HIATUS recap

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:

I meant to write a race report (of sorts) after "pacing" my fellow Mudbabe Haley last fall in Utah for the Bear 100.  A few days before the race I split open my knee on a quite vicious rock at Shawnee Mission Park and had to get 15 stitches.  There are pics at the end for your viewing pleasure - consider them your dessert, if you will.  I have "pacing" in quotes as what I actually did was merely tag along for not very many miles down the side of a goddamn ice-covered mountain, popping stitches and oozing all over the place.  Sometimes we were sliding on our butts, and still not very safe. Could have easily careened off the side.  Sometimes we had to cross icy water...and I didn't think my fucking feet could be any colder - boy was I wrong ha ha ha!  Sometimes I would plant a trekking pole, take a baby step, plant another trekking pole, then with a very small hairlike tilt off-center-balance go crashing to the ice.  Not quite sure what Haley was doing as I was not paying her the least mind whatsoever - I did tell some stories and may have half-heartedly offered my poles during the water crossings.  After she fell in.  Excellent choice in a pacer Haley.  I will never forget that night and have been in very few predicaments quite as treacherous as that one, well at least very few sober.  We could have FALLEN OFF A MOUNTAIN.  Luckily Danny L was there to see her through to the end as my self-absorbed thoughts weren't actually helping Haley one iota.  We were all on the way to the airport the next day after her glorious finish when I threw up from too many painkillers and too many esses in the mountain roads.  I had a bag to do it in (is that a TWSS?  Are we still even doing that?  Is that one too?) and was in back of the van which everybody knows is the worst place to be, carsick-wise (and best place to be, makeout-wise).  I couldn't help it.  It happened a few times over several minutes.  Nobody noticed.  They were all talking about which hundo they were going to run next when Sophia turns back to me and says "So Erica, what's next for you?".  I told her I wasn't real sure, but could we stop please because I'm holding a bag of my own puke.  Surprisingly enough, nobody had a big problem with that (that being the stopping to throw the puke bag out, not the actual puking, although thankfully a chain reaction was not started).  Also made the car ride to the airport, besides the breathtaking views, one of the most memorable moments of the trip for me. 
So there is the race report for pacing The Bear that I didn't write.  Might be worth remembering the puking in the bag in the car...could be visiting a similar scene in a later report.  Subtle foreshadowing - I think Hemingway used this technique as well. 

I also meant to write a race report for Bandera 100K in January of this year.  I did one of two laps then got frustrated and bored and tired and whiny and quit.  I hadn't done that before.  I did not enjoy the experience at all.  I hope I don't forget the lesson I learned - quitting sucks.
So there is the race report for quitting Bandera 2014 that I didn't write.  Wow - that wasn't as bad as I thought.  Next.

I also meant to write a race report for Free State 100k in April.  I only did 40 miles - missed cutoff.  I don't remember much else.  This is why I write race reports - I love going back and remembering all the good times I forget otherwise.
So that's the race report for Free State 100k 2014.  It's a pretty crappy report.

I also meant to write a race report for Epic Ultra's Flint Hills 40 (this is the last one before the real one).  That was in May. Two things.  Three things.  One is Heather Cotten is a badass motherfucker and don't fuck with her.  I am glad she is my friend and not my enemy.  I don't think I have enemies though.  I am glad she is my friend and not my non-friend.
Second thing - the Flint Hills 40 is not in the Flint Hills.  It is on a trail called the Flint Hills trail.  I saw the name of the race and impulsively signed up for it.  Not a decision I regret in the least, mind you - quite the opposite.  However, I was under the impression that I was going to be running 40 miles in the Flint Hills.  That's what I told my dad a couple weeks later when I saw him.  He said "Oh, that's great.  Where exactly do you start?" So I looked up the website.  I'm reading aloud and I say - "Ottawa.  To Ossawatamie.  Hmmmmm.....I didn't know the Flint Hills were there.  Wow - neato".   He took a moment, sighed and shook his head and said "That's because they aren't Erica".   Dammit.  I think my Geography class was first period and I skipped that one a lot.
Third thing - Elliot is not getting any younger and perhaps I should start heeding caution more when it comes to exerting him in heat.  He was ok until the last aid station.  I should have left him there.  I felt weird about it because I got sent a special email pre-race about dogs but whatever - that's all on me.  We pretty much hiked it in - he had to stop and sit a few times and took awhile to recover once we finished.  His pads were pretty sore for several days after and he didn't poo for two days. He will be 5 years old in a few weeks and is now choosing to sit on the couch and watch the house and hang with Al the cat (I'm thinking of getting a bird - not enough animals around here) vs. run 5 miles with me and Cee Cee at 5am.  He's not hanging up his running shoes yet, but this race may have been his last 40 miler.  I think he knows I'm typing about him 'cause he just came by to see what's up.
So that's the race report for the Inagural Flint Hills 40 miler, and we are up-to-date.
Stay tuned for Psycho Psummer 2014 Race Report.  It's called Yum Yum and it will mention dry humping before you know what hit you.  Until then, feast on these.

After a rinse with water - my kneecap is on the left. 

Added this one for context

At the ER after a cleaning - he pulled out some sticks

There we are all stitched up - just like it never happened!

KEYS 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.
   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?  --
   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

Freak In Training

My old apt in Victoria Park

Elbo Room = 151 floaters

(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

How long does it take to not cook a turkey burger?

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.

3 pretty girls all in a row

Little kid and two pretty girls all in a row - f u Jimmy!!

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:

• 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. 
• 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.  
• 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?
• 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.   
• 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.

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.

   So we start - we run a few miles and then we get to the 7 mile bridge (yeah, it's 7 miles long). 

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.
   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.
     So I was able to keep on keeping on.  I stopped to take pics of the scenery:

Dead lizard

Dead furry thing - probably a Florida cougar

Dead Alligator or lizard if you don't have any imagination

Dead turtle. 

Not a good road for snakes

Like a bloody dead fish out of water

Snake guts

Death is not kind, beauty-wise

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.
   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. 
   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. 
    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.
  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:

Don't puke on your new shoes!!

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.
   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. 
   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.
   

Starting a trend - finish line balloon bouquets.

So, let me tell you all about what I just did.

    
 

 

Lou Joline's Blue Springs 50 mile10.30.11

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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