I meant to write a race report (of sorts) after "pacing" my fellow Mudbabe Haley last fall in Utah for the Bear 100. A few days before the race I split open my knee on a quite vicious rock at Shawnee Mission Park and had to get 15 stitches. There are pics at the end for your viewing pleasure - consider them your dessert, if you will. I have "pacing" in quotes as what I actually did was merely tag along for not very many miles down the side of a goddamn ice-covered mountain, popping stitches and oozing all over the place. Sometimes we were sliding on our butts, and still not very safe. Could have easily careened off the side. Sometimes we had to cross icy water...and I didn't think my fucking feet could be any colder - boy was I wrong ha ha ha! Sometimes I would plant a trekking pole, take a baby step, plant another trekking pole, then with a very small hairlike tilt off-center-balance go crashing to the ice. Not quite sure what Haley was doing as I was not paying her the least mind whatsoever - I did tell some stories and may have half-heartedly offered my poles during the water crossings. After she fell in. Excellent choice in a pacer Haley. I will never forget that night and have been in very few predicaments quite as treacherous as that one, well at least very few sober. We could have FALLEN OFF A MOUNTAIN. Luckily Danny L was there to see her through to the end as my self-absorbed thoughts weren't actually helping Haley one iota. We were all on the way to the airport the next day after her glorious finish when I threw up from too many painkillers and too many esses in the mountain roads. I had a bag to do it in (is that a TWSS? Are we still even doing that? Is that one too?) and was in back of the van which everybody knows is the worst place to be, carsick-wise (and best place to be, makeout-wise). I couldn't help it. It happened a few times over several minutes. Nobody noticed. They were all talking about which hundo they were going to run next when Sophia turns back to me and says "So Erica, what's next for you?". I told her I wasn't real sure, but could we stop please because I'm holding a bag of my own puke. Surprisingly enough, nobody had a big problem with that (that being the stopping to throw the puke bag out, not the actual puking, although thankfully a chain reaction was not started). Also made the car ride to the airport, besides the breathtaking views, one of the most memorable moments of the trip for me.
So there is the race report for pacing The Bear that I didn't write. Might be worth remembering the puking in the bag in the car...could be visiting a similar scene in a later report. Subtle foreshadowing - I think Hemingway used this technique as well.
I also meant to write a race report for Bandera 100K in January of this year. I did one of two laps then got frustrated and bored and tired and whiny and quit. I hadn't done that before. I did not enjoy the experience at all. I hope I don't forget the lesson I learned - quitting sucks.
So there is the race report for quitting Bandera 2014 that I didn't write. Wow - that wasn't as bad as I thought. Next.
I also meant to write a race report for Free State 100k in April. I only did 40 miles - missed cutoff. I don't remember much else. This is why I write race reports - I love going back and remembering all the good times I forget otherwise.
So that's the race report for Free State 100k 2014. It's a pretty crappy report.
I also meant to write a race report for Epic Ultra's Flint Hills 40 (this is the last one before the real one). That was in May. Two things. Three things. One is Heather Cotten is a badass motherfucker and don't fuck with her. I am glad she is my friend and not my enemy. I don't think I have enemies though. I am glad she is my friend and not my non-friend.
Second thing - the Flint Hills 40 is not in the Flint Hills. It is on a trail called the Flint Hills trail. I saw the name of the race and impulsively signed up for it. Not a decision I regret in the least, mind you - quite the opposite. However, I was under the impression that I was going to be running 40 miles in the Flint Hills. That's what I told my dad a couple weeks later when I saw him. He said "Oh, that's great. Where exactly do you start?" So I looked up the website. I'm reading aloud and I say - "Ottawa. To Ossawatamie. Hmmmmm.....I didn't know the Flint Hills were there. Wow - neato". He took a moment, sighed and shook his head and said "That's because they aren't Erica". Dammit. I think my Geography class was first period and I skipped that one a lot.
Third thing - Elliot is not getting any younger and perhaps I should start heeding caution more when it comes to exerting him in heat. He was ok until the last aid station. I should have left him there. I felt weird about it because I got sent a special email pre-race about dogs but whatever - that's all on me. We pretty much hiked it in - he had to stop and sit a few times and took awhile to recover once we finished. His pads were pretty sore for several days after and he didn't poo for two days. He will be 5 years old in a few weeks and is now choosing to sit on the couch and watch the house and hang with Al the cat (I'm thinking of getting a bird - not enough animals around here) vs. run 5 miles with me and Cee Cee at 5am. He's not hanging up his running shoes yet, but this race may have been his last 40 miler. I think he knows I'm typing about him 'cause he just came by to see what's up.
So that's the race report for the Inagural Flint Hills 40 miler, and we are up-to-date.
Stay tuned for Psycho Psummer 2014 Race Report. It's called Yum Yum and it will mention dry humping before you know what hit you. Until then, feast on these.
|After a rinse with water - my kneecap is on the left.|
|Added this one for context|
|At the ER after a cleaning - he pulled out some sticks|
|There we are all stitched up - just like it never happened!|