Let Me Tell You a Story…Stories Ultra 15 Hour

Cheyenne Mountain State Park

This weekend I tried something different. I signed up for a trail ultra, and I survived.

It’s been years since I ran a trail ultra. That’s pretty much all I did when I started doing ultras in the 1990s, there were almost no road ultras in Colorado back then. I enjoy trails, but I’m not that good at them, and I prefer to slow down so I can look at the scenery. Also, high altitude is not my friend, I discovered, after years of doing 14ers, four Leadville Trail 100 finishes in 29+ hours, and always struggling with my stomach and sleepwalking on rocky trails in the dark.

Then I started having ankle problems after a few good sprains, and had to avoid trails altogether for several years. Once I got my butt into physical therapy and rehabbed my ankles, I started doing easy trail runs, just the smooth, groomed or nontechnical trails I could find, and the Rock Repeats on the service road up Horsetooth Mountain which has just a few very short rocky sections.

It wasn’t anything I expected and I just happened to be on Facebook one evening and saw that one of our local Colorado race directors, Sherpa John Lacroix, was doing a live video so I tuned in and he was talking about his Human Potential running series of trail ultras in Colorado.  I’d seen something about his Silverheels 100 and the Fairplay races. When we had our cabin in Como we used to hike up Silverheels and on those trails back there between Fairplay, Como, and Breckenridge. Back in the day, I would have jumped all over that, but I hadn’t paid any attention to it since trail ultras simply haven’t been on my radar.

When I said hi to Sherpa John on the comment feed he greeted me and said, Alene, you should check out these races since you like fixed time events. So the next day I looked into it, the Stories Ultra 15 and 30 hour races were in February in the Colorado Springs area. I was pretty skeptical at first. The altitude wasn’t high- less than 8000 feet. But it was trail, and winter in Colorado, and I am a cold weather wimp. I can make myself do it, but I am truly a hot weather runner.

I needed a long training run in February, and the 15 hour option made it seem more doable in case the weather sucked. I signed up, and took the extra step of signing up for a membership to his series because I wanted to support his philosophy, of having runs for  the runners, not for the circus atmosphere, which all of the major trail races in Colorado have become.

The whole time approaching the race, I had my doubts about the weather, that was the one factor that I dreaded. Winter finally came to Colorado in February, subzero temperatures, our first real snowfall, and still we were the banana belt compared to the Midwest.

February has been a freaking weird month from the get go. During the month of January, I kept wondering if we were ever going to get winter, and at the very end of the month my friend Katy contacted me one day and suggested we run Horsetooth Rock together, something we used to do regularly but haven’t done in years. We did one single rock repeat and spent the time catching up.  It was the most vertical I’ve done in quite some time- my vertical has been limited to running the hills on the Bacon Strip and Horsetooth Reservoir roads, and not very much mileage.

I was sore the day after the run with Katy and I knew I had some vertical coming up in Stories- and realized that might be the factor that did me in instead of the weather. But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Then the really weird shit started happening. First, my buddy Sasquatch (aka Dale Perry aka Richard Cranium) who was also planning to run Stories, found out he needed an aortic valve replacement soon after Across the Years. 

Yes, this is the same Sasquatch who has myeloma and had a stem cell transplant two years ago and has still been running ultras through most of the ordeal. He fortunately got an appointment with a cardiothoracic surgeon I know, who I think is the best one in Northern Colorado, and also happens to be an athlete himself, and they scheduled his surgery for today. As I write this post, Dale is in surgery.

Since they have to cut him open- yes, crack his chest- he will be healing for quite some time and unable to do ultras for a while. He had a ton of things to do before he went in for surgery and to prepare for his down time after, so of course he wasn’t going to go down and run Stories. That was a bummer, Sasquatch is always fun to run with, but he had a lot of good reasons to get this surgery done now and he has every intention of being back to ultras as soon as possible. Knowing him, he won’t waste a minute.

Then the next weird thing happened. I am sure you heard about this, because it made international news as well as Stephen Colbert and SNL. Last Monday, on the Westridge Trail, which is adjacent to the Horsetooth Rock trail, just the other side of Horsetooth Rock itself, a local guy was running and was attacked by a mountain lion from behind. 

When this happens the mountain lion usually wins and they find the runners body half buried under some nearby trail debris, but this guy fought back and killed the lion with his bare hands! DUDE! It was a young lion and about 80 pounds, and probably starving because this is weird behavior but the whole incident speaks for itself…

They runner was injured and I am sure freaked out and traumatized but he did everything right and got himself down off the trail, drove to the hospital and reported it, and he’s going to be okay (at least physically- I can’t even imagine what that would do to your mind!).

The buzz in the running community has been everything from he’ll never have to buy another beer to people freaked out about running the trails to lots of jokes and eventually it gets old, but I know the entire Fort Collins running community is a bit freaked out. The park was closed so Colorado Parks & Wildlife could figure out what’s going on and if there are more lions and so on… not even sure it’s re-opened yet.

I tried not to think about the fact that I would be running in the foothills on trails at dawn and dusk, prime mountain lion dinnertime, the following weekend.

I went about my pre-race packing routine with help from my supervisors, and I made a poster to take for people to sign for Dale, thinking about how Dale handles adversity. “F&$% You!” I put that in my race pile and told Sherpa John, we decided to leave it out by the aid station so anyone who knew Dale could sign it.

The weather forecast wasn’t terrible- looked like a high of 40ish and low in the teens or 20s, and no precipitation expected- which isn’t bad at all. Sherpa John said we wouldn’t want it to get much out of the 30s or the trail would be a mess. He said we might need traction of a couple of the higher loops up in the trees where there could be slick spots. I packed my Kahtoolas, Yak Trax, and poles just in case.

Friday morning I was getting my act together, planning to leave town before 12:30 so I could make it through Denver before Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. I happened to glance at Facebook. First thing I saw was a post from Wheaties Boy’s other half, Megan, announcing that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

I really love their family- Megan’s mom and dad live in Fort Collins, and I know them all well enough that it was pretty shocking to me, even though I deal with this all the time in my work. It’s true that it really is different when it’s someone in your family or close to you.

Anyway, I reacted exactly as I always caution people not to react- by sending them messages and offering my support-at a time when they are completely overwhelmed. I should have at least waited until next week. They all wrote back and it was fine- but I felt really bad for just giving them something extra to do- one more person to reply to- at a time when they have more than enough to deal with.

Megan’s mom has worked with people with cancer for many years, she’s a massage therapist and has worked specifically with cancer patients- and I know Megan has lots of support. Still…it felt like a punch in the gut to me- just hearing that.

I got on the road and headed south on I-25 and of course my mind was going crazy- between thinking about Megan and Sasquatch and my half-conscious uncertainty about doing this run- mountain lions and trail conditions and undertraining notwithstanding- and I was so distracted that I took a wrong turn at one point and got on a ramp taking me east on 270 and ended up in Commerce City on my way to Kansas. Oh shit. I had to correct that quickly, and traffic absolutely sucks. Then, Speer Boulevard and a few other spots on I-25 were parking lots. At 1:30 pm.

Eventually I got through Denver and it was better all the way to the Springs. I had made a reservation at the Doubletree, which is only a 10-minute drive from the race. I didn’t make a reservation for after the race because I didn’t know how I’d feel or if the hotel would be good. I figured after the race I could easily find a hotel room anywhere.

I checked into the hotel, took stuff up to my room and then drove out to the park to see how long it would take in the morning, and get a feel for the area. It reminded me a lot of southern Arizona, like the Old Pueblo 50 course. It was a nice day, cool but warmer than Fort Collins. I drove to the visitor center and walked around, then stopped at a restaurant for some food before going back to the hotel.

Later I found out Obama stayed at the Doubletree when he visited Colorado Springs. I wonder why they didn’t put him up at the Broadmoor. The hotel experience sort of sucked- the doors don’t fit very well and there’s a big gap under the door to the room so you can hear everything around you and people walking down the halls and a lot of light got in under the door. Plus, every time I went out an exit door, there were military guys standing around smoking.

Military guys are to be expected in Colorado Springs because the Air Force Academy and Fort Carson are both there. But there are a few things that go along with military culture- and yes, it’s the guys- not all of them, but enough of them- a major attitude from the macho testosterone-fueled culture of it. Anyway, it made for less than a pleasant experience walking through clouds of smoke and hearing their disgusting, sexist conversations. I felt like I was in Las Vegas. Honest, I don’t know how women in the military survive. Dude, I respect that you’re putting your life on the line for our country. Just have a little more respect for other people when you’re out in public.

I got in bed early and did some reading and turned off the light. I slept poorly, there was a lot of noise at all hours. What I didn’t realize was that outside the wind had picked up and slammed through the area, destroying some of the signs and start/finish line setup, ripping out the signage and flagging, and even driving a metal stake through the back window of Sherpa John’s rental van and shattering the glass.

When I woke up around 4, I checked my email and saw a 3:30 am message from Sherpa John telling everyone to be patient as they needed to put things back together, but assuring us that the race would go on.

By the time I drove up there to check in, you couldn’t tell that anything had happened, other than the shattered glass. It was windy as hell though, so I left Sasquatch’s sign in the car and figured I’d see how the day progressed. My friend Josh was volunteering at the check in and I picked up my number and race goodies, and visited with him. He also offered me a place to stay after the race and yelled at me for not letting him know ahead of time so I could stay with them instead of a hotel.

I went back to the shelter of my car to put on more layers before the pre-race briefing. I parked on the loop where the trail came through so it was easy for me to crew myself out of my car. It did result in me getting probably an extra tenth of a mile in between every loop- but who’s counting. It was nice to not have a table set up and worry about the wind.

We started precisely on time, and I had my headlamp. Sunrise wouldn’t happen for an hour, but you could see the lights of Colorado Springs to the east and the cloud formations were looking like a spectacular sunrise was in store for us.

The course consists of 4 different loops, each color coded red, green, blue, and purple. They get progressively longer and more challenging, with the final one as the “purple people eater loop”. In total, the 4 loop series is 19.61 miles long and has 2197 feet of elevation gain. Once you finish the series, you go out again and repeat it. At the end, for your final hour, they put you on a small 2/3 mile loop to keep you close by until you finish. That’s the “gold” loop.

On each loop, you pass through the main staging area, so you’re never more than 7 miles from the aid station. They had a variety of food and drinks. I went for the fresh pineapple- it was amazing. I never thought to eat pineapple on a run before, I do like strawberries and melon sometimes on my runs- but this pineapple

tasted better than anything I’ve eaten at a race in a long time!

Once we got out there and it got light, the course was marked extremely well. Even the purple loop- which was confusing to describe and people cautioned us to pay attention- was well marked. There were flags and laminated signs that had clear instructions. I had no problem finding my way, even in the dark.

The trails were about 50% in perfect condition, 25% ice, and 25% mud on the first go-around. On my first purple loop I took it easy so I could pay attention to the turns, knowing I’d be doing that in the dark if I made it that far for the second round. None of hills were very steep or long, there were a few that were made more challenging because of the ice chutes that had formed from melting and freezing, and the deterioration over the day of ice and snow turning to mud and then muck.

As it turned out, I never used any of the traction devices I brought. Yes it was slow and slick and sloppy, but I found myself giggling as I surfed the mud and ice chutes. It was messy, but I managed to stay upright the whole time. 

I did happen to notice that the name of the trail on the upper purple loop was “Cougar’s Shadow” and found this bench which can only serve to pique an overactive mind with fresh thoughts of mountain lion attacks…but I didn’t want to think about it.

 

The other thing about Stories is that each runner’s number has a question written on the back of it, intended to give you something to think about during the race. After you complete 50K, Sherpa John gives you a chance to talk about your answer to the question for 10 minutes or so on his podcast. It’s optional, but I thought it was a really nice way to hear the voices of all the runners and get some insight into what goes through their minds. I haven’t heard the episode yet but I look forward to listening, and I’ll link it here when Sherpa John posts it.

As it turned out, I arrived at 50K before dark and Sherpa John was standing right there at the aid station so I took the opportunity to do my interview then. He had all his recording equipment set up in the van- yes, the same van that had the window smashed overnight and was now taped up with cardboard.

My question was, “Are you remaking the world, or yourself?” I can’t remember now what incoherent things I said, but they are recorded forever on the podcast, so you’ll be able to listen. I also talked about Dale and how I admire his attitude- not letting adversity get in his way and pushing forward, and how I wish more people would do that, instead of letting things defeat them.

After talking with Sherpa John I went back to my car to dress for night and get my headlamp and put more layers on. I slammed some Starbucks doubleshots to stay awake. I knew I’d have to pay attention to the markings on the purple loop. I texted Josh and took him up on his offer of a place to stay, knowing it would be about another 4 hours before I finished and I was already feeling a little sleepy.

I did put some music on and it helped a lot. By the time I got up to the really muddy section, it was getting cooler and already noticeably more solidified than earlier. It was still shoe sucking mud in some places but it was overall better footing than earlier. Everyone was spread apart on the course and I didn’t hear or see any voices or lights as I approached the climb to the top of the Cougar Shadow trail.

For a while, I’d stop every so often and shine my light around behind me to make sure I wasn’t being stalked. Finally I got over it and knew that the faster I got down off the loop the better, so I just sang out loud and hoped it would scare any lions and tigers and bears away. It worked, except for the gators.

I actually ended up negative splitting my second purple loop. Probably due to the footing, but the music helped me move faster, too.

I had time for at least two gold loops after I got back to the staging area. I did two of them, and might have been able to do a third if I pushed myself, but it was only 12 minutes to spare. I know better than to get greedy. I didn’t want to trip over any rocks in the dark and ruin what had been a perfect day by doing a faceplant. Plus I had over 40 miles, which was my ultimate goal- I would have been happy with just 50K- so I picked up Dale’s sign, said good-bye to Sherpa John and thanked him, and headed to Josh and Jeana’s.

By the end I got 40.5 miles (probably more like 42 with all my back and forths to the car and before the race!) and 4500 feet of vertical in 14 hours, 48 minutes and change. My legs felt surprisingly good. The vertical didn’t bother me, I had plenty of layers on and never got cold, there was enough shelter from the wind on much of the course that it wasn’t really an issue. And I didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion.

It was an exceptionally well-done race. Well-organized, well-marked, and the unexpected wind didn't seem to put a dent in anything from my perspective as a runner. The volunteers were super nice and the aid station was simple enough but well-stocked and all the basics were there. There was a nice t-shirt and you got a finisher's award and a water bottle, and it was well worth the entry fee and the effort to travel there. Not crowded, but with enough participants to make it fun and social. Best of all, no circus atmosphere. You just show up and run. 

I visited with Josh and Jeana for a while and then took a shower and crashed in the comfortable bed. In the morning, we talked briefly before I left- they were headed out to help in the final hours of the 30 hour race.

It was a beautiful, warm, clear morning in Colorado Springs. By the time I drove back to Fort Collins, it was overcast and 23 degrees. Ugh. So much for the banana belt- I was in it on Saturday.

So, now I’m home, I am not very sore, surprisingly. I can feel where I was slipping in the mud- some different muscles got used there, but other than that I feel unscathed. A little brain hangover, as usual, from sleep deprivation and cytokines the day after. I’m actually thinking about signing up for Sherpa John’s next fixed time trail race in May- the Tommyknocker 12 hour near Golden. I’ll give the idea a few days to settle.

Sasquatch is hopefully out of surgery by the time I finish this post and I will look forward to hearing from him as soon as they pull all the tubes out of him, the heavy drugs wear off, and he is coherent enough to communicate.

And I will give Megan some time then check back in with her. I know she will be well-cared for.

Gotta get back to the routine, which I am thankful for. Sometimes we don’t stop often enough to remember how fortunate we are- the daily grind that we take for granted, no matter how healthy and fit and diligent we are- things can happen. And it’s important to have that Sasquatch spirit- “$%@#!”

Enjoy your adventures- and your routines. They all make good stories.

The Reset Button: Across The Years 24 Hours 2018-19

Arrival

I feel comfortable now being back in my routine of running Across the Years over New Years. Phoenix is home, my dad and stepmom still live there, my brother and sister in law are there, and I have a long history of ties with this race.

Last year it was my first time back after several years away, and the course beat the hell out of me from head to toe. I was determined to have a better physical experience somehow, even if my fitness level didn’t seem to have budged despite training somewhat more intensely this past year than last. At least until September.

I’d planned to run the 48 hour this year, but my muscles were not cooperating. After being on statins for a year, I finally got frustrated with the feeling of running on bricks for legs and said to hell with these drugs and went off.* It took a while to recover any sense of feeling like my muscles were working right, though. As a result, I did very little running from the end of September at There Goes the Sun 12 Hour, until a longish run weekend of 30 miles total in December.

I flew down on Southwest on the evening of the 27^th, hoping no one would give me the crud, and took an Uber to my dad and stepmom’s house in Scottsdale. My dad and stepmom had other plans this year and were in Miami at a three-day party being thrown by one of my stepmom’s cousins. I think it’s great that they have the energy to do that.

Upon arriving at the empty, quiet house, I got settled in to my usual spot in the old king bed on the south side of the house. Over the years it’s been getting softer and the mattress needs to be replaced, but this time, it totally screwed up my back. I woke up Friday morning hobbling around in pain.

I tried to loosen things up with a hot shower and stretching. After the pain didn’t ease up, I decided to ice my back and moved into the other guest bedroom on the north side of the house. At least I didn’t make things worse, but I was in pathetic condition to be running a 24 hour race.

On Friday I went out to meet my niece, brother, and sister in law at their new house in north Phoenix. They used to live in Tempe but downsized and moved when my niece graduated from college last year. My niece is going into the Peace Corps- to Togo- in May.

I spent Saturday preparing for the race. There wasn’t much to do except for shopping for a few groceries, doing my PBJ ritual, and organizing my bag of bags of cold weather clothing and race junk.

Dale texted me in a panic on Saturday and I didn’t see it until about 5 pm. Apparently, he had the Seinfeld experience at the car rental place. He took an expensive taxi to his hotel and was calling to ask me if I could pick him up in the morning and took him to the race and drop him off at the airport after. 

I slept well the night before the race and woke up just before my alarm. It was time to drive across town and pick up Dale. He was at a hotel I recognized from when the race was held at Nardini Manor. I stayed there a couple of times in my 48- hour racing days.

Race morning

We arrived at Camelback Ranch with plenty of time and picked up our stuff, got a table and set up our junk. Davy Crockett had just finished his run and came over to say hi. We saw Mike Melton in the timing tent and immediately gave him a hard time about the GPS being inaccurate. Mike is the world’s greatest race timer. Plus, he’s an old friend I met at ATY long ago and he crewed for me at Keys 100. I’ve signed up for races just because Mike was timing it.

Once we got our stuff set up, along with the omnipresent enema bag for Dale, I threatened an ice water enema if I found him in the warming tent at night instead of out on the course. We milled around waiting for the race to start.

It was very cold. People were wearing a lot of layers overnight. I had plenty- I brought two bags of clothing and I was ready for anything.  I looked for my Colorado runner friends. We saw the Pences- Eric, Anne, and their son Ethan.  I can remember Ethan being about 9 or 10 years old and running Across the Years. Now he’s in college.  

Eric donated a kidney to his sister the year before last, and he’s back to doing ultras. Eric ran the 72 hour this year, and Anne and Ethan ran the 48-hour. I missed Matt and Anne Watts- Matt had called it good after 100 or so and went back to the hotel to sleep.

Our friends Karen and Nattu were in from California. Karen was running the 72 hour, and Nattu was sick so he was at the hotel. Karen had help at the race, though. She was kicking butt.

My friends Doug and Marji Nash showed up to watch the start. They are snowbirding from Colorado in Goodyear, AZ over the winter, and Doug signed up for the 24 hour on the 31^st. They came to say hi before my start, Doug wanted to run a lap with me sometime on my race day to see the course. They also brought a special person with them- Marge Adelman, who was seasoned ultrarunner before I even started ultras.

Marge and I met back in 1991 at Doc Holliday in Glenwood Springs, my first ultra. We ran much of the race together, and she greeted me when I arrived at the finish line- knowing it was my first- with hugs and congratulations. That is something I’ll always remember. She moved away to Kansas for a while when we were in Arizona, and we have both since moved back to Colorado. It was a great surprise and treat to see her.

Mike started the pre-race briefing and we got started at 9 am sharp. The morning slowly warmed up enough to shed some layers, though I never stripped down to shorts. There isn’t enough daylight for that. The sun sets late in Arizona because of its location on the west end of the time zone, so the sun rises late around 7:30 and sets around 5:30.

photo credit: Steve Finkelstein

I felt good despite my back and as long as I didn’t stop, I was fine. It hurt, but not enough to distract me or slow me down- I wasn’t running fast anyway. I ran about half of the time during the daylight. My legs and feet felt surprisingly good. I saw my old Arizona ATY running friends Steve Finkelstein, Paul Bonnett, and Steve Finkelstein. Steve took some great photos at the race. It was also great to see the regulars like John Geesler and Martina Hausman, “Here we are again.”

By late afternoon I had gotten past 50K and I decided to do a foot check before it got cold and dark, so I wouldn’t stiffen up from sitting down. I changed my socks and shook out my shoes and gaiters, wiped my feet down with alcohol and inspected them. A small blister was forming on my left heel, so I cut it to let it start draining. Other than that, getting the dust off my feet and changing socks was enough to make everything good again. Took care of the hot spots, anyway.

The one thing that really saved my feet was that the gravel section from last year was gone. That sucked, and lots of people remarked on how glad they were that the gravel had been removed.

Into the night

I was careful about overdressing too early, and that worked well- I didn’t get sweaty like I usually do. I needed gloves and a hat, but I was comfortable. They served a huge pile of food for dinner- they had sloppy joes and I asked for potatoes with it instead of a bun since I am not eating wheat. As a result, I got a giant portion of food and I scarfed it down, knowing it would take a while to digest and be able to run again, but that was fine.

At dusk

Sasquatch and Karen stalking me

I was in a state of bliss as I rounded the course, having conversations with different people followed by periods of silence and withdrawing into my music. I had everything from Dr. DRE to Cardi B to Sade to Niña Dioz to David Bowie to trance.

It wasn’t until close to 9 pm when I felt like my stomach was empty enough to start running a little. I love it when the stars are out, and we had a bright half moon along with visible constellations despite the lit-up Phoenix sky.

The Low Number

During the night I talked with several of the old timers- the late 70s-early 80s runners. I’m talking age, not the decades of the 20^th century. Bill Dickey, Don Winkley, Joe Dana, some of the legendary longtime septuagenarian and octogenarian ultrarunners who show up for Across the Years. This year there was a 75 year-old woman in the race, and several women in their 70s. I love seeing that. They inspire me. We’ve had many older runners over the years, and many we’ve lost. You never know when you might not see someone again. Who would have ever thought John Hobbs, for example, would be gone now?

One thing about Across the Years is that your race number stays with you in perpetuity, and those numbers are assigned based on the order in which you first entered the race- your first time. I ran it for the first time in 1994. My race bib number is 133. I was looking at the other numbers out there and the only person I saw with a lower number than me was Mario Escobedo, number 35.

As I came up on him during a lap I started a conversation and it turned out we had a lot of ultra history to share between us. We spent several laps walking and talking together. He had been gone from the race for a long time and recently retired, now having more time to run again, he’s back. We talked about some of the old characters from Across the Years and the ultra community in general, the personalities, and the stories. Mario is only 60, so hopefully he’ll be out there for quite a long time still running.

Watching Sasquatch

I started looking out for Dale since he had told me not to let him hang out in the warming tent. I didn’t see him for a long time. He stopped to call his wife for a while and to eat- but after that I didn’t see him. I asked our friend Karen to keep an eye out for him. As it turned out, he was moving along about the same pace as me, just on the opposite end of the track so we didn’t pass each other for a lot of hours. That can happen out there. But he was moving so well. No enema necessary.

Dale had been carrying our friend John Hobbs’ number, doing laps in memory of him. We lost John this past year- he’s been a great friend in the Colorado ultra community. Dale said his goal was to run 73 miles, which was John’s age at the time of his death. Considering Dale has been getting chemo for a few months lately since his cancer relapsed, he was really doing amazing. The drug they are giving him is much easier on his body apparently, than what he had before.

I went into the race without a specific goal, but I expected to do about the same number of miles as I did last year. Since running crappy at the 12 hour in September with my statin-addled muscles, I really didn’t have any expectation of doing better. Plus, I haven’t done shit for training since then either. I didn’t do any long runs this fall until December 9^th. I did one weekend of 30 miles and that was it. I have really not been running much- more yoga and boxing than anything else.

One thing I do have in mind is finishing the miles for my 1000-mile jacket. As of the beginning of this race I had about 819 miles. I figured I would just make some progress toward it, then sign up for whatever event I need in order to complete the remaining miles next year.

What was most important to me, as well as Dale, was to stay out and stay awake through the night. I kept wrapping extra layers around my back and butt to keep my low back warm so I wouldn’t get stiff. My pace slowed somewhat, and I was doing less running, but I was not falling asleep with a steady oral infusion of coffee and other caffeinated drinks since about 3 pm. I never got sleepy and never got inefficient or sloppy.

In the corner of the course, about half way on the lap there is a water-only aid station that is staffed by one person all day. At night, there’s a guy who sits in there and plays 1960s and 70s music, he reminds me of Lieutenant Dan from the Forrest Gump movie. He is always enthusiastic and smiling and cheering on the runners. It’s like getting an extra little boost on each lap.

Ann Trason was at the race this year. She was always surrounded by several runners. I wanted to introduce myself but there was never a moment when she wasn’t engaged in conversation with one of them or looking out of it- so I didn’t. It was cool to have her out there. She was wearing a purple light-bedecked hat and was draped in some kind of costume so you couldn’t miss her.

When I started running ultras in 1991, she was the up and coming ultra star, and she was up there pretty much through the 90s until injuries and life got a hold of her. After running in the same sport for several decades it’s hard to avoid running into someone from that time frame- there weren’t nearly as many of us back then! She’s one of those people I never actually met.

I began concentrating on keeping enough calories in through liquids and switched over to gummy worms- ugh- but that’s really all my stomach wants at night. I had a yogurt, but it was too cold for yogurt. I had some PBJs and those helped.

Phreezing in Phoenix at Sunrise

Coffee and gummy worms got me through the rest of the night and morning. That was my breakfast, too. It was already cold but as we approached sunrise I was freezing, even with all my 6 layers on top and 3 on the bottom. Even the Colorado people were complaining about the cold!

At one point I went to use the real bathroom- which is heated and has light, flushing toilets and running water, and took my baby wipes with me- and the baby wipes were frozen solid! They’d been in my pack next to the table. A whole pile of frost dumped off my bag when I opened it.

When I passed 100Km and realized I had a lot of time left to do more miles- I was going to be way over my original expectations. I set a goal for 70, then 75. One the lap where I reached 75 miles, Ethan was finishing his hundred miles. I walked with Eric and Ethan. Anne was chasing Matt’s mileage, so she was trying to get as much as possible in so she could chick Matt.

After Ethan and I celebrated our milestones, we kept going, I got 76, then got one more lap in and ended up with 77.685 to be exact.

Which leaves me with only about 103 miles next year to get the 1000 mile jacket.

Ethan and Eric

Sasquatch finished with 70, which is impressive given his current state of going through cancer treatment, and we hung out to watch the end of our race and the start of the next day’s 24 hour race. Doug and Marji were there, I got to talk with Marge a little more, and I saw my old Arizona running friend Debbie Leftwich.

Sasquatch and I took a load of our stuff back to the car where I realized that the automatic entry key on my dad’s car wouldn’t work because it was so cold. We momentarily panicked, and looked for Marji to take us somewhere if we needed a battery or something, but then my sleep deprived brain was playing with the key and I realized there was a manual entry key inside the little gadget! False alarm. What a relief. Imagine, your locks freezing in Phoenix!

After we got the rest of our stuff, we drove over to the showers and I waited while Sasquatch took a shower and changed before going to the airport. I sat in the car with the heater blasting. When the clean Sasquatch emerged, we drove across town to the airport, and I dropped him off, and headed back to my dad’s.

Final standings for 24 hour 30th start

I had over 24 hours to recover and clean up after my race mess before they got home from Miami. I finally got a chance to peek at my race swag bag, and as usual, they gave us some nice stuff. I left my finishers mug at my dad’s house on purpose, I have so many ATY mugs. If anyone ever wants to drink a really big beer, they can use it.

The next day my dad and stepmom arrived home and I got to visit with them until Friday the 4^th, when I headed home. And now I’m back in Colorado. But before I arrived home, from the airport, I signed up for another 24 hour in Palmer Lake in April.

Race goodies

Resolution

It is true, like the proverb, that the journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step. It’s also true that the mind is an instrument. It needs to be practiced upon and finely tuned, with care and diligence and rest and appreciation for its means and end.

I’m re-learning to run with a different body than I had a few years back. I need to harness the power of my mind to make adaptations and adjustments to continue to put the miles in. I surprised myself with my ability to cover as much distance on what I used to consider an undertrained body. My goals have changed- I don’t expect speed any more, but I can achieve speed in a relative sense- doing more miles with more efficiency.

So next year, my plan is to sign up for either the 48 hour, or the 72 hour, to knock out those 103 miles or so without it being too difficult, and if I do sign up for the 72 hour, it will be with a dual purpose- to finish those miles as well as start thinking about what I’ll need for the 6 day race. I don’t want to wait too long, I’m thinking the year after next is a good possibility, if all goes well between now and then.

Next up is Stories 15 hour in Colorado Springs in 5 weeks…but I’ll be blogging about my updated philosophy of running before then. See you soon.

*disclaimer: do not take this as medical advice. If you're on any drug, don't stop it without consulting your licensed physician.

Revolution

These past few months, I spent a lot of time struggling with writing. I can still whip out a blogpost when necessary, but I didn’t have anything meaningful in my running that I wanted to write about on this blog.

Running has been much more of a struggle than writing, and considering that both of those passions of mine have been difficult lately, it's been a real challenge pulling it all together. Now that solstice is past and the days are getting longer, and January 1 is the first day of spring, I can see the light again.

Running on bricks
I ran a twelve-hour run in September and my legs felt the same at the beginning of the run as they did at the end, like running on bricks instead of muscles. It’s a weird feeling, your legs having this vague soreness or fatigue all the time, no matter what you do. It’s not like you feel it when you’re just sitting around, but as soon as you do the minimum of effort or exertion, it feels like you’ve been doing sprints.

The runners at There Goes the Sun 12 Hour

I pushed through the 12 hour and despite having trained a significant amount more this year than I did the previous year, and running a lot more of the time during the event, I only ended up with one more mile than last year. 47 instead of 46. That was disappointing enough, and it took the wind out of my sails to continue training for the 48 hour at Across the Years. I just didn’t feel like I wanted my legs to feel like that for 2 days. It’s not fun.

I backed off on my expectations and signed up for the 24 hour without any goals and I’ve basically blown off training for the past 3 months, not much mileage at all. I haven’t been running 5 days a week like I was, either. I’ve been walking, but not even doing a lot of that. Since September, my longest runs have been 10 miles on the Bacon Strip with some hills, until 3 weeks ago I went out and ran 10 miles late on a Saturday followed by 20 miles early on Sunday with two Bacon Strip loops, giving me 30 miles within 24 hours, and that was it.

Bacon Strip scenery

Soon after the crappy 12 hour, I realized what I’d been suspecting all along in my training runs was the problem. I went on statins a year before, and a common side effect is muscle pain. It did help my cholesterol somewhat, but I didn’t enjoy the way my legs felt running. It made me not want to run any harder because it already felt like I’d done a hard workout. Pushing the pace was out of the question.

I talked with my doctor and we decided to try going off the statin and recheck my cholesterol in 3 months, thinking I could change my diet a bit and increase the amount and intensity of running.

I do have occasional days now when my legs feel better, but they only seem to happen about once a week. I don’t know if the statins did long-term or permanent damage to my muscles, I hope not, but I certainly don’t feel like I have any level of fitness to push myself.

I have not changed my diet other than stopping eating wheat. I had success with that a few years back but that was before menopause, and I was still running intensely. The intensity of running is not there, so I am curious to see how my labs turn out when I get them drawn next month.

For the past year and a half I’ve been boxing, which helps my core and my upper body somewhat. But for the past 6 months I’ve only been going to class once a week, it just takes too much time to attend more classes than that with driving there and back, so I do my favorite class on Monday mornings and that’s it.

A couple of months ago my running friends Jill and Crisann started doing yoga at a nearby studio and they like it a lot, finally they convinced me to come to a class, which I did, and I ended up liking it so much I got a membership and now I am doing yoga 3 or 4 times a week.

This is recent, so we’ll see how that plays out over the next several months. It’s much closer to my house so there’s less travel time, and there are a variety of classes available, fitness, relaxation, restorative, mentally and physically challenging, and hot, and I am realizing what it takes to unwind a body that’s been running tightly wound for 35 years. This January is my 35th anniversary since I started running.

Yoga and Me
Yoga is something I have always been drawn to naturally since I was young. I never realized what I’ve been doing all along is a modified form of yoga- just not always with the breathing and mental parts.

When I was 13 in 8th grade and living in Pennsylvania when my parents got divorced, the first place we moved with my mom was to an apartment in Haverford. Around the same time, I somehow discovered this book called Yoga for Americans by Indra Devi. I can remember spending the afternoons between the time I’d get home from school and when my younger brother and sister got home from school, in the living room, next to the wall, doing yoga every day. I went through the whole book and learned all the poses and pretty much devoured every bit of information in the book. I can’t even remember what drew me to the book, I think I found it in a health food store. Remember those?

Copyright 1959!

At the time it was probably the thing that saved me from going in directions with my life that would have been detrimental to my long term and future mental and physical health. Junior high was hell, I was one of those kids who didn’t fit in. Every day at school was like a gauntlet of torment and nastiness, all at a time when I was adjusting to my parents splitting up, living with my mom in an apartment, and having new babysitting and cooking duties expected of me when my brother and sister were home, since my mom was working.

At the same time, I was adjusting to new kids in the neighborhood, going through my early teen years and trying to figure out who the hell I was. At 13, afternoon yoga in my living room gave me discipline and devotion to a practice that grounded me in that whirlwind of early teen hormones and daily peer abuse in which I was otherwise steeped, and simultaneously dealing with the uncomfortable living arrangement with my mom, because we did not get along. Fortunately, my dad whisked me off to Arizona the following year, but yoga kept me sane during one of the hardest times of my life.

A few months ago, I was thinking about it and decided to see if I could find a copy of the same book. I have been drawn to return to doing yoga because I feel I need it, it’s a calming influence on my life, it’s good for me because I stretch, build strength, and clear my mind. I found a reprint of it, even though the original book is out of print, and bought it on Amazon.

I had just started to go through it again when Jill and Crisann started talking about yoga. It made perfect sense.

Renovations
We are also about to install new flooring and carpet in the upstairs of our house in January, I cleaned out all the garbage that has accumulated in the guest bedroom since we moved into the house 12 years ago. We painted, and I am turning the room into a relaxation/yoga/meditation/stretching space once we get the vinyl flooring. I painted the walls two different colors of blue, and the flooring will look like a light gray oak with slightly bluish tones to it. I can't wait!

Now that Velcro and Gypsy are grown up enough not to be eating the walls and woodwork and are past the puppy stage, it’s time to replace the old carpet upstairs too. We’ll be doing that at the same time. Dennis is going to paint the hallway and trim while I’m in Arizona for Across the Years, and then the carpet gets installed in January. And as soon as we replace the carpet, we are having the ducts cleaned. It will feel so good to get rid of the old dirt and dust.


Still fat
And yes, I am still fat. Not any fatter than I was at this time last year, but I haven’t made any progress at all on the eating changes and exercise intensity front. Except for not eating wheat. I have cut back on the alcohol- not drinking beer anymore, but over the holidays I’ve been indulging a bit. I think we have it out of the house as of tonight- I finished the last of it.

If my legs ever start to feel better, as I’m hoping they will with the addition of yoga and cutting back on the number of days a week I’m running, I am counting on being able to up the intensity as soon as I recover from Across the Years. I’m planning a bunch of events early this year, all for fun but to keep me on top of my training for different conditions- hills, trails, speed, and so on.

I know losing 20 or so pounds would help my lipid profile too. I need to just get with it and I know I can. Things are looking up. I can quit stress eating and drinking. The new Democratic controlled Congress gets sworn in on January 3 and as crazy as the Orange Fuhrer is right now, at least it doesn’t feel completely and utterly hopeless knowing there will be some balance in the Capitol.

Looking forward
I intend to have fun in Arizona and stay focused forward at Across the Years. Whatever happens is fine, I do hope I feel better than I expect to. Undertraining can be a good thing sometimes. My friend Dale Perry (Sasquatch) is running and he’s going to kick my butt. He’s been running his ass off and he’s on chemo. I’m glad he feels so good. Don’t tell him, but my secret ambition is to not have my butt kicked too bad by Sasquatch. Like, by no more than 10 miles or so.

Sizing up Sasquatch pre-race.

I have to admit, that 6-day race is still rattling around in the back of my head. The other day Dennis and I were talking about it, I said, “maybe by age 60 I’ll do it” and he said, “Don’t wait too long.” Good advice. I was really glad I didn’t wait until 50 to do the Badwater double, because too many things changed in those 3 years.

I need to just get myself in a place where I’m ready to dive in. And you never know how long the race will be around, knock on wood, Aravaipa will continue to host it. Guess I need to get my shit together.

Speaking of getting shit together, I have one more day around here wrapping things up at home and for work, and then it’s off to Arizona.

I guess if I back up and look at myself now in the big picture, I’m just going through another life change again- another adjustment to this phase of my life without estrogen, trying to figure out how to master the art of aging while still being an athlete. Hopefully this is just a phase and I’ll get it figured out and bounce forward. Yoga could prove to be helpful again this time.

I’m working slowly on an updated philosophy post, which might come together soon after Across the Years. I’ll check back in before the race, if the mood strikes me, but I really do want to write a race report blogpost after this year’s event. And, by the way, if you're so inclined, you can check out race progress at Across the Years here. The link might not be live until the race starts, but I'm running from 9 am December 30th to 9 am December 31st, Mountain Time.

See you soon!

A New Look

Yes, you're in the right place.

It's time to refresh and renew, I've been feeling dusty and rusty lately and the new blog look is long overdue. I might continue to make a few tweaks to the look over the next few weeks, but I like this one.

Again, I've been seriously slacking at blogging, and running too. Lots of stuff going on, and just re-adjusting and tuning the different parts of my life. I'm doing fine, just trying to figure out running in a body that isn't the same as it was ten years ago, or even five years ago. I've had to do some experimentation and as much as I hate the cliche, soul-searching.

The political climate has been a small factor, but I feel much better since the election, even though things are pretty shaky at this moment in terms of what the Orange Fuhrer is going to do next without any supervision. If we can just make it to January 3 when the new Congress is sworn in, I can stop holding my breath. It's just that this narcissist and his band of deniers have triggered just about every bad experience from my life and figuring out how to deal with it has been a real challenge.

Mostly, I just can't get myself to sit in front of the laptop and write. Maybe it's leftover burnout from writing the book, but I also do quite a bit of work in terms of gainful employment in front of the screen, and I really haven't been doing too many runs worthy of blogposts lately, so there are my excuses.

I am headed to Arizona in a few days to take part in my New Years ritual, Across the Years. I was all pumped up earlier in the year to make a partial comeback and run the 48 hour event, but after my frustrating experience with the statins (see my next post or two) and feeling like I had a body transplant, and not in a good way- I decided to drop back to the fun run version and not set any goals, and just use the time on the course to zone out and enjoy.

I do plan to write a blog post recapping the past few months before I run Across the Years, once I settle in to my dad's house in Arizona. And I also plan to write a new philosophical post soon, I've been working on it in my head, but haven't sat down to put it into words. I wrote my old one ten years ago and it's time for an update.

I'm excited about what the coming year holds in terms of running and some of the other things I've been doing. And I am not burned out on running, buy any stretch. Check out my calendar for early 2019. I'm just going to do some different things and shake it up and spend fewer days each week running, since my longtime habits of running nearly every day don't seem to be working on this aging body.

In the interest of time and needing to get to my boxing class this morning, I will stop here, but I am not going away. I'm looking forward to sharing on this blog again. Thanks for sticking with me despite my long absences. And, Merry Christmas.

Time and Trauma = TNT

Caution: This post contains some four letter words. Don't read it if you don't like it. 

This morning I went running on Coyote Ridge with a group of women I run with regularly. It was spitting a light mist and everything was socked in- visibility was minimal. It wasn't very cold but I left the house without much extra clothing, a jacket or a hat, planning on not running more than 10 miles.





The trail was wet but not muddy, and I couldn't see the foothills around me, just shadows in the fog. It has a way of closing you in and protecting you.

It was precisely what I needed.

This past week was the week of the now and forever infamous Senate Judiciary committee hearings on the allegations of sexual assault by Christine Blasey Ford against Brett Kavanaugh, nominee for the Supreme Court.

It's been a week filled with talking heads, 24 hour news coverage, contention, hostility, anger, and ugliness.

I wanted to reach through the screen into that Senate hearing room, beyond the "female assistant" (WTF- she's a professional prosecutor, not your damn water boy), and throttle Chuck Grassley and the other senile fuck faces on the GOP side. I wanted to yell to Kavanaugh's wife, Run!!

We just saw the ugliness of power, of rich white male entitlement, on both sides of the hearing- on the Republican Senators side, and on Brett Kavanaugh's side.

I hadn't planned on watching any of it, I had work to do. I turned the laptop on before 8 am and saw a link to the live hearing, and clicked on it. And at 11 am, I was still in my bathrobe, with a cold cup of coffee sitting next to me, glued to the screen. I had to get out for an appointment so it was time to get dressed and peel myself away from the chair.

A little later I came back and managed to catch the part of the hearing where the prosecutor from Arizona asked Kavanaugh some questions, before they sent her packing.

I have some other blogposts I want to write, like about my 12 hour run last weekend, and my current challenge with having decided to go off statins, but this whole political nightmare has pretty much consumed my focus since the middle of last week. I'll get to those other topics later, but for now...

So much I want to say, but in a way, I don't have the emotional resources to say it now. I am wiped out. This week was so intense, watching the hearings, reliving past events, memories of things coming back that I haven't thought of in forever, many of which stir up anger and resentment even decades later. Some are minor and trivial, others were major and traumatic.

I am where I am. I have chosen to be where I am now. But when I am reminded of the events leading to the ways the course of my life has been altered by male privilege and entitlement and sexism, I go between feeling sick to my stomach and angry and disgusted. Things have not changed that much since the 1980s when I was in college as well. And white male entitlement has not changed much...though it is dying, it won't go out without a fight, as we saw on clear display this past Thursday in front of the entire country.

When I think of the things I experienced and witnessed throughout my life around male entitlement, both the traumatic experiences and the less traumatic but absolutely frustrating and enraging crap, having to endure the attitudes of entitlement, guessing at the rules because they never told you the rules, and constantly resisting and unlearning everything they tried to stuff into our heads about how girls and boys should be...

It's all been said so many times in so many places this week, I don't need to repeat it here. Privileged rich white boy finally runs into accountability- his good ole boy buddies in the Senate try to save him by paying lip service to "hearing" the accusations, but won't change a thing, digging their heels in, until drama ensues...and now we have to wait to see the results of the drama and see if the FBI investigation doesn't get micromanaged in ways that will continue to "protect" the public from the truth, and leading to the lifetime appointment of yet another alumnus of the school of beer-and-dick for brains.

What I am thankful for today are the many men in my life who are not Brett Kavanaughs or Orrin Hatches or Chuck Grassleys or Lindsey Grahams or Joe Kennedys or the other bloviating arrogant aging frat boys who think Kavanaugh deserves this promotion because of what he has between his legs regardless of what he did with it.

And I am thankful that I don't have children of my own who might become the prey of such horrible examples of humanity.

What does make me angry are the women who support this piggish display of male good ole frat boy culture. Makes me think those women are bitter and hurt. That they have never been kind to themselves. That they too have experienced this crap but buried it and did the pull yourself up by your bootstraps number...so they have unhealed wounds and attack other women. I don't know if that's true, but I just don't understand women who think sexual assault is something to take lightly. It makes me think these are the women who raise their boys and girls to be assholes and bullies.

As for Kavanaugh, what an arrogant little shit he was in high school and college, and still is. Not expressing compassion for his accuser in any way. Completely unconcerned with the fact that she is traumatized for life. His wife looks like an abused woman. He looks like an alcoholic, and acts like one in his denial. His juvenile answers to the committee, his lack of self-control in front of the committee and the entire country, who in the hell acts like that except for a spoiled preschooler?

And then there are the trivialities, random memories that came back this week, things that were said and done to me along the way that ranged on the spectrum from disrespectful to earthshattering. And there is a lot more, and worse, that I won't share here. And I won't even begin to talk about the crap I've endured while running. Yeah, #metoo.

• Fuck you you little asshole in the school yard in third grade who attacked me with a tree branch while calling me JewGirl, but I got in trouble for kicking you in the balls. 
• Fuck you little snot-nosed turd in my sixth grade class who told me I was fat, on his way to college at Swarthmore and becoming an attorney.
• Fuck you, asshole hockey player who tried to push his way into my dorm room freshman year.
• Fuck you, forestry professor who asked me if I was there for my MRS degree.
• Fuck you, football and wrestling coaches who wanted me to let their athletes get away with "independent study" to maintain their eligibility for sports instead of doing the real work like the other students. (Funny how the female coaches and female athletes never asked for these entitlements)
• Fuck you, administrators in higher ed and healthcare who wanted me to keep my mouth shut, not ask questions, and put up with your bullshit uneven playing field for women.
• Fuck you, you former frat boys who never matured past your beer-soaked pats on the back unspoken agreements to help each other up the ladder to success while you used our shoulders and our ideas as stepping stones.
• Fuck you, professor Fuck Faces in the 80s and 90s hiring no women professors to act as mentors or examples for us to look up to, so we were stuck with the arrogant pricks who told us things like "Your ideas have no place in our discipline".

Yeah, FUCK YOU.

The fog was therapeutic this morning as I could finally let go of some of the emotions- no one could see my tears or my clenched fists or vocalized rage. But it also made me think, this is how those POWDERs (pasty old white dudes explaining righteously) want us to be- in the fog, unable to see clearly. Keeping the truth from us. Well boys, the fog is burning off. Time's up.