Quad resolutions. Or restitutions.

The Quad WILL go better for me this year. How do I know? I just know. There will be no schmucking of my new bike by a random truck. Or car. Or other bicycle. It will not "get squish like grape." In fact, I am so confident, that I have a list of reasons as to WHY the Quad will go better this year.

1. That guy won't be driving that truck through that transition area. Ever. Again.

2. I can now snowplow down the entire downhill ski section without losing feeling in my quads and hip flexors.

3. I have a new bike. It is faster than I am.


4. It even looks fast.

5. I have no fear of the cold. Just ask my training buds.

6. I have a plan.

7. It includes going faster than last year.

8. Faster on the bike.

9. Faster on the run.

10. Faster on the ski.

11. Faster ... ok, you get the idea.

12. It also includes finishing. I know, what a radical idea, right? Well, you gotta go out on a limb to get the fruit.

13. Given #12, I'm guaranteed to go faster overall than last year, no matter what.

14. I'm bringing emergency supplies this time. Rations. Water. Iodine tablets. Duct tape. You can fix anything with duct tape.

15. I've been watching MacGyver reruns, and I've been taking notes. I'll have chewing gum and paper clips on hand. With the duct tape, I'll be unstoppable.

Woo hoo! Mt. Taylor, here I come.

And now, for something really hard

I’m going to try something that I am not sure I can do. This is generally against my ideology. There are a lot of things, people and events, in life that make me feel helpless and incapable. Therefore, in cases where I volunteer to undertake something, it only makes sense to only volunteer for those things that I am pretty sure I can do. In the range of 95% certainty. Why set myself up for failure in my hobbies? I do these things to make me feel good.

But I had a lot of fun at the Bandera 50K. In looking over my Garmin GPS results, it said I spent 33 minutes at the aid stations out of the 7 hours I was on the course. That’s kind of a long time. And I hurt my ankle. I’d like to try another one.

There’s another 50K in May in Los Alamos, NM (the Jemez Mountain Trail Run 50K).

I did the ½ marathon distance there last year (and got lost, for 6 bonus miles). It was pretty. I’m told the rest of the course is prettier than the Caldera Marathon course, which is one of my favorites. There’s a heck of a lot of climbing in this 50K, and all of it at high altitudes ranging from 7000 ft to 10,480 ft at the top of Caballo Mountain. So this one will be much harder than Bandera. I estimate it will take me 10 to 11 hours to finish.

Here’s the hard part. The day after the 50K is the Santa Fe bicycle century, which I am planning on riding. 103 miles which will take me on a normal day about 6:45 to finish. K and F did this double last year. Of course, they are good experienced ultra runners. (in other words, crazy.)

I’m not sure I can do this. I think I can. This will be hard.

Bandera

I’ve been hearing about Bandera 50K for years now from fellow runners. Oh, and yes, by the way, all runners out here in the southwest seem to be ultra runner types. And if they aren’t, they’re considering it. Or their SO is one. “it’s a beautiful course, and in the cowboy capital of the world! The best race director, great aid stations….” I’ve always resisted – it’s another flight, I’m not made of money, and it’s just after our annual drive to and from WI. ‘Sides, 50K is a long way. I’m not an ultra runner. Marathons are long enough, who needs to go sticking another 5 miles onto the end? And since my marathon PR as of Nov. 2008 was 5:13, why bother doing something that would take me forever.
Weeellll.

The CIM marathon on Dec. 7^th went alright. I got a huge PR, and went under 4. (3:53) I’m slightly disappointed that I didn’t finish under 3:50, but… I did discover that I don’t much enjoy running in large, or even semi large crowds. I couldn’t hear my feet hitting the pavement, or my breath. I felt kind of thrown and anxious the whole time. I tried to stay with the 3:50 pace group, but I was (in retrospect) way too concerned with them. We went out too fast, and it was really stressing me out. (I knew I disliked living in the middle of lots of people; turns out I also don’t want to run with a crowd.) I hit the half marathon mark at 1:53:30 with them. This is only a minute and a half off my fastest half marathon time… hmm, maybe its time for some half marathon racing… Anyway, back to the point. Where was I? I felt good until about mile 15, then the top of my right foot started to hurt – had to stop and adjust my shoe twice, and yadda yadda yadda. In fact, I did training runs of 20 miles faster than I ran the first 20 miles of the marathon. Hmpf. The last 5 miles were fairly uncomfortable, but nothing specific, just achiness. Anyway. Wish I’d gone faster. I do not, however, suffer from a desire to go back and try that marathon again.

So, suddenly, doing my first 50K on Jan 10^th sounded kind of appealing. A trail run – guaranteed I’d have some parts with no company out on the trail. I was sure I could finish. And it might not even take me forever. Plus, I had a southwest voucher burning a hole in my pocket. I’d already talked DP into it in the month prior to CIM as I was musing about it. (She was very easy to convince. Which didn’t prevent her from accusing me of talking her into something completely nutz during the training she did.) Lots of company is good when you’re attempting something for the first time. I threw my running shoe in the ring. I think there were 13 of us.

Between the marathon on Dec. 7th and Jan 10th, I ran a total of 4 times and a total of 20 miles. Ooops. See, it was icy in Wisconsin while I was there for two weeks over Christmas and New Year’s. I did get some skiing in. I did one of my favorite things – running New Years Eve and then running on New Years day. I strained or bruised my heel on the New Years Day run. Another ooops. I thought about dropping out of Bandera, but a quick cell conversation with DP convinced me to wait a bit before canceling, which was what I wanted to hear. And sure enough, 4 days later, my heel though a little stiff, didn’t hurt. Mostly, I was really looking forward to Bandera.

I did, however, neglect to finish packing until the morning I left. (I’d only been home a week since the Wisconsin trip, and I wasn’t even fully unpacked from that. In fact, I’m still not.) And I woke up late. So I threw a lot of crap in my bag, including my fancy new Moeben sleeves that are patterned like a giraffe. Left out: my water bottles and my toothbrush. But I made the flight, and K directed me to a tri shop outside of San Antonio where I picked up some replacement water bottles. Packet pick up in the dusty park was smooth. The course talk was excellent. The spaghetti was pretty good. The hotel room was funny – a herd of airbrushed deer graced the walls

– it was funny until I hit the bed. Hard. *sigh* 5:30 am rolled around without me risking a wink of sleep. I didn’t feel too nervous, not really. This isn’t a race, it’s a “just finish” kind of thing for me.

These kind of moments, I love that I have a fortune from a fortune cookie that says, “You have great physical powers and an iron construction.” Not a fortune, but still awesome. And, you know, THERE IS NO CHARGE FOR AWESOMENESS.

Back to the story. I’m a little sleep deprived, so bear with me.

It was perfect temperature, starting in the high 30’s I think, and topping out about 55. The 20 mph wind made the start a bit cool. Hanging out in the warm car was nice, but perhaps not the best thing to do. I overdressed a tad, leaving on a long sleeved shirt over my short sleeve and giraffe sleeves. There were too few port a potties, so I used the woods, and still missed the start by about 15 seconds. I intended to run with DP for the first 6 miles or so, but she was not inclined to use the woods and was still in line when the race started. Off I went. I had a few pangs of guilt for leaving my bud behind. :(

I could talk about the course a lot, but really, every other word would be about how rocky it was. Big, small, embedded, loose, you name it. I twisted my left ankle about 5 times in the first 10 miles descending on loose rock, and twice it really hurt. It swelled a bit, and I had to walk much of the section between mile 14 and 20. Maybe about half of it. Too bad, too, as that was a flatish section. I definitely hit a low section here, as my legs weren’t too tired, but it really hurt to run. K, who was still dealing with a stress fracture in his foot, was volunteering at the aid station at 10 and 20.

On his advice I ate some salty food, and drank more than I would normally – probably saved me from bonking. It was reassuring to see someone I knew out there. At the aid station at mile 20, I re-laced my shoe, giving my ankle more room to swell, and that helped the pain immensely. Ok, maybe the Tylenol someone handed me helped too. Another runner stumbled into the aid station and accused me of “really blowing right by” him back there. I think he was thinking of some other giraffe wearing runner. I had a couple of horsey encounters. In two cases, they startled me, not the other way around. Made me miss Sabrina, my black horse that died this year.

After about mile 23, I started to feel pretty good. I had a really pleasant realization that 1. I was going to finish, and that 2. I hadn’t actually been all that sure about that fact to start with. Sure, the foot/ankle still hurt. But I had a cold coke from my drop bag at the aid station at 26. MMMMmmmm. Cheetos, too. And a wedge of cheese quesadilla from the chef manning a griddle at the aid station. No kidding. But mostly it was about the coke. And the last 4.5 miles, I felt really good. One more nasty descent with 2 to 3’ step-downs in the trail with a bit of scree just for fun… pass the guy with the accent whining to his friend about how tired he is… then ½ mile on smooth jeep road to the finish. I sped up and felt really good at the finish, and in my crazy brain, the thought floated “hey, you know, I bet I could go 50 miles. Even 100K. I feel pretty good. ‘cept for that ankle.” I did not, however, say that out loud because I was in a crowd of ultra runners, and they’d have me signed up for the next 50 miler out there before I could sit down. I finished in 7:01:42. Would have been nice to be under 7, but I’m not fussy. I came in 17^th woman out of 44, and 78^th overall out of a field of 141 people. Wow, that’s not bad.

S herded me from the finish, suggesting that I get right into dry clothes if I had any. He was so right – the wind made it cold once I stopped moving. I wish I’d brought more to change into at the finish. I need some track pants. Maybe I can buy some online, I hate shopping. Talked with Geekgrl, J, K, K, A, J, A, and lots of others about the race (mostly about the rocks). As I had walked and kept my effort pretty low, I was feeling really good, while others who turned in awesome times were anticipating the soreness that was to come. DP came in while I was eating some soup and a grilled turkey and cheese sandwich at the finish (the hot food was sooo good). She did awesome and finished smiling, tho her IT band was hurting. Two of our group, F and B were doing the 100k. We saw the nutters off for their second lap (ok, I only saw B, F had come and gone while I was still out there) and went into Bandera for food and fun.

We proceeded to an excellent bbq joint (Busbees)

– the brisket was the best I’d had in a long time. The pecan pie was disappointing, however. I love pecan pie. I really wanted dessert, I mean, come on, I ran 31 miles. Gimme some Coke and a piece of pie already. From there we walked - some of us hobbled – to a bar that promised a live band. K & K did some nice two-stepping once the band started. They drank beer, I drank a lot of water. I was starting to feel the effects of no sleep and a 50K, so we turned it in at ~10:30. The bed was still hard. I actually successfully slept about 5 hours. We ate at a little Mexican joint (I had eggs and toast, but prickly pear burritos were available) and then drove to San Antonio where we walked around the Alamo, and down along the river walk before our flight.

Most memorable parts:

Coming out of the low point with resolve.

The sotol garden, the view from ice cream hill. The sunrise, orange broken by clouds over the hills, good feelings and bad feelings.

Talking with Louie on the course, first as he passed me, then as I passed him.

Feeling like I could go forever with 2 miles left in the run.

Being handed a card while sitting at the finish that said “Go Dave” by dave’s wife. He’d attempted the 100K two other times, and had never yet left for his second lap. This time, he headed out. That’s perseverance.

A Path

I don't intend to write much about the election. I do not proselytize in my emotions (or really anything else). Just a few thoughts, then.
How might a hopeful America proceed differently than a fearful one?
Will we take two steps forward and one back?
What obstacles will we overcome that are of our own making?
How many friends will we have to help us surmount those obstacles?

I saw this in the NY times:
Rosa Parks sat in 1955. Martin Luther King walked in 1963. Barack Obama ran in 2008. That our children might fly.

I liked it.

Racing

When do I get to treat the next race as a RACE for me? My plan for this year was to finish a ½ IM in less than 6 hours. I did not achieve that goal, my stupid hernia and hernia surgery got in the way. (Did you know that endurance athletes, esp. runners are prone to hernias? I didn’t. All that jostling of your insides against your abdominal wall can, apparently, find weaknesses in the wall over time. More sit-ups!?!) So my big goal race for this past year, the Spirit of Racine Tri in July became a swim only for me. And I took some time off from running and biking in training. Phooey. I did get to do the Colorado Relay in September 4 weeks post-surgery, I just did a relay leg in the duke city marathon with some friends 2 weekends ago, and on a whim and an invitation from J., went to do the Soma Quarterman triathlon in Tempe AZ last weekend. So the fall has been fun, but… I miss racing. (It’s kinda scary to type that out there for people to see as I could be held accountable. Fear of failure is a b!@%ch.) Last fall I got to race some fun races. This fall… I got to participate in some fun races. Totally different feel. Very enjoyable, there’s been great company and good times. I like “doing” races. But now I want to do a few races where I have a time goal, I want to test myself.

I’d planned to try to get a marathon PR this fall/winter. My friends are doing the Cal International Marathon in Sacramento in December. That seems like a good goal. But, there’s a problem. I haven’t been training towards that goal. My running mileage is not where it should be. Over the last 6 weeks, my weekly totals are 6, 0, 40, 4, 12, 17… Just a wee bit variable. I’m proud of that 40 mile total – I did that over four days in Door County, WI. And it was gorgeously fun. I am not so pleased to see the zero, the 6, or the 4…..

I have 6 weeks to get ready for Cal International. Two of those weeks are light taper weeks right before the race. I know I can finish the marathon, but can I actually race it on the training I’ve been doing? I think I can probably get a PR – my best marathon time to date was at the Caldera trail marathon this year at 5:13. I think I might be able to beat 4 hours on the road if I train consistently over the next 6 weeks. It frustrates me to realize that with a little consistency, the question might have been whether I could beat 3:40. But I’ll try to let that go – that I can’t change. (Grr.) If I could just learn that consistency lesson, I think I could be a lot faster, and a lot happier with myself. Bah, who am I kidding? If it wasn’t the consistency thing, it’d be something else.

So I wonder, do I train and race to the best of my ability for a race in 6 weeks? Or do I pick another marathon further in the future, and really train for that?

Right now, I think I’ll train for Cal International. I have other races in my sights for the spring. I think I’ll race my best on Dec. 7th, and take whatever I can do on that day. I have an 18 mile run scheduled for Sunday. If it goes ok, I’ll register for the marathon.

A Kind of Commendation

On the first of several days of shooting scenes with a couple of meth-heads, C spent more than 2 hours making a guy look, well, like a meth-head. He completely airbrushed his body, making it sallow and spotted. He applied several prosthetic lesions all over the place, including one on the head. Not being a druggie myself, I didn’t get the lesions. C tells me that while high, meth addicts can think something is crawling on them, or under their skin, and pick and scratch at it. Then, they don’t take care of them selves (no shower every am, with lotion, etc.) and they barely eat. When they do eat, they crave sugar. So, you can imagine the lesions don’t heal nicely or quickly. (Blech!) C colored the guys teeth – see the eating sugar comment above. Then the Hair dept. makes the guys hair stringy and nasty. Finally, the actor is declared done, and he steps out of the trailer.

Into the path of the security team.

Who promptly try to kick him off set.
(he looked GOOOOOOD!)

After getting convincing the team that he was really an actor, and not a meth-head, the guy heads to set – usually located a short, 2 block walk away.

Where they try to kick him off set AGAIN.
(he looked REALLY GOOOOOD!)

Days like this, C is pretty sure he likes his job!

Everyone should be so lucky

“Woo Hoo!! Go Jane!!”

Loud whistles and cat calls. Someone nearby is bangin’ on a cow bell. I know its J. running below me on the trail, ‘cuz she’s wearing a hot pink running skirt, and as she runs by the volunteer at the bottom of the flight of stairs, the volunteer’s headlamp illuminates the pink something fierce. The moon is out, and the air is Granny-Smith-crisp, just my kind of weather. J. charges up the stairs, with D. & me cheering her on. She strips off the blue bracelet that serves as a relay baton, and I’m off.

I ran through the exchange point crowd, and was wide awake heading down the road alone. Oh, it felt so good to go downhill. The full moon was so bright, I didn’t need my headlamp. I thought about taking it off – would I get busted? Not worth it, I decided. The first of many magical moments on this second leg of mine came as I reached the end of the empty road, and was drawn to the bike path that started there by glowing lime green bread crumbs. “This way!” I felt that those glow sticks had been left there just for me, for this moment when I’d hit the trail.

I spotted a few runners ahead of me with their reflective vests bobbing up and down. I caught them. My legs felt so free. I forget how running fast makes me feel sometimes - light, wild, unstoppable. The mountain lake to my left reflected the moon and the stars, even. One waterfall on my left churned and roared in the darkness. Second waterfall, and I had to turn my head and catch a glimpse of the endless veil of water in the light of my headlamp. Magic. I looked down at my feet during this leg several times. The reflective strips would hit the pavement like a metronome. Keep them light - quick feet. You love it! Glowing bread crumbs dotted the bike path and I smiled at every one. I couldn’t stop myself from checking my pace. I was thrilled to see paces in the 7’s per mile. I felt like this was my forever pace – and I wanted to run forever. Yeah, I can run fast. Let’s go already!

I decended into fog, and the light of my headlamp reflected off of the tiny droplets and blinded me, then cleared, then blinded me again as I ran through the wisps. The big dipper directly in front of me kept drawing me forward. As J. said later, some constellations were hard to pick out – stars normally too faint to see stood out in the middle of them and confused the eye. The milky way snaked across the night sky.

This leg was rated “very hard” I think because it was 8.7 miles, on the longer side of the 30 relay legs, and because downhill sections can beat your legs up. But it didn't feel hard to me at this moment. I had estimated I’d run 10 minute miles. My team, and more specifically, M, who was the next runner, would be expecting me 87 minutes after the hand off. I was going to be early. For once I didn’t worry about something I couldn’t control – they’d find me. I trusted them. I started to dare myself to be as early as possible.

The bike path carved through some tight corners and steep descents, and I had to lean as I went through them, down them. I felt like a race car. Rounding a corner, I ran through a dark tunnel under I-70, the light of the moon lighting the pavement on the other side. The path ended on an empty road, nameless to me, but one that had been witness to both bike races and running races if the painted notes in the middles of the road were any indication. Still, my lime green bread crumbs pointed the way. A bicycle guide also leap-frogged me for this leg, keeping me and the other runners company and on track.

I was close now. My wrist GPS said so. Despite the cool air, I had worn too many clothes. I was hot now and kept pushing. I couldn’t see the exchange point. I thought it would be bustling with cargo vans, so well lit that I’d see it a mile away. Is my leg going to be a little longer?Maybe I won’t be as early as I thought…That’ll give me more time to pass those two ahead of me.

But then I rounded the corner and there it was. I started yelling my race number so the volunteers could alert my team. I heard them calling it out. I reached the check-in point, and gave the volunteer my initials. The 8.7 magical miles had taken me 68 minutes, 19 minutes faster than my estimate. Sounding worried, the volunteer said, “Your next runner hasn’t checked in yet.” I grinned. Heh, I am early!

Before that thought had even fully formed, here was M, giving his initials to the volunteer. I handed him the bracelet and strapped the reflective vest on him. “Go get ‘em, M!” The rest of the team led me to the van and they indulgently listened to me tell about my great run, repeating descriptions, raving about the path. Only other runners know the need to share and relive a great run. But I’ll spare you, dear reader, the description of my other two legs. Just know that I have written them out so I can relive, remember, and re-run them in my dreams.

Thanks, Van A!
Thank you, J. for organizing. What a race.

Colorado Relay
From Georgetown to Carbondale, CO
Over three mountain passes: Guanella, Georgia, and Vail.
10 runners, 174 miles, 28+ hours, very little sleep.
Adventure running at its best.
Sign me up for next year.