Casper. WY????

Why Casper?

As it turned out, this morning for the first 15 miles of the Casper Marathon I was asking myself that exact question, over and over again.

I suppose it was convenient, it was an inexpensive trip, just a three hour drive from home, a cheap hotel room, and a training run that would keep me honest. I was afraid that given the way I've been feeling lately, if I stayed home and did a long run by myself, that I'd wimp out and only run 20 miles. I needed a longer run and I needed to push myself a little harder than I would if I ran alone.

It was actually a very well-organized race and the aid stations were abundant, simple but well-stocked, and closely spaced. The volunteers were on top of it. I never had to wait for anything, they were always ready with what we needed. There were plenty of porta-potties along the course, which I needed, so it turned out good. The course was a little boring at times, but not too bad. It got a little warm and windy toward the end, but it's June in Wyoming, what else would you expect.



I left Fort Collins around 4 pm on Saturday and drove to Casper, which is a straight shot on I-25, exactly 3 hours. I used less than one tank of gas in each direction so I never had to stop. I'd never been north of the turnoff to Lusk, Wyoming, which is just south of Douglas. That's the way I go to the Black Hills. So this was uncharted territory for me. Another adventure. Typical Wyoming scenery, big open spaces, blue sky with fluffy clouds, lots of oil and gas drilling, cows, ranches, windmills, snow fences. I think it's really beautiful there.





I had reservations at the race hotel, the Ramada. I went inside, picked up my race packet, and checked into my room. I skipped the pre-race dinner since I ate a late lunch of Mexican food with Dennis before I left town. Dennis stayed home with the girls, he was going to see his mom in Denver on Sunday.



Walking into the hotel was an odd experience. The hallways felt institutional. I felt like I was in an asylum of some sort.

When I got into my room it looked clean enough, and outside, below my window, was the finish line area. That was convenient. I had to check out by noon and that gave me 5 1/2 hours to make it back, faster if I wanted a shower. I knew that even under the worst case scenario, I could walk most of it and still get back by noon.

I got my stuff ready for the morning and I had brought a bottle of Fat Tire Ale with me. I opened it and poured the contents bit by bit into the little cardboard coffee cups in the room.

Later I discovered some mystery hairs in the bathroom, someone's hair clippings, all over the lid to the toilet seat. But other than that the room was okay. At least there was nothing living in there or growing that I could see.

I went to bed at 10 pm, but didn't sleep very well. I woke up at midnight and was awake for a while, and then my alarm woke me up at 4:45.

I woke up feeling like my guts were protesting.

Ha-ha. Very funny.

My jokester body decided to play tricks on me again, even though I wasn't racing. My girl parts figured it out though. I thought maybe it was the Mexican food, but it was menstrual cramps. Killer ones. Surprise! Except I was prepared this time...essential part of my running supplies.

So that's why I've been the random perimenopausal bitch all week. I was tired and emotional, craving carbs, and bloated up like a blimp. I never thought it was the RPB rearing her ugly head. That's always the last thing I think of, but apparently my body isn't done with it yet. I'm still as regular as my races. Every other race since last October. How does that happen?


I made my morning coffee and took a shower, got dressed and ate a Lara Bar and a couple of rice cakes with almond butter, and then it was time to go downstairs and catch the shuttle to the start. I was on the last shuttle to arrive at the start so there wasn't any time to hit the bathrooms again, and I already had to go. It was cool at the start, but it felt a lot warmer than the 36 degrees that my phone claimed it was.






I saw the first porta-potty at mile 1, but it was occupied. I thought maybe I could find another one soon, or something to duck behind. As it turned out we did a loop and came back to the same porta potty at mile 4. One person dashed in ahead of me, so I waited. I got in and out of there and got back on the road. I had to stop again and again, by about 10 miles I had already been in 4 different portapotties. It was getting ridiculous. But I was still managing to average 11 minute miles plus change despite the frequent stops.



I was feeling awful until about halfway. At one point I saw this sign on a bridge over the North Platte River and I thought it sounded like a pretty good way to put myself out of my misery. I was running the whole way, but it was slow. I didn't feel the need to take any walk breaks except when I walked through the aid stations. My legs didn't feel bad at all, just slow, the same as they've been.





I had brought some ibuprofen with me as an afterthought, but I decided against taking it, since the day was going to heat up. My indoor plumbing was tying itself in knots, it felt like it was about to drop out from between my legs and fall on the asphalt. I was drinking adequate amounts of water and taking gels at most of the aid stations. I had S caps with me. I never had any problems with the heat.

After the halfway point, which I reached in 2:25, I decided I would run the last 10 miles harder than I went out. The cramps were easing up on their own by then.

I made one last portapotty stop just before the 16 mile mark, and came up on the aid station soon after that. As I walked away with my gels and cups of water, I saw a familiar face. It was Phil Rosenstein, my Badwater/Across the Years/Lost 118/instant mashed potato buddy who is now living in Wyoming. He was out there volunteering at the race, and was going to sweep the course after the runners came through. We walked together and talked, and Karla Holgers was also out there volunteering, and she caught us and we did about a half-mile walk before I took off to run the last 10.




After seeing Phil and Karla, I felt so much better. I picked it up and averaged somewhere around sub 10 minute miles the rest of the way without too much effort. I did throw in an 8 minute mile from miles 25 to 26. I wanted to git 'er done. I passed a total of 26 people between miles 21 and 26. I was counting, to keep myself moving. The temperature was in the mid-70s and the wind picked up in the last hour or two.


I crossed the finish line in 4:44:42. I made it with enough time to spare, to get a shower. All I wanted to do was drive home, so I got my shower, checked out of the room and got home by 3 pm.

Overall, it served its purpose for me. I got my training run in, I pushed myself a little harder than I would have alone, and the big unexpected bonus was I got to see Phil annd Karla. I don't think I'll do this one again unless it's out of convenience, but I think they did a good job of putting on a low-key, well-run event.

I ended up with 64 miles of running for the week, which boosts me back into the training range. I'm considering running the Estes Park marathon on June 16th, another training run with good hills and high altitude that's only an hour from home. Even though I swore I'd never do that one again. The older you get, the worse your memory is.

Work Hangover Wednesday: An Epic Hangover

We're finally getting some beautiful spring weather. I'm hoping to get a few days to enjoy it here, before it goes into an all-out heat wave.

I wrapped up last week with an 8 mile elephant legs run followed by a 29 mile bike ride with Troy in the afternoon. We had a killer cross wind on the ride, but we made good time for the distance. My legs were burning as I fought the wind.

I got 40 miles of running in for the week, all at a painfully slow pace. Then I started my work week, which consists of two 8 hour days of computer training, then a few days off, followed by two 12 hour shifts on the weekend. So I'm headed into the days off segment now. The reason why it's an Epic hangover is that the name of the computer system we are training for is Epic. All of our documentation will be in this Epic system, which actually is not so bad, once you get used to it...

but sitting on my butt for two days in a classroom in front of a computer was about the most exhausting thing I can imagine. I got home both days after class and all I could do was take a two hour nap. I was zonked. It sucked the life out of me.

I was so pathetically wimpy that I didn't run on the computer training days, even though the weather was perfect, cloudy one day, then nice and cool and breezy with sunshine. I figured since I have been feeling so sluggish, another two days off won't hurt me. If anything it will give me more rest if that's what I need, and if not, it will just make me more sluggish, which can only be overcome by running, which I will do for these next 3 days before I go back to work again.

And then I have three weeks of a more normal schedule, which will give me a chance to get back into my running routine. Elephant legs B-GON!

I might even hit the track this week on one of the three days, just to do some 200s or something to get a little turnover without having a serious speed workout. That might be what I really need.

My all-out frustration with things going on in healthcare and in the nursing profession in general have led me to an existential crisis of sorts regarding my future in healthcare, but more specifically, nursing. It makes me sad that I love what I do on a daily basis in my job, really, even when it makes me crazy and exhausted and burned out because of the WAY WE WORK, not because of the THINGS WE DO.

Just the past two days of being in computer training with a small group of the nurses I work with most often, reminds me again that we're all dealing with the same set of circumstances, and we feel the same pressure, and have the same thoughts, questions, frustrations, and fears. And it's not just us. It's EVERYWHERE. I hear the same things from nurses all over the country, and out of the U.S. too. Despite the numbers, something like 3 million registered nurses in the U.S., we have not been able to advocate for changes that would improve not only patient outcomes, but our own working conditions and environments.

I've been torn between a few things, I have so much to say on the topic that it's enough for another blog, easily, but I don't want to start another blog. It would take too much time and energy to commit to another regular blog when I need to start channeling the energy of frustration into something constructive.

Writing, for me, is so therapeutic, and I have a lot to say. I need a lot of therapy! My friend Geri Kilgariff has been after me for years to write a book, so has Dennis, and I think I'm finally at the point where I have accumulated enough material that I could discipline myself into refining and shaping it into something other than a blog. So that's one project I need to get going on. I might have close to 1000 pages of written material on nursing alone over the past 8 years since I started nursing school.

The other project is to figure out a way to move myself forward despite the lack of anything but lateral opportunities in nursing, unless I wanted to become a nurse practitioner, which I don't, or go into management, which is about as appealing as dog poop. Actually I think dog poop is much more appealing and I would rather roll in it than go into management of anything.

So I am in the process of exploring how to expand on my current skills, knowledge, and interests to give me some opportunities while the profession of nursing stays inert and stagnant, choking as healthcare reform swallows it up and the vicious cycle begins again. Between my two projects, maybe I can help myself and do something to impact nursing in a positive way. My snarky side wants to say I could do something to disimpact nursing, which is really part of nursing's problem.

So, that said, I'm ready to get on with it. I've been a slacker for almost 5 weeks. Tomorrow, no excuses, it's back to running, and a more structured schedule. I have the Casper Marathon coming up in 11 days!

Overcoming Denial

Sunday was the Wyoming Double Marathon and Marathon along with the other races held each Memorial Day weekend starting at the Lincoln Monument at the top of I-80 in Wyoming, between Laramie and Cheyenne.

I signed up for the Double this year, as usual, I have run this race 5 or 6 times and always did the 50 mile version. This year I signed up for the following reasons: it is in my backyard, it's inexpensive, it has nice scenery except for the frontage road section, it's low key and nice people organize and run it, it's a fundraiser, and it's a good workout for my tentative plans to run the Lean Horse 100 later this summer.

So tentative.

As we took off from the start at 6 am, there was a light rain that felt more like a spray than drops. It was quiet, with a light breeze, and no one out there but us and the worms. It wasn't even cold. I started out in shorts, a light jacket, and gloves, and stayed dressed that way until 10:00.

The rain was a blessing, because it kept away the only real drawback to this race, the usual Memorial Day weekend assortment of ATV riders blasting by on their noise-making, dust-stirring, fume-producing, wildlife-scaring, runner-startling, head injury-inducing machines. You know, the chest-puffing ones who drive those nuisances way too fast with their kids straddling the vehicle in front of them, without helmets...wearing only badges of stupidity on top of their shoulders, rumbling down the winding forest dirt roads busy with holiday weekend visitors.

I did not feel motivated at all the first 2 miles or so, but then I warmed up and started to run well. My legs felt great. I made decent time to the turnaround and felt strong on the frontage road, but on the way back, I couldn't motivate myself to keep pushing. I didn't feel tired, my legs felt good. I could pick it up when I wanted to, but I didn't care. My heart was not in it to run all day.

About a third of the way back before I hit the frontage road, I realized that it was going to be hard if not impossible to keep myself going mentally. I didn't feel like spending the whole day out walking. Last year was different, I needed to, it was Badwater training. This year, there's no such motivating factor. I thought of Morgan and Dennis, in the car following me all day and I felt bad to have them out there like that while I was marching along. It was warming up, and it looked like we might get some blue sky and sunshine.

As the fog lifted from the rock formations of Vedauwoo, I decided I would stop at the halfway point, and the more I thought about it, the better it sounded. So when I caught up to them at the frontage road underpass, I told them what I wanted to do. They said they were okay with whatever, even if I changed my mind by the time I got to the marathon finish point.
Once I made my decision, I felt so relieved.

Katy was having a rough day. She ended up stopping at the marathon too, we ran the last 5 or 6 miles together.

When I got to the finish line I told the race people I was not going back. They gave me a marathon finisher's medal and I relaxed around the finish line, talking to everyone. I got to talk with two runners from Steamboat who have been around the ultra community for at least as long as I have been, Don and Dick.

Dick was sitting on the steps of the race director's RV, parked at the finish line. I asked him how he felt and he said, "Okay" without much enthusiasm. I said, "You're here!" He perked up and said, "Yeah, I should be happy to be here, I'm getting so slow."

Eventually we all get slower, we get older, we all go through various stages of dealing with the fact that we don't stay high performing racehorses forever, we get fat, injured, and/or burned out in various ways, both mentally and physically, from such a demanding sport. We take our breaks and come back. We make changes to our routines, if necessary, to keep going. Or maybe we don't.

I feel good about my decision, and I'm not disappointed with my performance. I have been fighting burnout since last fall and I need to take some time away from doing races. My legs felt fine, I was able to run strong and pick up the pace when I wanted to, to catch up to people I wanted to talk to. But I also didn't care about the finish, and when I wasn't trying to catch someone, I slowed to a slow jog or a walk. I didn't care.

I realized that it would be tough going in the second half, and I didn't want to put my crew, Dennis & Morgan, through the slow torture of crewing someone in a death march. Maybe not death, but an unmotivated, slow push to finish the miles. And at this point, finishing the miles is not a good enough reason for me to be out there. I have nothing to prove, and no goals to drive me.

In the past, I wouldn't dream of dropping out of a race, I didn't care if I was DFL (dead f***ing last). The only times I have ever not finished an ultra were when I was injured (once-Jed Smith 100K in California in 1994), sick and missed the cutoff as a result(once- Leadville Trail 100 in 1995), or burned out (once- Colorado Springs 100K, can't remember the year). And that's where I am now. In the past I would have beaten myself up over it. Now I don't feel bad at all. I feel relieved. Somewhat lost, but like a weight has been lifted.

Last week there was an announcement that Across the Years will not be held this year, and the future of the race is not certain. Since then, I've felt at loose ends. I was feeling unsure about what I'd do this year, I was considering doing the 24 hour, or just going down to help out. But the decision was made for me.

And the race organizers deserve a break. It's a tremendous effort and infusion of hours and energy for everyone involved in that race, especially Rodger and Tana, who hold the race on their property, and Paul the race director. There are about a dozen other people who put hundreds and thousands of hours each year into various aspects of the race. They need a break too, they and their families make huge sacrifices for the runners who come to run laps for days around Nardini Manor.

And maybe it all coincides with the universe clearing the path for me, opening a door to put more of my energy into painting, which I've recently started doing again.

I am looking forward to going out to Death Valley in 7 weeks. Being at Badwater will no doubt get me charged up again. I know another run at Badwater is in my future, somewhere, but not in the next year or so. For now I'm going to enjoy my shorter, faster runs, and enter a few low key local runs when I start missing the running community.

I have been enjoying my runs, I'm going to the track, doing Rock Repeats, running my sanity runs. I'll look forward to going up to Estes and to the mountains this summer and running those trails. But there won't be the urgency, the need to get out and do my 20 or 30 miles every day I'm off work. I can go to the cabin with Dennis and the girls and just do a hike and not feel like I'm missing out on my training and losing ground.

So...this morning we ran the Houska Houska 5K, a local fundraiser for the bone marrow donor program. It was fun, as always. When people who know what I do asked me about my race yesterday, I told them I did the Half Double. The what!!!???

The nice thing about being burned out is what happens as a result, by letting go of what was holding you back, all kinds of new growth starts and opens doors to other things you weren't seeing in the fog of burnout. You get to look at new horizons and dream of new things, and smell the flowers along the way.

Double Double Weekend

Several months ago, I asked my friend Cathy Morgan if she would crew for me at the Wyoming Double Marathon over Memorial Day weekend. She said she would, if Dennis would also crew and keep her company. I don't usually ask Dennis to crew for me, as he doesn't like to crew, and it's not generally a good idea to have your spouse crew. He worries about me and I get annoyed with him, and we argue over stupid things. Like how much peanut butter to put on the bread. But I asked him and he said yes, so the three of us were all committed.

We woke up at 3:15 am to the coffee pot and Buffaloes who were not happy about being left home all day. It would have been too much time in the car and they wouldn't have been able to play outside much. There's too much recreational traffic on the roads during the holiday weekend, not to mention the added crew vehicles and runners.

We picked up Morgan at 4 and drove up to the Lincoln Monument off I-80 about 12 miles east of Laramie. I picked up my race number, used the bathroom and we lined up for the start. The wind was blowing as usual, it's Wyoming. The heat training must be paying off because I was freezing. I saw Doug before the start. Holley from the running club was there and she started early. (From left, Dennis, Doug and me before the start)

I put extra layers on, and we were off. The race course is pretty nice for most of the way. It consists of a double out-and-back along dirt roads through the Vedauwoo area in Medicine Bow National Forest. It winds through aspen and pine forest, and the rock formations are really interesting. There are marathon and half-marathon races that start with the Double and Nick from my Badwater crew was out there in the half-marathon. When I saw him, he was in third place and looked strong! Way to go, Nick!

There is a two mile stretch along the I-80 frontage road and it wouldn't be so bad except it is the highest, most exposed area along the whole course and since it's a double out-and-back, you have to do it 4 times. And it's windy and cold, and there are no trees to block the wind.

I suffered through that first stretch and forgot to ask Morgan and Dennis to stay in sight, I told them to meet me once I got off the frontage road. Big mistake. I suffered out there for the whole two miles without being able to get an extra jacket, for a fourth layer! It's so cold, there's still snow up on the side of the road.

As the race went on and down into the trees again, I warmed up. I was feeling good the whole way. I tested Slim-Fast, I'm trying all these different liquid calorie supplement for Badwater, trying to find something that won't upset my stomach. I had 3 cans of Slim Fast and it worked well. I was able to take off running right after I drank it.


I stayed well-hydrated but my biggest challenge of the whole day was trying to figure out the wind direction whenever I had to stop and pee. The first time I was in the wind, I had to use the shelter of the car to block the wind, but I miscalculated and ended up peeing down my legs and into my socks. Not good. The second time I had to re-arrange my position to avoid repeating the same mistake.

The next few times I got progressively better but it was still a challenge. Later in the day the wind died down and it was a lot easier.

I stayed comfortable all day. I only had two "bad" patches that were over with quickly. The first time was 33-34 miles on the frontage road, and I was low on energy, but then another runner caught up wth me and we got to talking. His name was Kevin and he's from Lyons. We started talking Badwater and ultras in general, and it got me out of my bad patch and back into running.


The other thing about that frontage road is the irony of the billboard up there for Little America. It has this picture of this couple standing in a swimming pool, looking totally relaxed. The billboard says, "Overheating?" As if anyone at that location in Wyoming would ever be overheating. With 30 mph wind and 4 foot snow cornices below the billboard at the end of May!


One of the best things about running ultras is the amount of time you're out there, able to be present-focused, not worried about anything outside of what you're doing. You focus on how your body feels, not intentionally, but you get lost inside where you are at the present moment, which is such a good escape from the world.

I was having one of those days out there where I felt like I was a million miles away from all the other things going on in my everyday life and it felt like a vacation. It makes all the little stupid problems, other people's issues and baggage, and really unimportant things that we deal with on a regular basis, go FAR AWAY.

Just another good reason to run ultras.

I felt good the whole way, and I didn't feel tired at all. Around 45 miles the only thing bothering me was my stomach. I wasn't nauseated but I needed some different food and nothing sounded good. The wind wasn't blowing anymore and it was 4 miles of solid uphill to the finish. I finally stripped down to two layers around 46 miles.

When I was low on energy between 45 and 48 miles and my stomach was rejecting the idea of everything Morgan and Dennis offered me, Kevin caught up to me again. I managed to eat a gel packet, and our conversation got me going and Kevin and I ended up finishing together. I finished the 52.4 miles in 11 hours and 22 minutes. A long, slow day, 51 minutes slower than last year, my slowest time ever on this course. But that's fast enough for Badwater training.

My feet were good, no blisters. Just the usual heat rash.
Katy was there at the finish with her dog, Kira.


We drove back to Fort Collins, took Morgan home, and went home to see the Buffaloes. I was in bed by 8:15. I woke up too early Monday morning but I got my laundry done and some packing for Vegas, and then we went to the Houska Houska. It was fun, I felt good and it was good to see everyone. Here's a picture of Barb Brown from the Foundation with me at the Houska Houska this morning.


The t-shirts at Houska Houska were great, it was all about the election year and we voted with our cups at the aid station. I drank from my ballot and threw it in the Obama box. I finished in 25 minutes, 17 seconds. Faster than last year!

It was raining when we woke up today, it stopped for the race, and then about an hour after the finish it started raining again. Now I'm home, blogging, and thinking about a nap. I have to finish packing and get ready to go back to work tomorrow. In a few days, I'll be running across Death Valley, but I won't be freezing. 110, 115 degrees would make me happy.

120 would be even better.

(photos 2-5, 7-9, & 12 by Cathy Morgan)