So Where Am I?

We've moved to NYC. More specifically, we live in Queens. The post office thinks we live in Flushing. The locals say that we live in Kew Garden Hills. I've never lived in such a geographically complex place. Did you know that New York City is made up of five counties? They are coextensive* of the five boroughs that make up the city, although the county and borough don't always share the same name.

We've been here three weeks now (!), so I think that we have our 'normal' routine established. I'm going to steal liberally from photos on the internet, because I lack the smart phone to take them on the go myself. And, if we want to be frank, I really couldn't take a better picture of most of these places...

In the morning, we wake up (Brian first and then me an hour later), and we go for our run. This is Sadie's favorite part of the day. Her second favorite part is sleeping, which SHE DOES THE ENTIRE REST OF THE DAY. I didn't know this before being unemployed, but it's true. She opens her eyes for a brief period of time in the evening to get fed supper, but it's lights out the rest of the time. No wonder she has so much energy for the run. It's the only freaking thing she does!

But I digress.

We go running in Flushing Meadows Corona Park, which is literally across one stoplight, and then it's park paths the whole way. I can't tell you how extremely rare this is in NYC, and of course, a major reason for our particular choice of where to live. Here's a map of a recent run so that you can see what I mean:

This run takes me past some places that maybe you'll recognize, but others that are new to me.

The Unisphere (in two Men In Black movies): This is Brian's favorite landmark. You can expect multiple pictures featuring him with this landmark in upcoming posts.

The Terrace On The Park: Unfortunately, you have to have a big to-do in order to go in here. I'm hoping to meet someone that is getting married here soon so that I can go.

USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center: Home of the US Open - which Brian has tickets to this Aug/Sep. AND, he can play on it anytime, it just takes $30/hr and a reservation. This is very exciting to a tennis player.

The Queens Zoo: I went from running around a park with one zoo (Tucson) to another. Pretty funny. I can't believe that Brian hasn't insisted we visit this place already, as the aviary is a geodesic dome, and he has an obsession with geodesic domes. It's a pretty small zoo, but still. I think it must have elephants, because I'm familiar with that smell from Tucson.

Queens Museum of Art: This is closed for construction until this fall, so I can't tell you much about it. Stay tuned.

New York Hall of Science: Turns out that NYC has only one science museum. Go figure. Brian's trying to figure out how he gets to make exhibits here.

On this run, I just stopped short of crossing the bridge to Citi Field: This is where the Mets play. It replaced Shea Stadium in 2008.

* I just learned this word today, and am super excited by it.

But first... Peru

I wouldn't think that anything could overshadow a trip to Machu Picchu in Peru, but that was before I thought I would quit my job and move across the country.

But, we did in fact make a trip to Peru recently. The reasoning was 3-fold. First, Machu Picchu has been on Brian's pick of places to travel since 2000. I remember hearing about it from him, and thinking "Huh, I guess he'll have to find someone that wants to go hike up the side of a mountain in a politically unstable country with him." Turns out it was me, just 13 years later. Second, our great friend Carolyn brought up the idea late last summer as her response to us announcing that we would be leaving Tucson. It turns out it has been on her bucket list for a very long time, her kids were old enough that she could leave them for a little while with family and, well, we were leaving. It was our last hurrah together. Third, I thought it would be a great way to celebrate the completion of Brian's long arduous journey through graduate school. So last fall, we scheduled the trip for mid-May to fit be squeezed between Brian's graduation and Carolyn's middle child end-of-school-year performance. If I had thought about it for more than a few minutes last fall, I would have realized how busy we would be with selling the house, moving, and Brian's unplanned two weeks in Israel for a chemistry conference. The scheduling was a bit tight, and things were a bit hectic surrounding the trip, but we had a blast anyway.

Brian and I flew out mother's day afternoon. In true Brian and Shelley style, we had already packed our camera and it was on its way to NYC. But we never remember to actually use the camera on vacation anyway, so it doesn't really matter. As soon as Bryce and Carolyn made it to Peru, we had more than enough cameras between the four of us. 

We first flew to Cuzco, which is a beautiful city in the mountains near Machu Picchu. Its elevation is 11,152 ft, so we spent the recommended couple of nights there to acclimate. 

A note about the elevation: I was terrified of altitude sickness. I was sure that even before we left Cuzco, I was going to be so sick that I wouldn't be able to walk, much less climb over the couple of passes over 13,000 ft that we had planned. Luckily, it turned out that I had ZERO problems with the elevation (after the sleepiness and lethargy of the first day in Cuzco had passed). 

It may have been the large volumes of coca tea that I consumed. You really should go read that link, because yes, it's THAT coca tea. The leaves of the tea are the same source for cocaine. The wikipedia page says that it is a stimulant that can be compared with drinking coffee or regular tea. I think that must be true, as I felt zero effect from drinking it. But, all the locals swear by it to prevent altitude sickness, and I am willing to say that it may have played a part in my feeling fine the entire time. 

So let's get to the pictures, shall we? First, the elevation profile of our hike: 

I really can't remember how to tell the difference between an alpaca and a llama. And please don't tell me again, I don't really care. Anyway, here's one of those shaggy creatures (and I don't mean Carolyn; I mean the thing NEXT to Carolyn).

The city of Cuzco from our hotel:

Just a little practice hike the day before the real thing:

Here are our porters (Batman and Robin) drinking chicha on the way to the start of the hike. Brian *really* liked chicha, which is really dangerous because he acts like a goof ball after half of a beer. Our guide told us that this stuff keeps fermenting in your stomach for hours - so you get drunker long after you've stopped drinking it. It was yummy - especially the strawberry flavored one.

It's not a good sign when your guide looks at a map the first thing on the first day of your hike: 

Let the hiking commence (And don't even think that this looks like a lot of water. You just wait.):

Within an hour, we've encountered our first ruins (Yes Carolyn, I had to steal this off of your Facebook because you have still refused to upload your pictures to Dropbox):

Now it's getting wet. But we're near the end of our first day of walking and we've all made it to the first peak at about 13,650 ft. In this photo, you can see our porters, Batman and Robin, wearing the blue and red capes that gave them their name.

Around lunch time on the second day, we stop only for a snack before we tackle our highest climb to Puma Pass (14,698 ft): 

Things got a little hairy on that climb, and I thought we might lose Carolyn. But we took it slow and made it to the top to celebrate. By the way, I am absolutely frozen in this picture. I was worried about overheating with the steep climb and the unbreathing rain poncho, so had taken off my fleece underneath. However, we took our time and neither Brian nor I would leave Carolyn, so all three of us were frozen to the core. 

Nothing that a good hot lunch couldn't cure (these are our appetizers):

And we even let Carolyn use spoons! (Can we all say "brain is low on oxygen"?)

Here's after lunch, and before the slogging began. I remember being here, and I was so happy. I wasn't sick from the altitude, my legs felt great, I had warmed up with lots of hot soup in my belly. Ah, bliss. But we will just not talk about the second half of the second day. At all. Don't ask.

I said that we're not talking about it.

Bryce, I said that we are not talking about it. Sheesh.

Okay, I do have to say a few words about what I have taken to calling the "24 hours from hell". And it's a compliment to Brian. Of course. This guy carried all of our stuff the entire trip in jeans and tennis shoes that were not waterproof. He doesn't get kudos for not having the right gear, but for not complaining a single time.  Even though I complained almost non-stop. You see, he was incredibly busy leading up to this trip what with finishing his dissertation, presenting at a conference in Israel and selling our house, so he made do with what he had on hand. I had been sporting a shoulder injury for the last year, so I didn't even carry a day pack, he simply did it for me. 

Also, he stayed with me the entire time. I'm sure that I was unpleasant at times and probably going much slower than he wanted to go when trying to balance on top of stones to avoid falling into hip-deep mud (and falling into hip-deep mud, but we're not complaining here), but he stuck with me. And he stuck with Carolyn when she needed the extra help. His quiet and modest endurance in trying events like this wins me all over again, every single time.

Anyway, let's skip to the afternoon of the third day. Because that's when this hike turned into what I thought Peru and the area around Machu Picchu looked like. The sun came out, the ponchos were put away. Brian and I took our sweet time enjoying the sights, smells and sounds of the beautiful jungle.

Our reward for speeding it off the mountain in the ridiculous weather? Hot springs. And they were way nicer than anyone could imagine at this point in the trip. 

Here's an unexpected bonus for our trip: zip-lining! I'm sure that Brian was spectacularly excited when our guide announced the possibility. It turned out that Brian, Carolyn AND Bryce have a fear of heights, so I have NO idea why we ended up doing this. But it was fun, everyone's adrenaline got pumping and I attest, everyone did all five zip-lines to get to the bottom. Look at Brian; I think he even enjoyed it a little:

And yes, I zip-lined upside down!

Nothing like a high-risk activity in a third-world country that you payed way too little for to get your blood pumping! Anyway, after that, on to Machu Picchu!

Well, we have to walk there first:

And act silly:

And have a fight on top of a train:

And remember where we were going:

And take a self portrait (which our guide never figured out - he always insisted on taking one of us when he saw us doing this):

And take the worst photo ever:

No, really. Go back and look at each of our faces in that photo. Hee hee. Kills me, every time I look at it.

But then we'll make up for it, almost:

And this picture is here because Carolyn loves it. She calls it "Why you drinking my water". In hindsight, I wonder if I was just beginning to notice how ridiculously pale and thin Brian is looking. 

Yep, you guessed it. Brian is getting sick. Sicker than a dog. I believe now that Bryce got food poisoning the night before we got to Machu Picchu, but that Brian actually got some virus. It took him a month and a half to recover. Although out of order, this is a pic of Brian looking his best on the day of Machu Picchu:

Poor guy. He has wanted to see MP so bad for so many years and he doesn't really remember most of it. 

Here's the first few minutes at MP when we still had Brian with us so we could get a group photo. But soon after the photo, while our guide was droning on about how great the Incas were, Brian sat down and no one was moving him. We left him at one spot while the three of us continued touring. After most of our tour was over, I went back with our guide to pick him up. Poor guy doesn't remember a thing about most of the day. 

MP was amazing. It was beautiful, and some of the engineering feats that they pulled off were stunning. Most of them had to do with water-flow, but also the joints in their masonry look almost air tight. I don't think in this case that words or photos can convey the magnificence of it. 

A New Chapter In Life

Once again, I've let this blog languish. BUT - All that is about to change!!! (Maybe?)

My biggest news of 2013: I've followed my love to NYC. Yes, this desert girl has moved to the big apple. I'm a city girl now. Well, I'm working on it. 

Last fall, Brian started looking around for post-doctoral positions. He expected to graduate in May of this year (and he did - yay Brian!), and needed to secure the next step in his ultimate goal of becoming a professor at a university. He found Dr. Michael Mirkin http://www.cuny.edu/site/energy/faculty-research/mmirkin.html at CUNY Queens College and was extremely interested in some technique that Dr. Mirkin has developed. It was a departure from what his group at UofA focuses on, and that's a large part of why it was interesting to Brian. Anyway, to make a long story short... he accepted a position, we flew out here in January to find a place to live and here I am. In NYC. Wow!

At this time, I don't expect that I will spend the rest of my life here, but we have an amazing opportunity to spend a couple of years here while Brian gets to learn new and interesting things. I hope to use this blog to record some of the once-in-a-lifetime things that I see and do. Everything is so different here, it will be interesting to look back in two years and see how my point of view has changed.

Oh, and one more thing... I know that when I lived in Tucson, I would read news articles about all kinds of neat things to see and do in NYC. So I need your help my friends and family. When you read of such things, pass it on. Post it to my FB wall or put it in a comment here. Send me a message or I'll get you my email address if you don't already have it. But I need your help. There are about 4 billion things to do in Manhattan, and I actually don't have time to do all of them. So please let me know about the thing that you would do if you had the chance to live here. Then maybe you can visit me and we'll do it again, together. 

Wish me luck!

Mind Games

I've been thinking a lot about the power of our minds. We can do some amazing, and also some amazingly stupid things just by thought alone.
I realized this a few weeks back while I was out for a run. I was nursing a tight and sore hamstring and realized that my inner conversation was about talking myself into running longer than I felt like running that day. I was doing this by "phrasing" the mileage in a certain light. For me, this is playing little numbers games like thinking in terms of four five-mile laps instead of ever letting the phrase 20 miles into my head. It seems like a small difference, but it suddenly came clear to me that I had perfected all these little techniques to add up to a lot of mind games.
On the one hand, I was grateful for this adaptation. I think it made it possible for me to run 80 miles around a very small track. I had spent six months teaching my brain to convince itself that the laps were just that, and not to think of the enormity of the larger goal. It worked like a charm for that, and I was able to complete the 80 miles without a trace of doubt during the entire 21+ hours.
However, I think these games became habit, and I didn't even realize I was playing them any more. I think that I kept minimizing the miles in my head, and it lead to me running way too many miles too soon after the 24-hour race. This lead to the aggravation of some foot problems that I was having and probably delayed my return to strong running.
It's a fine line to walk. To effectively play these mind games, you need to convince yourself that what you're doing is much easier than it is. Basically, you want to lose a little perspective. I seem to be really good at that part. As Brian likes to observe, I tend to be an all-or-nothing kind of girl. The harder thing for me is to walk the middle ground. I want to play enough mind games that I can take on and complete challenging events, but at the same time keep my perspective so that I can see (and avoid) injury or burn-out approaching.
So I'm going to continue to play these games, but with a new awareness. An awareness that I'm doing it and a little more caution as to how I'm phrasing things to myself. I'm going to try to allow for the possibility of injury or illness, and let myself feel the feeling of not wanting to do something hard.
It's something for me to work on for the next 70 years anyway.

Across The Years - or almost 24 hours of running...

This race was what all the training in 2011 was about. I don't even remember now how I found this race, or why it aroused such curiosity in me.

But curious was definitely what I was. I checked in on the web pages throughout the spring, because there was a lottery to enter this race. Can you believe that? Too many entrants for the space that they used... they had to restrict to a lottery!

In the meantime, we moved to a new house in the spring, and my running kind of dwindled. I was down to quite a few 20 mile weeks, and even a few 10 mile weeks. I think I had a hard time transitioning to running in "the city". I hadn't realized how nice the washes were for running lots of miles.

As we approached the beginning of the summer, the web page started taunting with statements like "The lottery opens soon. Check back this summer." I kept checking and nothing.

During this time I came upon Aravaipa Running in Phoenix. They put on quite a few distance events, but almost all trail events. I found the Javelina 12-hour run and thought it sounded fun and like a good training run for the 24-hour, if it ever took place. So Brian and I trained and ran the 12-hour race. You can read about that here.

We were a few weeks out from the 12-hour night run when the web page finally announced that financial trouble had put an end to Across The Years with its old sponsor and old location. But lo and behold - Aravaipa Running had picked up the race! Even better, the new location, Camelback Ranch, had more space than the old location, and therefore no more lottery. If you wanted in, you paid your fee and then were in. I quickly found a 100-mile training plan to tack onto the training as soon as the 12-hour race was over and we were off!

I was pretty impressed with how fast I recovered from running 46.2 miles. The weekend after the 12 hour, I ran 10 miles for a long run, and two weeks after, I ran a 28 mile long run. Of course, that 28 hour run should have told me a lot about what my condition was - I just blamed it on being in much colder weather on travel and out of my routine. I think the real truth was that my legs were still pretty beat up, although not reporting it all to my brain very well. I should probably have waited another week or two to attempt that mileage.

I'll try not to bore you with the training details, if you want my training log, you can take a peek at what I was doing here. Suffice it to say that it took a lot longer for the long runs to feel okay, and that the weather turning very cold for last part of November into December did not make it very easy to get up in the morning and knock out the training miles.

Still, I set an ambitious (for me) goal to run 80 miles, and a secondary goal to keep moving for the entire 24 hour period. (Smarter readers than me can probably guess what happens somewhere around mile 75 when you have had your mind set on 80, but I'll get to that.)

Thursday morning before our race day, we watched on the web cam as about 100 runners started on either a 24-hour, 48-hour or 72-hour race! That is absolutely unbelievable. And, pretty boring. There they go, almost slow. It was interesting to check in on them the whole time. The field didn't look crowded at all (I was worried that it would be). And the weather was now beautiful and sunny. Almost too sunny.

We drove up to Phoenix Friday and stopped at 'the ranch' and set up a tent, air mattress and sleeping bags. That way we could check out what the aid station was stocking and fill any specialized cravings at the grocery store. Kudos to Aravaipa Running for running such great events. Even better than the 12-hour race, the aid stations were always fully stocked, and they were continually keeping trash cans empty, porta-potties cleaned, and everything super organized.

Brian's plan was to run 50 miles fast and since the temperature was getting near 80 degrees, he wouldn't start until the evening. Until he started, he was going to be my race crew. The night before I think that I talked him into starting with me. I was worried about the overnight lows being too low for him.

Smiling amid our tent and supply table

So almost too suddenly, it's 9am on Saturday morning, and the race has started.

Just before the start, I'll pass under that banner 77 times

The track is 1.05 miles. 77 times around would be my goal. It's amazing that you can run that track that many times and not get bored. But, as I like to say lately: "If you get bored, then you're a boring person". A human mind is a wonderful thing, and one of the most amazing things is our ability to visualize and introspect. 24 hours of doing one physical action is the most amazing meditation that I know of.

The first 20 miles seemed to pass in a blink. However, it was getting warm! I learned from October's 12-hour race that there is a definite humidity difference between Phoenix and Tucson that I don't notice until I race there. I learned my lesson this time and stayed on top of the hydration issues. As usual, I ate well and timely towards the beginning of the race, but as the miles piled on, I started to resent having to eat. Another lesson learned at the 12-hour came in handy though: Coke has a significant amount of calories and it seems like I can stomach it when nothing else wants to go down. Weird.

I had two pairs of shoes with me and had promised myself that I would switch every 20 miles. Mostly I was doing this to get a chance to clean out my shoes and socks and check in on my feet. I was worried that if I didn't catch the beginnings of blisters, they would then put a stop to the whole thing.

Barb & Dale showed up around mile 35, and mom showed up shortly after. That was a real treat. It made me feel that I was actually still part of the real world. I had a goal to get 40 miles out of the way as fast as I could though, so I motored on a little, just giving hugs, hamming it up for the camera and stopping for water by them each lap.

Hamming it up for Barbara's camera

I finished 40 miles in 8:20 (right at a 12 minute pace). I changed my shoes and socks again, had Brian stretch my legs a little and then headed out to walk a few miles to let my body catch up on food and drink. Brian walked a few miles with me and helped make the clothes transition for the cold weather that was coming fast.

Around 45 miles, I noticed that the bottoms of my feet were burning, and I thought blisters were the culprit. I had read that the medical tent urged runners to check in at the first hint of a problem, as most things are fixable early on. I checked in at the tent and spent a half hour that was well worth it getting my feet taped. I won't go into it here, maybe a future post will explain the magic that Brian and I learned in the medical tent that night...

True to his word, Brian provided support to me for the night. Before going to sleep in the tent, he mixed up a final protein shake for me, charged my Garmin, and loaned me his IPOD to listen to. Even his going to bed was to support me, because I had informed him that there was no way I was going to be able to help pack anything, or drive us home the next morning. I think I convinced him to go to sleep some time before 11pm.

I don't have many memories between when Brian went to bed and when I got to 76 miles and woke him up. I remember the stroke of midnight, because they passed out noise makers to everyone and everyone congregated at the start/finish line to make a ton of noise and sing Auld Lang Syne. That was pretty cool. I remember that I discovered that there was a "real" bathroom at some point, and started using that for the rest of the night instead of the porta-potties. This had the triple-advantage of cleanliness, warmth and I could monitor the color of my pee. That sounds bad, but remember, I had already run for over 12 hours, most of it at 80+ degrees.

When I saw my mileage count had passed 75, I decided I would give Brian warning. My biggest problem at this point was that I was absolutely freezing. I think that I could have done a better job with more layers, but I was so close to being done, and so delerious from sleep-deprivation, that I just wasn't patient enough to change.

Each mile was taking me 25 minutes by this time (including a 5 minute stop in the heated tent to blow heat-cannons into my jackets and mittens). So I would be done in a little over an hour from when I woke him. I told him he had a choice: Either he packed up and was ready to go as soon as I finished, or he needed to put a sleeping bag in the car, and I would be there sleeping whenever he woke up. I'm really glad he chose to be ready to leave, and I think he knew that I preferred that.

I come around for my last lap, and I see Brian at the finish line with my mom's camera. 6:19am, or 21 hours, 19 minutes after I started, I finished 80.85 miles! I was so proud, and so darn frozen. Brian shooed away the guys that were hovering over the monitor, and snapped this picture of me.

Finished! (They later corrected the missing mile problem)

As soon as I stopped moving, my feet and ankles let me know how much pain I was in. Brian and I turned our timing chips into the race organizers and I stood, waiting for them to find our finishing awards (huge beer steins). It was almost comical, me standing there (barely able to without falling over) and them trying to figure out where they put the box of glasses.

So now here we are, a month after the race. The recovery? It's been interesting. The tops of my feet were swollen, and I thought that was the only damage. Two days later, the tops of my feet were fine, and then it was clear that my right quadricep was messed up. Three days later, my quadricep is fine and my left hamstring has the problem. Now I'm back to the tops of my feet being sore. Who knows how many layers of soreness I still have to work through. But I'm back to running, and am already signing up for races again. Not anything longer than a marathon...

...yet.

Javelina 12 hour night run

Where do I start? I won't try to start by explaining why I signed up for the race in the first place. I still haven't figured out what makes me keep going back to the marathon, much less wanting to run more. I think it has a lot to do with testing my limits, and maybe trying to confuse people that insist on putting me in "a box". Whatever the reason, I ended up at McDowell Mountain Regional Park near Fountain Hills on the evening of October 15th, waiting to start what I was hoping would be a 75k (46.2 mile) race for me. It was a 12 hour night run, in which runners get to choose 1, 2, 3 or 4 loops (each loop being 15.4 miles), as long as they can finish the distance in less than 12 hours. I knew that I could finish 3 laps (as long as I stayed awake and moving forward). I also knew that I couldn't finish 4, so that was nice not to have the pressure to try.

I have to talk about my support crew a little here... Originally, I had asked Steve to give us a ride to and pick us up from the race, because I didn't think Brian and I would be in driving condition. In the two weeks leading up to the race, that turned into Barb & Dale picking us up from the shuttle at the airport, after they had setup the tent trailer at the park in their reserved camping spot. It seems that they spent their whole Saturday getting things all setup so that Steve, Denise and Ryder could camp out while we finished up our laps. Not that anyone got that much sleep, especially Steve. I thank them all. They are truly the best support team anyone can ask for. Here's a pic of everyone (except Barb, who's taking the picture) before the race started.

So... the race. First, the high temp that day ended up around 96F?!? This is the middle of October! That wasn't supposed to be an issue. But it was. It especially was on the first lap. Whenever I'm running in higher temperatures, my stomach likes to tell me that I shouldn't be. But here it was, 6pm and it was time to hit it. The sun was still up, but Brian and I set out with our headlamps on, as the sun would set within the first couple of miles. Moon rise was not until 8:05pm, so I knew the first lap was going to be dark.

I ran too fast for the first 2 miles (always), and then settled into an awful rhythm of running until my stomach cramped and then walking until it felt bearable to start running again. I was really disappointed that my stomach was acting up, because my legs and lungs felt awesome. The sun set, my headlamp came on, and I had my first preview of how hard it was going to be running in the dark on uneven terrain. (Have I mentioned that I did zero training on trails? That's how I like to roll.) There were lots of runners strung out along this first lap, and it was really cool to look behind me and see the string of headlamps. Ahead of me, I could occasionally see a headlamp and knew that they were looking back at the same view. That helped a lot to prevent me from getting lost on that first lap. After the aid station (mile 9?), I started to have longer stretches of no stomach trouble, the slope turned mostly downhill and it was mostly sandy there in contrast to the sharp rocks of the first half. I picked up some time here, but a glance at my watch told me that I should start looking for Brian coming the other way. (Each lap this race has you change directions on the loop, so Brian and I would cross at least two times in the night, depending on how many loops he decided to do.) So imagine my surprise when I see in the lead - Brian! I was totally unprepared for him to be leading (silly me), and so I recognized him and yelled out his name after we had already passed. So much for that encounter. I had a little bit of a sprint I'm sure, since I was so psyched to see him running so strong. A few more walk breaks with stomach cramps and I come into the start/finish line to see Denise, Ryder and Steve cheering loudly for me. I got hugs from everyone, Ryder told me that this was "nutty", and I ran for the bathrooms. In the meantime, my awesome support crew switched my race number to a clean shirt and filled my water bottles with ice water. After listening to me complain about my stomach, Denise and Steve decide that I should drink ginger ale. This did not sound good to me, but I gave in to their (probably more sound) thinking. I'm glad I did. It seemed to start working on my stomach right away, and I was ready to start my second lap. Unfortunately, 2 bathroom visits and sitting with ginger ale added up to a 17 minute rest between laps, and I didn't have that much time to spare. I headed out after saying goodnight to Ryder and Denise and hearing that Brian was first on the first 25k and that Steve would be there when I finished my 2nd lap.

My second lap was looking more promising with the ginger ale working on my belly, and I was starting to think that I could finish 2 laps. (Did I mention that I was revising my goals and forcing myself to be happy with 2 laps?) It was a LOT quieter out there on the 2nd lap. 134 people started the race, 59 people continued for a 2nd lap. There was a lot more talking between runners on this lap, and I started passing a lot of people that had planned to run 3 laps, but were going to be lucky to finish 2. Maybe adversity is my motivator, because all of this talk from others about not meeting their goals made me start thinking that no matter how slow it was, I was going to get 3 laps done that night. I hit the aid station feeling pretty good, and even decided that I could eat something then. I ate one of my bean burrito chunks and two chunks of cantaloupe that was provided by the aid station. I started feeling even better after that and resolved to run as much of the sharp, rocky downhill as I could on the 2nd half of the 2nd loop. Just a mile past the aid station, who do I encounter but Brian! This time when I saw the first runner, I just assumed that of course it would be my super-human husband and shone my headlamp on my clothes, thinking he would recognize them if it was him. Sure nuf. It was him. Sounding more tired than I've ever heard him and carrying an empty water bottle. This was a little weird, because he didn't start the race with any water bottles. Apparently, the dryness had gotten even to him, because someone had taken pity on him and lent him a bottle. He asked me how close to the aid station he was (he ran without even a watch), and I mis-informed him that it was a "couple of miles". There was some confusion on counting laps, and I asked him if he was going to do 3 laps (he was past the middle point of his 3rd lap). Anyway, I gave him a peck on the cheek, told him to keep it up, but that he didn't have to win it, and went on my way. It occurred to me after we parted that I could have given him some of my water, but it was too late for that. I couldn't catch him if I tried. I guess it worked out because I finished my 2nd lap parched, having run out of water miles back.

My plan to run most of the downhill worked pretty well. I switched on my tempo music to keep my feet moving fast enough that I wouldn't fall if one foot went out from under me and started making good progress. I started up a conversation with a regular ultra-runner from San Francisco (I never got his name). He was super-impressed by my ability to run downhill without falling on such uneven terrain; but his racing schedule was even more impressive. He was doing this race as a practice run for the 100-mile Javelina race next month. And, he does a race that long about 4 times per year. He was taking an "easy night".

I run into the finish line of my 2nd lap and Steve is standing and cheering and Brian is sitting there looking like he is half sleepy and the other half in pain. Steve asks what he can do and I hand him my bone-dry water bottle to fill. I also ask him to fill my 2nd bottle which I hadn't carried on the previous laps, but I know my last lap will be the slowest and will need the water. Brian is mumbling something about how he should go out with me because "you're going to walk most of it, right?" He has only been done about 20 minutes, so I can tell that the unbearable cold that hits your body after exerting yourself for so long is about to hit him. So I tell him to change all his clothes, I find my jacket in my bag and throw it at him and direct Steve to find the Tylenol in my bag, because Brian should take some. I did all this in less than a 5-minute time period. I needed to get out there because if Brian is going to WIN 3 laps, then I needed to at least COMPLETE 3 laps.

So out I go.

(About Brian's race: He won the 75k with a time of 6:48:20 - truly an amazing performance for his first ultra-marathon.)

There is almost no one out there now (only 28 people start a third lap, and most of them are faster than me, and so started it much earlier). This means that I have no one to follow this time, and I remember from the first loop, the trail was harder for me to follow this way. I learned that Brian's headlamp batteries died, so I start worrying about this possibility. I turn my headlamp off when I'm walking and turn it on only when I'm trying to run.

At this point, I'm getting a little too sleepy to do math properly, but I spend a significant amount of the first 4 miles trying to work out the slowest pace that I could average and still make the 12-hour cutoff (I'm not sure that I ever completely worked that problem out). But it doesn't matter because my GPS watch battery dies. So I have no idea now how many miles I have left. Panic ensues (that I won't finish before 12 hours), so I start to run parts of the trail that I shouldn't. Lots of kicking of 10 pound rocks happens. Good times. No, wait! It gets better! Since I'm trying to run too much now, I have my narrow-beam headlamp on (to see the largest rocks to kick?) It turns out if you take a very bright narrow-beam headlamp and shine it on the reflective light sand/dirt between two trees, it will look like a trail. Between all the trees. BUT THEY'RE NOT ALL TRAILS! So when I find the trail narrowing to impossibly small and having to duck under much lower-hanging branches than I remember, I realize that I have made a bad decision and am no longer on the trail. I stop, turn my headlamp off and look around. I can see that I am in a wash, and I am pretty sure that I was supposed to climb the hill that has been rising to my right-hand-side. I contemplate trying to climb to intersect the trail, but then think about the likely result of a broken leg when I careen back down the hill, gathering a coat of cholla cactus on the way down. No good. So I turn around and carefully retrace my steps with my headlamp off. I luck out and spot one of the glowing blue LEDs that are supposed to be marking the course and find my way back to the trail. Sure enough, it veers to the right and starts climbing the hill. I give up on not tripping on the rocks and resolve to run the rest of the way without my headlamp. By the light of the moon, I can clearly make out which is trail and which is just a gap between trees.

Soon after I arrive at the aid station. (Hooray!) I know that I have about 6 miles left. For the last 3 miles, I've been thinking about how I saw a Coke bottle the last time I was at the aid station.

I mean it.

For 3 miles, I have been fantasizing about a Dixie cup full of lukewarm Coke. Luckily they have it. I ask them what time it is, sure that I'm going to hear that I have to run 9-minute miles to make it before the cutoff. The nice lady tells me the time, and the other two girls that are at the aid station tell me that I can walk the rest of the way and still make it. This peps me right up, so after a minute of drinking TWO Dixie cups of Coke, I head out running on the last 6 miles. I do a little more running and even more walking (but trying to walk as fast as I could), and I think I can see the glow of the lights at the finish line. I ask two guys that I pass if they know how far it is and they say 3.5 miles. Harumph. I was sure it was only a half mile. I keep moving and pretty soon, I hear Brian cheering for the guy in front of me. He had walked back a mile to meet up with me. I lecture him on why he is walking, because he should be resting (I will learn later that sitting around just makes it much worse to move later). Tired and hungry, I think my body starts to turn off (maybe it thinks that Brian is the finish line?) But Brian convinces me to run the last bit to the finish line and I hear him cheering for me the loudest of all. I finish with time to spare (11 hours, 22 minutes and 15 seconds)!

I won't bore you with the recovery details (yes, I was sore). But the soreness lasted only a few days. The memories... They'll be there when I'm 90. What an awesome experience!

60,000 Runners, Oh My!

Brian and I just got back from visiting Dave and Joice in Georgia. While there, we toured Savannah, Hilton Head South Carolina, and the Atlanta area. We also completed the Peachtree Road Race. This race is a 10k ran on the fourth of July. This was the 42nd running of the race. It was a lottery entrance this year, and they capped participation to 60,000 runners.


With that many runners all trying to run on one road, they stagger everyone's start times. I got into corral D (they place you according to your finish time in other races that you've completed). I was pretty lucky, because the later your corral letter, the later you start. The temps start out okay, but the humidity is always high. So the last corrals (they went up to "X") started at 9:30, whereas I started at 7:45 and was done less than an hour later. So the temps were only in the high 70s when I ran.

Brian was placed in the "sub-seed" corral. This means that you're fast, but you're not professional ("seeded"). This race was the US National Cross Country Championship race, and it has a sizable purse, so there were lots of very fast runners there. A familiar name that was there was Ryan Hall. He didn't finish so well - comparatively. The winner (from Kenya), won the race in 28:05.

Brian did pretty well - he finished #397 (remember, out of 60,000) in 39:35. He won a coffee mug for being in the top 1000 finishers.

We milled around after the race, finding all the free stuff (Dave was with us). We then walked quite a way to get onto a bus that would take us to the train back to our car. When we were on the bus, we passed the race course, and could see an entirely full road still packed with people (mostly walking, but a few were jogging). It was a crazy experience.