PsychoPsummer Run Toto Run

It is the middle of July in Kansas. Those of us who have experienced this know that this means hot. And humid. Speaking from my own experiences over the past few weeks, it can be so miserable that it can be nearly unbearable to simply walk outside of your house some days, let alone to try and run. With that background, for the 3 of the 4 past summers, I've headed up to Kansas City in the middle of July to run in a 50k (31 mile) race around Wyndotte County Lake. The race is intended to face this heat and humidity head on, and to spit in its face.

Only topping the difficult heat and humidity is the course itself. Kansas is flat, right? Wrong, with a capital WRONG! This course consists of two 16ish mile loops (I say "ish" miles because the race directors think the course might have been a bit longer than a 50k). There is typically some dispute over the amount of rise and fall in each loop (my Polar HRM showed 4000 total feet of climb over the two loops), but I can tell you for sure that there is well more than 1500 feet of climb and fall in each loop. That means hilly. That means some hills that you want to puke just looking at.

[Aren't I setting this up as a fun event? Truth be told, the above hell is exactly why most of us runners enter this race.]

The race heads into single file trails within the first 25 yards or so, and basically stays single file for the entire 16ish mile loop. In order to get in a good position as to not be burdened with passing dozens of runners slowly over several miles to several hours, it is very important to start out fast. While that doesn't sound like a bad plan in theory, starting fast on a course like this means some incredibly high heart rates running way too fast up some really fast trails. So that is exactly what I did.

I headed through he first 5 miles or so in about 50 minutes. I was feeling great about my time, but I knew that pace was a bit to optimistic to maintain, but at least I had earned some clear trails in front and behind me. I quickly settled into a bit slower pace (something I could maintain as the hit began rising very quickly).

I headed through the next aid station, and quickly learned what would be my Achilles heel of the day: blisters. While the course was in great shape (it can be notoriously wet and muddy if there has been much rain), there was still plenty of moisture on the grass, on the trails, in water crossings, and from sweat that my feet quickly became waterlogged. And while I typically don't suffer from blisters, I did have a spot on the arch of my foot that wore away very quickly. The aid station staff did there best to help me out, but what I really needed was to get back to the start/finish area and lube up the blisters and put on some clean socks. My attention remained on this for the rest of the first loop.

I hit the half-way point in around 2:47. I took a bit of time to treat my blisters (they would be fine the next loop), grab a few bites to eat, and refill my bottles. Oranges would be my food of the day. And water. Water would be my friend - I probably went through at least a dozen bottles of water throughout they day.

I headed back out for loop two. Those hills that I sped up and down in the first few miles had grown! I now struggled to even walk up, and my footing on the way down seemed much more dangerous. I made it through those first 3 or so miles of hilly sections fairly slowly, but I was soon to make it back onto some more runnable sections.

I hit the half-way point of loop two and I think the heat was nearing its high for the day (high 80's to low 90's, so relatively not bad). I fueled and moved on. The heat was getting to me, but I tried to make the best of it. While I had significantly slowed since the first loop, I was still having a great time. It was hot. It was humid. I was struggling with that fine line of drinking enough but not too much (I was feeling water logged at some points). But I hung in there and kept moving forward, with the best smile that I could make (which sometimes wasn't so great).

By the last aid station (mile 13.5), I knew I was nearly there, and my mood brightened. I wouldn't say I ran the last 2-3 miles quickly, but I will say that I was proud of my ability to run more than walk (despite these being the muddy parts of the course). I could nearly smell the finish for the last mile. Once I hit the trail head (about 1/4 mile from the finish), I felt like a new man ready to go again.

I finished in 6:17:05, which is a little slower than the last time I ran the race (it was a bit cooler two years ago). 13th place. 112 starters. Only 66 finishers.

Boston Marathon - A dream 5 years in the making

On October 17, 2004, I ran my first marathon - the Wichita Marathon. It was a truly awesome experience that I will never forget. My time was just over 3:57, but I wasn't overly concerned (to the good or the bad). After all, I had finished what I thought was never possible - a marathon - and I lived to tell about it. And I had finished it any a time that I was proud of. I was exhausted, but I had been bitten by the marathon bug.

Fast forward now some five-plus years. In April 2010, I would run my first Boston Marathon, a dream of mine since approximately 3 hours and 58 minutes after starting the Wichita marathon in 2004. It was a dream that I thought would never come to fruition. From my first marathon I would have to improve my time by over 47 minutes just to qualify (as a male under 35 years of age, I had to run under 3:10 to qualify even to enter). Never did I think I could improve as a runner that drastically. But at last, on March 15, 2009 in Little Rock, Arkansas, I broke the 3:10 barrier (3:09:44) to finally qualify for Boston. To Boston I would go!

With a goal of this nature comes great nervousness. Sure, I had qualified to run Boston, and I had even improved on my time since March 2009 (I ran the New York City Marathon in 3:00:14). Sure, I had now run 49 previous marathons. But something as historic as "Boston" I had never run. I was as nervous as I was in 2004 before my first Wichita Marathon.

But in Boston I was, and running I would do. The evening prior was a nervous evening. I stressed about what I would eat, how much I could sleep, what to drink and how to nurse the sore hip that had seemingly crippled my running throughout the week. As fate goes, following my Eisenhower Marathon last weekend, I had developed some significant inflammation in my right hip. Throughout the week it had taken my runs to a standstill at times. I could never quite loosen it up, and the pain at times was throbbing. While it had progressively improved throughout the week with a heavy dosage of anti-inflammatories, I could tell that the underlying issue was only being masked. Would the hip give me trouble and ruin my plans for a great Boston?

Speaking of plans, my goal for Boston was a big one. As I mentioned, I nearly broke 3 hours in New York City this past November. But nearly breaking 3 hours and breaking 3 hours is a very different thing. Either you are a sub-3 hour marathon or or you are not, or so I felt. 14 seconds might as well be 14 days. So at Boston I wanted to right that wrong and actually break 3 hours. But my ultimate goal was a bit loftier. I had a glimmer of hope of a 2:55 marathon. At least that was the plan, to try for the 2:55 in the first half of the course that tends to be faster, and try to hold it through the hillier second half. If I should fade in the last half, I would have a cushion for a sub-3 hour finish.

The morning of the race I awoke at 5:30 a.m., in time to shower, prepare and head the 3/4 mile to the bus loading area for the long ride to rural Hopkinton, Massachusetts. The ride was a long one, nearly an hour, but I chatted with some interesting folks from across the county. When we arrived at the small school near town, we crowded into some open fields, and waited. And waited.

The race would begin at 10:00 a.m.. I was set in the second of twenty-six corals. If I may digress for a moment. And I do so with all humility. The Boston Marathon is historic. It is also exclusive. It is reserved for the few lucky percent at the front of each age group. I knew I was in rare company. And that is a big deal. But it is also intimidating. As I have shared before, I still haven't developed the mental confidence to consider myself in such rare company. I top this general intimidation with having to walk past about 25,000 other runners (of the 26,000 in the race) to find my way to my starting area near the front. It is beyond intimidating to take your place at the front of such an historic and exclusive event.

The gun sounded and I was off. Those unfamiliar with this course should know that the first 4 miles are notoriously fast. First, they are progressively downhill (not all downhill, as they are rolling, but eventually lose altitude). Second, they are loud with excitement, so the adrenaline pumps and pushes you faster. I felt both, and went out strong with a 6:20-6:30 pace over those first miles (with the exception of a short pit stop). The pace was well within my goal 2:55 pace but I knew the later miles would take that back. It felt fast, but it felt great, almost effortless, as I cruised down the hills. I maintained solid running form, which is critical on steep downhills, and I did so with no hip pain.

Miles 5-12 flatten a bit on overall elevation change, but continue to roll. I maintained my sub 6:40 miles through mile 9. We would pass through Ashland (were the race originally started before the standard distance or 26.2 miles was establish) and Framingham. Both towns came out in enormous support.

And then mile 10 hit. As I had mentioned, I had struggled with my hip throughout the week. At about mile 10, it was back with a vengeance. Despite popping two Alieve early that morning, and a few Tylenol about 2 hours ago, the pain was throbbing. It became incredibly painful to lift my leg as necessary for a 6:30 pace. I was suffering physically and mentally. Could I even finish with this pain? What should I do? By mile 11 I had popped two more Tylenol (probably shouldn't have done that) and had found a medical tent for some Bengay. While it cost me 30 seconds or so for that stop, I was back on pace, and the pain was beginning to subside.

Mile 12 came quite quickly, and with Mile 12 comes the famous ladies of Wellesly College. The Wellesly College girls are crazy loud, and as tradition requires, will kiss any runner passing by. While this was an interesting proposition, surprisingly few in the sub-3 hour pace group stopped (we all took ourselves way too serious, and barely had a word to say to each other after we passed the first 10 miles or so). It was very encouraging, however. And it made me forget about my hip for a while.

Mile 13 came, and I hit the half-marathon point in 1:27:33, dead on for a 2:55 marathon. My hip was improving, but I knew I would have that to work against, and I knew the second half of the course is notoriously hard. So although on pace for 2:55, my real strategy was to maintain a sub 3 hour marathon, and to give as little time back as I could.

At about this time, something else weird happened. I lost myself. I'm not exactly sure of the cause. I knew I was pushing hard (for those of you familiar with heart rate, I was already well into the red zone, averaging over 90% of my maximum heart rate from about mile 11 on through the end of the race, with later mileage at the 95% in higher range). I know the pain from my hip was causing me to hyper-focus on the race as to forget about that pain. And I know I was a bit in a zone pushing through the mileage. But the end result is that I remember very little about the last half of the course.

At mile 16, the notorious Newton hills begin. These are a series of four fairly rough hills back-to-back-to-back-to-back, the forth of which is called "Heartbreak Hill." While they are steep, they are long and unforgiving. At mile 16, the first began, which summits with a false flat and then right back up to finish the hill. A brief reprieve downhill, and then back up the second hill at mile 17. The course then rolls down to mile 19 (still holding a 6:50 or so pace) and back up, flattening (i.e., rolling) until the last big climb of Heartbreak Hill at mile 21.

I maintained pace (6:50 to 7:00), but my legs were about to give by the end of the last hill. At last, we would have the last 5 miles that again lose 250 feet, but continue to roll. I was still on pace for a sub-3 hour marathon, but I had little time to give back. My pace was slowing, as to prevent cramping, but I continued to push on. Unfortunately, even though the course is progressively down those last miles, the course is rolling and you can never quite get in a good stride.

By mile 24, the course is at its lowest elevation, with rolling hills into the finish. My legs were shot, slowing me to 7:00-7:15 miles at 95%+ heart rate. Each hill proved more difficult. Nonetheless, I maintained a close eye on my watch, calculating at each mile the number of minutes and the pace to maintain to meet my goal. I had little room to spare, but couldn't pick up the pace for fear of leg cramps.

At the 25 mile point, I knew I could make 3 hours, unless a heavy cramp hit. I maintained a conservative pace (7:15) down a few downhills, and pushed up the final hill (up an underpass). I knew I had a half-mile or so to go, but until I turned the final corner onto Boylston Street, I just didn't quite know how close I was.

With 1/3 mile to go, I take a hard left onto Boylston. I can see the finish and I awaken. Seriously, that is the first moment in the past 2 hours that I really vividly recall anything. I see crowds lining the street eight people deep (too many people to find my wife and son cheering me on). I do a final check of my watch and know I can make it. My legs feel fresh, and I push on to the finish. Final time 2:59:22. I made it!

Proudly, I finished 1253 overall, and 886 in my division (Men under 39 years old). Very happy with that result. 50th marathon, first Boston and first time under 3 hours. It was a success.

Eisenhower marathon

I love to run marathons. I love big marathons and I love small marathons. Marathons long distances away and those close by. I love marathons that are well planned and I love marathons that are run on a whim. While the former describes next week's Boston Marathon, the later describes this weekends Eisenhower Marathon.

A few months ago, I began looking at this year's marathon schedule. In February, I ran the Psychowyco RunTotoRun 50k, and had a few other marathons on the list, completed with my first Boston Marathon experience to be run on April 19th. Well, when I really started looking at my schedule, I came to realize that I was approaching 50 career marathons (yes, I'm counting only "official" marathons, but I'm also including all ultramarathons, as those races are at least a marathon long). I thought, "Wouldn't it be cool to have my first Boston Marathon be career marathon #50?" Yes.

Well, as great of an idea as that was, I hadn't really planned on how to transition from the PsychoWyco (marathon #48) and Boston (marathon #50). I had a few potential races, but none of them panned out (either out-of-town or too far away). As my date with Boston approached, I needed a race. The Eisenhower Marathon fit the bill.

I signed up about two weeks ago, but until the night before the race I never looked at the location, the course, the time, or any other details about the race. From a planning perspective, it was very unplanned. And I was under prepared as a result (not unprepared training wise, just under prepared mentally and logistically).

The night before the race, my wife, child and I (along with my wife's friend from Wichita) traveled to Manhattan for a "girls weekend." As great as that sounded, I was happy to leave the friend's house at 5:00 a.m. to head to Abilene, Kansas for the 7 a.m. race start.

I arrived at around 6:00 a.m. for packet pickup. I took a few minutes to stretch (something I should have considered in the days prior), and to grab a quick drink. I also had a few minutes to consider pacing strategies for the day. Knowing Boston was the following weekend, I didn't want to run too hard, especially since it was forecasted to be a 70+ degree day. I also didn't want to go too slow, as a faster paced run would help get my legs geared up for next weekend's race. I settled on a 8:00 min/mile strategy, or a 3:30 marathon for the day.

At 7:00 a.m., I was off. I settled into a pace early on, and said hello to a few friends. By mile 1 I had settled into pace next to a fellow-Wichitan ultra runner named Adam. I've run with Adam on a few other occasions, but hadn't seen him in a while. We found ourselves chatting for miles, and running in good company. Neither of us were (at the time) particularly concerned with the pace, so we just cruised through the first 13.1 miles very casually in about 1:47.

At around the turn-around (out-and-back course), I realized that we were well under Adam's PR (Personal Record) pace for a marathon (Adam too has run nearly 50 marathons). While he wasn't too concerned at that moment, it sort of gave me a good goal for the days run. We didn't discuss the PR, as that would surely jinx him, so we just pushed on.

Unexplainably, we found that I pace had quickened from the first half 8:15 pace to about 7:45 pace. As the miles ticked by, I was becoming more sure of a PR for Adam. We were well under his previous PR pace and could have slowed considerably over the last 6 miles. Instead, I began to realize that breaking 3:30 was within reach. It would be very much pushing it, but if we could make good time over the last 5 or 6 miles we might just make it. We pushed on, around a park, and then to the final 2 1/2 mile home stretch into town.

At about mile 24, I consulted the watch for an elapsed time check. 3:30 seemed to be out of reach. We would have to average under 7:30's, and then push very hard over the last .2 miles. I just didn't think we could make it, but we kept the pace strong just in case. At 1 mile to go, I realized that we still had a chance. Adam was well into the red zone, and cared about nothing more than finishing (I've been there, I know the feeling). It would be my job to push him on. I took the challenge, and so did he. We pushed on, clicking the last mile off in under 7:15. With under .2 miles to go, I took a quick look at the watch and realized that we had exactly 60 seconds to make it to the finish line, which was in sight. I pushed Adam on, and he held in for a 3:29:58 finish (chip time). I had started a few seconds back, so I finished in 3:30:02, good enough for 3rd place in my age group. I suppose that is close enough to my 3:30 goal.

Great job, Adam!

Back to it.

It has been a while since I last blogged. 2008 was quite a year for me, both running and blogging about running (running a marathon a week, and then daily blogging), and by the end of the year something had to crack. Fortunately for my running, the blogging was the one to go (I did complete the "marathon" a week, for a total of 54 marathons for the year).

I think I am ready to get back to it (more than a year later!).

This past weekend, I participated in the Easter Sun Run 10k. Though not always the case on organized runs, I intended to treat this run as a “race” and really challenge myself for a good finish time. Although I haven’t really be training for a hard effort, I have been able to put in some quality miles lately. The morning began beautifully with 40 degree temperatures and low wind. I was feeling up to the challenge.

As the race start approached, I headed to the front of starting area, trying to position myself as to not fight the congestion of the tight course (i.e., sidewalks) and the large starting field. I am one who gets very nervous playing with the big dogs (i.e, positioning myself in front of all other runners), as I’m not one who takes myself too seriously with running (maybe it’s a confidence issues as I don’t picture myself as one of the fast guys, maybe it’s that I’m not too sure of my abilities to finish in my goal times). As we stood there, the race director instructed all those intending to run sub 6:30 miles to cross the starting tape, to ensure that they were in fact segregated in front of the rest of the pack. While this did include me, I really struggled to cross the tape and show myself as one of the 25 or so individuals who had a goal of 40 minutes or less. I bit the bullet and crossed. I felt very out of place, although I knew deep down that I am good enough to hang with some of these folks.

On the gun, the race began. The first quarter mile is always well above pace, as the field spreads out and positions are established. I settled in with about 20 or so in front of me, at a 6:15 min/mile or so pace. This course, unlike most races I run, was marked in kilometers and not miles, so time checks were given much more frequently. As I approached the first “k”, I felt confident that I was right in my grove at a sub 39 minute pace.

I continued on. At 2 and 3 k I maintained a solid 6:10-6:15 min/mile pace. By kilometer 4, I was beginning to feel the pace and question my strategy, as my heart rate was already above 180 (my theoretical maximum heart rate based on age is only 190, so I am clearly in the red zone with nearly 4 miles to go). I decided it didn’t matter – who cares if I crash and burn, I wanted to give a sub 39 minute 10k a shot.

I hit the 5k mark in 19:07, a new 5k PR for me! This was a real pick-me-up, although I had hoped to be at that mark in just under 19:00. I continued on, knowing that every 4 minutes or so I was a kilometer closer to finishing.

By 6k, I was really struggling. I was pushing my limits, and my body was rejecting it. I didn’t let it affect my pace, but it was painful. At 7k, I was still on pace, only slowing a little from my first 5k pace. At 8k, I began trying to catch the runner in front of me by 15 seconds or so. I picked away at that deficit one second at a time, until about 200 meters to go when I finally caught him. The charge proved too much for me, and he took me by 2 seconds at the finish, but I’m glad he was there to encourage me to try and catch him. 38:35.

In the end, it was still a beautiful morning. I discovered that I finished 2nd in my age group, and 18th overall (around 750 participants). I set a PR by nearly 1:25, and really felt great doing it.

Still recovering

The weather has turned cold and rainy, so I headed to an overly crowded gym after work. I hopped on the treadmill for a 4 mile run. I eased into it, but quickly switch to 1/4 mile repeats, alternating between an 8.5-9.5 mph pace on the high end and 6 mph on the low end. I struggled with the my breath. My legs seem fine, but I can tell that my internal systems are not recovered. I'll take it easy tomorrow.

Feeling incredibly well

My recovery could not be better for 24 hours out. My legs are fine, my hips seem fine, and my energy seems fine. My feet are a little sore, and I am still suffering from a bit of...well...chaifing. It is to be expected.

My run went well. On the treadmill because of rain, I ran 4 miles in just over 34 minutes. I steadily increased the pace throughout, just to get an opportunity to strech out the legs.

41 Down, 11 to go: Heartland 100

I generally consider myself to be a confident person. I like to think that I work hard at achieving my goals, and when it is time to actually achieve a goal, I am usually confident that have put in the work necessary to do what it is I need to do. And I am generally confident that I have the drive and the will to achieve those goals. That I believe is the real key.

With running, my story is no different. With all humility, I think I have been fairly successful in my relatively short running career in achieving my goals. Part of this success is attributable to setting realistic goals. Some days my goal may be “just to finish” while other days my goal might be to break 3:30 hours for a marathon or even set a P.R. Fortunately, I’ve never had to drop from a running race. I attribute this largely to my drive.

Today I expected to be different. For the first time in my memory, I entered today thinking that I probably would not finish. While I knew I was physically able to finish (I had completed the Lean Horse 100 only six weeks prior), I just didn’t know if I had the drive to finish. I was beat down mentally from Lean Horse and from all the long runs I have completed this year. This feeling was new for me. But although I was not coming in confident, I did have a good attitude that no matter what I wouldn’t be a failure even if I didn’t finish.

With that backdrop, I set out to run my 3rd career 100 mile Ultramarathon. The Heartland 100 takes place in the Flint Hills of Kansas. This had been my first 100 miler exactly one year ago.

I woke up around 3:00, got dressed and grabbed a quick breakfast of a cliff bar and Gatorade. Laura (my training partner and fellow participant setting out to complete her first 100 mile ultramarathon) picked me up around 4:00 a.m. We headed to the start area in Cassoday nearly 45 miles away. We arrived around 5:00 and had nearly an hour to kill. We hung out and chatted with other runners. We both were clearly nervous.

At 6:00 a.m., we were off into the pure darkness (the sun wouldn’t rise for another 45 minutes to an hour). The first few miles went as expected. We maintained around a 10:30 pace during the first five miles. Around every two miles, we took a one minute walk break. This worked well over those flat five miles. Around mile five we began hitting a few easy hills. At any significant climb, we walked. Any downhills, we ran. We did our best to run all the flats. The miles of running two straight miles were long gone.

The first manned aid station came at Battle Creek between eight and nine miles out. Laura and I quickly refilled our bottles and I grabbed a banana and a couple of pretzels. We headed out, straight into what I believe is the hilliest section of the entire course.

Miles 8-17 are tough, but early in the race they are kinda fun.

I continued eating and drinking. Forecast called for 80+ temperatures and 20+ mph winds. It was already getting hot, but with the winds, it felt strangely cold.

At the Mile 17 (Lapland), we saw Jennifer (my wife and my crew) for the first time. She provided us some much needed drinks and me a quick PB&J sandwich. We continued on. So far so good.

We met up with Jennifer again at the Teterville Aid station at mile 25. We were 25 miles in and feeling good. I dropped off the long sleeve shirt and grabbed refills on bottles and drinks.

We continued on towards mile 31 and the Texaco Hill Aid station. Although Texaco Hill is technically accessible by car, few crews try to go there as it is nearly impossible to get from Teterville to the Texaco Hill and to the following aid station in the time it takes the runner to cover the same distance. So as much as we wanted to see Jennifer, we would have to utilize the supplies at the aid station (the aid stations are great) and head on out to Jennifer at mile 36.

The temperatures and the wind continued to increase. Our pace slowed, but we continued covering each mile at just over 12 minute miles.

At mile 36 (Ridgeline), we found Jennifer. Laura needed to change shoes and socks, and to treat the early stages of a blister. I used that time to relax and eat a sandwich and refill my bottles. After about five minutes, we moved on.

At mile 43 (Matfield Green Aid Station), Laura and I split ways. This was by plan. She had her own pacers planning on running with her for the last 57 miles, while I had plans for pacers from the last 43 miles. While our paces were similar enough for the first 30 or 40 miles, we knew that we better be able to each run our own paces thereafter.

I was feeling very good at mile 43 and was able to move quickly through the aid station after Jennifer provided fluids and food. I even grabbed a third water bottle with the heat (largely to pour over my head if I began to overheat). I applied some much needed sunscreen (did I mention it was 80 degrees and sunny?). Laura, unfortunately, was hitting the first of many inevitable walls. She was getting overheated, hungry and tired. Her feet were causing her some problems, and she needed a little bit longer break. I knew she would break through it, but neither she nor I knew how long she and her first pacer might be at that aid station. So I left on my own from 43 just after 2:00 p.m.

The next 7 miles were a struggle for me. It was getting warmer and warmer. I was having difficulties eating, although I was doing a reasonable job of taking in fluids. I hit the 50 mile aid station (Lone Tree) at 4:10 p.m. There I took some time to drink some 7-Up and eat a Gu.

The half-way point was a significant victory for me. I had run for 10+ hours and was feeling pretty good. I was right on pace for a sub 24-hour finish, and right in line with my time last year. I was feeling good, and I had regained the confidence that I could finish today’s race.

I began the journey back. Unfortunately, 49.5 miles from the start is a very long and steep down hill. Going in to the aid station at mile 50, that makes for a nice easy downhill before the break. But on the way out, it takes nearly 5 minutes just to climb your way out of the valley. I struggled up, but by the top I was ready to run. And who did I see but Laura. She was looking awesome and running well! Thankfully, she had broken through the mile 43 lows. She couldn’t be more than 10 minutes behind me! I was really excited for her, which gave me much needed boost (you can’t help but have a vested interest in your running partner for nearly all your training and the first 43 miles of the race).

This boost was unfortunately short lived. While the heat of the day was on the decline, the 8+ hours of direct sunlight and heat had taken a toll on me. My stomach was struggling to digest. Nothing sounded good, either to eat or drink. I struggled to make it up and down the hills. I was hitting a serious low on the day. My energy was gone.

I struggled back to Matfield Green at mile 57. Jennifer and Laura’s crew were all waiting. As was my first pacer, Mike. Upon seeing everyone, I said “This ultrarunning deal sucks. Who signed me up for this?” I didn’t mean it, and in all honesty, seeing friends kept my spirits high. I joked with those around me. But I also didn’t hide that I was feeling low because of the heat. I downright felt ill. I didn’t want any more Gu, so I nibbled on some crackers and had some Ginger Ale.

Mike and I headed out. I began slowly, but soon picked up the pace. By this time I had been out there for nearly 12 hours. I was tired and hungry. I definitely enjoyed the company. We had only 6 miles to go before hitting Ridge Line. We hit mile 36 just as the sun set. I was right around 13 hours in. I grabbed a quick bottle of Coke and a Vanilla Gu (great combination).

Mike and I made a fairly quick stop out of Ridgeline, and he and I headed back out for another 11 miles. Mike would be with me through Texaco Hill and all the way to mile 75 and Teterville. At Texaco Hill, the aid station was a tent that provided us some nice relief from the cold winds. I drank some coffee and ate chicken-noodle soup. I drank more Ginger Ale and ate saltines to help settle my stomach. I still felt ill.

Mike and I soon charged on. We would have 7 tough miles without any aid before hitting the 75 mile mark and my crew. I struggled for the first few miles, but soon picked up the pace. I covered those miles in fairly good time.

Sooner than expected (which was a rarity, see below), we hit Teterville Road. Within a few minutes on Teterville Road, we would hit the Teterville Aid Station and mile 75. Awaiting me at Teterville was Jennifer and my next two pacers, Brad and Danny. Laura’s crew was also there. The news was that Laura was only 20 minutes behind me leaving Ridgeline 11 miles back. She was doing awesome!

I again drank coffee and ate soup and saltines. I changed my socks for the first time on the day (I was really struggling with the small rocks in my shoes). Danny and I headed out.

Danny paced me 8 miles through mile 83 and the Lapland Aid Station. The story of Danny (and Brad for that matter) is fairly funny. Danny and Brad are coworkers. I had asked if they would pace me some time back. I knew neither of them were runners, but both are athletes. I knew with very minor training, they could easily pace me through an 8 or 9 mile section. And if I was really struggling, I knew each could go beyond that 8 or 9 miles. So even though Danny had done no training (none, zero, zilch), he stuck with me for 8 miles. It was tougher than he thought. Luckily, my relationship with Danny (and with Brad) is that I can joke with them about being able to outrun them after running 85+ miles. This adventure made for some great laughs for the nearly two hours that it took Danny and me to make it those eight miles.

At mile 83, I met my crew for a quick break. I ate some more soup and drank some more coffee. Brad joined me to pace me through the toughest section of the course, Lapland to Battle Creek. My running pace wasn’t quick, and my ability to run more than a few minutes at a time was lost, but what surprise Brad was my ability to quickly walk up the hills. Brad, who had trained even less than Danny, kept up good spirits, although the hills were killing his legs! Again, this made for good laughs!

For me, the extremely difficult part of this stretch was not the hills, but it was not knowing how many hills were left. Constantly I would think I was farther along the stretch than I really was. My memory was that you could see the aid station from the top of a hill. So at each hilltop, I’d look down and when I saw no aid station, I let it get to me. I admitted to Brad about mile 90 that I was mentally defeated.

Finally, it appeared. The Battle Creek Aid Station at mile 92 was a great sight. I knew I was now through the hills and within single digits of the finish. Brad and Danny were set to again switch, with Danny planning to take me on to mile 96. Brad and Danny quickly rethought the issue, and decided that Brad would keep going, so he didn’t have to tighten up before running again. I ate some soup and drank some Red Bull. Danny and I headed out.

The Mirage Aid Station appeared at mile 96. Brad and Danny switched places. I headed out quickly after eating a bit of banana. I was feeling good, and was ready to finish.

Danny and I pushed on over those last 4 miles. Again, I thought I was farther along the course that I actually was. With about 5 miles left, you can see the finish tower (a water tower with flashing lights). So you feel closer than you really are. I remembered the last two miles of the course were a right turn, followed by a left turn, followed by a right turn on to pavement and the finished. What I clearly didn’t remember was how far it was from Mile 95 to the start of those last two miles. Again, I was mentally defeated, but this
time I didn’t let it get to me. I knew I was close. I could keep going with slowing.

When I finally hit those last two miles, my pace quickened. I was excited to be finished. And I knew I would finish just under my finish time from last year. I tried to run the entire last two miles, but couldn’t. I did run much more than I walked, and walked quickly when I walked. The last ¾ mile I did manage to run the entire way.

I finished in 22:33:21. 18th place out of 81 starters. 13 minutes faster than last year.

I was surprised that I finished. Even more surprised by my finish time. And even more surprised by my attitude throughout the day. I stated I entered the day not knowing if I had the drive and the will to finish. I was proud to say that I found it somewhere between mile 50 and 57.

Laura finished in 25:46! She was the 3rd place woman. Congratulations to her.

A huge thank you to Mike, Brad and Danny, as well as to Laura’s crew who gave me an enormous amount of support. Even more thanks to Jennifer. Even at 7 months pregnant, she is the best crew person out there.