lawn - it needs water"), and most importantly, there are <b>SLIP N' SLIDES! </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3353/3563319267_f2cc78849e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3353/3563319267_f2cc78849e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.summit-sandwiches.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/DSCF1573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.summit-sandwiches.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/DSCF1573.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The epitome of Bolder Boulder-ness: a girl in a tutu epic failing at the slip n' slide</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
The whole town really stops what they are doing the morning of Memorial Day (the roads are all closed for the race anyway), and comes out to watch 50,000 plus people run through the streets of Boulder. The energy is nothing short of amazing. <br />
<br />
That's just the beginning, though. Once you finish, you can line up for a 15-minute massage from students at the Boulder School for Massage Therapy (I've never been disappointed), grab your lunch bag, which generally contains one or more varieties of granola, a selection of new health food-y snacks (some of which look, and taste, suspiciously like something you raked up during leaf season in your yard), a random piece of fruit, some soymilk, and something that approximates a dessert. and beer...well, beer-ish (Michelob Ultra). You can get your very own Michelob Ultra and drink it before 8AM, which is a nice throwback to the ol' college days (note to readers: I'm pretty sure this is rhetoric as I don't think I ever actually drank beer before 8AM in college...possibly because I would never have been awake at that hour... but I digress). ...Or you can do like me and skip the beer and opt, instead, for two Sierra Mists. I don't know why I do this. I don't actually like Sierra Mist that much, but I guess I feel like I should get two cans of <i>something</i> for my efforts. Regardless of the reason, I do this every year.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Once you have retrieved your lunch, you can do like half the participants and meet your friends "at the buffalo". Anyone familiar with campus knows this is a stupid idea - everyone meets at the buffalo. It's the most obvious landmark in the area of Folsom field. It, however, and your friends, will be obscured by the other 20,000 people who decided to 'meet at the buffalo'. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2303/2380753020_2656b201b3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2303/2380753020_2656b201b3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the buffalo - you will not be able to see it on race day through the throngs of people.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>You know where you can meet your friends, though? At the mailboxes across from the buffalo. Or at the atomic clock across from the buffalo. Just sayin'. If you want to meet MY friends, we all collect in section 107 sometime after hitting the expo to watch the Memorial Day festivities and the elite race. <br />
<br />
Ah yes, the expo. The Bolder Boulder expo is truly something to behold. There are two must sees at the BB expo: 1) the Dryer's/Häagen-Dazs booth - they always have something yummy and full-sized they are giving away, and 2) whoever is giving away bags - you will need this bag to carry all the other crap you absolutely <i>must </i>have (but will never use) at the expo. There are also a variety of other booths giving away things like soup, breakfast burritos, sports drinks, dairy and non-dairy milk, race info, vegan dog treats (it IS Boulder, after all), etc. There are also opportunities to buy things like the Bolder Boulder line of clothing proclaiming that "Sea Level is for Sissies", which always makes me laugh.<br />
<br />
Once you have expo'd your heart out, you travel back into the stadium to watch the rest of the finishers. Highlights include the Marines, who assemble and do a bunch of push-ups before they finish, a handful of people dressed up as Waldo (Where's Waldo?), and a variety of other nutters in costume. In 2001, the Stanley Cup ran the Bolder Boulder (yes, I saw it - it's shiny and dented).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The final events of the day come in ever-changing order, but consist of three can't-miss events: the Memorial Day Tribute (complete with skydivers!!!), the men's elite race (complete with Kenyans and Ethiopians), and the women's elite race (also complete with Kenyans and Ethiopians). The elite races in the past couple of years have drawn such greats as Meb Keflezighi, Adam Goucher, Dathan Ritzenhein, the Torres brothers, Alan Culpepper, Ryan Hall, Deena Kastor, Elva Dryer, Uta Pippig, Magdalena Lewy Boulet, Sarah Slattery, and others that I can't remember offhand. With advances in technology, you don't even have to fashion some elaborate plan to run crazy across Boulder to catch them at a couple of locations. Yes, you can now sit comfortably in the stadium, drink your 'beer' (if you didn't get to it before 8), eat your sticks and leaves, and watch these folks cover the same course you did in half the time!! If you find this upsetting, a) you are doing it wrong, but b) you can take solace in the fact that THEY did not get a beer and a popsicle before 8AM, so at least you have that going for you....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The Memorial Day tribute is also truly magical, with skydivers coming in to the fight songs of each branch of the military, culminating in the final skydiver coming in with the American flag to the tune "Proud To Be An American" and a fighter jet flyover. Say what you want about our country, it's hard not to be patriotic when you're honoring our vets in such fashion.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After the conclusion of the festivities, you make your way back through the streets of Boulder, perhaps on the Boulder Creek path, to whatever the rest of the day holds for you, feeling, if nothing else, like you've accomplished something for the day, and looking forward to doing it all again next year.<br />
<br />
</div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-7949651895278420952011-07-10T10:02:00.000-05:002011-07-10T10:02:12.617-05:00We got married... a month and a half ago...I am so behind on this writing thing... So yes, Ronnie and I are married. It ended up being a fantastic day with a little bit of adventure thrown in for good measure. <br />
<br />
<b>Adventure #1: The unexpected closure of THREE LANES of I-40 the morning of the wedding.</b> I say this was unexpected, but this is not entirely true. In fact, one of the wedding guests absolutely expected this because he is the PR director for the NC Dept. of Transportation. ...and the widening of I-40 is one of his projects. So HE, of course, knew to leave early for the event and showed up with plenty of time to spare. HE, of course, did not share his information with us, so most of our guests were not as well prepared. Ah well - weddings never start on time, anyway, do they? Luckily, our friend Deb had thoughtfully provided the BEST wedding favor ever - FLYSWATTERS (just in case horsefly season started early in the park this year). SO the people who were on time were able to entertain themselves by beating on each other with flyswatters until the rest of the guests (including our families) arrived.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyfQ8YI8mqYEBPtTF3KNRq3ICZYIKZXnYW2yzUUYnjxTzEk51N-Nd9I5_E_MONQGgrjFvyfGPvBFpvmuFuepgGT34HyftY_gpju7z5yRQu5y_5f4_KVbASOoSMOYFOsQoFyJ73Q/s1600/250325_10150199834810900_801630899_6732469_2908605_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyfQ8YI8mqYEBPtTF3KNRq3ICZYIKZXnYW2yzUUYnjxTzEk51N-Nd9I5_E_MONQGgrjFvyfGPvBFpvmuFuepgGT34HyftY_gpju7z5yRQu5y_5f4_KVbASOoSMOYFOsQoFyJ73Q/s320/250325_10150199834810900_801630899_6732469_2908605_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b>Adventure #2: Don't use your GPS to get to Umstead</b>. As the guests continued to trickle in, we received a call from our friends who had travelled something like 3000 miles from Seattle to attend our shindig. They had GPS-ed themselves to the other side of the park despite the instructions posted on the website and the ones we had provided verbally the night before. They had figured out that there wasn't time to drive around (see Adventure #1 above), so they were trying to run through the park to get there. Unfortunately, they were still 3.5 miles out. We made the executive decision that we probably shouldn't hold up a 2 min ceremony (no kidding - 2 min) for 30 more minutes and risk a mutiny as the buffet was consumed by other park patrons, so we went ahead with the intention of meeting said friends on our way out for the post-nuptials run.<br />
<br />
<b>Adventure #3: How does one start a wedding??</b> As we had exactly zero plans for how to get the actual ceremony started (or who would walk in where and when), we hastily threw something together and knew it was time to walk when our friend Heiko started playing the processional music: an instrumental version of "The Final Countdown" by Europe. So we walked in, had a wedding, and then milled around for a bit trying to figure out how to get to the next phase.<br />
Luckily, our friend Shawn helped with that, giving us souvenirs that would allow people to find us as we trotted down the hill toward the trail.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1zkM3TYuD7CxZiwB_bw9c69MZgkf8NAFMTjJ3GEBvJguPF8_DldKelToW_PjEgQIPf_Ax3eUhlu9mVXAYxUraKsRU4d5MlUJj2AtW-eFBldNRifiYtgRfBMpsoeMtjFQKeATRg/s1600/248615_10150199837420900_801630899_6732529_6241413_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1zkM3TYuD7CxZiwB_bw9c69MZgkf8NAFMTjJ3GEBvJguPF8_DldKelToW_PjEgQIPf_Ax3eUhlu9mVXAYxUraKsRU4d5MlUJj2AtW-eFBldNRifiYtgRfBMpsoeMtjFQKeATRg/s320/248615_10150199837420900_801630899_6732529_6241413_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Upon returning from our little jaunt around the park, we discovered that the non-running guests had grown tired of waiting for us and had, for the most part, left, taking many of the awesome looking strawberries with them in their bellies. Fortunately, they left enough shrimp n' grits and killer breakfast sammiches to keep us happy, and we knew we would be seeing them again at the reception, so all was well.<br />
<br />
This brought us to <b>Adventure #4: will 80-100 people actually fit in our yard?</b> The answer was yes - they fit beautifully. ...as did the tent (*whew*). So we had a lovely afternoon with some amazing food (bleu cheese deviled eggs? Sure I'll have another...or 4 more) and an absolutely lovely mixture of friends and family getting to know each other. Who knew that my sister would have the same music tastes as our friend Jim?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hbNY8LISV0dW0YIhJ6lewXNCU6DkliUtf8GoDFNIW2ugxQYJlvsxrLmhmPTk88jR4u8Ou3Gqcok5lDUeesmpfygj_WA7OeTffhAmur6Hl28S1yDhkNhkh57eYab7yGLSICKO6Q/s1600/243903_10150320462434937_653979936_9726479_4929753_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hbNY8LISV0dW0YIhJ6lewXNCU6DkliUtf8GoDFNIW2ugxQYJlvsxrLmhmPTk88jR4u8Ou3Gqcok5lDUeesmpfygj_WA7OeTffhAmur6Hl28S1yDhkNhkh57eYab7yGLSICKO6Q/s320/243903_10150320462434937_653979936_9726479_4929753_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
..and so ended our wedding day... a most fantastic day for us, with many thanks and much love to all who were able to attend. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpE9zsOaa8eh_1_nsRX5FmGFh5APQPs6pKEamB2nJP1tiuoAMKDxTIeqbW21W0MYHsFW1ZwT_UAY2t2tCPye8WBGABn5gkeQ11HUlDKdOXiRS7fRkI3UaGRcmqwl7vxkVaYVfeCg/s1600/240036_10150320459999937_653979936_9726450_4570769_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpE9zsOaa8eh_1_nsRX5FmGFh5APQPs6pKEamB2nJP1tiuoAMKDxTIeqbW21W0MYHsFW1ZwT_UAY2t2tCPye8WBGABn5gkeQ11HUlDKdOXiRS7fRkI3UaGRcmqwl7vxkVaYVfeCg/s320/240036_10150320459999937_653979936_9726450_4570769_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Including Leonard, who oversaw much of the reception.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-4274938373150050672011-06-07T20:56:00.000-05:002011-06-07T20:56:09.147-05:00Boston - part IV (post-race)<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I found Shawn stretching just past the finish line, so I grabbed him and we shuffled with the other cattle toward the finisher’s medals and food and whatnot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was easily the most unpleasant part of the race for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I felt increasingly crammed in, I became increasingly irritated, to the point where I stepped out of the line to just breathe and not be around people for a minute (most heartfelt apologies to Shawn for the crankiness).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We shuffled slowly past the medal people, the space blanket people, the random nasty Gatorade recovery drink people, the bagel people, and into the throng of stinky runners trying to get their drop bags off the buses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This took approximately 16 hours as far as I can tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, it was not a problem because the Harris family was also having trouble getting to the designated meeting spot due to ALL THE FRICKING PEOPLE AROUND!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we finally did reunite, we determined it probably just made the most sense for Ronnie and I to just take the T directly to the airport and enjoy the ‘ho bath’ facilities in the terminal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we walked to a T station that looked slightly less crowded and parted ways with Shawn and Mina, setting our course toward a reunion of other members of the Durm crew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pity the other people on the flight, as there were at least 20 of us who had run that day, and I’m pretty sure a good number of us had not showered after the fact.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A couple of weeks after the race, the official pictures were posted and our official finisher’s certificates arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was super amused to discover that, despite running together for 19 miles, there are NO pictures of Shawn and I together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shawn also astutely noted that he finished in the bottom 40-50% of finishers overall, for his age group, and for his gender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I checked my certificate and discovered I had done pretty much the same, and immediately pronounced us the bottom of the cream of the crop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…which, I guess, isn’t that bad when you think about it…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so ends my Boston experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was kinda fun, but probably not worth the hassle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shout outs to Jason, though, for being the first NC finisher, and Ken, for probably getting more black toenails than anyone else on the course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…and to the other Karen running near me for a good 5 miles – your fans became my fans, which was kinda fun <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-67883448698821678152011-06-07T20:51:00.002-05:002011-06-07T20:51:25.091-05:00Boston - part III (THE race)<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">The start was pretty uneventful – Shawn came back to my corral, and we started with a girl wearing a Grinnell shirt – I swear I am to be haunted by that stupid school forever…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We staunchly refused to run until we hit the starting line, so Shawn and I power walked up the hill to the start, discussing our pacing strategy (he wanted negative splits, I wanted something in the 8:20-8:40 range… these were likely to be mutually exclusive goals).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then we were off!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first several miles of the race were pretty uneventful: my pacing strategy won out, but we were running pretty comfortably and I was enjoying the sights of all the little MA towns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One very sad note, though, is I ended up ditching my pink lost and found shirt about 2 miles in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about tying it around my waist, but determined that would be really annoying for 24 miles, and reasoned that it was a found shirt anyway, so this would just be a continuation of the circle of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That being said, I miss that shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a great shirt.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Around mile 7 we saw Shawn’s family for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shawn was so excited, he literally shoved me out of the way to go high-five them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, that’s right – I’m putting that out there in public.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, I wasn’t injured and was able to also nab a few high fives in the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also high-fived about 800 little kids over the course of the race because a) it was kinda fun, and b) it distracted me from the fact that the course has approximately no turns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shawn distracted himself by running wildly back and forth across the road looking for soft surfaces to run on (“Do you think it’s okay to run behind all the spectators if there’s a worn path in the grass?” “Um. Maybe? ..but it seems kinda weird”)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Around mile 9 some guy stepped up to the curb and yelled “Who wants a Fig Newton?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized at that moment that I ABSOLUTELY wanted a Fig Newton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, there was nothing I wanted more than a Fig Newton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…except maybe for that licorice that kid is handing out over there…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I grabbed both and trotted along with my Fig Newton and my licorice, wishing there was a race photographer to document how seriously I was taking this endeavor.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Somewhere in the 11-ish range, we came upon Leigh Ann, who was recovering from an injury earlier in the spring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We picked her up and headed toward the shrieking up ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What they say is true: it is absolutely the most amazing noise, and you will probably never hear something like it again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Running through the aisle formed by girls holding signs saying “Kiss me, I’m xxxx”, was truly awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ran along high-fiving the girls as upper-middle-aged men dodged in to grab kisses and then back out looking immensely pleased with themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It occurred to me at that point, that based on qualifying times, we were running mostly with upper-middle-aged men and young women, which was an interesting combination as we faced this section of the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, I spotted a girl holding a sign saying “Kiss me, I’m from Boulder, CO!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s my girl!” I thought, so I dodged over, planted a kiss on her cheek, and dodged back out feeling immensely pleased with myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The stretch between Wellesley and Newton was pretty uneventful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leigh Ann dropped back and I think we got to turn somewhere (or maybe the road just bent?), but otherwise, we mostly just chugged along, making our way to the hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all honesty, the hills really aren’t that big, but as noted many times before, they do come at a time that just makes them kind of a pain in the ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, I really feel like the first hill was worse than the famed Heartbreak hill, but maybe that’s just me, and maybe it’s because I wasn’t expecting that first one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…and maybe it’s because I stopped to refill my water bottle in the middle and sent Shawn ahead, so I was a) a little bit rested, and b) probably a little bit of a slacker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, I made it through the hills without incident, though I did walk the water bottle aid station not so much because I was tired, but more because I was sick of running with the exact same stride in the exact same direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking was a nice change of pace (HA!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get it???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pace???).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The back side of Heartbreak was amusing, as apparently nobody told half the pack that the finish was not at mile 22.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People literally went sprinting by me down the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppose its possible that they had all saved up for a 5-mile kick, but the carnage I saw walking/sitting/stretching by the side of the road miles 23-26 leads me to believe this was not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hit mile 23 and thought “Gosh – if you had run here as fast as you did at Des Moines, you would be almost done.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stupid slacking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though, to be fair, I don’t know that I was really in the same shape as I had been in October – like I said previously, the mileage was there, but the speed was lacking.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So I motored into Boston, noting the guy in the singlet who was already on the train BACK OUT OF TOWN, and consoling myself by noting that he had probably been in the first wave, which had a 20 minute head start on me (yeah – THAT’S the reason…).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The finish was uneventful – I caught the girl I had decided in Newton shouldn’t beat me, so that was good, and I cruised in 5 min under my arbitrarily set goal time of 4 hrs, so I felt reasonably good about the affair. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then clusterf*ck #2.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-75032612438214755702011-06-07T20:50:00.002-05:002011-06-07T20:50:49.127-05:00Boston - part II (pre-race)<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Okay, so now that I’m on a plane heading for the next adventure, I will finally address Boston.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been on my mind lately because last weekend I had the chance to see a whole bunch of people that I may not have run across in the last month, so the question “How was Boston?” came up several times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My answer varied in the specifics, but the gist was always the same: it was fine – I’m glad I did it, I think I generally had fun, but I can’t say that I have any burning desire to go back and do it again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, if a bunch of people were going and wanted to spend a couple days in Boston, I could probably be talked into it, but I won’t be leading that brigade.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my esteemed opinion, Boston can best be described as two clusterf*cks with a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>longass straight run in the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no points in the whole ordeal, aside from maybe the expo, that are designed to handle 27,000 people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not to say that the folks running the show don’t do a good job with what they have, but they can only do so much with tiny New England towns and a downtown area that was constructed before the era of big cars (read: the finish area is bounded on all sides by tiny narrow roads).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As noted previously, we escaped much of clusterf*ck A by staying with Shawn’s amazingly generous brother and sister-in-law, who got up and drove us to Hopkington so we could avoid the pre-dawn bus ride from the city and the 3-hour wait in the field/parking lot up the hill from the start. I was particularly pleased with my ensemble: brooks hat, original green horsefly umstead shirt, pink long-sleeved zippy lost and found shirt, black half tights, and awesome rainbow leg warmers created by cutting the feet off awesome rainbow socks from Target.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…and a garbage bag…because it was really windy and we had to part with our warmups quite a while before the race actually started.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Shawn and I located our drop bag buses and made our way down to the start area, hoping to get in a quick pee before taking off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Predictably, we were not the only ones to have this grand idea, so the portajohn lines were suuuppper long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, there was an open lot next to the portajohns, and even more luckily, the masses had organized themselves into a ‘his’ section to the right, and a ‘hers’ section toward the left, so we did our bidness and met back up at the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, as I was making my way back to the road, I ran across someone who had missed the his vs. hers memo and a got an eyeful of the ‘shaking out’ part of the procedure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So now I have that in my arsenal of experiences.</div><!--EndFragment-->Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-44453220382462842042011-05-05T22:22:00.001-05:002011-05-06T09:03:05.507-05:00Boston interludeI'll finish my Boston writeup some time when I'm not supposed to be grading papers... I promise. I, however, wanted to note to the world that I picked up my wedding dress today. It's lovely. It's white...with a hint of blue... Who's my designer, you ask? Nike. Really. I'm actually quite angry with Nike right now over their crap customer service policy re: items purchased at a race expo that turn out to have semi-major flaws, but alas, they had the *perfect* dress, and as we all know, when a girl finds her perfect dress in a catalog, the only proper thing to do is order it, sight unseen, in two sizes. You can do that when your wedding dress is an off-the-rack tennis dress. Score one for the nontraditionalists.<br />
<br />
After receiving an email this morning from Jason "David's Bridal" Page, and a follow up from the lovely Kim "why is my husband answering the phone at our store 'David's Bridal'" Page, I ventured over to Bull City after hauling our catering point-man over to Umstead to check out the wedding brunch site. I'll get back to the dress in a second, but I wanted to throw this out there as well: I imagine people in catering have a lot going on right now with graduations galore coming up, but the following conversation was not super confidence-building (noting that it was not the owner of the business I was talking to, but our assigned event point-man):<br />
"You're having the wedding at your house?"<br />
"No - the reception is at the house"<br />
"With brunch?"<br />
"No - the wedding and brunch are here at the park"<br />
"In the afternoon?"<br />
"No - at 8:30AM"<br />
"Oh....*puzzled look*"<br />
Now I know that they probably don't do many 8:30AM weddings, and they probably also don't do many weddings that are followed by brunch AND an afterparty, and I'm sure they'll look over the plans again somewhere closer to the date, but I still have visions of Victor and our lovely brunch sitting at the house while we all die of starvation, and a pile of turkey breast arriving at Umstead sometime Sunday for the horseflies (don't even get me started on wedding day horsefly fears) to eat. Regardless, take away previous point awarded to the nontraditionalists :(<br />
<br />
ANYWAY, back to the dress. I arrived at Bull City and found Jason and George looking just a wee bit bored and searching for entertainment. Apparently 4PM on a Thursday is not a big time at the store (note to anyone looking for extra super customer service)? Their faces positively lit up upon my arrival (I may be exaggerating a bit here... but they did seem a little happier to see me than normal). I'd like to think it was because they were excited about spending a few minutes with me, but I think George was really looking forward to mocking my ordering of a tennis dress from a running store and Jason was still secretly uber-excited about finding the perfect blue to go with Ronnie's vest and wanted to see it in its full glory. I was slightly less excited as I was secretly wondering if either dress would fit, as I seem to have ventured into some sizing void by dropping 5 lbs to get down to fighting weight (and find my abs again). Luckily, when I pulled out the dresses, I found the medium was... pretty good... a little loose up top, but nothing a little tailoring wouldn't fix... not sure if the tailor people are up for an integrated sports bra, but was to be a problem for another day. The small was... um... scandalous. As Jason put it (not having seen the disaster as I did not wear it out of the dressing room), "it took the wedding from family-friendly to NC 17". There was really nothing left to the imagination. At all. AND it was white. So that helped.<br />
<br />
So medium it was. As an added bonus, the fine folks at Nike had sent a wind jacket in place of Ronnie's shirt, so I scored a new jacket ... and Ronnie may be going shirtless. C'est la vie. At least his vest will match the dress....though without a shirt, he looks kind of like a stripper in the bowtie, vest, and tails, so perhaps I should have gone with the small to maintain the theme? ...but I digress...<br />
<br />
So I took my medium dress home and pondered what to do about the ineffectual (and oddly bulky and visible from the outside) integrated bra. ...and then I did what any normal bride-to-be would do: I cut up my wedding dress. Take THAT ineffectual bra! So now that I've gotten rid of the weird, bulky, ill-fitting, ineffectual bra, the dress actually lies much better...though it is now completely lacking in support and a little see-through (still a good match for shirtless Ronnie and the NC17 wedding... which is what I will name my band if I ever start one). So my next mission is clear: find a bra that will accommodate the asymmetrical neckline of my now customized wedding dress... and plastic wine glasses...we need plastic wine glasses.<br />
<br />
Until next time, my pretties...Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-46775998079881864702011-05-01T13:08:00.001-05:002011-05-01T13:13:10.648-05:00Boston Marathon - check! Pre-gamingI'd feel like a bit of a jerk if I wrote up a 3-part post about trying to qualify for Boston and then didn't write anything ABOUT Boston... So...here goes...<br />
<br />
As soon as I got through Uwharrie, Boston began to loom on the horizon, so I forced myself through recovery (involves a lot of the inner football coach saying, "you are NOT tired - KEEP RUNNING! You can slow down if you MUST, but KEEP RUNNING!") and began ramping up to the gold standard 20+ mile runs again. From the second I registered, I had been waffling about whether to TRY at Boston or not... On the one hand, I wanted to justify my place there, but on the other, I didn't want to hate the whole experience and miss out on things like kissing the Wellesley girls and high-fiving 800 little kids. It was pretty much going to come down to a game day decision, but I figured I should probably try to train for the former possibility because it certainly couldn't hurt the latter.<br />
<br />
It turns out TRY was the operative word in "try to train" above. While I got all my long runs in, no problem, the track workouts were lacking due to a particularly insidious combination of work commitments, social commitments, and obnoxious weather in the 2 mos leading up to the race. That, coupled with an absolutely horrendous sleep schedule the week prior pointed me to the "enjoy the experience" side of things.<br />
<br />
SO we arrived in Boston the day before the race, realizing, of course, that we had forgotten the little cards that said "if you don't have this with you, you can't pick up your packet". We suspected this was not actually the case, and that they were just trying to gently encourage people to remember them, but we were still a little apprehensive as we lined up to get into packet pickup. Fortunately, our suspicions were right and the nice lady in the 'problems' booth printed us new ones. We then picked up our packets and headed to the expo to try out all the next big things. Here are my reviews:<br />
Pom blueberry juice - awesome<br />
Power bar nuggets - awesome<br />
Weird pink Gatorade recovery beverage - decent<br />
Cherry extract drink - wow. that sure does taste like cherry... really... a lot<br />
Fage Yogurt - yup - tastes like yogurt.. thank you!<br />
Weird fruity herby water - surprisingly awesome... though it made me have to pee REALLLY bad<br />
Anything given away at the GNC booth - DUDE - people really drink/eat this stuff???? That's just crazy.<br />
<br />
Then we proceeded to Acton, MA, where Shawn's family awaited us so we could go candle pin bowling. It turns out I'm even worse at candle pin bowling than I am at regular bowling. ...unless I go two-hands-between-the-legs-granny-style, in which case, I rule! If there had just been 3 more frames, I'm pretty sure I would have caught and passed Ronnie, who was trying to emulate the pros and becoming progressively worse.<br />
<br />
Our final pre-marathon stop was Shawn's brother's house, where we ate dinner, rummaged through our freebie bags, and found proofreading errors in the official Boston Marathon Race guide before going to bed where a giant black cat stationed herself just above my head to stare at me for the better part of the night.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7050246.post-27574980941097518332011-03-04T15:09:00.002-05:002011-03-04T15:09:43.087-05:00wiki leaks....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnURoqkuluc7osF0V5efHdL07w630wsffd3Jm4NVwIko8ILYBl8CmgqWmKdkeF9aQMLUL3t0NZJpvGzuOlv6XWUqUJnHaI64CXY37mvQ_z8v9KsPR0avZS1FTTiN4yCYX4MVYXtg/s1600/umstead2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnURoqkuluc7osF0V5efHdL07w630wsffd3Jm4NVwIko8ILYBl8CmgqWmKdkeF9aQMLUL3t0NZJpvGzuOlv6XWUqUJnHaI64CXY37mvQ_z8v9KsPR0avZS1FTTiN4yCYX4MVYXtg/s320/umstead2011.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03595604482512404808noreply@blogger.com2