ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILE ENDURANCE RUN FEB 4, 2012

     The following is my recount of running my first 100 mile event, as told one week later. The experience is still being assimilated into my being, but I think it's settled-in enough for a race report. Here's a link to the results, all said and done (I'm 183rd):

 http://www.ultralive.net/rr100/webcast.php

     I trained pretty well for Rocky this year-- having a mild winter helped.  Last year I trained just about as hard for the 50 mile race, and it was much more grueling than this year - lots of runs in the single digit temps on ice and snow.  However, the mild weather had absolutely no effect on the suckiness of, three months into it, running a lot ALL. THE. TIME.  I started Rocky-specific training by racing in October.  For months before though, I'd been building a base with alot of running and cross training.  I ran 45 miles the week before the KC marathon, then ran the marathon (4h34m, 2 min slower than my PR) and a 9.5 miler the next day.  The next weekend was Lake Perry 50k, where I smashed my 50k PR (6h43m), thanks to Sophia aka Ultraphia pacing me and no thanks to an epic meltdown, which you can read all about in my earlier blog.  I was unable to run up my driveway the next day.  Not, I ran up my driveway the next day but I was sore and it hurt real bad.  Unable.  One week to the day after that I ran another PR for fifty miles (10h49m and I beat Shawn Walters even though he officially finished in 10h48m - it's a weird time/space continuum thingy) at Lou's Blue Springs 50/50.  I blogged about that one too.  The next weekend I was back out hitting up WYCO.  My weekly mileage through Nov and Dec was 19,48,55,56,68,45,58.  Did 2 loops at WYCO on Sat and another 10 on the roads Sunday a couple of times in there, but nothing bigger.  I was looking forward to tapering -- running wasn't as fun as I wanted it to be for awhile at the end and I was getting sick of the "training for a hundred" thing.  I tapered for a week longer than I wanted, but I was itching to start not running.  My taper weekly mileages were 24,28,30,20 and no cross training, unless you count yoga.  I do weights and a boot camp class at the gym.  It was too late in the game before I  realized I could be alot cooler if I did TRX or Crossfit instead.  Next time, guys.  I always try to eat mostly healthy (that's the best way of putting it) - real food is the main thing, although Hot Tamales are a diet staple.  I cut out eating wheat (as best I could) at the beginning of January after listening to a podcast at Ben Greenfield Fitness, but haven't noticed a real difference to tell the truth.  But I haven't been perfect at it, maybe that's why.  And I started to salt my food after getting labs done at the doctor and having kinda low sodium numbers.  The week before the race I also started drinking water with Nuun (you say nuun I say none) electrolyte tablets, even though I don't ride the electrolyte bandwagon.  More than anything, I just knew I would drink a lot more water if it didn't taste like. . . water.  Other than that, didn't change much at all.  Overall, I knew I had some good solid training under my belt, which was better than not having it.  It's not everything, but it ain't nothing. 

  So let's get to the start of the race already.  First, our arrival in Huntsville.  My boyfriend Brian and I went to Austin the Thursday before the race to visit his best friend Craig and his girlfriend Maggie.  It was awesome, but not alot of race stuff.  I can't have this be 600 pages.  Then Craig, Brian and I all went to Huntsville.  Dropbag cutoff was at 6pm (you get a bag packed with clothes, shoes, headlamp, socks, nutrition, etc. to have available to you out on the trail, as long as you had your bag in the truck by 6pm) and we just barely made it.  I told Sophia that morning that we should all get together for dinner.  I told Heather the same.  After dropping my drop bag and picking up my race chip and packet, I call Heather to see what's up for dinner.  They are already eating.  I'm like what?  And she's like - well, I couldn't get them to wait.  Following is what becomes reality for me, try to follow along:  I recall how a couple of weeks ago I had mentioned to Sophia that she is a master co-dependent manipulator because whenever I find myself doubting my chances of finishing, I remember her telling me exactly why I CAN finish and I am once again confident.  I tell her I have been tricked into relying on her support too much.   I tell her this to get a laugh, and I do.  But now, the evening before the race, it is all coming together.  She took that information and decided to sabotage my race because she is a mean, evil cow.  AND she's turning Heather against me (I got that part because I texted Heather and told her to tell Sophia she was selfish and Heather, being non-brain damaged, texted back no way and I could tell her myself).  I also texted Sophia about getting a ride to the start and she hadn't texted back right away which was so not like her.  I even call her on the phone to confront her about it all and she was just real blah, which if you know Sophia you know she doesn't run on blah.  Because of all these logical reasons, I started to get scared that this mean evil crap that had ridiculously popped in my brain was really true and I would not see her until the beginning of the race and she would be cold to me.  I knew that would fuck with my head.   And I knew that is exactly what she wanted.  Put another thorn in Erica's side so when the chips are down, she won't have that extra support to lean on.  I knew she planned on passing me on the trail and not make eye contact, laughing inside.  Fine you fucking weird freak (funny I should think that about someone else, huh?).  I got your number and I just gotta switch a gear and get on a different track that doesn't go near the arena where your game is.  It was really eating my lunch and luckily I was able to recognize it was really eating my lunch.  So I did what I've been taught to do and that was do the next thing.  OK - what's the next thing?  The next thing is we needed to get batteries and film at Target.  That's when my psychosis ended.  I was able to be shown reality, which as you can tell, is not necessarily where I am all the time.  Different things started  to "all come together".  For instance, earlier I had gotten alot of texts because of the search for Sophia's missing packet.  A missing packet is a big deal.  When I talked to her on the phone, she even said that after that fiasco she just was like - I need food and so off they went.  I could tell from her voice that she didn't realize I had actually banked on all of us eating together - that's a big one.  Alot of other things too I'm not wasting space on, except for one which was that we weren't even close to being hungry to eat again.  Worth noting that I'm getting all bent out of shape about not being at a restaurant when I'm already full.  Although eating Mexican with friends is fun, I had just done that a couple of hours before and that's not why I came all the way to Texas.  I saw them at the hotel when they got back and everything was fine.  I did not get any "I want to trip you on the trail" vibes and even though I had some worry about my mind going off the deep end permanently one of these days, today wasn't the day and I was able to put my head on my pillow and fall asleep without worry.  Well, except about the whole running 100 miles the next day worry.  Sophia wasn't the wiser for any of this until now, and the only reason I know she'll read this is that I'll tell her there's good stuff all about her in it.  So sorry Sophia that I ever thought you were a mean evil cow because the reality is, you've taught me much of what I know about how to be a friend.  

   OK - NOW we can go to the start of the race already.  I woke up at 3:30am (alarm set for 3:45) for the 6am start.  Sophia and her pacer from CO, Abby were in a room at the Econo Lodge, Huntsville.  My pacer and now soul sister Heather was in the room next to them.  Brian, Craig and I were a few rooms down from them.  We had smoking rooms on the 2nd floor with no elevator because that's where idiots that run 100 miles like to be.  We were leaving for Denny's at 4:30.  I walked out of the room to a torrential downpour.  The race started at 6am and it was still raining, although not as hard.  The bright side being that I'll take rain over wind 99 out of 100 times, and rain is one of those things that only sucks so much, then you get used to it - i.e. you can only get so wet, then you're not going to get any wetter.  It's not ideal, but it's not that bad.  I run with Sophia for about a mile or two - that's it.  It was a great start though.  She told me how she got a call  the night before from family telling her that her grandfather was on his deathbed.  She wondered if maybe he had passed and was watching her from above.  I was a little jealous that she had freshly-dead grandfather otherworld mojo on her side.  My grandfathers were both dead before I was a year old - that's some stale-ass mojo.  Lucky bitch.  It's ok I say this.  I'm already going to hell, and we've established that I may not be the most thoughtful friend you could find.  

     I love love love the Rocky loops.  It's a twenty mile loop you do 5 times.  Terrain is pretty flat, mostly single track trail, a little rooty in places.  A few miles to first aid station, then a few more to second, then 6 miles unaided back the the second one.  This aid station that is the second one and the third one is called Damnation - it's where your drop bag is besides the one at the Start/Finish.  Then a few miles to the fourth aid station, then 3.4 miles back to the Start/Finish.  Aid stations are all top notch - lots of all kinds of food (best potato soup, breakfast tacos, ramen, candy, pretzels, fig newtons, PB&J, etc etc), experienced volunteers, can't say enough great things about them.  There was a lady at Damnation that everytime I came back through after being gone 6 miles would exclaim "You're back!!", looking so happy to see me.  It gave me a boost.  After Damnation, I saw Ashley and Emily (there to kick ass in their first 50 mile) on Jeep Road.  We discussed insults we could hurl at Matty (there for his first 100 too -- for whatever reason he does not respond to positive encouragement) to help him along, then off they went.  Every loop thereafter on Jeep Road (my favorite part - just a wide jeep road through the middle of a forest area) I would remember how fresh and young I felt that first loop, getting some of that feeling back.  I saw Matty toward the end of my first loop - he was headed out on his second loop and was walking.  I asked him what the hell he was walking for, then told him that I smelled pussy and it wasn't mine.  I really had no idea how vulgar it would sound out loud.  Finished the loop in 4h40 min - the max I wanted to do it in, but still on schedule.  I figured I would do about 4h30min loops the first three loops, so a little slow but not too bad. 

Ultra Central - Start/Finish Area Camp

     Miles 21 - 40.  Uneventful.  I know either this loop or the next one there was a tree across the trail that hadn't been there the first loop. At the time, I noticed it, but didn't believe it.  Certainly, I am mistaken.  Trees don't fall in the middle of races.  They wait until the race is over.  Since the race, I've read comments from those who were there when the tree fell, so apparently the trees aren't aware of the falling during a race rule.  OK - there was one other event. It would be much  better for me if this happened in the next loop and I could claim fatigue, but I'm pretty sure it was daylight out.   There is a porta potty at the end of Jeep Road.  I had been looking forward to pooing in that porta potty since somewhere out on Damnation stretch.  I passed two girls to get to the porta potty first.  The second girl I passed yelled out as I was passing - Is there a line? -- to try to hold a place in front of me.  Punk.  Get in the back bitch 'cause I'm playing the front.  I blew by her, but then noticed that there were 3 people waiting.  So I of course yell/moan "Oh Fuck" like it's some big tragedy that has befallen me.  The girl in the porta potty actually said "Oh - Sorry".  Nice.  Now I feel like shit.  haha.  Before I knew it, I just knelt out of everyone in line's view behind the porta potty and went poo.  I think this is the time to interject how much it sucks being a girl at Rocky.  You are never alone for more than a moment those first few daylight laps, and privacy to do your business is an issue.  I STILL have scratches all over my leg from getting in/out of a bush that could hide me on a pee stop on a part that had two-way traffic.  I'm designing a bush outfit next year so I can just walk off the trail and be camouflaged.  So back to behind the porta potty: I go poo and get a baby wipe out of my waistpack and am wiping my big ol' white ass when I happen to look over to my right, down Jeep Road.  I am surprised to immediately make eye contact with Luis, headed up the road with me in his sights.  I know his name is Luis because it was on the back of his shirt and I was behind him for a stretch earlier in the Loop.  He is from Mexico and doesn't speak English.  But I don't have to parlez espanol to know that is a curl and a look of disgust that has formed on his lips and shines in his eyes.  I yell Fuck again and finish up and get out of there ASAP before he comes along.  For as early on in the race as it was I would have hoped to have more decorum, but a trail is a trail and rules aren't what they are on the sidewalk.  Not far to the finish of Loop 2:  5h17min for that one.  Not very happy with the 40 minutes extra.  And my Timex Ironman that's supposed to run for 20 hours crapped out on me after 8 hours so I ditch that at our tent after letting everyone in earshot know what a piece of fucking shit it is.  My attitude started to slip here and there on this loop, just a bit.  Craig is there to snap photos of my progression and simultaneous decline.  Brian was there for hugs and to tell me I'm great. I tell them next loop will be 6h but Heather wants 5h.  Don't tell me what to do.  Abby asks how I'm doing.  Well, to be honest I feel like I'm working way too hard for what I'm getting.  I kept my HR below 70% of max for the first 50 miles and it seemed like I was going slower and working harder than I should be.  It wasn't going to be a day made for racing my best for sure, but that didn't mean it had to be horrible.  That's all I had to say about that.

     Miles 41 -60.  I think this is the loop I see Matty at Damnation (it could have been the second loop though, loops 2 and 3 get mixed up in my memory) -- he's going out, I'm coming in.  He says he needs his rolling pin.  I told him I need new shoes - my trail shoes were biting into my ankle and it was starting to kill every step.  He said - that sucks.  And I said - Yeah, well, it's about not to suck.  I put on my Mizuno Enigmas and I swear it was like putting pillows on my feet.  One of the smartest things I did the whole race, changing those shoes.  Dry socks too.  Although you weren't going to go too far with dry socks.  The rain had made a lot of unavoidable mud slop pits throughout the trail.  Nothing can compare to the sludge and soul-sucking qualities of WYCO at its muddiest, but it was squishy, shoe-sucking mud and I'd rather not have it than have it.  Mother Nature cares very little about my opinion in these things.  I also notice that I'm not so chipper when meeting other people on the trail.  Not that I was greeting everyone before, but I notice I don't even want to make eye contact with them.  I slip into a "If you people would just leave me alone and I can be by myself, everything will be fine" mode.  This happens all the time and when it does, I gotta get right again for this is not a good place to come from.  Thankfully, simply realizing that is where I'm at is enough to get me out of it much of the time, this being no exception. 
     I forgot to reapply A & D ointment at Damnation both times.  I also forgot to get more Gus both times (I was doing no caffeine the first 50 miles, then Rocktane Gu's the rest, every 45 minutes until Mile 60, then every half hour after that, besides eating more than just a little at all aid stations) and had zero Rocktane Gus on me after leaving Damnation, so on the way back to the Start/Finish I came up with the AIR BAT acronym:  A = A & D ointment, I = Ibuprofen, R = Rocktane, BAT = Batteries for my headlamp.  I was very proud of myself and blurted it all out to Heather when I came in at 60 miles, about 10pm.  "I was forgetting stuff so I came up with AIR BAT, It's A for A & D" . .etc.  Brian, Craig and Heather looked at me, interested.  I remember at the time thinking "Wow -- they are so impressed I came up with an acronym and remembered everything, all while running 100 miles, and I am too.  They are convinced I'm a fucking genius".  I now think it was more of a don't take your eye off the crazy ones look.  Brian was there for love and I can't tell you how great it was he was there-- I didn't expect that but it meant a whole lot to me.  He was there for every loop except for the one at like 4:30 in the morning.  It took me 5h53m to do the third loop.  So we're at 16 hours down, 14 to go -- it's a 30 hour cutoff.  That means 7 hours apiece for the next two loops.  Based on my decline over the first 3 loops, and the fact that it's 10pm at night and slow going in the dark, I started seriously considering the fact that I may not make cutoff.  In fact, at this point I thought it very likely I wouldn't make cutoff.  Way back in the beginning of the loop, I came up on a couple and told them my times for the first two loops and what they thought about cutoff.  They said it was too early to worry about cutoff and we were still good.  I liked them.  I got a second opinion from the next experienced guy and he shared my alarm at the 40 minute difference between Loop 1 and 2.  He said that I needed to keep that time loss each loop down - they can't keep getting longer and longer.  I didn't like him at all.  But he was right.  I was going way slow and getting passed a whole lot it seemed like.  I'm not a natural runner -- always hated running and was never good at it.  Other than maybe when I was a kid, I was 36 before I ever ran a mile.  I've always had to dismiss the thought that I can't do 100 miles because of this - practice can only make up for a certain amount of lack of natural ability and maybe I'm not physically cut out for it.  There goes that damn brain, just like the man, trying to keep me down.    

     Miles 61-80.    Heather is my pacer and gets to head out with me on the 4th loop.  I really didn't know her that well.  I ran with her a couple of times at WYCO in December, and that was enough to know we weren't going to have any problems personality-wise.  She didn't complain, she didn't smell real bad, make weird noises, talk too much, talk too little, or talk about dumb shit that I don't care about.  More importantly, I must have not done the same, as she seemed quite eager to buy a plane ticket, rent a car, even buy a Garmin off Craigslist, and spend a weekend away from her loving family to walk around the woods all night with some miserable mouthy chic.  And people call me crazy.  We also met once for brunch to go over her job duties.  I had a list of things - here are some of them: 

•  Make sure I breathe right.  I should be doing count of 2 in, count of 2 out.  My breathing gets too shallow when I'm tired.  
•  Give me a Gu every 30 minutes for as long as my stomach will handle them.
• Make sure to make me run every so often so I'm not trudging a death march.  I told her Sophia's trick she used pacing another guy - Give me 50, can you give me 50?  Meaning 50 running steps.

     I know there were more, but I can't remember them now, or I don't want to give them away.  The only other thing about the brunch I remember I had some kind of fried chicken salad  with yellow mustard for dressing.  That's it for the brunch.  OK - that's not it.  I also told Heather that there would be a little part of me that would always blame her if I didn't finish.  I didn't think it was wrong to say until it came out of my mouth.  Then is sounded a little wrong - not wrong as in untrue, just wrong as in one of those things that I should have kept to myself.  She told me it was ok - as a matter of fact, she would blame herself  if I didn't finish.  Still, I know if roles were reversed, my first reaction would not be one of understanding to such a statement.  I would climb right up on my high horse and let them know that when you point the finger at someone else, you got 3 pointing back at you, bitch.  Anyway, this little exchange is one of the things that come to mind when I think of how perfect a pacer I found in Heather.  
     OK - back to the race.  Mile 61 - This is what I'd been waiting for.  This is where we enter the realm of the previuosly unkown.  There is the - it's the middle of the night and I'm running on a trail in Texas doing some epic shit.  Epic shit that many people can't even fathom - part.  I fucking love that part.  I AM as cool as I think I am in that part.  Then there is the shitty part.  We're 16 hour into it - that is many hours longer than I've ever spent in an ultra.  I'm hurting.  "Hurting" doesn't do it near the justice it deserves.  Let me paint you a picture - the noise in my brain/body with every step was a scream of pain like that of an ewok getting anally raped with a red hot tire iron.  The worst was the part where the top of your foot meets the bottom of your leg.  It was killing me.  K.I.L.L.I.N.G.  M.E.  as they say.  I'm no doctor, but I don't need to be -- I looked at a picture on the internet and I'd say it was my extensor digitorum longus and hallucis tendons that were inflammed.  Meaning they were on fire. My medical reason is that the tendon was shortened up because that's how it is when you are standing, and I had been standing and pounding weight on it for longer than I ever had before.  If Danny Miller has made it this far reading my report, he can tell me if he concurs.  I started to stop forward progress and lean against a tree and put my toe on the ground and lean forward, one foot at a time, to stretch it out and it would hurt so good.  But as soon as I started walking, the ewok getting anally raped feeling would come flooding back.  So I stopped really doing it because it wasn't really having any lasting effect, just wasting time.  It wasn't just that one spot of course --  I kept getting hot spots (I think that's what they were) on my pinky toes -- my feet were in wet socks the entire time and pretty soon I could have sworn that I had a blister on the bottom of my toe, but then it would go away.  I've had one blister that I can remember and it didn't really bother me much and only lasted a few days so I don't have alot of experience with them.  I bitched to Heather about it, but then the pain would subside, so we never went through the rigamarole of taking off my shoes and socks to look at it.  And I never got a blister.  Fucking miracle.  I'm not sure when exactly I lost all ability to regulate my body temperature; I do know that I didn't get that ability back until sometime Sunday night.  I was running in more clothes than I have on when it's zero degrees and I was still getting teeth-chattering cold - it didn't drop below 50 degrees that night.  Luckily, Sophia told me this would happen.  If she hadn't, I would certainly have freaked the fuck out, certain my body was shutting down and death was the next stage.  I was also extremely nauseous the last 40 miles, but I didn't puke.  I wish I would have puked because I bet I could write a great puke story, but it never happened.  I even got a hot dog wrapped in a pancake down the hatch at Mile 87ish, one of the most impressive feats of the race, besides the whole running 100 miles part. Those are my general complaints that would persist until the end.
     Once Heather was with me, I handed the reins over, glad to be rid of them.  I'm sure they weren't the first words out of my mouth upon our start, but it didn't take long for me to find it necessary to let Heather know exactly how much I was hurting, detailing everything above.  I don't like to use the word whining because as a Trail Nerd, I know the shallow graves reserved for them.  But that's the only reason I'm not using it, as it fits.  I graciously let her know that in fact there is no way she could understand my suffering, so don't waste your time trying, as a suffering like this has never been known.  I found myself almost rolling my eyes at my own melodrama, but it hurt too bad.  I was in bad shape in my opinion and was afraid it was going to get way worse before the end -- worse enough for a DNF.  That was still a big uncertainty though, I realized.  What seemed more possible is that I would not be able to finish because of cutoff.  The fact that I worked so hard for this and I may not get it was absofuckinglutely devastating.  I would start almost crying (I know Heather could hear me -- when you're trying to choke back crying sound - real hitched breath, not conducive to running or even walking) the instant it was considered.  These were my darkest spots.  Of all the complicated ways I could imagine using to get myself out of them, what worked was very simple.  I would think of Elliot being out there with me and it would instantly bring some light into my heart and the dark space would fade.  I am well aware that I am too attached to my dog.  It is certainly not the worst thing you could say about me.  I know I brought up and we talked about finishing the 100 miles but not getting a buckle, and although that thought didn't hit me like a ton of bricks like the other, I didn't want any "yeah. . . buts" on my resume.  I imagined saying "Yeah, I ran the 100 miles, but I didn't get a buckle" and I didn't like the sound of it one bit.  
     As for Heather, she got a whole lot of miserableness from me.  I've only recently been clued in (thanks Rick Mayo) that one of the roles of being a pacer is being that person that hears the whining and venting from the runner.  So although I didn't puke, I got to verbally vomit all over Heather.  I'm glad Rick told me that, because I really was getting down on  myself for being such an enormous miserable brat.  I find great relief in knowing that is just part of the whole 100 mile journey.  For when it comes to having a shitty attitude, I am a motherfucking ninja.  Coming out of my mouth were a lot of  - We're not fucking running anymore - Slow the fuck down - This fucking sucks - You're going way too fucking fast -- I'm so fucking freezing you can't even comprehend it - Stop, I gotta pee - You can't know how much this hurts - and a couple I fucking hate yous.  I remember how she started out with "Can you give me 100?"  I snorted so she would be aware (she was in front of me and couldn't see my crabass facial expressions) how absurd those words coming out of her mouth were.  Ummmm. . . listen fucktard.  We start with 50, not 100.  100 steps was NEVER mentioned.  Why you have decided to pull that number out of your ass I have no clue.  You got to be some kind of stupid to think I'm running 100 steps.  As a matter of fact, 0 steps sound good to me.  How about 0?  But I did some anyway 'cause she said to.  I can close my eyes and see her in front of me, whipping around to her right to hand me a Gu.  Every 30 minutes, just as planned.  I never took a Gu without remarking on how nauseous I was and how awful this was going to be for me.  Nail me to a cross already.  When I really didn't want a Gu and she cut me a break, she'd give me a caffeine tab thing instead (she found those things all on her own and they were awesome).  For 12 hours, I had about 2 cups of coffee's worth every 30 minutes I think.  She fed me salt, which I didn't even tell her about or want, but needed.   She had Tums .  She would ask if I was breathing right.  I would answer "yeah" in a way that said "yeah, quit bothering me with fucking shit I already know".  Then I would think - ok, you're breathing is all fucked up, gotta fix it.  And she would keep asking me occasionally, undeterred by my response, and I would keep fixing it.  Heather was exactly who I needed out there.  She had EXACTLY what it took to get the last 40 of 100 miles out of me, something I wasn't going to find on my own that night.  We get to the end of Loop 4 at about 4:30am and are out before 5am.  Loop 4 = 6h22min.
    Miles 81 to 100.  We have a little over 7 hours to get this loop done.  I'm still freaking out about time and the dark spots are still coming and going.  Heather gets as much out of me as she can, but I am resisting going faster every step.  I'm also convinced I'm dying.  We were doing ibuprofen and then Tylenol, switching them.  I was peeing alot still, which was great.  I chalk that up to the fact that wore an ipod the whole time (mine went dead and used Brian's for the last loop - God I was such a bitch to her about getting things out of my bag cause she wasn't doing it "right" whatever the fuck that meant- I totally forgot about that) and took a drink after every song, minimum.  But I'm worried about kidney failure and every time she hands me the pills, I insinuate that they will kill me and it will all be her fault.  I also went poo twice on this loop and was very disturbed by it (sorry, I should only be allowed one poo story per race report).  My poo was SO black, it was like freshly poured tar.  I remember reading once when  I looked up why my poo was bright green that black poo means internal bleeding.  It was really just like from the dye in the Gus or something, I would guess.  But I start arguing with Heather when she tells me I don't have internal bleeding.  Finally, she had to stop, turn around, look me in the eye and tell me "Erica.  You are not going to die here.  I promise you.  You're not going to die today".  In my broken state, I believed her and finally shut up about it.  The more we go along, the more it becomes obvious that we're going to make it.  Besides, the sun comes up and it's true what I've read - you get a big lift in spirit with the rising of the sun.  Everything seems so much. . . better.  Probably something about it being a new day that infuses some freshness in your soul.  By the time we get back to Damnation, about Mile 92ish, I am giddy.  I even initiate some running on Jeep Road and Heather has her first chance to give me some positive reinforcement.  I still give her shit when I discover that we're going to be over an hour early.  I told her to shoot for 29h59m (remember, 30 hour cutoff) so I could expend as little effort as possible and still make it.  My bad attitude skills are only a bit stronger than my slacker skills.  I still think a reason the dark places didn't get any darker and why I didn't hallucinate is that I wasn't pushing myself hard enough - that sounds just like me, to slack in a 100.  Anyway, after the last aid station with just a few more miles to go, I am allowed to forgo running altogether -- we get to walk it in.  I spent alot of time prior to this cajoling Heather into walking but she wouldn't buy it, thank you baby jesus.  So I considered being allowed to walk it in no small victory.  It further elates me.  I got this, I think.  This is really going to happen.  At the end of each loop, you cross a road, then get on a wide trail - huge finish chute if you will.  Abby was waiting for us at the road and telephoned in our impending arrival.  Heather decided that I would run it in alone, so I took off flying.  Sophia captured the perfect finish line photo, which was a good thing because the "official" ones are absolutely horrendous.  

 That is Abby in a white blanket behind me and Heather in red.  We did that last loop in exactly the same time it took to do the one before.  BAM!!  Once again, Heather worked some kind of magic.  28 Hours, 45 Minutes, 100 Miles.  I look at this picture and what immediately pops in my head and heart is - I've always been my biggest disappointment.  I've written and erased that last part numerous times, wondering what comes next, knowing it's not all.  I can't put up a picture of me finishing 100 fucking miles and then have this biggest disappointment crap for a caption.  WTF?  I think I've had so much angst about that phrase because this time it doesn't ring true in me, and frankly that scares me because it's been there with me, part of me, all along - not a good thing, but a comfortable thing.  It's all tied in with the "if you really knew me, you wouldn't tolerate me" belief.  Even though there is at least a real piece of me that knows it isn't true, it is extremely hard for me to let go of the belief that I'm not OK.  It's easy for these "I'm my own worst critic, etc" phrases to be tossed around lightly, but I don't.  This is literally, fundamentally how I feel about myself.  I've only just recently even realized that's what I believed as truth about myself (but I'm the fucking #1 Champion Badginator!?), and now I'm just starting to face the fact that I could be wrong about those.  If I can just keep that feeling that I'm wrong, I think I'm giving myself a big chance.  I'm deciding that I'm a worthwhile person.  My whole life I've known one thing and that's that I'm not OK.  If I'm wrong about that, I could be wrong about other things too.  Hmmmmm.  Leave it up to me to learn a lesson in humility when I started out just trying not to feel like a worthless drain on the world.  I'll move on -- the emo section of the report has concluded.
 

I just ran 100 miles and boy am I tired!

     I wasn't the only one who achieved great things that day (or the day before) - all the Trail Nerds that came down to run in Rocky successfully finished their race.  There are 450 miles in this picture and we're even missing a few!  AND we all beat last year's winner of the race - Ian Sharman, who set a North American record with a time of 12h44min DNF'd this year.  He had good company - about 160 people DNF'd of the 375 who started.  I've heard him interviewed and he seems like a great guy, but in your face Ian!!  

I love everyone in this picture (except for the guy in the purple hat - he's just some guy that was there - he could be a puppy-kicker for all I know, although he looks pretty nice).  I wasn't kidding about Sophia teaching me how to be a friend.  My entire life my side of a conversation is for me to say the things I think  I SHOULD be saying.  There have been few others that I've been able to have natural, organic conversations with if you will - mine were processed and packaged.  I've had to practice being myself and when I am (and even when I'm not), have received nothing but love and compassion and acceptance from her.  But wait - there's more - I volunteered at an aid station at Psycho WYCO 50k the next week.  The Warrens stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, baking Hot Tamale ('cause they're my favorite) cupcakes for my birthday - you won't believe the shit they had to do to make these cupcakes - covering up the thing grinding down red hots so it wouldn't wake up the kids at way-too-late-thirty in the morning, melting down candy to its tasteless gel center, etc.  For Birthday cupcakes for me.  And Heather came by just to surprise me with the most awesome belt (you get a buckle for finishing 100 miles) known to man, complete with H. BADGER emblazoned on the back.  I know, perfect right?  I know I'm dangerously close to being confused with the smelly fat kid who picks their nose, but I've never had friends like that.  I was incapable of having any friends like that -- no one would get the chance because trust me, I would fuck it up before it got to that point.  And the whole day I spent freezing my ass off with the Warrens and Rick Mayo (I finally know fast Rick Mayo!) and Donnie D who I didn't know before, but who came out of his car singing my praises and ready to lead a fucking parade for me, and Megan M and that Bean guy who I didn't know either.  I enjoyed spending my day with all of them.  I am aware that I care what people are thinking not because of my ego, but because of my heart.  I realize it's weird that it's just now becoming a part of my life, but it is what it is.  I say all this because it just adds another layer of significance to running 100 miles -- you people have changed my life in ways I didn't know I even wanted changed.
  

Me and Heather -- Mission Accomplished!

Sophia hug

Just past the finish line -- he hands me my buckle as I hang on for dear life.

Heather hug

Brian hug

So that's it for the race.  I could have stayed there all day under that blanket.  The lady who was so happy for me at Damnation came by.  I told her "Look - I finished!"  She comes over to me, squinting her eyes.  "Who are you?"  I told her how she would say "you're back" at Damnation every time and how special she made me feel.  She told me she says that to everyone.  Hmmm. . . more humility.  Duly noted.   
     Checkout was noon and we were already late.  So I went back to the Lodge of Economy for a quick shower, then off to the backseat of Craig's Honda for the ride back to Austin.  I thought I would sleep, but found that if I didn't have my eyes on the road for 30 seconds, I would start to want to hurl again.  I bought some fancy $8 steak beef jerky which I ended up eating in bed that night, the only thing I ate the rest of the day besides a couple of chips and guacamole - I could feel my body starving for food but my stomach just wasn't having it yet.  I laid out at Craig and Maggie's house that evening under a blanket with a heater on me, sorta not watching the SuperBowl.  I didn't want to go to bed...didn't want to be alone. I finally crawled into bed after halftime and that bed felt like a big soft pillow enveloping my body - total luxury.  But it didn't last long - it's Sunday night, I'd been awake since 3:30am the day before,and I could not sleep.  I tossed and turned - I couldn't stay still for more than a few minutes without it hurting and would have to turn.  I was like a slowly turning rotisserie chicken all night long.  Everything hurt.  But once I got up and moving the next day, it wasn't so bad.  Sitting on the plane was uncomfortable and when we had a layover in Dallas and were walking thru the terminal, my knees hurt so bad it brought tears to my eyes.  Which brings me to the Post-100 Mile Injury Report:  The next few days, the only thing bothering me was my right big toe.  My biggest mistake I made was not cutting my toenails before the race.  (I try so very hard to be cool, but things like clipping toenails get in my way.  Clipping toenails?  That's not sexy.).  I usually paint my toenails a different color scheme (Jan is black and silver, Feb is red and pink, Mar is green, etc.) every month.  May is all the colors of the rainbow because May is gay.  My cleverness knows no bounds.  Anyway, with all the activity that goes on right before going out of town for your first 100 mile run, I totally forgot my feet.  My toenail was getting pushed back the entire time and although it looked fine, it hurt.  After a couple of days, when I was running up and down stairs, it would be that toenail that bothered me.  It's just about 100% now though.  I went for a run on the next Sunday - 3 1/2 miles around the neighborhood.  All went well until the end and my right knee started to act up.  I'm just going to give it a bit more TLC and see how it goes.  Short and sweet injury report.  On the flip side, the only other thing to share the podium with Heather is caffeine.  When I recollect the last two loops, I remember it in series of jolts.  I took a 5 hour energy at Mile 87ish and for the next half hour felt like a lean, mean fighting machine ( just with a body that wasn't exactly on that same page).  Of course, just like any other drug that I love, its effectiveness diminished each use.  But I think the caffeine buzz may have helped in keeping the dark times short-lived. I never had to slip into the places in my mind where the real dark fuckery resides.  Or maybe it just wasn't my day to go there.    
     I know this is way too long already, but it wouldn't be a race report if I didn't include Brian and Elliot.  Brian will probably take one look at this race report and deem it too long to read (trust me, there is nothing here he hasn't heard already, probably a few times), so it's ok to lump the boyfriend and the dog together.  I absolutely adore Brian just for being who he is.  For a non-runner, Brian puts up with a whole lot of running crap.  Not once does he roll his eyes and say - "Baby, let's talk about something else.  I don't give a fuck about running".  However, if Brian talks for more than 1 1/2 minutes about football, chances are he's gonna get a  - "Baby, let's talk about something else.  I don't give a fuck about football".  We've been together 4 years now - -we're past the point where he's trying to put his hands down my pants in the movies all the time, but I still get a slap on the ass in public, which I secretly love.  He has friends that have known him for decades.  I notice that friends of his actually make a point of remarking on what a good friend he's been to them.  I only wish I could be half as good a person as he is.  It's not often I get to spend alot of time with him and being around him 24/7 for a few days in Texas made me realize how much I love being around him.  Life is fun when he's around.  

See ya next year Tejas!

     Last, but certainly not least is my faithful hound dog Elliot.  He was by my side through all my training runs with very few exceptions, and if it wasn't for him my training wouldn't be nearly as consistent as it was.  When the alarm went off at 4:30am most mornings, he helped me be a champion and get out of bed.  I really didn't feel like going out to WYCO and running two loops.  It's fucking hard.  But I would think of how much fun Elliot seems to have out there, so off we would go.  I spent a whole bunch of time running and therefore a whole bunch of time with Elliot - just us.  I am quite attached.  He's truly a remarkable dog.  Nothing gets Elliot down.  We have been foster parents to a couple of dogs.  One of them was an abused tripod German Shepard named Olivia - she was a sad, frightened, suffering girl when she came to us.  Elliot taught her how to be a happy dog.  He just spreads joy wherever he goes.  He is responsible for teaching me compassion.  Many times I know I need to be compassionate, but don't know how to do it.  One day I realized -- I treat Elliot with compassion without even thinking of it.  So now when I'm able, I just think -- treat them like they're Elliot.  It works.  See, even my dog is helping me be the best Erica I can be!  Well, that's it for my report.  I'm not good at ending these things - luckily it's not saying goodbye, only see you later.  I can't wait to do the next one!!  We'll close with some joy:

STOP TYPING AND LET'S GO DO SOMETHING INVOLVING BACON!!! WOOF!

Lou Joline's Blue Springs 50 mile10.30.11

     I decided to run the Blue Springs 50 miler awhile ago, knowing that if I were going to go for 100 miles at Rocky Raccoon in February, another 50 miler or two under my belt would be wise.  My first and only other 50 miler was at Rocky this past February - I crossed the finish line after months of training and in a time of 11 hours and 20something minutes.  Blue Springs 50 mile was on Sunday, Oct 30.  The Saturday before was Lake Perry 50k which I ran almost an hour faster than any other trail 50k I've done (thanks to being led by Ultraphia), and every minute was bought with extreme effort.  The weekend before THAT was the KC Marathon and a hilly 9.5 the day after.  I had been hitting it kinda hard the previous couple of weeks, not tapering. The next evening after Perry (less than one week before Blue Springs), I was unable to run up my driveway.  I was going out that evening and had to come back to my house for something I forgot.  I left my car at the bottom of the driveway, got out, then had my brain tell my body to light jog it up the driveway.  I'm no medical doctor (I'm a doctor of love, baby), but I can feel my powerful brain neurons firing over synapses, sending the signals to all body parts involved in the task. However, my leg muscles were so thick with soreness/overuseness/lactic acid/I'm done with running juice, that even the forceful signals sent by my strength-of-the-Gods brain couldn't penetrate through.  My foot kinda came up off the ground, but wasn't exactly propelled forward with the necessary force and just plopped back down a couple inches in front of where it started.  I started to try again, but then pain became a factor and I just walked up the drive, trying to remember what I was going back for (although an almighty brain, the short term memory part has been compromised with age and various recreational drugs).  I was actually kind of proud of myself, as it was further proof of the greatness of my accomplishment from the day before.  I was also very glad that besides the 50 miler on Sunday, the race also offered a 50k, marathon, and half-marathon distance.  I knew I'd be better by Sunday, but let's face it - the last time I ran 50 miles, it was a target race that I trained months for.  Circumstances were slightly different this go-around.
      I planned a 2 mile run on Monday.  If you don't find this strange, let me introduce myself.  My name is Erica and I am a fucking beast and I can't be bothered to run 2 miles.  My shortest run in my repertoire is about 4 and I only use it when I'm hurting or when I desperately need extra time in the am.  Both instances are rare.  But sometimes I'm able to do what's actually good for me, and I knew 2 would be plenty.  I had the "light and smooth" mantra in my head, but it was clunky.  Did yoga a few more times that week and half-assed a boot camp class.  I also made plentiful good sleep a priority.  It'd been a long time since I've done so little running in a week, but I wasn't itching for a run.  I was trying to rest, recover, and have all my muscles grow stronger like steel. I would be as adamant about getting rest and some active recovery as I usually am about getting in the miles.  That was going to be what was going to work.
     You can choose to start at 6 am or 7am.  A couple of days before the race, I had people (Brian and Ammanda W this means you) bugging me about when I was going to start.  I chose 7 am.  This pretty much cut out me going for 50 miles.  There was an 11 hour cutoff, and if I wanted to run 50 miles, I needed to start at 6 am, considering my 50 mile time was 11 hr 25 minutes and we've established the different circumstances wouldn't be helping any.  I told MY Brian (we will call him Lucky B to differentiate him from Brian W) that if I didn't do 50k, or did 50k and was hurting (like injury hurting), I would be unhappy.  If I did 50k and felt ok, even pretty sore, I would be happy.  Lucky B didn't say anything at the time, but afterward he told me that he knew that if I did 50k and wasn't hurting, um duh, no way was I going to stop.
     I wasn't anxious at all for the race; I had a very HB "I'm just gonna do what I do and it's all good" attitude.  Lucky B and I went to packet pickup Sat night, but we went to the wrong place and ended up going mattress shopping for him instead.  Which meant extra rest laying on beds for an hour for me.  Go home, eat it up, go to bed, wake up and go.  So I get to the race and a great close parking spot and register and hang around for the start.  I had an awesome drop bag packed, perfect outfit on, full waist pack, etc.  I couldn't be more ready.  I saw Brian and Ammanda and she said something about doing only the marathon and Brian didn't say anything, especially when Lou came over and asked for some help moving the porta potties.  I believe Ammanda volunteered him for that.  Later on Ammanda asked him - You didn't really want to help Lou, did you? --  To which Brian replied "Of course not".  Then Ammanda says she knew that.  I love that shit.
     I talked to Dick Ross, ace photographer, then walked over the newly-placed porta-potties, wondering why Dick wasn't following to take my pic in front of them.  I was still in line when I hear someone say they started and looked up to see a group of people running away in the dark.  Oh well - I abandoned the porta potty and trotted after them.  I got my brand new Timex Ironman fancy watch with GPS and heart rate monitor going (I've only used a heart rate monitor before - this was a big step up) and things are feeling good right outta the gate.  I realize there is no Brian or Ammanda to be found.  They went back to their car for something and I figured they missed the start too.  The easygoing, laid-backness of Lou's races blankets everyone I guess.
      The course is pretty much like paved - pea gravel and pancake flat.  I had gaiters on so never got a pebble in my shoe.  Things are uneventful.  I keep checking my Ironman, figuring it out, changing the display, marveling at all the information it provides.  What is cadence?  Anyway, I still had to go pee, but we are out in the open alot - fields on either side, some woodsy parts, etc.  I keep scoping out spots, but end up dismissing them all before I reach them.  I finally found a good one - I see the tree and brush I'm going to hide behind and head for it.  I go pee.  And poo a little.  But I don't have baby wipes in my waist pack - that steel trap mind forgot them.  So I pick up a couple of leaves.  I've never wiped with leaves, but decide they will be better than nothing.  So I start to wipe my ass with the leaves.  But once the wipe process starts, they crumble to pieces.  Really?  That's what happens?  Now I've got little leaf pieces in my buttcrack and nothing to get them out with.  So I just spread my cheeks apart and kinda jump up and down and move by butt around to shake them all loose.  It reminded me of shaking all the loose coins and lint out of your empty purse (or sporran if you're Shawn Walters).   I was worried I didn't get them and would have some weird monstrous chaffing issue, but all was well.  Gross part concluded.
     This pic is Shawn and Jarod - it is the day before Halloween, folks.  I saw Jarod twice.  The first time was right before 26 miles - I looked up and he was there and then he was gone.  He said hi to me like he knew me, but it took awhile to figure out who he was.  The Born To Run sandals gave him away.  The second time was maybe 10 miles later and even though I knew what was coming, it was very disturbing and surreal to see.  I knew it was Jarod, but my brain wasn't able to completely reconcile Jarod with this huge weird why is his face like that in a nurse dress heath ledger suicide creature running at me. 

   Great costume. I never had good costumes.  A couple of years ago I put on blue scrubs, glued cotton balls all over them, and carried a water gun.  People had to ask me "What are you?" and  I would squirt them with the water gun and answer "Partly cloudy with a chance of showers".   Kinda clever.  I would really like the skank early pregnancy stripper with c section scars and that's why she works the Wednesday afternoon shift costume.  THAT would be fun.
     Ammanda caught me about Mile 6 I think.  Brian ended up turning around and doing the half marathon.  There were aid stations every few miles, but the only thing that looked good to me was fig newtons.  I grabbed a few at each aid station.  I also got candy corn around mile 12ish, but they almost broke my teeth and I threw them out for the squirrels.  I was going slow - not too long ago I listened to an ultrarunner podcast with Lee McKinley and picked up some tips.  He's run alot of 100's and he said he doesn't allow his HR to go over 70% for the first half.  So that's what I was doing.  Ammanda had caught up with me, so she had to run slower to stay with me.  Starting slow for a long long run is key for me.  I feel good, I wanna go faster and if I don't have a "rule" like the 70% in place, I'll let loose in my really fast turtle way, putting the dreaded DNF in my sights.  I felt good that day but kept my HR no higher than a certain number.  The miles just kept churning away.  Once Ammanda came on the scene, I stopped listening to music.  We just talked about all kinds of shit until we saw Brian, who had finished his half marathon and came back to run with us.  He brought a jacket for Ammanda in case she was cold, but made sure we all knew he did it.  I had alot of fun running with them - the time and miles flew.  Next thing I know we are at mile 25 and Ammanda is pulling ahead.  She finished her first 50k without a hitch, which is awesome.   I am eating gels every half hour and no caffeine for the first half (also a McKinley tip, but I already learned that one from Brad Bishop).  I am eating alot of real food too.  Except it's all in the form of bananas (which are all gone by now) and fig newtons.  Mel, I too hoarded fig newtons and pulled them out of my clothes like a squirrel.  I keep eating them even though there is no epicurean pleasure in them at all anymore.
     So back to the start/finish.  50k down.  Around mile 26 my phone rang and it was Ashley.  I heard it so of course I answered it on the fly and she asked where we were 'cause her and Matty were coming to cheer us on.  Trail Nerds and Mudbabes are the best ever.  They brought PBR for Ammanda and Brian and Dr Pepper for me.  My first caffeine and it was fucking awesome!!!!  That little thing was so big - no soda around, and all I had were caffeinated gels.  It went down smooth like whiskey.

 A group photo (alot of my day was spent with a fig newton in my mouth) and I was off.  It was back down the path we started on (which I liked better than the path we had just done) - down not to the end, but just 10 miles, then back.  I still wasn't sold on the idea of running 50 miles.  There's a part of me on any ultra that knows the bonk is inevitable and will happen.  Even though that's not true.  Anyway, I had my fancy watch with GPS and knew exactly how far I'd gone, so I figured if I turned around after 5 and got a 40 in, I'd be happy.  Except I never didn't feel good.  Let's reiterate this.  I ran 50 miles because I was never not feeling good.  Entire time.  Huh - who woulda thunk it?  Anyway, McKinley also said that because music has so much affect on his mood (same for me), he doesn't use it for the first half.  Ammanda ran with me until about mile 26 so I ended up kinda unwittingly following this advice too.  I'm running by myself most of the time (almost all the other 50 milers started before 7am, so they were coming back on the path I was running out on, but other than that and the errant non-racer using the trails, not a whole lot else) and the music just carried me along - I got alot more out of it than if I had been listening to it the entire time.  Rick T was at the first aid station you come to and I loved seeing him.  We have a special bond, what with me almost not saving his life and all.  I passed 35 miles somewhere in there and just kept going - I was gonna do 50!!  I had walked a little bit throughout, but starting about mile 31 I was trying to keep a schedule of power walking one minute every ten minutes.  It's hard to practice walking, but I need it 'cause I'll be doing alot of it during my 100m attempt.  Maybe only once or twice did I walk sooner than I wanted, which is not usually the case.  I'm glad I had my fancy watch, 'cause after the second aid station, I knew the sign for the turnaround was coming up -- I had seen it on my way out the first time.  I got to some water jugs, and didn't see the sign.  I remember it being just a little further up.  But it wasn't and if it wasn't for my watch telling me I wasn't at 40 miles yet, I would have convinced myself someone had taken it down already and I had passed it, and been in utter frustration and misery and confusion.  Familiar, but not pleasant.  As it was, I just noticed how fucking slow I was going, thanks to my pace glaring up at me from the face of the watch.  Finally, this:

 I am giddy.  By now, I noticed that when it was time for a caffeinated gel, I would get all excited.  2 more minutes!!  YAY!!!  It reminded me of the feeling I would get anticipating drugs.  I even had a little gel ritual set up just like fiends do -- changing my grip on my water bottle, getting the gel out of my pack without stopping, counting how many I had left, then ripping it open, eating it and squeezing it all out, then putting the empty package back in my water bottle pocket and enjoying the high until it was time to do it all again.  Duly noted.

 
So I see other normal people on the trail, riding bikes with their kids, other runners, whatever.  I love them and want to tell them how great it is to be almost done running 50 miles especially considering what I've done the past few weeks.   Instead I just grin like a loon at them, spreading joy without Elliot (who was spending the day with Mandy over at Lucky B's eating people food and watching football).  The pic above was when Rick T ran out (his first jog since that Tahoe insanity) to meet me.  I know, I was going slow.  I really tried to pick it up.  Now everyone is out there just because of me (I ran 50 miles faster than a few other people, but they started earlier, so by now I was the only one left out there chugging along) and I felt bad but knew they didn't really care that much and I'm so glad anyway.  It's worth noting that Rick T had the last aid station of the run and for the first time that day I grabbed some pretzels instead of fig newtons.  It's also worth noting that it didn't matter in the least, as those tasted just as much like nothing as the fig newtons.
     After Rick, I think only about 3 miles.  I texted Lucky B a couple of times.  At the very end, you see this overpass bridge ahead.  All you have to do is run to the bridge, turn left and run over it, back the other side just a minute before the finishing stretch on a gravel path behind a shopping center.  I remember coming out and seeing the bridge and telling myself "I'm almost done and I'm fucking walking just one more time goddamit".  So I started to.  Then I saw Brian and Ammanda and had to start running.  Not that I wasn't so happy to see them, but. . . fuckers.  So they had gone home and cleaned up and saw I was almost done and stopped by to see me!!  Like I said, the best.  So we were running the last little bit and I was all giddy and then they stopped and I ran down the last stretch alone.  I sprinted.  It probably didn't look like it, but that was sprinting baby.  50 miles down - 10 hours, 49 minutes, just under (just barely barely itsy bitsy under) 13 minute miles.  I'm down with that, considering.  A few others that had finished stayed around until I finished (do I have to keep saying THE BEST??) and I got pics with the boys.  Lotsa boys.  First, me and Brent (this was his first 50 miler):

  
Then me and Shawn (I don't know if its his first.  I know the results say he beat me by 4 seconds, but that's not enough in my book and so I'm telling everyone I really beat him, using my start at the porta potties for defense):

Then me and Luke (who ran the 50k in like 10 minutes):

And here is Brian and Ammanda too and Lou on the right, just seconds after the finish of the day:

And finally here is Lou and Sadie because DOGS RULE!:

I ran a smart run, especially eating from the very start to the very end and starting slow.  That's why I was able to do 50 miles and why I am an ultrarunning beast in the making. I had to drive Lucky B's old stick shift home.  I left a can of soda on top of the car that exploded on the ground as I lurchingly shifted from reverse to drive off, completing the Erica Experience.  That evening Lucky B and I ate good home cooking at Niece's on Troost - corn, boiled cabbage, bbq beef tenderloin, yum.  I took it easy the week after and was out at WYCO for a winter loop Saturday, just me and Elliot.  Blue Springs 50 was a great run and I'm happy it went the way it did and I didn't feel miserable or cry and snot all over myself, and finished strong and ready to run another day and great training under my belt for my 100 miler, but it was really everyone there that made it such a great day - I couldn't help but have alot of gratitude for the people out there I knew.  Like I would see someone and think - I am so glad I know them and if I didn't know them, I am so glad they're here.  That feeling is always there at ultras, sometimes not as apparent, but everpresent.  That's part of the lure of ultrarunning and something I never think of when people ask why I run the way I do. 
   In closing, I would like to say how happy I am to have beat Shawn Walters.

ALTERED - Lake Perry 50K

Not many race reports you will read begin with a Friday night extravaganza. This one does and then digresses and meanders from there before it is over. Settle in. Sophia's Pre Perry Pasta Extravaganza included mounds of spaghetti, a vat of sauce and garlic bread loaves. Even dessert was geared towards ultrarunners as Matty pointed out - the peanut butter in Reese's provides much needed protein. There was also an after-dinner craft project. I was very leery of the craft project, as those two words ring the lame bells in my head. All due to my close-mindedness of course and I'm sure you could find many craft project people that are way cooler than me. I am just as sure you would find quadruple times that amount of craft people that aren't though. Before arriving, Anne and I were given the assignment of coming up with pictures of people at the party. Brian and Amanda Warren, Emily, some other military guy and I had made a bet as to how many people were going to show up. The last person walked in during the craft project, causing Brian to jump and yell "I WON I WON I WON". However, it was soon discovered that yours truly in fact had come closest to the number of people at the party without going over (15 was my guess and 16 showed up). Seeing Brian Warren eat crow really did make victory that much sweeter. Digressing. Sorry. So we had pics of all the people at the party except for one or two that I didn't know and I couldn't steal their facebook pics because they had privacy settings enabled. I keep mine open and welcome all stalkers. Thanks for being there. Anyway, the idea was to cut out the pics and create a collage. Although my extravaganza experience isn't deep, I was under the impression that these events would be a bit more raucous. I don't have a pic of the completed collage, but I do have one of my contributions below:


Perhaps it would help if I described what is going on here. Brian Warren is holding a picture of my ass that I cut out from a Dick Ross photo from this spring's Free State 40mile. After cutting just the right notch in between the cheeks, a picture of Shawn Walters from this year's Psycho Psummer 50k was inserted. For making this ultimate sacrifice, Shawn became the pinnacle of the bottom left "unclean and unholy" corner of the collage - I worked diligently on this portion and it mostly involved people's heads being inserted in photos where they do not belong. For instance Dick Ross is now included in the pic of Haley giving Ashley a hamstring stretch while Ashley is flat on her back. Use your imagination. And learn from this - this is how craft projects become fun.
Emily and Luke and I stayed over at Sophia's which is only about half an hour from the start of the race. We were all leaving in our own cars and after we got everything and everybody out the door ready to go, I can't find my goddamn car keys. I ALWAYS leave them in my car. So I frantically search for them while Sophia waits as I am blocking her in. Luke is gone. Emily is waiting down the block. Sophia says she'll go back in and look inside her house but that's really stupid of her because I ALWAYS leave them in the car. So she goes in and finds them while I got my head under the back seat of my car, searching, and we are off. The first or maybe second turn Emily leads us on she goes the wrong way down a one-way street. Nothing like breaking the law first thing in the morning. We were on it for a bit too. It wasn't a jump on/jump off venture. It was cruising the wrong way for several blocks and a couple of oncoming cars. F U Copper!


After that, the rest of the time up to the start of the race was incident-less. Emily was running with her dog Rory and Sophia was leading us. My faithful hound Elliot and I rounded out the group. Sophia and Emily are way faster than me, but Sophia was running a 50k the next day too and Emily just ran her first 50k a few weeks ago with us at Flat Rock and was just taking it easy. I figured I would keep up with them as long as I could - hopefully at least halfway - then just let it be. I wanted to run at least 9 miles the next day, to get back to back long runs in. So my goal was as it usually is - have fun and finish with a smile. I've done 3 marathons and 5 ultras this year so far and I've had what I describe as a "fun run" at ALL of them. Even 50 miles at Rocky Raccoon wasn't as hard as I had imagined. It was really really hard though, don't get me wrong on that mister.
Lake Perry was a fun run for about 10 miles. For the remaining 21, it wasn't so much fun. At all. That's the Cliff Notes version of the race, so if you want to stop here, you got it. I have the day off though and will continue. The course is described as follows: "Loop course on rocky, root-bound, and hilly trails. 100%single-track trails. Every hill is runnable." Lots of leaves covering lots of rocks. It's pretty out there on a beautiful fall day like we had -- mid forties at the start and I guess it warmed up to the 70's. Something like that. The first few miles I remember fondly. Pretty, not cold, awesome pace, excited for hours of fun in the woods with Sophia and Emily, rainbows and unicorns.


We flew by the unwomaned jugs of water a few miles in, and stopped at the real aid station around mile 6. I was doing gels every 45 min for the first half and then every 20-30 min for the second half and eating all the food I could at aid stations. And drink often - half water half heed or whatever they have. No caffeine until halfway. That's how I roll. I remember once we started running again noticing how sore I was already (I didn't taper for this really - ran KC marathon the Sat before and then a hilly 9.5 miles the day after and a couple of short easy runs and cross training Lake Perry 50k week), and I was going faster than I usually do - my HR was at least 15 beats higher than it usually is at trail 50ks. I had Elliot off leash and after awhile we aren't too far from this lady and her german shepherd. I hear her kinda yelp when Elliot ran up on them and scared her.
Then it looks like he's pestering her (Master Interferer) and we're yelling at him to come back - they're still up there a bit. He kind of runs back and forth between us then finally leaves them alone. F I N A L L Y. That is how it seemed to me at least. So I know we're going to pass her probably at some point and I start working on a conversation in my head that ends up going like this:
Other Dog Lady: You should keep that dog on a leash.
Me: You don't get to control everything lady.
Other Dog Lady: Well, you have no control over that dog. He ran right up and practically knocked us over!
Me: What you need to do is shut it. What you don't need to do is run your piehole making snotty comments to me.
I ran this encounter through my head over and over, changing it slightly each time. Sometimes it even ended with me punching her in the face while I had her down in a big pile of leaves with rocks underneath - I didn't go there very much though.

That's where I am coming from when we meet her at the water jugs at about Mile 9 or 10. This is what happens:
Other Dog Lady: Your dog is so well-behaved!
Me: (I honestly don't remember what I said. What I do remember is trying to keep from falling right the fuck over.)

This whole thing was not fun and started to put me in a funk. But I am a trooper and spent much of the time between 6 and 13 enjoying the beautiful fall day in the woods.

I must admit this was tinged with a nagging voice telling me I was going too fast and was already too sore for this to end pretty. But you never know unless you try. We get to the aid station at Mile 13 and I change shirts and go - Dave Wakefield and Shawn Walters were working it and a bunch of other people were around. I didn't know it was Shawn Walters until after the race. I thought it was him maybe but he had hair and a beard and a shirt on and didn't really act like he knew me and all of that really threw me off. Otherwise I would have a witty quip about his Psummer Psycho pic emerging from my ass in a very Monty Python way. The course leaves the aid station, does a short 2 mile loop and then passes by it again. I now know how far on a trail it takes me to go from "eh" to despair, up to discouraged, then abruptly fall off a cliff into semi-psychosis. That would be 2 miles. Here is how it happened. I'm thinking I'm playing catchup as we leave the aid station and so I slow down a little and let Emily and Rory go by. I've made it to mile 13 with them, but they are looking alot better than I am so I'm just going to hang back with El Dog, turn up the music, and turn it around and have a great second half/loop. Then I fall hard. I caught a rock with my knee and that fucking hurt and another on the same leg on my shin that hurt almost as bad as my knee. So I stand up but it hurts to put weight on my knee and I start crying a little bit and freak out because there are 2 guys right behind me that will be coming by any second and I don't want them to hear or see me crying. I take a few steps and just kinda know that my knee is sore, but it's going to be ok. No real damage done. Just take it easy peasy. Turn up the music and SLOWLY start going along. I yell for Elliot a few times but he has left me in the dust and stayed with Sophia and Emily and Rory. I figure if I can just not fall behind too far, I can meet them at the aid station and reclaim Elliot. Then I fucking fall again. I know. Pain pain pain, then fine fine fine, go slow.
I am now deserted and will have to finish the run without Elliot, which makes me sad but I'm past that and am just fucking pissed about it. Goddamn selfish dog. And I'm pissed my goddamn knee hurts so much and keep dwelling on that. And I'm supposed to run 9 miles tomorrow let's not forget the 50 miler I signed up for next week and how in the hell is that gonna happen? And I'm going to miss my foster dog Mandy when she's gone, and I hate my job but no one else is ever going to hire me, and my dad is dying of cancer, and I keep forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning from over two weeks ago, and my car is going to break down, and I'm not doing enough and I should be working harder, and I am too selfish and don't spend enough time with my boyfriend, and I really fucked up my life and suck at everything and people are just about ready to stop tolerating me. Then I look up and there is the aid station with what could have been 6 but felt like 6 fucking thousand people hanging there, including Sophia and Emily thank you baby jesus for that part. I remember an overwhelming desire to turn and run away. As soon as I saw people the floodgates open - it was that kind of crying. I wasn't able to breathe right 'cause I was trying to choke back sobs that just came on all of a sudden, and my flight or fight response kicked in and I all I wanted to do was disappear. I saw it in my head. But it was too late really 'cause Shawn was looking right at me and I was pissed because this fucking kid that I don't know is staring at me like I'm the freak at the goddamn circus and I will cut you bitch. Same with some two girls that had cowbells off to the right. Sophia and Emily were kind of standing in the way of Dave Wakefield, but I'm sure he was gawking too. I hate them all. Obviously, my mind is not in a very emotionally mature place at this point, considering my reaction to a few people seeing me vulnerable. It happens - although working on these things, I can only claim progress not perfection. Sophia comes over and I head for the trail to get away from everybody and I think I say something about just being a crybaby but I can't fucking control it very well for more than a couple of seconds, but somehow we all got on the trail pretty quick and more importantly, out of the open. I think thanks to Sophia. I can't really remember exactly, but she asks a few questions, determines that I'm not really hurt or anything like that, the worst is hopefully over and it is safe to proceed. So that's what we do. Forward progress.
After all of that, it's not surprising that it was kind of awkward and uncomfortable for awhile, but I am used to that. I don't like it, but it is familiar. I even give myself a pat on the back when I realize that thru it all, I managed to grab a banana at the aid station and eat it on the trail. It was instinctual because I am a fierce trail running beast.
Then a little more time passes and Sophia asks how I'm feeling. I pause for a moment and realize that what I feel now is altered. And that's how I spent the next few miles, which wasn't entirely unpleasant - I remember the aid station coming up before I thought it would at Mile 22ish and at least felt like I would have no problem finishing. I'm sure Sophia and Emily could have gone faster, but they got on the train for the duration so we all kept together the rest of the way. I ran out of water a couple of times and the worst time was between the aid station and the infamous water jugs that should have been no more than 4 miles. That was not 4 miles. It was at least 6 and closer to 20. We even had Sophia relate her mother's tomato canning/red towel purchase/basement flood in true Prairie Home Companion raconteur style. And picture time. The trail just kept going and going. Picture time was the only time I really laughed that day. KU was getting destroyed by KSU in football and someone texted Emily "It's not quite as bad as the burning of Lawrence. . ." which Sophia read aloud when she was getting to the camera. It's not even that funny - I think I was just relieved that other disasters would happen even worse than this trail run (really?) and the world would keep turning. Made me finally realize perhaps I was turning my fairly shitty run into something way bigger than simply that.
It still all kinda sucked and I was drained. I also fell two or three more times. Whatever - Honey Badger don't care. And I was out of water and Elliot had to drink Emily's water and we should have passed the jugs 20 minutes ago. So much whining in my head. Instead of actually whining, I just started to grunt and groan like a fat man climbing a mountain with all the effort of putting one foot in front of the other. I'm sure Emily, who was immediately in front of me, was pleased as punch to hear this new development.
We finally get to the water jugs and Elliot and I replenish. Now onward to the dreaded aid station. More slogging. We arrive and it was quite anti-climatic. Even the crowd had dispersed and it was just a couple of other runners, Dave, and that bearded guy who is really Shawn Walters in disguise. In and out on the two mile loop. I remembered certain spots from last time around and was just like "whoa - that was messed up". That's it. We passed two guys on this part even. That's when my run started to be a fun one again. I was back in the game. Let's rock n roll!! Unfortunately, my broken down body wasn't entirely cooperating and we had about a quarter of mile until the finish. I had done it though. I had turned my race around and had we had 10 more miles, I think I would have thoroughly enjoyed them.
I finished in 6 hr and 43 minutes, which is 53 minutes faster than any previous trail 50k. I felt about how I should - an amazing 50k is much like amazing sex when its over - leaving one sore, happy. . . and a bit altered.

Bad Ben was there at the end of course. He is always there and I find great comfort in that. I know that when I see Ben I am done and can stop. He is a very clever man as now whenever I see him anywhere, I immediately feel relief and a sense of accomplishment and am deliriously happy. He looked at all the dirt besides the intentional mudbabe mud tattoos and asked if I had left any of the trail out there. Ha ha. I did take a pic of my shirt though and sent it to my computer so after all of that here it is:

I had to return to the dreaded aid station. Twice. Alone. The first time I went down to grab my drop bag. I got the no crying allowed admonishment from Dave and escaped with my bag in one hand and Mandy, my cripple dog hobbling on three legs (who will be healed and ready for adoption at SPCA Heartland in a couple of months, just in time for Christmas!), in the other to complete the pathetic picture. When I was ready to leave for good and go home, I realized that my keys weren't in the car like they ALWAYS are. Again. I left them in my jacket pocket that was thrown out of my drop bag when I searched for a different shirt at Mile 13. Gotta go back. So I take my crippled dog Mandy (Elliot came down with us the first time, but it's down a hill, which means coming back up the hill and he chose to wait at the start/finish for us, lying himself down on the ground, finisher medal around his neck, right in front of the doors to the barn building - absolutely done with this nonsense) and head back down again. As I approached I sensed some fear in their eyes (Why is she coming back? She's already been back. Why is she coming back now with that gimpy dog? Is she crying again?) so I let them know the reason for my return and saw the relief that it wasn't for another mental breakdown. Thank you baby jesus again my jacket and keys were there. Shawn (who I still didn't know was Shawn) said he had no problem getting into my car with no keys. I no longer hated this admitted dangerous hoodlum and in fact told him I could get in my car just fine as I didn't lock it, but not much I could do after that. Except make out with him in the backseat (ba da bang). To which Dave Wakefield replied "WHAT?? You're going to make out with your dog in the backseat of your car?" Of course.
It's now been a couple of days. I spent Sunday hobbling around. In the evening I tried to run up my gravel driveway and couldn't. I could run down a flat path, but it wasn't pretty and my friend that was watching asked if I hurt my left knee. Damn. I managed to run with the Mudbabes on Monday 4.5 miles and felt like I was flying. Until I stopped. Then I felt like the Blues Brothers car at the end of the movie when they get out of it at the Cook County courthouse with the Penguin's money and it falls apart. That was last night and this morning I feel no worse for the wear. Once again, this is because I am a trail running beast and recover like the goddamn Terminator and I can't believe I ever forgot that. If you ask me now how Lake Perry weekend was, I can say I had a great time Friday night, and smashed my 50k trail run record. End of story.