tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44462194049995718262024-03-13T21:11:14.391-07:00#1 ChampionErica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-21339492284685191852017-06-25T19:51:00.000-07:002017-06-26T10:26:47.265-07:00THE FREAKS COME OUT AT NIGHT aka DOPE AS FUCK - Night Hawk 20 miler, Lake Clinton, 6/24-6/25/17 I am writing this blog for 2 reasons, scratch that 3 reasons. Reason #1 - the title. That 6 word lyric has been in my head since I signed up a couple of weeks ago. I find myself having sung it, out loud, at work, without even realizing. I am hoping a good old fashioned rambling, way-too-long blog entry will put it back on the dusty shelf in my way-huge brain where it belongs...besides The Freaks Come Out At Night is dope as fuck and quite apropos for the subject at hand. Reason #2 - I have a terrific idea (I really wanted to say dope as fuck idea, but...too soon) for another blog subject besides running so need a practice one to get the juices flowing. Sounds dirty, not dirty. Not that the emo running blogs weren't great. That whole - I look at the picture of me finishing the 100 mile and all that came to mind was "I've always been my greatest disappointment" and related psychoanalysis - was gold (also dope as fuck, but gold is good). But that gets old too....eventually you learn that thinking you are a piece of shit isn't doing anybody any good, so you get a more realistic view of yourself....personally I like to focus on all the dope as fuck stuff about myself and ignore the rest but luckily I have people in my life whose main role is to point out all the non-dope as fuck stuff that I need to work on. That's cool....chalk it up to always learning, always growing. I can deal with that. Probably why I haven't written a blog in awhile....I'm ok, you're ok, OK, but BOOORRRRRRIIING. Reason #3 - I can't fucking remember. It took me so long to write Reason #1 and #2 (reason #2 is really reason #3 so I can't remember the original Reason #2). Oh yeah (I remembered like 8 min later) .. It's the pics. I didn't just want to post the race pics and say - Oh, here's a bunch of pictures of me that Rick and Kristy Mayo took so you know they made me look dope as fuck. You better love, not like them bitches! What better way surreptitiously post them than embedded in a blog with lots and lots and way too many lots of words??!? Speaking of which:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VdCN9EYx2zY/WVBFoxMidJI/AAAAAAAAKYU/-UMuqG2m3bIHT4mmZDB-Z9uqm6IbjwGVQCLcBGAs/s1600/NightHawk-2017-1134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VdCN9EYx2zY/WVBFoxMidJI/AAAAAAAAKYU/-UMuqG2m3bIHT4mmZDB-Z9uqm6IbjwGVQCLcBGAs/s320/NightHawk-2017-1134.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we have the race shirt in red, notice the hawk with the....LOOK AT ME DO IT NOW!!!<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">So even though this was only a 20-mile run, I haven't run a trail race in awhile. It was a nostalgic feeling when I pulled out my hydration vest. There was also a feeling of nausea since it smells like wet socks that a diseased rodent wore on it's nether-regions. I'll get a new one, don't judge. I almost threw away a GU that expired in Aug of 2014, but I kept it. Before too long I will be the one saying "I got GU's that are older than you" to my fellow runners. I got to hang out with Ashley S and Megan (Ed with the brief but witty cameo) and Darci and Bianca (who lent me headphones thank you, angel from heavens above), Kelly and Janee and Brian and you get the picture. We took photos and I told them all how I had been at the KC Veg Fest earlier and worn out the only dog I have that could have done 20 miles with me. I have an old one, a mean one and the young runner one I wore out earlier. Looks like it's time to get more dogs!! But I digress....back to Veg Fest KC. I also told my story of how I ate a jackfruit sandwich and had a big bottle of kombucha because when in Rome. Well, before the race (once in the fucking VegFest porta potty where I am of course sitting inside and Becky is outside, but still on leash. So she is running around pulling on the leash wanting to go sniff that butt and chase that dog and do anything but sit fucking still for 45 seconds and I am trying to be fast 'cause it's a porta potty and they are all gross even if they are brand new (which this one wasn't) and hang on to her without her tearing the goddamn door off but it's hard because WHO THE FUCK IS STABBING MY INTESTINES FUCK PLEASE JUST LET ME DIE NOW diarrhea is happening. But in just a few minutes I'm done and I am happy I didn't die in the porta potty at the 1st annual KC Veg Fest. Then the same thing happened right before I left to drive to Lawrence for the race, but I was at home, so being stabbed in the intestines wasn't such a horrible experience that time. Race hadn't started yet, but I'm already overcoming hardships. Dope as fuck. Spoiler alert: I had zero stomach or butt or intestine issues so no on the trail diarrhea stories. But if you think you are done hearing about my diarrhea, you are so very wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> So I am feeling like a million bucks and even though I am way undertrained (I've been running like 5 miles at a time for a couple of months now...and I feel good doing it and am enjoying running again, thank you baby jesus but don't say it out loud or you'll jinx it), I am excited - I can't wait to be out there in the middle of the night running around like a crazy person. Sorry, like a freak. Who comes out at night. And is dope as fuck. I'm not fast and the benefit of that is I don't have to plan how much time on Loop 1 and what I'm gonna eat and am I on pace, blah blah. My goal gets to be to finish and have fun. I think fast people are dope as fuck and I genuinely admire their athletic ability and amazed about what their little human bodies can do, but I don't strive for that myself. Which is good because I have no natural athletic ability, so I'd really be "oh my god I suck so bad everything is my fault" emo then. When I beat a time I had before at something, that means I was fast as fuck that day. Finished near the top of the bottom third of finishers, maybe an hour, maybe two behind you, but in my head, all I know is I was fast as fuck. That's how that goes, dear reader.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> We start and I listen to other people talk and wait for it to be dark and start thinking about what I'm gonna eat at the aid station. It's not until mile </span><span style="font-size: small;">6.5, but I wanna be ready. Keep my eyes on the ground, follow the person in front of me, enjoy the endorphins, normal stuff. It gets dark and I put on my headlamp. I couldn't find my real one, so I'm using like the first one I ever bought and the headband elastic is all fucked up and I can never get it tight enough unless I safety pin it. I meant to do that before the race, even got an extra safety pin pinned in my shorts, but I chose to tell diarrhea stories instead. That was like the worst thing, and it's not bad at all. Winning! I walked a couple of hills but ran most of them which is not like me but is now. I used to never run hills. Like hardly ever never. And sometimes what I deemed a hill was hardly even a slope. Now I can't NOT run them. I'm not sure what the catalyst for this change was. I have a good idea though, hear me out. Sometimes I buy a PowerBall and a MegaMillions at QT. I never win. I've won like $2 maybe 3 times and once I won $7. So what happened is one of the times I meant to buy tickets, I forgot. It happens. I'll be wherever next and think - shit, I meant to buy lottery tickets. Oh well, next time. Maybe, just maybe what is really going on is... had I remembered to buy tickets, I woulda hit big and been supermegarich for life. Now, before you get all "money can't buy happiness", "lottery winners end up broke and depressed", just hang on a second, I get that. I really do. I am not saying that I get supermegarich and life is going to be supermega awesome and no more problems for Erica! But, I have passions (I can't think of a better word, but not 50 Shades of Grey passions, those are better when they are cheap and easy, my friend) but my passions aren't something I can make a living at, so being supermegarich from the Missouri lottery would be dope as fuck in my book. Let's just assume that's how it is for the sake of argument. So, I don't win the lottery, but I am able to run hills now with not speed (we've covered that), but with enthusiasm. So I think I've been given this great gift out of the blue, but really I've paid a price. That came dangerously close to sounding like a Rush lyric, so on with the race. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> I see Rick Mayo and know he's usually camped out before Land's End. And just like that, BAM!</span><br />
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It's the biggest pic 'cause it's the coolest. I'm superhappy to see Land's End and I know it's coming, this ain't my first rodeo cowboy. Besides, there's a sign that tells you 1/4 mile to go to aid station. Land's End comes and Shawn with his Shawnness is nice. They had a buffet and I was the only one there, but they were on it and offered me all kinds of stuff, which I love because so many times I haven't realized I needed something till they ask me. Like "Oh you need a wipe" and you are like "Shit, yes I do. I spilled sticky stuff all down my shirt and need to wipe it off". That wasn't the case this time, I told them I didn't need one because that's what my pants were for, and everybody laughed which they have to do because they are supposed to keep you uplifted and be supersupportive. Anyway, so very glad they were there. So only 3.5 miles to go to halfway done and of course the last 3.5 miles of the loop is really like 8 miles but I'm still running all the time and digging it. Loop 1 done and Shay comes out and totally does all my drop bag shit and grabbing stuff out of the back of my pack shit (I get to listen to music the second half, it's a reward for not being a loser quitter. I've been the loser quitter before so now I have safeguards such as this against it. Most of my brain time is spent coming up with ways to psych itself out) because Heather ignores me other than to acknowledge my presence. I think she thinks if she is nice to me I will whine about wanting to quit (I am not a whiner. At all. For real. But she was my pacer at Rocky and got whining all fucking night long I don't know how she did it. I would have told me to fuck the fuck off and then shoved me down and kicked me in the face, only 'cause there were no curbs on the trail to stomp my head on. Maybe a tree stump stomp). Anyway, I wouldn't even consider quitting, it's only like 10:30 so the good shit hasn't even started yet. So off on Loop 2. When you first enter the woods Heather's kid and Kristi and Rick's kid are there to tell you which way to go. So I go that way and start messing with my phone and headphones so I can listen to music. I already decided I was going to listen to Disturbed - the album with Down With The Sickness. It came to me in a flash before Land's End even though I haven't even thought of Disturbed in years. Seriously. Limp Bizkit is my guilty pleasure. I want to not listen to them, but sometimes I have to and I want to not love it, but I find myself singing asinine lyrics about dirty butts like I'm the Infredible D myself. </div>
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Anyway, I'm wrapped up in getting Disturbed pulled up on Spotify which I do and start running again.....before too long I hear little girls yelling - Go Runner, Nice Job, blah blah. WTF? Apparently I wasn't paying attention while f'n with my phone and ended back at the start. I am telling everyone it took like 10 minutes. It's more like 5, tops. So I re-start Loop 2 and see where I probably went wrong. Looks like I turned left and went down the path that had a big WRONG WAY sign in the middle of it. Details, details. So by let's say Mile 13 I am not really running. It's like when you are at mile 50 of something. I know I am going to be sore as hell the next day. But I am all amped up on caffeine (filled my water bottle with a Grape Rockstar at the turnaround. Don't care what you say, I count it as one of my better life decisions) and other asundry chemicals in a RockStar, so I keep moving. There was a group of 5 or 6 girls that I knew were going to pass me, And they did but then I got in the middle of the group and hung on for a bit, but I could tell that was WAY too fast to be sustainable. I kept stumbling over shit and it would have been a matter of time before stumble becomes fall and head meets rock or knee meets rock or head meets tree on way down to meet rock where knee already is. So I slowed my roll more. We crossed the road where Leia was....I forgot that part. So at the beginning they tell us that people are gonna win free shoes. Not just those that place, but random others based on how they finish. Like the manner in which they finish. So I immediately think, well I'll just finish with no clothes on. Give momma her shoes. Well, after a second thought I realize I can't do that. It's not feasible and there's kids and I am sure there would be some flack to deal with and I have had enough conversations and lectures on what is appropriate behavior and what is not to last me for like 8 more lifetimes. It just wasn't worth it. So there's a road crossing and my friend Leia is there to guard it I guess. Maybe direct traffic, but traffic is just a random vehicle and if they're gonna hit you, Leia, although a superhero, isn't gonna be able to stop them. You know, maybe she would, who am I to say. Anyway, I tell her my finish line dilemma as I cross the road the second time on the first loop. She suggests cartwheels, which disappoints me. I get it, you're just trying to help, but you can do better. You ARE better than that. So I tell her she has a few hours to work on it. So this time she tells me I could do an interpretive dance of my race. OMG that is so along the lines of what I was thinking! I could only get as far as doing some over-the-top acting of something, I was missing the something and Leia got the something. I also thought I could yell Coming In Hot and then stop drop and roll (explaining what I was doing to the audience of 4) over the finish line. It was early, I had time to come up with a dance. But things are hurting and where the fuck is mile 6.5? I am not sure if I'll see Rick or not before it (I did, but I didn't know it was him and he was facing the other way). It finally comes and goddamn those volunteers are awesome. I forgot how at night with the lights and the sweet food all the gnats come out and get in your mouth and up your nose and there's no getting away from them. By the way, Shawn, please explain this:</div>
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Nevermind, I get it now. This is what a moth would look like as it goes to the flame, as it always does. Except instead of a moth, it's a 6'5" redhead. Of course, silly me to not see that right away.</div>
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Anyway, I had Shay put a Coke in my pack (they always run out by the time I get there) way back when and I now got it out and poured it with what was left of my grape Monster. Winning combination, I assume nobody else is gonna try it - that's cool, just take my word. I had no business being there and feeling fly, yet there I was. Next, me and my winning combination leave Land's End and only have 3.5 miles to go. Longest 3.5 miles of my life (well, except the last 3.1 or .2 or whatever of FlatRock where time and space don't match up....I know I've been lost between 2 parallel universes in that last 3 miles and have spent more than one eternity there, I know you don't believe me but I am telling you something weird happens out there and its not good, I feel like I've narrowly escaped something akin to when certain people take acid and they never stop tripping) and I can't really move well and my body is pissed that I am doing this to it so it acts like it all of a sudden forgot how to move. But if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, you eventually get to the end. You have to. It's a rule. I finished the Disturbed album, got some Die Antwood and Tribe Called Quest and right when I needed it the most Til I Collapse by Eminem came on so we (me and my winning combination) turned that shit UP and we were flying! I am quite certain I was hitting a solid 16 minute pace, but it fucking felt like flying to me. Oh yeah - at some point along there I get really pissed about this whole finish line shoe thing. Not really sure now exactly why, but I decided to scrap it all - not even a stop drop and roll - and I'd just buy my own goddamn shoes. So that's what happened, instead of me rolling on the ground or reenacting the emotional journey (I came up with doing animal noises to accompany it, which wouldn't have translated well in photos anyway), you get this. Which is still dope as fuck, smells like victory, of the freaky variety, but still victory.</div>
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So I'm all done and Megan isn't too far behind me and Darci is all done with her first 10 miler and Ashley is all done with her 20 miler. She got second but didn't tell anybody. I would've told everybody but that's just me. So instead of getting the chance to heap accolades on Ashley, I told Carol (who was there to volunteer so was not present at pre-race discussions) about my diahhrea. Leia was there and hadn't heard it either. Ashley had though. I guess it's kind of an award, hear the diarrhea story twice. I added stuff though for her benefit that I hadn't brought up before. Like how the poo looked and that it required a butt washing, not a butt wiping. Then Carol told us how some guy didn't understand why he shouldn't mate 2 puppies from the same litter, so as a way to explain, she asked him "Well, what happens when you have sex with <u>your</u> sister?" Leia swore she was going to start answering all questions with this one, so please please please ask Leia a stupid question next time you see her. Then I went by the fire and talked smack with the Mayo and the Cotten and whatever Shay's last name is kids just to end things on a high note. So, that's what I was doing Saturday night from 8 till about 3 am when I left, aren't you sorry you were sleeping like a little baby and missed all the fun? Grow up and be a freak and come out next year. THE END.</div>
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PS - Don't bother stopping me if you've already heard this, but I wasn't sore the next day (well, only a little) because I am like the Terminator, which is dope as fuck.</div>
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Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-18265058710667938632014-07-14T20:50:00.000-07:002014-07-15T04:40:47.807-07:00HIATUS recap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I haven't written a race report in quite awhile. I sat down to pen one for last Saturday's Psycho Psummer 50k and felt the need to catch up instead. Apologies in advance if you expect any of these to have much to do with the actual races, but you really should know better by now. Here we go: <br />
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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. <br />
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. <br />
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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.<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
So that's the race report for Free State 100k 2014. It's a pretty crappy report.<br />
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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.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
So that's the race report for the Inagural Flint Hills 40 miler, and we are up-to-date.<br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a rinse with water - my kneecap is on the left. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Added this one for context</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8O68-JiEGPs/U8SgkzP31GI/AAAAAAAAAP4/e36ctQyDk4k/s1600/066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8O68-JiEGPs/U8SgkzP31GI/AAAAAAAAAP4/e36ctQyDk4k/s1600/066.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the ER after a cleaning - he pulled out some sticks</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mMPW9j-yz10/U8SgsvtqZWI/AAAAAAAAAQA/JEGvW8N5Cdo/s1600/069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mMPW9j-yz10/U8SgsvtqZWI/AAAAAAAAAQA/JEGvW8N5Cdo/s1600/069.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There we are all stitched up - just like it never happened!</td></tr>
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<br />Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-46426546313890678762013-07-12T22:57:00.002-07:002014-03-20T11:17:17.519-07:00KEYS 50 MILE The Keys 100 and 50 mile ultramarathons were held on May 18. They are both point to point races - the finish line is actually on the sand of Higgs Beach in Key West. The 100 starts at Key Largo - the northernmost key and the 50 miler starts 4 hours later (10am) in Marathon. The race is run along the shoulder of US1 aka Overseas Highway - the only road in and out of the Keys. The relentless sun (we had a 20 second break - I'm not fucking exaggerating. 20 seconds of sun relief all day) and humidity are brutal. I dig tough races. That was just one of several good reasons to go down and run the race. The $200 entry fee was not one of them (I wondered how I was going to work in the exorbitant entry fee into the report - not so hard). They do have big fundraising for prostate cancer - education, screenings, etc. So some of that $200 went to charity. I still feel really gypped though - I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure I don't even have a prostate. If it was prostate cancer in dogs, I would get behind that. Frankly though, based on the douchebags I've recently had the pleasure of welcoming into my life just to fuck it all up thanks to dating, I'm thinking a few more awful, long, miserable prostate cancer deaths just may be what's in order.<br />
My training was another non-reason as my training was non-existent. The last race I trained for was Rocky 100 in Feb 2012. My training (I've written that word four times now and every time I notice what a joke it is me using that word) has been inconsistent and ill-suited. In fact, during the last couple weeks leading up to the race I found myself having to stop and walk for a minute or so on my morning 5 mile runs before my heart beat out my chest. It really wasn't even that warm. So that inner voice would speak up and say - Gee Erica, don't you find it concerning that you can't run 5 miles in Kansas without stopping yet are signed up for a 50 miler in heat unlike you've been in for a year? - and then I would respond to myself, saying - Yes, cause for concern indeed. But maybe I'll just start the race and magic will happen. What's up with those Royals? --<br />
Back to the good reasons - the 50 miler would be an excellent recon mission for the 100. Combining running and vacation is right up my alley and since I have family and friends down in S Fla, it would be nice to go down and do the 100 in the future. This could be a great "trial run" for that. My ex-sister-in-law Uma (she is Russian and very cool and as I learned on this trip, quite the freak) and her brother Sean (I knew he was a freak prior) and my beautiful 9 yr old niece Vivian <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PlRzzm77VX8/UcsWIG6Eb9I/AAAAAAAAAKg/Iybvf69wPN0/s1600/vivian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PlRzzm77VX8/UcsWIG6Eb9I/AAAAAAAAAKg/Iybvf69wPN0/s320/vivian.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freak In Training</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A_0A2rjAuZA/UcsW4wycz5I/AAAAAAAAAKo/rv0yVftg-BM/s1600/old+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A_0A2rjAuZA/UcsW4wycz5I/AAAAAAAAAKo/rv0yVftg-BM/s200/old+house.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My old apt in Victoria Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jRLsY96BDiU/UcsXfHTY2JI/AAAAAAAAAKw/kfv8oV-l9Kc/s1600/elbo+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jRLsY96BDiU/UcsXfHTY2JI/AAAAAAAAAKw/kfv8oV-l9Kc/s200/elbo+room.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elbo Room = 151 floaters</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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(I'm sure she'll be a freak) live down in Key West. My mom was going to be down there that weekend too as the aforementioned beautiful niece was in a ballet. Back in the day I had a time share down there- I used to live in Ft Lauderdale and spent a couple days there prior to the race, visiting old playgrounds and playmates. The night before the race I drove down to Key West, arriving fairly late. My mom is a baller and got a 3 bedroom, 3 bathroom suite at the Key West Marriot. It was sick. I was thankful as this would be by only good night of sleep since Tuesday night. Pulled the all nighter Wed night before missing my flight (yeah I did - and left my running shoes at home too). I stayed out late with my old friend Freddy and his girlfriend <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K65Mc6gdhhk/UeSIfhke-RI/AAAAAAAAANI/DISbnFOcyd8/s1600/freddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K65Mc6gdhhk/UeSIfhke-RI/AAAAAAAAANI/DISbnFOcyd8/s200/freddy.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How long does it take to not cook a turkey burger?</td></tr>
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Thursday night, enjoying salmonella turkey burgers. Up early for manicures with Christy, who was my first and best Ft Lauderdale friend (due to a recurring traumatic childhood event I am stronger for surviving, I am unable to get pedicures as people touching my feet is intolerable. I just sat by and yapped while she got hers). Beach and shopping and mango smoothie drinking the rest of Friday day. Friday night was reserved for the Joinson clan.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-14wQaGsWjY4/UeSJOJegUmI/AAAAAAAAANQ/KpjZL_V2ZzI/s1600/girl+power.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-14wQaGsWjY4/UeSJOJegUmI/AAAAAAAAANQ/KpjZL_V2ZzI/s200/girl+power.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 pretty girls all in a row</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UDz4V7sVvuk/UeSJOHxPD5I/AAAAAAAAANU/TwLjAaJqE3M/s1600/joinson%21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UDz4V7sVvuk/UeSJOHxPD5I/AAAAAAAAANU/TwLjAaJqE3M/s200/joinson%21.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little kid and two pretty girls all in a row - f u Jimmy!!</td></tr>
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Jimmy is always good for a night of belly laughs. I haven't seen any of these people in over a decade. I can't believe I had such great amazing friends - every one of them. Anyway - the race. So I catch a few winks at the hotel and then drive up to Marathon the next morning - I get there at 8:30am - race starts at 10am (the 100 milers started 50 miles north in Key Largo at 6am). I have gobs of time to hang around. I got a dog fix. I got a photo session fix. I missed the pre-race meeting during the dog fix. I tried not to let the following thoughts take hold in my brain. I did pretty well. However, fleeting as they were, they did come often. They were all thoughts such as:<br />
<ul>
<li>Wow - brand new outfit. Cut the tags off this morning. Never ran in it before. Half the time new shit chafes me horribly - I've had shorts that after 4 miles are like razor blades cutting my thighs with every step. Hope that doesn't happen today. </li>
<li>And wow - brand new shoes. Never ran in them before. Gonna head out in 50 sweaty miles in them now. Hope they're comfy the whole time. </li>
<li>And wow - everybody else has a crew. What the f is that about? I thought crews were just for 100's. I know I read somewhere that you get ice and water every 5 miles or so - that's all I need that I don't have, right? Right? </li>
<li>And wow - in the last 72 hours I have gotten 11 hours of sleep. . . and it took me a few tries to get the math on that right. I had to bug eye myself to keep from nodding off on the drive up here this morning. I don't think that's such a strong place to be coming from, mentally. </li>
<li>And wow. 50 miles in the killer heat/humidity. Probably a good chance you'll die from heat exhaustion, knowing you. Maybe shoulda gotten laid one last time before that happens.</li>
</ul>
There were a few others - getting hit by a car, stumbling and toppling off a bridge, etc. etc. Not worth mentioning. They are with me until the start.<br />
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So we start - we run a few miles and then we get to the 7 mile bridge (yeah, it's 7 miles long). <br />
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We run on the shoulder on the left. Everything is measured by mile markers down in the Keys. So the 7 mile bridge starts at about MM 47. MM 0 is where we finish in Key West, where there is a MM 0 sign on the beach but I guess it always gets stolen. Anyway, after the bridge (MM 40) is the first full aid station. After that is aid every 5 miles. Right away I notice how fucking hot I am. For the record, there will be lots of discussion involving hotness and hardness. I'm putting out a blanket TWSS now. Anyway, I'm hot and can't breathe and am going soooooo sloooooow. I have fallen into place with an old man. And am having trouble keeping up. I refuse to look behind me, lest there be nobody else there. It's not long before I walk. Fuck this shit. Oh oh - gotta get outta that. Waaaay too early for that. Besides, it's gonna get way worse before it even starts getting better. So the 7 mile bridge is probably where some of the worst happens. Not the worst, but bad. First, I can't fucking keep my eyes open. I had sunscreen on my face for the first time ever - well, not ever but the first time running. I was already drenched in sweat, had no hat or headband and the combo of the bright sun and sunscreen in my eyes was not conducive to sight. I had to hang on to the railing on the side of the bridge to guide me and walk/shuffle run with my eyes closed, tears streaming down my face (I wiped my face with my arm once which just made things worse as that too was slathered in sunscreen) feeling my way. A little interjection here -- if you don't know me, you may be wondering, who is this chic? Does she not know anything? The one bag with the shoes gets left at home? Who hasn't figured out that sweat and sunscreen in the eyes burns them? Is this like her first run or something? Is she retarded? Maybe she's retarded, that would explain it. Poor girl. -- No, I am not retarded. I may be stupid, but that's why I'm so tough - I gotta be. So suck it. You see those light poles in the pic above? I was already doing the run two, walk one thing. They are not that far apart. I don't think the entire 50 miles I ran more than 3/4 of a mile continuously. Yet every time I walked I would freak out that I wasn't running and pick it up again as soon as my heart would allow. A few people slowed down as they passed me to tell me how red I already was and I should put shirt on when I meet up with my crew. I have a drop bag at the end of the bridge - I'm pretty sure there is a shirt in there I can wrap around my head. I also ended up throwing one of my contacts into the ocean after it came out on the bridge - not too good for the ol' depth perception, but after everything else that's pretty bottom-of-the-list stuff.<br />
I finally see the end of the bridge and the little aid station table. I go to my drop bag and a volunteer immediately comes over with a bottle of sunscreen and pity in her eyes (for the record, I didn't even really burn - just got pink - the American Indian in me allows me a great tolerance for sun exposure with no burn along with the predeliction for firewater). As it turns out, there is no shirt in my drop bag. There is nothing that can be used as a sweatstopper at all (I didn't know the chapstick trick then, and I know I had some). I ask if anyone has got anything I can use and am met with silence (there's like 10 people around). It's amazing how quickly my issue becomes their fault. They are all stupid and mean and if they can't help me fine, but they should be very upset that they can't help me. I can't handle all this misery by myself, you know. I decide I just have to leave that place pronto before I behave badly. Luckily this dude who I kinda met in the parking lot before the race gave me a supercool bandana you can put ice in and it was blue just like my outfit. It saved my race. I wish I remembered who he was so I could look him up and return it. I'd even throw in a bj next year. No, I wouldn't. But I am really grateful. I leave (I have a feeling if the people at the aid station had odds on me finishing, it wouldn't be good) and immediately notice the improvement. I kept waiting for my doo rag to stop working but it never did. Only had to squint against the sun and looking down solved most of that problem.<br />
So I was able to keep on keeping on. I stopped to take pics of the scenery:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQnYq5kkiRA/UeDdk-AzCvI/AAAAAAAAALY/-cD-LFYkmuk/s1600/dead1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQnYq5kkiRA/UeDdk-AzCvI/AAAAAAAAALY/-cD-LFYkmuk/s320/dead1.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead lizard</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ju89JlQ4cVE/UeDdlJMcx1I/AAAAAAAAALc/hNd5iOfye_o/s1600/dead2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ju89JlQ4cVE/UeDdlJMcx1I/AAAAAAAAALc/hNd5iOfye_o/s320/dead2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead furry thing - probably a Florida cougar</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_A5yx1-hBA8/UeDdlWzvmGI/AAAAAAAAALk/8QrNEf1vjr0/s1600/dead3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_A5yx1-hBA8/UeDdlWzvmGI/AAAAAAAAALk/8QrNEf1vjr0/s1600/dead3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead Alligator or lizard if you don't have any imagination</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xo1_FINSLlM/UeDdlrMiWFI/AAAAAAAAALs/6HwDcqAiDBw/s1600/dead4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xo1_FINSLlM/UeDdlrMiWFI/AAAAAAAAALs/6HwDcqAiDBw/s1600/dead4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead turtle. </td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oi1KqcQ5-yc/UeDdlyzXsDI/AAAAAAAAAL0/G4VfxG9BAjs/s1600/dead5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oi1KqcQ5-yc/UeDdlyzXsDI/AAAAAAAAAL0/G4VfxG9BAjs/s1600/dead5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a good road for snakes</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-onEwliTaq9o/UeDdmXGz_1I/AAAAAAAAAL8/pS-kTA2hEtI/s1600/dead6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-onEwliTaq9o/UeDdmXGz_1I/AAAAAAAAAL8/pS-kTA2hEtI/s1600/dead6.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like a bloody dead fish out of water</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hNowIq57FUU/UeDdmm6vXGI/AAAAAAAAAME/VVt_5i5cwT4/s1600/dead7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hNowIq57FUU/UeDdmm6vXGI/AAAAAAAAAME/VVt_5i5cwT4/s1600/dead7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snake guts</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Up4NuF-maqE/UeDdlOnxV7I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/pC-mbcs9kt8/s1600/dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Up4NuF-maqE/UeDdlOnxV7I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/pC-mbcs9kt8/s1600/dead.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death is not kind, beauty-wise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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About 3:30pm things started to get touch and go. I was really hot and
really brain fogged. It would get better then worse then better, etc.
The chills came and went as well. I just needed to hang on until
sundown. It helped that every other person I came across was miserable as well. I would chat with them and then they would leave me to go meet up with their crew and sit in a/c and get ice and whatever else they felt like they needed until the next mile when they got to do it all again. Pansies.<br />
The traffic really started to get to me -- at one point I did put on
some music to try to make the traffic less of a nuisance, but the music was too much of a distraction and I couldn't handle that for long. The cars were close and noisy and distracting and I could feel their heat and exhaust in my lungs. A couple of times I caught myself meandering into traffic. Like on purpose. Sometimes when I'm a passenger in a car on the highway I get an overwhelming urge to open the car door and jump out. So I lock the doors for safety when that happens. I thought everybody did this but I asked a couple of people down at Syllamo this year and they couldn't relate. Anyway, this was like that. Except I couldn't trust my sane mind to control my body so I had to repeat to myself "Don't jump into traffic, don't jump into traffic" I swear the heat was making me crazy. I think that may be why if someone is gonna get on the news for chewing a guy's face off, it's in Florida. Not an excuse, just a reason. I already
saw a guy about MM30 get taken away on an ambulance and at the aid
station ran into the guy who just dumped a bag of chips on the table
from droppers. Saw him twice and both times with a full bag. <br />
I was chugging along. I know I was calculating my time and seemed to be right on schedule but honestly can't remember what that was. I think a 12 hour finish. It ended up being 14 1/2 hours. I would run into people and chit chat. Most were from Florida and would say -- it's hot where I live, but not hot like this. I actually threw my hands up and lifted my face to the heavens when that weird 20 second cloud cover passed over. People would offer me ice from their crew but I only took it once -- from this one lady who I think slowed down to stick with me. She started to steal my energy - I was fading fast. I stopped to take another pic of a dead thing and my phone was all wet - it wouldn't work. When I gave up (no more dead animal pics the rest of the way) I realized I had zero energy left. None. Empty. I actually had to stop and squat as I couldn't take another step. Seriously, that's exactly what I did. She may have been mid-sentence and I turned to her and said - I'm really sorry but I gotta slow down and you have to keep going. And I squatted down. And wasn't sure I was gonna be able to take another step. That was as close as I came to actually stopping. Never before have I seriously doubted my ability to take another step. It was a little after 4pm at this point - I was dying. Things got better when she left. It didn't last long and by better I just mean I could move forward again. <br />
The sun finally went down. I was so very aware of it - that relentless beating of the bright heat subsided and it felt fucking fantastic. I ran more. It was still - run to "x", "x" being not very far ahead at all, but there was more of it. My mood elevated. That lasted about an hour. My lower back started hurting, which is normal once I go past 20 miles. But it was hurting alot more than usual. I would get relief if I held on to the side of a bridge in front of me and then squatted down. So I started to do that, even though it looked like I was peeing if you were driving by. Then I started finding anything to hold onto so I could squat down. Same with actually sitting -- I would see the end of a bridge where the cement juts out and I would sit on that corner - just big enough for a butt cheek. Towards the end I remember seeing a cinderblock at the edge of a pile of junk. I kept saying to myself - don't sit on it Erica, don't sit on it, you just sat, don't sit on it, walk right on by. I walked right on by. . . then turned around two steps past it and sat down. When I would sit or crouch down it would feel so good, but then I would realize I wasn't making any forward progress and I would jump up after just a few seconds. But, unlike the stretch my foot move at Rocky, I didn't stop doing it when I realized it wasn't really helping, just slowing me down. I guess my willpower is getting weaker with age. Fuck that - I blame the heat.<br />
Just a couple more things happened until the end. One is the puking. I took a chocolate gel around MM15ish? and as soon as it went down I knew it wasn't gonna stay there. It lasted about 62 seconds. Here it is on re-entry:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JAW-mVywYdI/UeDfKrkB9qI/AAAAAAAAAMg/qnap1r8LJ2E/s1600/puke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JAW-mVywYdI/UeDfKrkB9qI/AAAAAAAAAMg/qnap1r8LJ2E/s1600/puke.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't puke on your new shoes!!</td></tr>
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So that was troubling -- 15ish miles to go and I could hardly keep down water. Sometimes I would take a drink and it would just come back up a few seconds later. I would just take another drink. I had it in my head that I needed energy in my stomach so I just kept drinking little sips. The whole - is this drink gonna stay down - was just another thing that sucked, no more no less. It eventually got better.<br />
The second is the light police. So it's dark and I have another drop bag at MM10, where my light is. Except I'm wrong and I already passed my drop bag back at MM20. I'm walking on this path (towards the end you actually get parts where there is kind of a walking path that puts space between you and the road) and I hear some girl yelling at me. I say "what" a few times, but can't hear what she's yapping about but she sounds kinda frantic so I wait for her to catch up to hear what she says. She tells me I don't have any lights and they'll DQ me -- they apparently made a big deal about it at the pre-race briefing I missed. Which I get - it's dark and Saturday night in the Keys and if you're gonna be running around on the fucking road, have light and reflective gear. If you don't, you should get hit just on GP for being such an idiot. Have some smartass run by and stop to take your pic to post in their race report. So after being all snotty about my light like a Miss Priss, she asks me if I think she'll finish and I tell her I know she will - we're so close. I don't say - if you have enough energy to catch up to me and get in my shit like a little troll, you certainly have enough to get another 10 miles - but I think it. There's some more back and forth about that and then it's back to me getting DQ'd for my light - I tell her I got my light in my drop bag up at MM10, which shouldn't be too far. She starts telling me how our drop bags were at a different aid station we already passed. She didn't even have a drop bag because she has a crew so what the f does she know? At one point she says to me "You're wrong" in the same fucking know-it-all tone that I have used crapzillion times to a crapzillion morons I've met in life. Why is this happening to me? Why won't she fucking die already? No bitch, I'm not wrong. I'm ahead of you and way cooler than you and if I wasn't on the verge of puking I'd punch you in the face. Now there's a couple of back and forths about the light and drop bag locations. I explain to her that our drop bags were at MM40 and ...fuck. Somehow I got the 40 and 10 confused in place of the 40 and 20 (pretty sure it's because it's all about the 50 and 40 and 10 make 50). I realize my drop bag was back at MM20 right in the middle of the explanation and say fuck and stop talking. She takes that as I stopped talking because I'm not dealing with her any more and says she's sorry if she seems rude, but she has heat exhaustion and threw up earlier and is absolutely miserable. Well, join the fucking club nancy. I'm all that AND I got no light. It's really superdark now and superdangerous and I know I'm not going any further without a light. Fuck me. So now I all of a sudden am nice to her 'cause I need her light to get me to the next aid station, which luckily was like just another minute or two. Even more luckily, someone turned in a light they found that had been dropped so I had that. I took it and fled, leaving the troll behind (I could hear her tell her "I have heat exhaustion and I puked earlier and do you think I'm going to finish" bit to the volunteers). I really don't know why it's so hard for me to have compassion for other human beings - it's so easy for me to care about dogs. I am very well aware of how awful I can treat other people for no good reason and I'm sure that's just one of the reasons I'm going to hell (unless I can con my way into doggie heaven, which I'm betting on). But in any case that's why this happens: another path veers off from the road so I go down it. Then I see three guys (another annoying thing - the relay teams flying by you all fresh and happy) on the road pass above me. Oh Oh...I sure hope...yep - path dead ends. There is a 4 foot high wall to scale to get back on the road. We're about MM6. I can't be climbing up walls like a goddamn circus monkey. Then I hear the troll ask if there's a way up. I didn't know she was so close. If I turn around to walk back to get on the road, she'll be ahead of me. I tell her you can climb a wall and I see her turn to walk the other way. So I climb the wall and get on the road and start running, laughing like an evil maniac on the inside. All fueled by disdain for a comrade-in-arms. Not at the time, but now I do feel shame. Well, slightly embarrassed. FYI - she got ahead of me -- I was really superdying at the end and couldn't eat or do anything about it. So she was ahead of me until she stopped to see her crew and then I heard them say there was only a half mile left and I saw her turn and start booking it so I started booking it but no way either one of us was running a half mile at that point - what a joke - so it was an eternity that I was chased by her. She was on my heels the whole time -- I could hear her behind me. Then all of a sudden she was gone. I looked back and couldn't see her. I still booked it - we were so close and besides, she was probably gonna try to pull something tricky. As I enter the beach I see my mom and all the Russians and some other guy I don't know and everybody is clapping and cheering - as it should be!! Anyway, we snap some photos and then have to get out of the way - my nemesis was arriving. She was like a couple minutes behind me - tops. Still, if it was just us two in the race I'd be the winner and she'd be the loser. <br />
We go back to the baller suite, I go to bed one really happy and satisfied honey badger, and I have a killer time the rest of my time in Key West. So killer that decorum prevents me from saying more, other than it was hot and hard. The End.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting a trend - finish line balloon bouquets.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Gw0yN3izMQ/UeSKP9mxY5I/AAAAAAAAANo/o8811CKxzB8/s1600/pose+finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Gw0yN3izMQ/UeSKP9mxY5I/AAAAAAAAANo/o8811CKxzB8/s640/pose+finish.jpg" height="464" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So, let me tell you all about what I just did.</td></tr>
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<br />Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-25321398922600528322012-06-04T10:58:00.003-07:002012-06-04T19:38:20.227-07:00ROTTEN<br />
<br />
I had an eventful Memorial Day weekend so am writing my thoughts on it down before they are lost forever. Life has a way of erasing the old to make room for the new - lots of details and feelings I don't want to forget, and one incident I can't ever forget.<br />
My weekend kicked off Thursday at around 11am when I left the office for an employee lunch at an apartment complex in KCK we own and manage. I would not return to my place of business until Tuesday morning, promptly at 8:15ish. I am almost remiss about explaining the pure elation I felt at an unbounded 117 hours that lay before me, but not remiss enough. Monday through Friday, excluding holidays and two weeks vacation a year, I work as a controller for a property management company ("company" being one man, John, who owns rental houses and a few apartment buildings) 8:15am to 2pm. I have a lot of free time not available to most people. Believe me, I know how big that is and I enjoy it and appreciate it and know that when it's gone I will probably miss it more than I think. I've been here 5 years and have alot of freedom, as long as the work gets done the way John demands, we are kosher, and that's not too difficult. No stress, no taking work home, get to wear whatever I feel like. If I want to sleep in and not take a shower before coming in, no one will be the wiser. On the other hand, my boss is. . . .a piece of work. More often than not, when people I know through my work found out that I was planning on running 100 miles, or (later) that I HAD run 100 miles, they would comment how that must have been nothing compared to working for John. I found myself unable to argue with that. He has been fired <u>as a customer</u> on more than one occasion - businessmen would rather he not approach them with money for performing services - they want him to leave and never come back. In addition, I am ridiculously underemployed. Many days I am done with my work by 10am, left with 4 more hours to kill. I replaced a full time CPA and a part-time receptionist - I have no idea what the hell they did all day. I have a Master's of Accountancy, passed the CPA exam, have public accounting experience under my belt, yet there have been days that posting his golf scores are my "A1 priority today, Erica". I don't expect sympathy, kind reader. I know perhaps there are a few other people who are not completely satisfied with their employment and have a horrible boss, for far better reasons than mine. I will take underemployed over unemployed any second of any day. I also know this is not permanent - I am nothing if not persistent and determined, and I am positive I will be able to take advantage of a greater opportunity, as yet unknown, to be more useful in my "career". Why people aren't banging down my door to pay me handsomely to run their accounting departments is beyond me (I guess the felonies and 15 months jail time are blemishes), but fine - if the mountain doesn't come to Erica, Erica just goes out and gets a bigger and better mountain. Digressing - sorry. Suffice it so say I arrived at our Employee Appreciation Lunch practically skipping, one fine meal of Oklahoma Joe's ribs and coleslaw away from sweet sweet freedom.<br />
Later Thursday afternoon, sitting on my couch watching Parks & Recreation with a jumbo Slurpee (ok, and some peanut M&M's), Bandit got dropped off for the weekend - his family was going on a road trip and I was petsitting. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q5JAE0bNgCo/T8VD4QqSZGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/H-bpkBcUByg/s1600/bandit+1+may+2012.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q5JAE0bNgCo/T8VD4QqSZGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/H-bpkBcUByg/s320/bandit+1+may+2012.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bandit. Bad to the Bone.</td></tr>
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Bandit was rescued by Chain of Hope, a grassroots organization that does a lot of rescue efforts and education of owners in the "economically challenged" areas of KC. COH came into contact with Bandit while he was in the yard with his owner - a shitty house in a shitty neighborhood. They approached the owner to ask about Bandit (see if he needed any help, make plans to get him neutered, etc.), but were unable to carry on a conversation with the owner as he was fucked up on something and couldn't comprehend the English language at that time. So they left their information with him - about all they could do just then. A couple of days later, the owner called for help - his puppy was sick, diarrhea and vomiting. COH went over and was able to get Bandit from his owner - just in time to save his life. Bandit was dying of Parvo, an insidious disease prevalent in puppies that kills the majority of them. Bandit survived - a miracle in and of itself!! Once cleared of all that, I got Bandit to foster. He was very hand shy -- apparently the guy also liked to hit his dog. He still loves to bark like a ferocious beast at men (but he digs Brian, who was the first to see the rottenness in him, going so far as to say that mangy mongrel has no redeeming qualities - granted, this was after a copious amount of pee and poo had to be cleaned up off his floors). There was another time when I was fostering him that he got away from Brian's yard in midtown. We searched for him, and came across a Mexican family out on a walk who told us: yes, we saw Bandit. Little black dog, red collar - some guy in a yellow and brown car picked him up and drove off with him. WHAT??? My heart fucking sank. My world got very very small. We walked in the house to call Chain of Hope, not knowing what to do next. I was sick. Walk in the door and there comes Bandit trotting out from around the corner. It was only about 15 min from when we discovered he was missing to when he was found, but that was one of the top moments of relief in my life. Like one other time when I came "this close" to getting Tboned by a car when I was on my bicycle. We took him to the dog park on Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and he went out of his way to go bark at some poor guy. The guy held out his hand, Bandit sniffed it, then continued barking at him. The guy shrugged his shoulders, turned around and walked off. Only to be followed by an incessantly barking Bandit, saying "how dare you walk away when I'm barking at you!!" I have loved that goddam dog from the first moment I saw him (when he was charging me, barking up a storm). I fostered him a few weeks, then my friend from high school saw my pics of him on facebook and after some discussion, decided it was time for her husband and three awesome kids to meet him. When they arrived, I let Bandit out, and he promptly ran right up to them as they are coming up the drive, barking up a storm. It is one thing when a 70lb German Shepard or some such animal does that. It is quite another when a floppy-eared, seal-eyed 30lb porky pig looking bundle of cuteness does it. God I love that dog. My first thought upon awakening Thursday was along the lines of "YAY!!! Bandit comes to stay today!!!" All in all, this was a fantabulous way to spend the first hours of my glorious Memorial Day weekend. <br />
Friday I attacked the Fairway Fan - 11 hilly miles in the heat. It was one of the few runs since my 100 miler (love it when that comes up) that I felt good. My runs have been fairly miserable almost all of the time since February 4. Most times, it is reminiscent of why I didn't run for most of my life. I feel heavy and clunky, am slow, and working way too hard to barely keep up with other people (or now, with myself pre-100 miler). It has not been fun in the least for me, hence the Summer of the Bike. I've been finding myself looking for reasons to quit on my short runs that I used to do in my sleep because it is so hard. Frustrating. Not Friday though. Friday's run was joyous, happy and free! Back to Brian's for another cookout Friday night - filets and pineapple something brats, salad I concocted from SunFresh salad bar, corn on the cob, blueberry/strawberry shortcake for dessert, Sophia for company - the cherry on top?!?! She was nearby hanging out in a coffee shop with no electricity at her own house. And I looked cute - I remember after asking Brian if it was OK to invite her to dinner too I told him I looked so cute that I didn't want her to miss it. It was a great night - spent with some top notch dogs, friends and food.<br />
Saturday I got up early to go to an 8am Pilates class (I can run 100 miles but this Pilates crap is kicking my <strike>ass</strike> abs), then it was back to Brian's for breakfast and dog park with Bandit, Elliot (my faithful hound) and Crazy Callie (Brian's dog, another COH rescue who I couldn't part with. She was going to make me a foster flunkie, but I should have known Brian would fall head over heels with her too - they are a great team and she is transformed - when I first got her she would run out of the room if I walked in, she'd been treated really bad, kicked and hit. Well, guess who is your bona fide happy dog now?!?! It's been amazing/inspiring watching her be the best dog she can be!!). I get the best foster dogs ever for realz. Saturday night we hit the boat for some crab leg buffet action. I like to go to the Isle of Crap 'cause it's the sleaziest. I feel at home there. No gambling though - first of all, the only $5 crap table was a no crap table and the cheapest black jack table was $10. I spend $105.25 to get $100 out of the ATM (just rape me already!), then chicken out and we don't gamble. I don't know what else to say -- I had a bad feeling, Brian said he didn't care either way and it was up to me and I got scared and bailed. I prefer to believe that the $100 I got out of the ATM would have been lost, but there's that part of my brain that is convinced that I would have turned that $100 into $200. I regret the things I didn't do much more than the things I did. And I've done some pretty regrettable things, trust that.<br />
So Sunday finally rolls around. Ever since I heard about Chain of Hope last fall, I knew I wanted to do Outreach with them. Kate Quigley is the owner of Chain of Hope - check them out at www.chainofhopekc.org. She writes a blog that you can find there too - I've read every entry and rarely am I dry-eyed by the end, whether they be tears of joy or tears of sadness. They are the voice for these animals that have no voice, and the moment I heard about what they do I knew I wanted to be a part of it. I finally went out with them on Sunday - we were in the Northeast for most of the day, driving down alleys looking for dogs, checking up on dogs Kate looks in on regularly, learning a lot. Most of the dogs we came across are outside on a chain 24/7. It was over 90 degrees on Sunday and just about every dog I saw was miserable. Many with no food, <u>no water.</u> We fill them up with food and water, talk to the owner if home, leave info if not, fly gel and fly bags to hang. Fly gel is put on their ears - flies bite their ears and also other parts of their body raw, called fly strike. I would be putting the fly gel on a dog's ears and their ear would just be coming off in my hands. It was good to see some of the dogs that have been helped by COH - Kate has educated the owners and they do make progress, feeding them regularly, using tie-outs instead of chains, giving them a doghouse in the shade, etc. More often than not it was just heartbreaking to see the misery in the dogs' eyes, pleading you for help, so happy you are there. I was really to busy to process much of anything during the day, and found myself kind of stunned. A lot of doing without really thinking. It would sink in later on. When we got back from Outreach, I left with a new foster, Norman!! He is a one-year old sheltie mix and I got another great one!! He was chained on a front porch 24/7 and in bad shape when Kate found him. She would watch his owners come home and see Norman begging them for attention and they would walk right by him into the house - no pat on the head, no nothing. They are idiots. Norman loves playing with other dogs - him and Callie go at it for about 30 min, rest for a few minutes, then repeat. He is housebroken, except he poos on the floor during the night - we're working on that and I think we can nip that in the bud pretty quick. As you can see, he is gorgeous. And, not surprisingly, he loves any attention he gets. I walk in my door then sit down to take off my shoes. He gets right up on me, glues himself to me (puts every square inch of his body against me) and relishes all the ear rubs and good boy's and head rubs he gets. Norman gives good love. Goodbye miserable existence, hello happy dog!!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l4YRVs5GrTM/T8zyB7cV0LI/AAAAAAAAAJU/BJTZnKKTGY0/s1600/norman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l4YRVs5GrTM/T8zyB7cV0LI/AAAAAAAAAJU/BJTZnKKTGY0/s320/norman.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm Norman!! Gimme a belly rub!</td></tr>
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So Sunday was a big day and about to really blow up. Fireworks at Union Station!!! We took all the dogs. Brian had a hold of El Dog and Callie. I got Bandit and Norman. We were a big hit with all the kids - Norman and Bandit especially were kid magnets. At 9:30 the fireworks start and the dogs go ballistic for a good 10 seconds. Then they calm down -- Elliot and Callie actually enjoyed the show, says Brian. Bandit was completely spooked though and even though I had hold of his leash, he broke free and took off like a bullet, leash dragging behind. I jump up and chase after him, bringing Norman along. Bandit was headed due east in a straight line like a bat out of hell. I face planted in the grass pretty quick in the midst of a throng of people - it was a good SMACKDOWN. Right back up though. I yelled "NO!!" when I saw him jump down a little wall and without a second's delay tear across Main. . .and then Grand. I just knew something awful and tragic would befall him if I didn't catch him. I kept asking and people kept pointing "He went that way!!" I was a couple of minutes behind him. The last people that saw him were watching the fireworks from the balcony of their lofts on Union Hill. They saw him run into the Union Hill Cemetery. This guy (out with his dog) that lived there said he would keep an eye out for him since he lives right there. Well, that's not enough. I got into the cemetery with Norman and we ran all the way around in there, calling his name, searching for him. Fireworks are booming all around me the entire time. Then they stop. I see the guy out there with a flashlight looking for Bandit. I see a car driving around the cemetery -- it stops - it's the caretaker couple. I tell them all about Bandit. Then I go all the way back to Brian and give him Norman to take back to his place. I go back to the cemetery to look more. The caretakers are out to lock up the gates at 11:30. Still no Bandit. I start walking/running back to Brian's, totally out of my mind.<br />
I call Sophia. I call Patty from Chain of Hope - Bandit only has his rabies tag on with their animal clinic number on it, so I'm hoping she can get ahold of the vet, as they will be closed the next day (Memorial Day). She helps me calm down. .. a little. Not really. Brian sees me walking down Main and picks me up. We go back to his place. After a couple of minutes, we both go back out again. I have to do SOMETHING!! The caretaker told me there was another gate open 24/7 so I try to find it. Instead, a couple of cops stop me and we all end up jumping the fence and looking more for him - I see their flashlights for awhile, then they leave. I stay a bit longer, but eventually have to accept that it's dark, I've been around every part of the cemetery and haven't found him - what I'm doing is no longer productive. So I head back to Brian's - he had been driving around looking for Bandit and just got home too. Brian goes to bed - he needs sleep bad. I can't sleep. I stay out on the couch, making the dogs take turns being squeezed by me and crying in their fur - all they want to do is sleep too. I try to watch tv - no go. I try to read - no go. I think how great a bottle of whiskey would be right fucking now. Right after that I remember that I have a big bottle of nighttime cough medicine with alcohol in Brian's medicine cabinet. Luckily right after THAT I remind myself that as much as I fucking want to really really bad, if I drink I'm no good to Bandit. So instead I imagine all the awful things that are happening to Bandit. Like he tried to jump the wrought iron gate around the cemetery, but his leash gets caught and he hangs himself. Or he ran into the 'hood and got picked up by someone who is going to chain him up and abuse him his whole life. He is terrified. He is miserable. He will never know joy or love or security or comfort again and it is all my fault. I wake up Brian and cry and tell him how helpless I feel. I wear myself out. Bandit is all that is on my mind. I think of how he was rescued, how we thought he was gone that one time and he was in the house and how he was saved my some wonderful neighbor of mine -- oh yeah - I left him out in my yard with Elliot when I did Outreach that day. He got out somehow because when I came home from Outreach he was inside my house. So someone saved his ass already that day. I realize that Bandit has his own incredible Doggy God looking out for him, and think that maybe, just maybe, he's alright and we'll get him back safe and sound. I know he's got a lot of people pulling for him. After that I can sleep - it's about 2:30.<br />
I wake up right after 5am. As soon as I see dawn breaking, me and Elliot and Norman go back out. We park and our morning walk is around every inch of that cemetery - I never found the open gate, we were walking around the outside. I saw a dozen places he could easily have gotten out under the fence and gone a dozen different directions. The sun was up, it was a beautiful day, but I felt absolutely sick. I don't know how people have kids. I was absolutely out of my mind, beside myself, my world so small and terrifying -- all over a rotten little dog. I saw my friend Erin the other day and told her all about Bandit. She told me how one time her parents lost her in the subway and she was gone for 3 hours. I feel a close kinship with Erin's folks - like we were in the war together. I don't believe I was ever lost as a child - I remember we went to Germany when I was about 16 and were walking around Dusseldorf and I tried to get lost to teach my parents a lesson because they were not paying attention to me. Except I never really got lost because I kept them in sight because I was such a scaredy cat and after like half an hour of tailing them from out of sight, no one noticed I was gone. So I run up to them, yelling at them how something really bad could have happened to me and nobody would notice. My mom and dad were both like - "Ummm....you're right here. What is the emergency again?" Fine - they got away scot free that time. It was one of the last times that happened though. I've managed to cause them copious amounts of grief and sorrow and loss for several years -- they haven't escaped unscathed. All part of being the parents of the greatest kid ever.<br />
I go home. I turn around half way home to go back, but turn around again. He could be anywhere - driving around with Norman and Carsick Elliot isn't going to help anything. I call all the 24 hr emergency vet places. Wander around the house. Put up a "lost" ad on KC Pet Connection. Go to put a "lost" ad on Craigslist. See this:<br />
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FOUND Medium Size Black Dog (28th and Gillham, KCMO)</h2>
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Date: 2012-05-28, 12:02AM CDT<br />
Reply to: <a href="mailto:pgts5-3042036151@comm.craigslist.org?subject=FOUND%20Medium%20Size%20Black%20Dog%20%2828th%20and%20Gillham%2C%20KCMO%29&body=%0A%0Ahttp%3A%2F%2Fkansascity.craigslist.org%2Flaf%2F3042036151.html%0A">pgts5-3042036151@comm.craigslist.org</a> <sup>[<a href="http://www.craigslist.org/about/help/replying_to_posts" target="_blank">Errors when replying to ads?</a>]</sup>
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Found near Union Hill / Union Station around 10:30pm on Sunday. Medium
size black dog with white/black markings on belly and on nose. Has tags,
but can't call the Vet until Tuesday due to Memorial Day. Found with
matching collar and leash, running scared during the fireworks. To
claim tell me what color the collar and leash are. <br />
<br />
We're hoping to find his family soon! He keeps looking at the door for them.
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<li> Location: 28th and Gillham, KCMO</li>
<li>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests</li>
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PostingID: 3042036151<br />
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It's him!! Is it him? It's got to be him!!! I shoot off an email real quick:<br />
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<span style="background-color: red;"> </span><span style="background-color: red; color: #e69138;"> </span><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1338573520133116" style="background-color: red;">***My dog got spooked by the
fireworks and ran off last night -- he was last seen going in Union
Cemetery about 9:40pm. Maybe this is him? He has a Raytown Kennedy
Animal clinic tag on -- red collar, red leash. His name is Bandit.
CALL ME PLEASE!!! I am sick over him - I love that rotten guy with all
my heart!!! My info is below - erica 913-271-3728. Please call me
either way --- thank you so much for posting this -- even if it's not my
dog, you are a good Samaritan!!***</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1338573520133116"> I call Brian. I call Sophia. I call Patty at Chain of Hope. I tell Elliot and Norman. They are happy too, I can see. I decide the person who wrote the ad is ignoring me so I send them another email (it is very long and repeats alot so I'm not going to include it -- this fucking thing is way too long as it is). Just after I hit send my phone rings and some beautiful angel tells me yes, the dog has a Kennedy Vet Clinic tag on so I know for a fact it is Bandit. She was watching fireworks from one of those balconies and saw him running around the cemetery all scared and went down to get him - she called to him and he squeezed through the gate and came right up to her! So glad it was a she and not a he!! She couldn't keep him in her apartment, so her parents took him home - I got her parent's address out in Greenwood, MO, google mapped it, took a Puerto Rican shower (spray on body spray) and a whore bath (wash face and private parts in sink) and took off to go pick him up. By 9:30am, about 12 hours from when I had last seen him I had Bandit in my arms, licking my face, accidently biting my nose (he was super excited to see me too), and all was well in the world. The lady came out and we talked - she fed him some ham and peas and rice the night before (he had already eaten his dinner, plus a couple of the other dogs' dinners at 7:00) and he ate it all. She made him eggs that morning to see if he would eat some, but he managed to tip the pan over off the stove and helped himself. He didn't pee or poo in their house though - went potty outside like a good boy. He couldn't have been saved by a better family (yet again). She told me how she was holding him the night before and he would start to doze off, then jerk awake and cry/whine all scared, like "I'm not home. Where is my home?". Her husband came out after a few minutes - Bandit ran up to him, barking his head off. Shocker.</span><br />
<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1338573520133116"> I still had the comforter we used to sit on to watch fireworks in the backseat. Bandit curled up on it and was asleep by the time I got out of the driveway (it was one of those long, out in the country driveways). He snores a little. He couldn't have been more beautiful and precious if he was my own kid, I'm sure (but am probably wrong - we will never know as I have promised never to spawn). We got home. Ahhhhh. It's surprising how quickly I got back to acting normal. The dogs played around while I cleaned the house. The smile that had been on my face since I found him hadn't gone anywhere. By the time I was done, this is what they were up to:</span><br />
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1338573520133116">I sat down to talk to Sophia on the phone and rehash everything. Turns out she lost her dog Puccini that morning out on some trails (but found him pretty quick). Bitch, please - people always trying to steal my thunder. Brian beeped in, wanting to go to the pool. I said no. I didn't want to leave Bandit - he was getting picked up soon by Emily and family on their way back home. But I changed my mind -- I felt weird, didn't want to be alone and hanging with Brian sounded like just what I needed. When we got to the pool, I called Emily. I was so glad to be making this call and not another kind of call. I wasn't super good friends with her in high school, but we certainly knew each other - had friends in common, classes in common, played softball together, that kind of stuff. Just like people don't want to mess with me (for good reason, although I've shown great strides in abating behaviors such as screaming someone is a cunt skank whore in public and/or destroying their property), I didn't want to have to say "Hey Emily -- well it's great you just adopted this dog and we got to see each other again and I know you've spent a lot of time and energy on him already and I'm sure your kids just love him to pieces, but I lost him. No more dog for you. Sorry - hope you had a good trip - see ya around!" No part of that would go over well. I'm sure she has a lot more class than I do, but I'm also sure she can hurt a bitch if called for. Doesn't matter. Didn't have to do that. I told her the whole story. After she got him from the house and saw he was ok, she even joked about it. Said I could petsit for him again (I really hope she meant that), but she'd be keeping her kids in someone else's care. Fine by me.</span><br />
<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1338573520133116"> So that's my Memorial Day weekend, 2012. Beware the rotten dog.</span><br />
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<br />Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-50896937136252399612012-02-15T11:53:00.000-08:002012-02-26T11:21:47.494-08:00ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILE ENDURANCE RUN FEB 4, 2012<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"> 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):</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://www.ultralive.net/rr100/webcast.php">http://www.ultralive.net/rr100/webcast.php</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> 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. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> 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. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> 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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> 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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hrIPU_itg4g/T0qA2kuFITI/AAAAAAAAAHo/qNQKUnyPfHQ/s1600/4+end+of+loop+1+hug.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hrIPU_itg4g/T0qA2kuFITI/AAAAAAAAAHo/qNQKUnyPfHQ/s400/4+end+of+loop+1+hug.jpg" width="270" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">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. </span><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> 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. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> 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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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: </span></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Give me a Gu every 30 minutes for as long as my stomach will handle them.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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.</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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 <u>herself</u> 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. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So I stopped really doing it because it wasn't really having any lasting effect, just wasting time. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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.</span></span><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGaUDfWsW6I/T0qCngLRRFI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/zDCllc2GvRE/s1600/9c+end+happy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGaUDfWsW6I/T0qCngLRRFI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/zDCllc2GvRE/s1600/9c+end+happy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGaUDfWsW6I/T0qCngLRRFI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/zDCllc2GvRE/s400/9c+end+happy.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6COZOUDL160/T0qCqMMxewI/AAAAAAAAAIY/m21zOFlgzrE/s1600/9d+the+face.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6COZOUDL160/T0qCqMMxewI/AAAAAAAAAIY/m21zOFlgzrE/s640/9d+the+face.jpg" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just ran 100 miles and boy am I tired!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I wasn't the only one who achieved great things that day (or the day before) - a</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">ll 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!! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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? </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Heather -- Mission Accomplished!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just past the finish line -- he hands me my buckle as I hang on for dear life.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">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. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See ya next year Tejas!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> 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:</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">STOP TYPING AND LET'S GO DO SOMETHING INVOLVING BACON!!! WOOF!</td></tr>
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<br />Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-77046679127934149502011-11-08T09:37:00.000-08:002011-11-10T09:39:44.026-08:00Lou 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.<br />
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.<br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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. <br />
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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.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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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:<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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):<br />
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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):<br />
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Then me and Luke (who ran the 50k in like 10 minutes):<br />
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And here is Brian and Ammanda too and Lou on the right, just seconds after the finish of the day:<br />
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And finally here is Lou and Sadie because DOGS RULE!:<br />
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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. <br />
In closing, I would like to say how happy I am to have beat Shawn Walters.Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-88454058483534628882011-10-25T06:36:00.000-07:002011-10-27T07:06:20.071-07:00ALTERED - Lake Perry 50KNot 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:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sE6YETZ3-7o/TqbDuXiIWwI/AAAAAAAAADs/odAiq5SFExA/s1600/ass%2Bshawn%2B10.22.11.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667432382450916098" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sE6YETZ3-7o/TqbDuXiIWwI/AAAAAAAAADs/odAiq5SFExA/s400/ass%2Bshawn%2B10.22.11.jpg" /></a><br /><br />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.<br />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!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lOAmApxd8Ew/Tqb6wt9gToI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZZr4XPygjSI/s1600/trail%2Bby%2Blake.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667492895970578050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lOAmApxd8Ew/Tqb6wt9gToI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZZr4XPygjSI/s400/trail%2Bby%2Blake.jpg" /></a><br /><br />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.<br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j5lUJdHat-8/Tqb6VbiRRgI/AAAAAAAAAD4/zH3xqkAqOzo/s1600/good%2Bme.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667492427168040450" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j5lUJdHat-8/Tqb6VbiRRgI/AAAAAAAAAD4/zH3xqkAqOzo/s400/good%2Bme.jpg" /></a><br /><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BZgEeatneTI/TqcI_Lm9LcI/AAAAAAAAAE0/9N65vlPRI0E/s1600/ELLIOT.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667508537610022338" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BZgEeatneTI/TqcI_Lm9LcI/AAAAAAAAAE0/9N65vlPRI0E/s400/ELLIOT.jpg" /></a> 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:<br />Other Dog Lady: You should keep that dog on a leash.<br />Me: You don't get to control everything lady.<br />Other Dog Lady: Well, you have no control over that dog. He ran right up and practically knocked us over!<br />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.<br />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.<br /><br />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:<br />Other Dog Lady: Your dog is so well-behaved!<br />Me: (I honestly don't remember what I said. What I do remember is trying to keep from falling right the fuck over.)<br /><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c-GcyDACq1k/Tqb6iXs4D8I/AAAAAAAAAEE/ReuQUqXcDqc/s1600/sophia%2Btrain.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667492649477083074" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c-GcyDACq1k/Tqb6iXs4D8I/AAAAAAAAAEE/ReuQUqXcDqc/s400/sophia%2Btrain.jpg" /></a><br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--0rdYGz80k0/Tqb699uZs2I/AAAAAAAAAEc/U9CEUqfZYeU/s1600/finish%2B1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667493123540497250" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--0rdYGz80k0/Tqb699uZs2I/AAAAAAAAAEc/U9CEUqfZYeU/s400/finish%2B1.jpg" /></a><br />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:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ebupixqHtwQ/TqdEijXCVWI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Tk3WmMQFmxY/s1600/yellow%2Bshirt.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 191px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667574016467162466" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ebupixqHtwQ/TqdEijXCVWI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Tk3WmMQFmxY/s320/yellow%2Bshirt.jpg" /></a><br />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.<br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CKK4JgPt8N4/Tqb73fj1eAI/AAAAAAAAAEo/6xkkaHvfoso/s1600/all%2Bof%2Bus.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667494111875528706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CKK4JgPt8N4/Tqb73fj1eAI/AAAAAAAAAEo/6xkkaHvfoso/s400/all%2Bof%2Bus.jpg" /></a>Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-90260647369385752962011-07-13T08:04:00.000-07:002011-07-16T08:43:01.295-07:00Psycho Psummer 2011This was going to be my 4th Psyhco Psummer. 2008 was my first Psycho Psummer (15miler), and my first trail run ever. It was only my third running race - I had just started running in November 2007 (never ran before in my life, except when absolutely necessary) - I ran .8 miles (yes, that is POINT eight) and worked up from there. I ran '08 Hospital Hill in not much over 2 hrs (I'm not going back to look) and figured this wouldn't take much longer. What I didn't figure was that I had absolutely NO idea what the hell I had just gotten myself into. The first 3 hours of '08 Psycho were great. I was still new to running outside, and loved it (the first 5 months I ran, building up to 11 miles, I ran on a tenth of a mile track at my community center. All I can say about that is that I didn't know any better - the idea of running on an indoor track today sickens me). Not to mention the pure enjoyment of running out in nature vs. suburbia streets. The last 51 minutes were six hours of torture, frustration and despair. I fucking hated every second. I didn't know if I had 1 or 2 or 8 more miles left. The mud was soul-sucking that year. "This fucking sucks" and "I'm NEVER doing this again" were my mantras at the end. After I was done, my dad asked me if I was going to do the race next year. An emphatic, heartfelt "I hope to God not" was my reply. This would not be the first time I had not been a woman of my word, but in this case I couldn't be happier about it.<br /><br /> Sorry - I digress. This is about 2011 Psycho Psummer - we'll get there. I ran the 50k Psycho 2010 in 8:27 - I bonked with about 4 miles to go, cried for joy at the end, then sobbed uncontrollably in the shower once I got home for about 20 minutes from exhaustion and pain (or just being a baby), but was pleased as punch with myself for completing my FIRST ultra!! Since then, I've done other ultras - another 50k, a 50 miler, and a 40 miler. But this was WYCO. Enough said. Lucky for me, things went my way at many turns. At packet pickup I was able to get a good idea of the course from Bad Ben. He said I would love it. I didn't believe him. I'm used to running the "old" winter loop - that's what I do when I run WYCO. As much as I may give lip service otherwise, I don't like change and avoid it at all costs. Ben was forcing change on me and I was none too pleased, but know enough not to throw a public fit about it, even though that is exactly what I wanted to do. As it turns out, I thought the course was absolutely fantabulous and hope I can remember it so I can run it again on my own next time I'm out there and think Ben is the coolest thing around for choosing it - I think it's alot more "runnable" than the old course. Perhaps I will not resist change so vehemently in the future. Perhaps. Also, the weather cooperated for the most part. It was a little muddy, but not nearly as bad as it could be and although hot, it's been way hotter. That is all the credit I am giving the course and the weather and let it be noted even if conditions were worse, I would have still prevailed. <br /><br /> I wasn't going to bring Elliot - he had a rough time the week before, when he bonked on our two-loop run and we had to walk it in. HE has nothing to prove and I felt like a royal ass for making him go out for an afternoon-20 at WYCO in 94 deg weather. Please don't call PETA. He came out and ran with pretty girls (I was only one of them) at the Summer Fire 5k the next day after that - got his mojo back. I'm always concerned when I bring him out on races about pissing people off - as hard as it is to fathom, I've accepted it as fact that other people may not be as fond as Smelliot as I am and I always fear he will get in the way of somebody good's (read a fast person's) race. He is a Master Interferer. But I am nothing if not selfish and I am nothing if not very attached to him, so Elliot came on out with me (shocker). Fuck everyone else, I'm running with my dog! <br /><br /> I pull up to the park and got a good spot - I saw Shawn and Matty sitting in the back of their vehicles, getting ready. I realized I had forgotten my handheld, but Matty saved the day and let me use an extra one he had. All Shawn did was make some wiseass remark about my parking job. A few minutes later he must have gotten bored and decided to look for trouble as he told me to let my damn dog go already 'cause his crying/whining was intolerable. I put up a feeble argument about how Elliot bothers people, but let go of the leash anyway. Elliot shot out like a bullet, out of sight in a black and white blur. About 20 seconds after that, we heard barking and a little yelling - that's my dog!! Turns out he just met Lisa's dogs, El Dog style. Butt-sniffing was still going on when I made my way over.<br /><br /> I had lots of time to kill, so I rearranged my drop bag, wandered around, and eventually managed to get an even cooler, brand new jet-propulsioned handheld from Shawn to run with - nice. I had filled up Matty's with coconut water, which I gulped down in between loops. Finally - lineup for the start. I get right behind my fellow mudbabes Ashley and Haley. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NaBpdMV3CNM/TiCqlOz0muI/AAAAAAAAADE/EWSisUpTMb4/s1600/ashley%2Band%2Bhaley%2Bstart.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NaBpdMV3CNM/TiCqlOz0muI/AAAAAAAAADE/EWSisUpTMb4/s400/ashley%2Band%2Bhaley%2Bstart.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629687090820455138" /></a>There is power in numbers. Plus, they are used to having hot dog breath on their heels. Start is slow because it's so crowded - but eventually we all spread out - everyone I know is ahead of me, but that's the way it should be. I was really trying not to keep up because I know where that gets me and I don't want my 3rd loop to become some neverending waiting room in hell. First aid station is Indi's. Quick hello/goodbye. The boy scout part was next and it was my favorite - I remember from last year the first time I went thru it I loved it and the next time. . . well, I didn't love it. I loved it all three times that day. The guys at Shelter 11 were fantastic and made sure Elliot was well-hydrated and cheered on. I think this is where I took El Dog off leash. He is a pro trail runner dog and behaved as one all day. Then of course Darin at the next Shelter - he looked out of place just standing around. He is usually a running blur. On the three hills part I passed Haley - El Dog ran by her and nudged her a little - his way of flirting (Elliot has always had a thing for Haley). She was all "ugh" already. I wondered what would happen and sorry Haley, but I wouldn't have been surprised if you dropped. I know she's tough but. . . well, it turns out one should never bet against Haley - she finished 50k with a smile - one thing when you feel great, but something else entirely when you don't. Hard as nails. And speed demon Ashley tore up that course in stellar fashion. But this is my race report so we're not dwelling on others, no matter how tough or cool they may be. Next up was the Wakefields (Jess and Dave) at Shelter 14 - Jess also took special care of Elliot. My first time volunteering at an aid station I was with her out at Lake Perry. We need to work one again and make it a party - I'm ready. Anyway, on a more race-related topic, I had Nuun tabs to put in my water, and was topping off (sometimes with water, sometimes with Succeed) at all the aid stations and drinking alot. I would grab at least something at each aid station - watermelon, banana. Plus taking a GU every 40 minutes. At Jess' aid station, I got tortilla rollups. All told, I probably ate about a dozen of them throughout the day, which is why I'm ashamed to say I don't even know if they were nutella or jelly or pb & jelly. I do know they were delicious. Elliot thought so too. 1st loop down in 2h 19 min. YAY. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMbS0z1ai30/TiCrAI3E5sI/AAAAAAAAADM/-uEPVV9dk1E/s1600/loop%2B1%2Bend%2B07.09.11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMbS0z1ai30/TiCrAI3E5sI/AAAAAAAAADM/-uEPVV9dk1E/s400/loop%2B1%2Bend%2B07.09.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629687553079961282" /></a><br /><br /><br /> LOOP 2: I wasn't sure if I was going to leave El Dog or take him out again. Thankfully, Dave (Lisa's Dave) was around and said he would take care of getting him tethered if he stayed. So I didn't have to worry about that. I didn't have to worry about that anyway since Elliot decided to go for two loops. Only a couple of differences on the second loop - first, I spent alot of the middle part of it leapfrogging this guy and girl. I got all worried Elliot was bothering them. It took me awhile to realize that A) he wasn't getting in their way and B) even if he was, they are big kids and can deal with a dumb (but very handsome) dog themselves - or at least should. I even spent some time in C) I'm fucking Erica and this is Elliot and this is OUR HOUSE. If you don't like it - get the fuck out.<br />I wasted alot of time worrying about that crap in my head. ugh. <br />I did fall in the Boy Scout part - a very slow, awkward fall. Tripped, fell to my knees, then the face decides to follow. It didn't hurt and my beautiful face and knees made it thru unscathed. whew.<br />Finally, when I got to Station 14, Dave Wakefield took my handheld to top off. When he saw that it was still full, he made this snort of disgust and told me I better drink before leaving 'cause I wasn't drinking enough. First of all, duh. I knew that. Second of all, thanks for telling me 'cause I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't told me. These things happen after a few hot hours at WYCO. A couple more miles and Loop 2 is in the books - 2 hr 30 min. Elliot Snickerfritz official 20 mile time: 4hr50minutes. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5W4qIXcoRM8/TiCrZZa55-I/AAAAAAAAADc/RrNaDWLsuS0/s1600/elliot%2Bfinish%2B07.09.11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5W4qIXcoRM8/TiCrZZa55-I/AAAAAAAAADc/RrNaDWLsuS0/s400/elliot%2Bfinish%2B07.09.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629687987021932514" /></a><br /> <br /><br /> LOOP 3: I am happy to report that Loop 3 was a blast. For realz. I was hurting the normal marathon-and-beyond-hurt and my feet were getting beat up, but felt strong otherwise. Which is a very nice place to be at after Mile 20. I had to leave El Dog behind in the capable hands of Mel - who totally over-catered to him. Gave him cups of water 'cause he didn't want to drink out of his bowl, etc. He had it good and if he had any money, he would buy you a thank-you card Mel for taking such great care of him. His job-skill set is limited though, as you can imagine and he is already into me for well over a thousand. As soon as I'm into the trail at the beginning of loop 3 I realize I have ONE caffeinated gel left. I was so busy worrying about slathering on diaper cream that I forgot to grab more gels from my drop bag. godfuckingdammit. As soon as I get to her aid station, I'm asking Indi for caffeine gels - I had started taking caffeine about halfway through the second loop and knew if I quit, I would bonk. It happened to me the week before when Elliot has HIS bonk. This one girl there looked and found a gel she had but no caffeine. I told her she was of no use to me. Then this angel found caffeine gel. THEN RMR gave me magic chalk pills with caffeine and other great stuff - they kept me going for a LONG time. He told me what they were later -- I still have to go back and look so I can order some. Loved them. After leaving Indi's aid station, I felt fantastic again. All my worries gone. The best way I can describe my relief and comfort of having caffeine gels (plural!) in my buttpack is refreshing. Fleeting thoughts of "I'm going to bonk anytime now" kept coming up throughout the last loop, but said bonk never materialized. Go me.<br /> <br /> Right before coming to Darin's aid station, I came up on some guy who stopped to tell me - "I just got bit by something, so at the next aid station let them know to look for me". Turns out he is allergic to bee stings and when he took a drink, something on his bottle bit the inside of his lip. I closely examined his lip but could offer no medical advice as I am a CPA, not a doctor. He was right behind me anyway for awhile, but by the time I got to Darin, I had forgotten all about it. In fact, I hate to say it, but it wasn't until I was driving home did I think of him again. I understand that I was not really "with it" 100% at that point, but is that really any excuse to completely abandon any thought of a fellow human being who may be in dire need of my help? Seriously Erica - you are THAT self-centered? What if the roles were reversed and some dickwad sat there, nodding his head, yes I feel your pain, yes I will look out for you, and then turned around and POOF! - all thoughts of you are gone. Let's hope it's a lesson learned. For the record, I just looked him up (I DID remember #81 and the only reason I'm looking him up now, days later is that I knew he was fine. If someone ended up dead, I would have heard of it) and it's Rick T and he finished and I probably even saw and talked to him at the end, if not at Darin's aid station. In fact, he should thank me for forgetting all about him. Well, perhaps that's a stretch. Once again, I digress.<br /><br /> Anyway, I also made sure to chug as much water as I could after leaving Darin (too bad El Dog wasn't with me - there were people having a party at his aid station pavilion and they had a bouncy castle thing - just waiting for a muddy dog). When I saw Dave and Jess again at Shelter 14, I proudly handed over my nearly empty handheld. Although he didn't show it, I know Dave was very proud of my hydration efforts. Once again, a couple more miles and LOOP 3 was in the books - 2 hr, 49 minutes. PSYCHO PSUMMER 2011 in the books at 7hr 39 min.<br /><br /> I love when races at WYCO finish the way Psycho Psummer 2011 did - within steps you go from being in the thick of the trail to BOOM!! out in the open and FINISH!! Got my medal from Ben and was able to laugh and talk - no hitched breath from trying to choke back tears. What a wuss I've been. Ben said something about Elliot eating it up. I looked over, expecting some kind of Marmaduke cartoon with tables overturned. No, there was El Dog, sprawled out in the shade under the pavilion, water by his head, and no less than 2 people either talking to him, petting him, or both. Eating it up he was. Saw Indi and she was nice enough to get this post-race pic of the two #1 Champions. <br /> <br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LCwnEWJqSt0/TiCr3LRYysI/AAAAAAAAADk/JjtEhvvboHk/s1600/FINISH%2521%2521%2B%2B07.09.11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LCwnEWJqSt0/TiCr3LRYysI/AAAAAAAAADk/JjtEhvvboHk/s400/FINISH%2521%2521%2B%2B07.09.11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629688498619992770" /></a><br /> <br /> <br /> Although I am a turtle, I love running ultras and am pleased there is much room for improvement - my splits could have been better. I feel like a toad talking about splits when I am so slow, but a toad it is then. I still owe Matty his handheld. I saw Shawn hanging around and after giving the mouthpiece a big slurpy lick (to make it more valuable) I handed back his handheld. Guess what? He GAVE it to me!! A brand-new supercool handheld. He probably did it because he's in love with me - shit like that happens all the time to me. Seriously, it was a fantastic race and it wasn't until I was writing this that I realized how much help I had - from all the fantastic volunteers - I've never relied on their encouragement and aid so much and couldn't believe how much easier they made my run - not to mention having ice every 2 miles - HEAVEN!!, fellow runners who gave me help, everybody that helped looked after Elliot (that's a pleasure though) plus just seeing familiar faces gives me a lift. And of course Brian (my boyfriend). Also known as The Luckiest Man In The World. HA!! He's always supportive of my running and not once have I gotten any grief from him for it. I can honestly say that would not be the case if roles were reversed. I have an awesome stud boyfriend. I believe that is all. till next time.Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-31056744601034854962011-02-08T14:42:00.000-08:002011-03-09T05:13:51.804-08:00ROCKY RACCOON 50 MILE TRAIL RUN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TVHH7j-OgnI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jjmEb3C186M/s1600/rocky%2B2011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TVHH7j-OgnI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jjmEb3C186M/s400/rocky%2B2011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571454040116462194" /></a><br /> Rocky Raccoon is a 50 mile and 100 mile trail run in Huntsville, TX. A couple of days after running Rocky Raccoon, this is what comes to mind upon reflection. It’s not all relevant to the actual race, and it's peppered with cussing. There is no test at the end though. <br /><br /><br /><br /> The few weeks preceding my first 50 mile run were not good ones. I doubt I’ll ever be the poster child for mental health, but over the past few years I think I’ve achieved a stasis that warrants at least a pamphlet. Generally, I sleep well, wake up excited for the day, and am happy and content. A few weeks ago I noticed it’s been awhile since I had one of those days. There was a lot of restlessness and discontent, yet I couldn‘t pinpoint a single reason for my malaise. My life has its problems, and I ended up identifying all of those and probably made up some, not knowing which ones were the source of my unhappiness or if it was something else entirely that I was completely missing. It was more than just a funk, but not enough to be put on suicide watch. My emotions were all over the board - crying at one of those neglected animal commercials one minute and manically dancing around the next is one example. After a troublesome incident in the grocery store parking lot which started with me being an asshole to some chic and ended with said chic chasing after me on icy roads in her vehicle (once I ripped the side mirror from her car with my bare hands, a peaceful ending was pretty much out of the question), I realized I must take some drastic action while I still had the choice. So I started going back to recovery meetings, which I had been neglecting for a couple of years. Just having a plan of action and taking the first steps helped matters considerably. But before I could really start the work necessary for getting back my serenity (those rainbows and dancing unicorns are just ahead!!), I had this fucking 50 mile race to run in fucking Texas - rather, attempt to run. I had spent a lot of time training for it, and a lot of time talking about it, and a whole crapload of time worrying about it over the past few months. The final exam was just days away.<br /><br /> I like it hot. I love summer. I hate winter. Cold sucks. I would rather be burned alive five times than frozen once. My training for Rocky really got kicked up at just about the time winter hit. Getting up super early on Saturday mornings to leave a warm boyfriend and a warm bed and a warm breakfast and drive out to the woods (eating cold, congealed oatmeal on that last stretch of road before the park entrance, usually with my finger ‘cause I forgot a spoon) in all kinds of cold and run 20 miles (plus one epic 30 miler mid-December, just me and the El Dog) with all the hills and cold and rocks and wind and cold and roots and mud and cold and ice and more goddamn hills wasn’t always the best of times for me. My fingers (encased in 2 pairs of gloves) would be so cold that it caused pain. I would almost be crying because my fingers were hurting so much. Sometimes I fall and that doesn‘t feel too fantastic either. And this was out at Wyandotte County Lake Park (WYCO) - 20 miles at WYCO is much more difficult than 20 miles anywhere else, except maybe hell. Saturdays were hard work. Sundays were easier - just another 12 miles out on the roads. Day of rest my ass. And don’t think of catching up on sleep during the week either because that’s when I got to get up at the ass-crack of dawn when it’s really cold (and dark to boot) and run 5 miles before coming home and getting ready for work. Cross training and a few afternoon runs completed my workout regime. I had no fucking clue if I was doing enough or not. <br /><br /> The week before Rocky, as mentioned, was weird. But I was in a good place about the race - I‘m just as surprised about that as you. I wasn’t sure of my chances of finishing and was scared of failing of course. But my prevailing feeling was one of super excitement. If I knew anything for certain, it was that I had an adventurous day ahead of me. The race is in a 2,000+ acre park in Huntsville, TX. Huntsville has a big prison. I didn’t see the prison. I did see a statue of Sam Houston in Huntsville though. It was HUGE and on the side of the highway all lit up and it was eerie. I am glad we spent a bit of time in Austin beforehand, because Huntsville does not leave a visitor with a favorable impression of the great state. The 50 mile run consists of three 16.67 mile loops. The 100 mile run is five 20 mile loops. It’s wide dirt trail - kinda rooty, and also really wide dirt jeep roads. Most importantly, it is flat. I’m not used to flat. I usually do not like things until I get used to them. This was different. Bring on the motherfucking flat baby! Every few miles there are aid stations with water, Gatorade, pretzels, PB&J, M&M’s, candy, fritos, soups, even quesadillas. I burned about 5,000 calories during the run so eating is encouraged. And they are manned with helpful volunteers who are usually ultra runners themselves. It’s great support. There were about 500 people in both runs combined - 60% finished the 100 miles and 85% finished the 50. The 100 milers start at 6am on Sat and the 50 milers at 7am on Sat - everyone has until noon on Sunday to finish. <br /> There is a group called the KC Trail Nerds who, surprisingly enough, run trails. They put on races on trails in the area and that is how I know about ultra marathons. Ben and Sophia are the king and queen of the group - they were both running the 100 mile race and there were several other trail nerds who ran this year at Rocky as well. I picked a good year - just knowing they were out there too helped any kind of race nerves. I had spent the week prior to Rocky resting. No running at all. I knew I was going to feel strong as fuck in the beginning. Except I didn’t. As a matter of fact, an old ITBS injury that I hadn’t even felt a twinge of in months started flaring up. For non-runners, ITBS injury means my knee hurt. Annie Wheeler, who I ran a 50k with down in south KS this summer with, came up to me just as I was settling in. She is a machine and this was her first 50 miler too. I wasn’t sure if she was going to be there or not (icy roads kept a couple of hundred registrants away), and was so very happy to see her - this is the third long, hard run I have run with her and every one has ended with her successful finish and my (much later) successful finish. I like the system we got going. I would see her a few times, as I would Ben and Sophia and Brian Brooks and Helen and John and Danny (once) and another guy with a trail nerds shirt I saw once when I had my trail nerds shirt on. It made my day every time I saw another Trail Nerd - I got the biggest kick out of it. You’re never alone on the trail (I caught a lucky break and the one time I peed behind a tree no one saw me), but it’s not crowded either. People are coming and going from all parts and the scene is always changing - I really liked the course and parts never seemed to drag on and on like they have before at other long races. <br /> The first loop was the worst. Actually, a quarter of the way through the first loop until the middle of the second loop was the worst. My fucking knee hurt. Sometimes a lot and sometimes not so much. At the end of the first loop I went to the Trail Nerds tent and Brad Bishop was hanging out there to help. He’s run a gazillion ultras at ungodly speeds and is only like 28 years old. He is also indirectly responsible for Elliot, the SuperDog, being in my life, so there is always a special place in my heart for Brad, even if he hadn't saved my ass on my first 50 mile run. I told him my knee hurt and he offered ibuprofen. He remembered to offer Desitin for chafing (I had lubed up pre-race, but missed a couple of spots) and told me about not stopping caffeine once you start (I had already started and was planning on stopping - huge mistake avoided). I would not have remembered to get/do any of these things and in super long runs like this, the littlest mistake can turn into a DNF (Did Not Finish) result. My brain was already fairly disconnected from my body. I’d been sick for a few days - coughing, sore throat - and had been downing TheraFlu and Cough Syrup as my main liquid sources for the previous 24 hours. I bet I snot-rocketed a good 3 pounds of phlegm all over that damn trail. I started out on the second loop, and had to stop a few hundred feet down the trail - my knee had stiffened up while standing around at the trail nerds tent and was KILLING me. I was quite desolate. I figured I was going to have to walk much of the second loop and then probably quit. I didn’t like that idea, so I stretched out my ITB and turned up the music. I tend to be overdramatic and figured it might go away. Get this - it pretty much did. I can pinpoint exactly when the ibuprofen kicked in/miracle happened (you choose). Whiskey In My Whiskey by The Felice Brothers played on my ipod. My sprits soared, my attitude turned around, and all fell into place. From then on out, it was the normal ups and downs, coupled with all kinds of dull pain, found at the end of marathon and longer runs. I saw Brian about half a mile before the end of the second loop - he was by the car off the side of the road and I ran over to him and blurted out nonsense. Then I ran away and finished the loop (I had to run back to him at the start of the third loop and kiss him because I forgot before). I really ran about 50.6 miles with all that going back and forth extra. Coming in to the trail nerds tents at the end of the second loop, I changed shirts. I told Brad I wanted my shorts and my tank top and he suggested that may not be the brightest idea, as it was only going to get colder. But my thermal shirt was choking me. Luckily, Haley (who paced Sophia on her successful 100-mile finish) dug around in my drop bag (which had about 87 articles of clothing in it) and found a perfect shirt for me to wear. I know it sounds retarded, but that was HUGE. My other shirt was choking me (so I imagined) and I was going to grab a lightweight tank top. I would have been cold, and we’ve established my feelings in regards to that. The last loop was fairly uneventful - did a lot of walking and suddenly hills appeared on the trail that weren’t there 8 hours earlier. I went pee in a port a potty right before the last aid station. It was quick, but enough time to realize everything was swimming in front of me - it was exactly like when you’re tripping on acid and go to the bathroom and the walls are breathing. Exactly. I loved it. But it fucking STUNK in there. Right at the end of the final loop, my absolute favorite song to run to came on (Wolf Like Me by TV On The Radio). Unbelievable. I don't even have it on my running playlist so I don't "ruin" it. I jumped and waved my arms when I passed Brian and tried to shout, only to double over in a coughing fit that was very close to ending in vomit. It was all good though. One more stretch of trail and I would complete 50 miles. In my mind’s eye, I was flying down that goddamn trail to the finish. Flying like the motherfucking wind. <br /><br /> As soon as I finish a lady grabs me to cut off my chip and put my medal around my neck. I gave her the best hug since I was absolutely bursting with happiness. After that, my memory cannot be relied on. Brian and Annie and Brad and Erin and some other guy with a beard were all there and talking was happening. I really can’t be much more specific. Looking back, I was just stunned. Within minutes, I was sitting in the car, starting the 3 hour ride back to Austin in the very same clothes I had just ran in (it seemed perfectly normal at the time). I ate a bag of beef jerky and a footlong turkey sub on the way. Perhaps not the best post-50-mile-run first step for recovery , but I was with Brian and extremely happy. It’s been 49 hours since I finished and I got two sore quads. The first night any lower body movement caused great pain. Going to the airport the next day and sitting on two different planes for a few hours sucked as well. I got home in time to watch most of the SuperBowl. I was very aware of all the pomp and circumstance, hoopla, buzz, worldwide attention, the largest amount of confetti I’ve ever seen, etc. All for a football game. One may realize at a time like this “Gee, here’s a perfect example of how millions of people in the world couldn’t care less whether I ran 50 miles or not because it‘s the big game don‘t you know?” and keep their ego in check. I saw the game and when it was over thought “Wow, this is a copious amount of celebration. I just ran 50 miles. Coincidence? I think not.”<br /><br /> My race reports are no longer complete anymore without mention of Elliot. With the exception of just a very few, he was my running partner for every single run of my training. And he’s the best running partner hands down forever and ever. Elliot is always so happy just to be outside running no matter what (except when it‘s really hot - he must get that from his dad). He is pestering me right now - he likes to throw your hands off the keyboard with his nose when you’re typing. He’s the best dog that ever lived. And Sophia who is the coolest badass mudbabe and ran her first 100 mile run this year at Rocky and I am so glad I was there and did my first 50 on the day she did her first 100 even if I was 130 miles away when she actually finished - with a smile.<br /><br /> I believe my training was adequate. More than adequate. I love WYCO and its toughness even if I don’t always act like it (I’ve cried out there a lot in frustration, and have mentioned more than once how much it “fucking sucks“). I want to run more 50’s ASAP. But I promised I would not train for anything for two months at least. And I won’t. So I won’t say anything now about the possibility of running 100 in the future. Of the 196 runners who started the 50-mile race, 166 finished. The course record was broken by some guy who ran it in 5hrs and 43 minutes. I finished in 11 hours and 26 minutes, good enough for 90th place. It should be noted that the 100 mile course record was shattered this year as well - Ian Sharman finished 100 miles in 12 hours and 44 minutes. That means he ran 7 minute, 38 second miles on average - FOR 100 MILES. I don’t get how that is possible. Also, the next day there were tales from the 100 milers about runners passed out in the middle of the trail, vomiting off bridges, etc. etc. during the night. Just like in non-ultra-runner world, shit gets crazy after dark! <br /><br /> So this is what spewed forth as I sat to reflect on the race. Most importantly, it was a fantastic experience and I would not change one fucking second for the world.Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-82363924901545805012010-07-12T16:10:00.001-07:002010-07-12T19:18:10.320-07:00Psycho Psummer 2010I had conveniently forgotten I volunteered to work packet pickup for Psycho Psummer - my first ultra attempt. A 50K (31+ miles) trail run at Wyandotte County State Park. So when I got the email reminding me, I was perturbed. I have no idea why I can't just go with the flow. So I show up, assuming it's going to suck because it wasn't what I had planned for that evening. Of course I was wrong and of course I had alot of fun and was even useful. I tried to keep my mouth somewhat shut and my ears open. Bad Ben was there talking to alot of experienced ultrarunners, so good ultra strategy tips were there for my gleaning. I will not be sharing any of them here - yes I am that juvenile and petty. OK - just one. Eat early and eat often. . before the heat really starts. That's really like two in one - I am becoming more altruistic every day.
<br />I got out to the race early and got my usual parking spot in front of the bathrooms at the Ranger Station. You don't know how comforting that little thing was. I trained fairly well for this race, I guess (who knows) -- alot of running in general, and more running out at WYCO than ever, which was good. Just not enough long runs, which is always the case. My last long run was the Monday before the race - me and Elliot the Magnificent Hound dog did 22.5 miles around the neighborhood. Then I did some cross training Tuesday and took the rest of the week off. Whatever - it was what it was. Stuffing shirts in bags race morning helped so much to take my mind off the race. Had I been left to my own devices, I would have been just wandering around the start area, anxious as hell, muttering to myself. That's the usual M.O. anyway.
<br />Race starts. I've learned to hang back and that way not get as humiliated by everyone passing me (and making them mad 'cause slow people should know their place). I thought I learned to hang back and not go out to fast, but I guess not. I KNEW I was going too fast, but didn't actually do anything about it, like maybe slow down a little. The first loop was unremarkable. (The race is two 15.5 mile loops, lots of hills, lots of obstacles, never get good footing for the roots and ruts and rocks and fallen trees to climb over, duck under and navigate by whatever the hell else is out there in that humid jungle). Unremarkable except what I picked up at the aid station at mile 5ish - they had nutella in tortillas. I thought it was peanut butter and jelly in a tortilla. I grabbed one and waited until I was at the bottom of a hill to eat it (another good tip I overheard Bad Ben say -- that's it - no more tips to you for free!). I bit into it and realized it was Nutella. The only times I have ever eaten Nutella is when I would bake my pot into it and have graham cracker/nutella/pot snacks. It was just kind of surprising and a bit disconcerting 'cause I immediately went back in time and place to then and that's not exactly what I was expecting. I also realized I really don't like nutella without the ganja.
<br />Oh yeah - Levi. I ran the Hawk Marathon in Lawrence in May. At a water crossing at about Mile 19, I was pulled underwater (I really did not expect tidal waves at a lake!!) and my ipod died. I was pissed. I was really pissed at the guy on the other side of the water crossing, watching it all and yakking on his goddamn cell phone. (I now know he was telling the race director to change the course 'cause it was too dangerous). When I finally drug my sorry ass out of the water, the jackass on the cell phone (who is Levi and who is apparently some really nice guy) said - "You'll be glad to know you're the last one to have to do this. . . they re-routed the course". Rather than throw a big fit over the injustice of it all, I told him I wanted to punch him in his face, and then ran off.
<br />So pretty early on in the first loop, Jon Kevern and some guy go flying by me and the other guy mentions a water crossing. I didn't recognize him, but I asked if he was Levi. Yep. So I was able to apologize for telling him I wanted to punch him in his face. I guess the apology wasn't necessary because Levi let me know that "no offense, but you're not that scary". I saw him again about halfway thru the second loop - he was doubled over with stomach issues. But when I came up on him, he straightened up to let me know that he was just faking it to psych me out. Then we ran together for a bit and talked and he said something about the water crossing and he thought I weighed 95 lbs. For that, Levi is my new best friend. To set the record straight though, it's 95 lbs plus 35. After my morning poo.
<br />I guess the 1st loop wasn't as unremarkable as I thought. Coming out of the boy scout section I met Jennifer from St. Louis - her last name rhymes with Maserati. Here we are - she's right behind me in the white shirt.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TDu9hi5DxiI/AAAAAAAAAA4/xEqN0uNaNCo/s1600/wyco+50k+jennifer+down.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TDu9hi5DxiI/AAAAAAAAAA4/xEqN0uNaNCo/s400/wyco+50k+jennifer+down.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493192554507912738" border="0"></a>
<br />We stuck together until almost the end of the first loop - she kinda got stuck in the mud. There was a Jen running with us too at the end of the 1st loop. They both commented on the mud. I kept my mouth shut. That was lame mud. I quietly felt so superior because I KNOW mud. WYCO has given me intimate knowledge of mud and bits of my soul are out there, stolen by the mud. But I digress. Jennifer was supernice and what a breath a fresh air and I am so glad I met her and we got to run together.
<br />So 1st loop was in the bag at 3 hrs and 42 min. I did it about 20 min slower than last year, but no worries. I did not have a time goal (well, I wanted to be done by nightfall). I had my usual long trail run goal of finishing without crying, but after the 1st loop, my goal was just to finish. As soon as I re-entered the trail for the 2nd loop, I realized that everything hurt. Every step hurt. My back hurt, my legs hurt, and my feet hurt the most. But it's true what they say - you just ignore the pain and keep going. I am convinced we are all much tougher than we give ourselves credit for. I was digging the music, digging the day, but every step was wearing me down. About halfway thru I was beginning to really doubt my chances. I never seriously considered giving up - but I did consider walking the last 10 miles and was not happy with that idea. Luckily, Jennifer came to the rescue once again.
<br />I met up with her again somewhere on the second loop, I think at the aid station at Mile 10ish (well 20ish now). I was so happy to see her (I'm usually just happy to see my boyfriend and my dog, and even them not all the time) I couldn't believe it -- she gave me the second wind I needed. I don't even remember half of what she said, but she was just chatting away and I was digging it 'cause it was keeping my mind off everything. Until the boy scout part. She had gone on ahead so I was solo again. I swear that part tripled in length from the first time. There are tons of switchbacks, and its a part I never run. I kept thinking that "just after the next turn" I would be on the merged part heading back out, but that didn't happen for an eternity. I have found that in the long runs, I want them to be over long before they are, so I spend the last hour (or two) totally frustrated that I still have so far to go, wanting it to be over, and hating it. So far that hadn't happened on this race, but it was beginning to. 8 years later, I finally got out of the boy scout part. Not far to the triangle, and that went quickly. Only 2 more miles to go and I'm done.
<br />Then it happened again. I remembered there were water jugs after .8 miles, with signs saying only 1.2 miles to the finish. I kept going (not really running very much) and was convinced that the jugs were already taken away because I had gone 2 miles already and why wasn't I done? Some guy was coming up behind me. I stepped aside and told him to go on. Instead of quietly passing me with a grunt, which is expected, he said "nuh uh. you've been ahead of me this far - you're not stopping now". I told him I was running on empty and to go ahead. He continued to protest - "No you're not" and refused to leapfrog me. I said "Goddamn you!" and started running (he just chuckled). I don't know why I'm so surprised when people don't listen to me and don't do what I say - nobody ever does. Anyway, that guy (Terry Rider is his name - I just looked it up) stuck behind me the rest of the way in - those water jugs finally came up and I'm telling you, it was alot more that .8 miles. I would swear to it. Anyway, Terry could have so passed me and got a much better time, but he didn't. I tried to ignore him, but I felt obligated to run as much as possible for his sake. Once again, Goddamn you Terry Rider -- and thank you SO MUCH!!! You don't know how much you helped me not only finish, but finish with my head high. My mom took this pic - he is laughing at me 'cause I just announced that I would now be crying.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TDu-ty8PNfI/AAAAAAAAABA/_18s8c-JZ1Y/s1600/wyco+50k+bridge.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TDu-ty8PNfI/AAAAAAAAABA/_18s8c-JZ1Y/s400/wyco+50k+bridge.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493193864486270450" /></a>
<br />Coming out of the trail at the end is indescribable. If you run it, you know exactly what I mean. E L A T I O N. Just down a grassy hill, over a bridge and you're done. Well, Terry and I also had to navigate thru a crapzillion honking geese. I think he was honking back at them -- I'm not sure, the whole thing was surreal. At the bridge waiting were my mom and Brian. My dad had gone exploring some off-limits part of the park, but I knew he wasn't far. :)
<br />I saw them and all I could do was tell them I was going to cry as I passed. Then I started blubbering, but I was choking back the tears. I'm telling you, it is quite difficult to choke back tears, closing your throat at 31 miles. I got across the finish line, but by the time Ben put the medal around my pretty little neck, I was about to fall out. Throw in my wheezy, catchy, almost guttural breathing and I was a shoe-in for the creature on the SciFi channel's weekend movie lineup. Then Sophia and Jennifer (who had finished 7 minutes before because she is ultrarunner extraordinaire)came up to me and I had to walk away because at times like these, if people are nice to me, I really cry. I was having a bit of trouble just breathing, much less some heavy emotional sobbing. My first ultra was in the bag. It took me awhile to feel anywhere close to normal, but our little bodies are remarkable and 2 days later, I just have a couple of pretty-sore quads, and some chafing issues which are best not made pubic, I mean public.
<br />Sum up - I finished in 8 hrs, 27 minutes. It took me an hour longer to do the second loop than the first. I must learn to pace myself! 112 started the 50K, 69 finished. Of the 69, only 10 were girls. Everyone that was out there running or helping or supporting that day ROCKS!! But I have a special affinity for us 10 girls. We rock hard.
<br />It's not just about running really far - it's not surprising that pushing your body to its limit impacts your spirit. It's very empowering. You challenge yourself, raise the bar out of reach, but manage to grab it anyway. You become your own inspiration.
<br />What surprises me is the comraderie and spirit of it all. These experiences are what an amazing life is made of. This is living. And it's the Jennifers and the Terrys and the Levis and the Sophias and Bens (well, there's only one Sophia and one Ben!!) It's nothing if not shared. Amazing. Every last one. The end.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TDu2mgMRR3I/AAAAAAAAAAw/LE1CcTsRihY/s1600/wyco+50k+brian+best.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3QL85VgVE0Y/TDu2mgMRR3I/AAAAAAAAAAw/LE1CcTsRihY/s400/wyco+50k+brian+best.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493184943101134706" border="0"></a><object Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446219404999571826.post-38890638186533102502009-10-21T10:08:00.000-07:002009-10-21T10:09:37.235-07:002009 KC MarathonThis was going to be my third marathon. My first one was the same race last year. I ran 2008 in 4hr 53min. St Louis in April was 4hr 43min. So I decided to follow the 4 hour 35 min pace team this time. Originally I was going to shoot for the stars and go for a 4 hour 30 min time. But the pacers were some dorky kid and an old guy. The pacers for the 4hr 35min time were two girls with blonde ponytails. Just like me. 4:35 it was. You know, Brian told me to go 4hr 25min once the 4hr 30min was off the table, but I didn‘t even consider it. I bet I could have done it. He should have told me better. I followed a better training schedule this year and felt real prepared for this race.<br /> The weather that week was crap. So a 41 degree start with no rain was delightful. I met up with my pacers at the start line - they were calm, cool and collected, which helped me to be the same. The only problem was we were singing the national anthem and I had to go pee. No time. Oh well.<br /> And they’re off!! You start by going through downtown and then head to Westport. I need to get the pee situation taken care of and out of the way. I saw about 15 people run into the McDonalds on Main so that was a nogo. I ran ahead of my group and veered off to Burger King on Main, but as I got up to the door, I could see a line for the bathroom. Another nogo. I came up with a plan - we run right by the Corner diner at Broadway and Westport Rd - I’ll go there. I started running ahead of the pacers and as soon as I broke free I saw Elvis. That reminds me -- I’ve got to get my gimmick to make it into the paper next year. With a picture - Elvis didn’t even get that. Not important right now -- NEXT I dove into the Corner behind an elderly couple, ran 10 steps to the bathroom and was back at my pace group within half a mile. Good thing the Corner was empty. It’s empty because they never have what you want. It’s a diner. What do you mean you are out of English muffins? No eggs? Seriously. I have been burned there too many times. It used to be my favorite breakfast place, and now I must boycott it and only use it for a toilet. Side note - Brian and I went to Mama’s on 39th for breakfast the next day and guess who our waiter was -- our old Corner waiter!! I know - fascinating.<br /> But I digress. I will breeze through because we are only at like mile 4 now. We go through the Plaza and I think I see this girl I know. I yell out “Cindy!! Cindy!! It’s Erica!! HI!!!” She’s looking right at me, but she’s not smiling. Her look could be confusion ‘cause she doesn’t recognize me, but it looked more like annoyance. If that’s the case dear Cindy, it’s not important if you don’t particularly care for me -- if I’m waving at you and calling your name while I’m running a MARATHON, at least give me a nod of acknowledgment. Witch with a B. <br /> There is a long stretch of uneventfulness. Which is good. I drink at every aid station - Gatorade at one, water at the next, etc. I take Gu every hour starting at hour 1. I had a whole wheat oatmeal pack and a piece of whole wheat bread for breakfast. Probably way too lite, but I didn’t want a repeat of last year at mile 20. I was keeping up with the pacers, listening to music, just enjoying my run. It was cool and dreary out, but it was still pretty nice. We went through the Ward Pkwy neighborhoods of mansions, then up the Pkwy to 75th Steet and over towards Waldo. This is where I had to pee again. It’s like mile 15. There are two port-a-pottys. A runner ahead of me went into one. A stout lady that is not even in the race goes in the other -- about 40 seconds before I arrive. I can’t wait because I don’t want to fall behind too far. So I go behind the port-a-potty with the non-runner. I tried to tip her over, but I couldn’t give it my all and she was very stout. Anyway, I squatted down there because it was sort of hidden. Not well enough. I look up mid-stream and make eye contact with a couple of spectators. I made sure to apologize when I was decent and running by them. It was more embarrassing than I thought it would be.<br /> So we are coming up to mile 20. I see the row of porta-pottys where I had to poop last year. That’s where the wheels came off for me - I never caught back up with my group after that. But that was last year. This year I sailed right by them. One of my favorite Peaches songs came on and I was blasting it and having a grand time, drumming in the air and singing. I love her graphic lyrics. I ran by this rotund, black cop stopping traffic at Troost and Vivion Rd, lip-synching “Show me your P*SSY, Show it to me. I wanna see your P*SSY, Show it to me!” Alas, that could only last so long. I had to keep myself in check or I knew I would regret my waste of energy.<br /> We go through Hyde Park and there are hills. Hills after mile 20 are SOOOOO not welcome. We break one hill and turn the corner and all you see is a long, sloping downhill. That vista made me one happy runner at that moment. It’s over before it began, it seems.<br /> Now the race is not fun. I keep trying to run ahead of the pace group, but they keep catching me. By now the pace team is one pacer and some other girl. When they catch up to me, I swear to God they speed up on purpose to make me go faster and show off. I hate them. This hatred drives me to pull away from them once and for all. Now I’m free. It’s about mile 24 and a half. Last year this is about where I saw the lady with gummy bears that may or may not have actually been there. This year I saw a different lady with Mike N Ikes, the #1 Champion of candy. I knew that was a sign that everything was going to be OK. <br /> I felt good and tried to run it in hard, but I could feel that my legs weren’t having it. My brain and spirit were telling my legs to give 100%, but somehow only about half of that was getting through. But that’s good - I was giving it my all. And of course it wouldn’t be a marathon without a dramatic finish. As I get close to finish, I look at the field in front of me, decided my path in and how I’m going to pass them. That’s done and I go. I pass this little short girl on my left. I catch her head turn as I pass her in my peripheral vision and sense her speeding up. YAHOOO!!!! Game on. Now, what happens next I have absolutely no explanation for. I had her beat. Then she was passing me. Oh no. I dug deep and was gaining ground. Not much ground left. But enough for her to keep the lead. When we came in, I think she was just an outstretched hand in front of me. I’m pretty sure I know what happened - she was an alien and when I passed her and she was out of my sight, her alien friends beamed her down extra energy and that is how little dwarf girl with little dwarf legs was able to win our race. Whether or not that last part happened isn’t important. What’s important is that I just love exciting finishes!!<br /> My time was 4hr32min59sec. 2,358 calories burned. My heart rate averaged 146, but got up to 195 at the end thanks to Miss Munchkin. I got my heat blanket and my medal. Then just as I was going to look around for him, I hear Brian yell my name and I get to see him right away and he is so warm and I tell him I am #1 Champion and then I want to cry. I tell him this and he calls me a name that sounds like “Retardo”. Brian is the absolute best and I’ll say it every chance I get. In any case, I still had a free tshirt to get that says FINISHER on the back. I will not leave without one. After that, it was grab some food, take one more picture, then go. I haven’t been as sore as in the past. Going down the stairs never was too difficult like it has been before. But I hurt my heel and I’m pretty sure I have plantar fasciitis or whatever the hell it’s called. So no running for a week. This is why I have the time to write such a loquacious race report with words like loquacious in it. Let’s all hope for my speedy recovery. It’s for the greater good. Thanks for taking the time to read my report. Adios.Erica7135http://www.blogger.com/profile/06643215312552795812noreply@blogger.com0