Tips for Enjoying a Vacation at Elevation

 Drinking high gravity beer is a "Don't" not a "Do".

KoB DGAF.

(Ollllld Chub!)

So, for the 3rd year in a row now, The KoB and I have traveled to the absolutely beautiful and charming town of Leadville, CO.

Home of the Leadville 100 and the National Mining Museum.

Also the place in the US where climbing up a

set of stairs will leave you panting and doubled over for 3 minutes.

HELLO life at 10,200 feet!

So, for some, 10,200 feet of elevation might not be anything. But, for a Nashville/Sea-Level girl, it is a huge deal. The obvious thing is that the lack of oxygen renders you panting and gasping at the most ridiculous of things. Like... taking off a sports bra. It's sad. 

It's exhausting.

But, after my 3rd year in a row, I've come up with a few tips on making the elevation a little less troublesome and less noticeable.

Running/Endurance stuff: So, every year, I get out to the Mineral Belt Trail (an awesome 11+ mile loop around the city) and think, okay, I'm just going to run slow and it will be fine. And then I start running and I have to stop to catch my breath after about 90 seconds. SERIOUSLY. It's humbling and annoying. But, I've found, that if I just give myself those breaks and start and stop and walk, after about 25-30 minutes, I find my pace and I'm able to keep running (even on the uphills). I think it just takes my body more time to understand what the hell is happening and adjust. So, give yourself a break and some time, and you'll be fine.

Headaches: The lack of oxygen can give me a wicked headache. So, from the moment the plane touches down in Denver, until I get on the plane going home, I take a dose of Excedrin every 8 hours. It keeps the headaches away.

Bloat: Along with the Excedrin, I take Gas-X pills the same way. It is crazy how bloated I get and I'm not entirely sure how elevation=bloat. But, it's seriously painful and none of my pants fit unless I'm keeping it all under control with the Gas-X. Trust me, it's a life saver. 

Hydrate: So, I try to make sure I'm staying extra hydrated (this is probably more because Colorado is so much drier than I'm used to). And by the same token, I think it's best to stay away from alcohol as much as possible. Did I do that? Nope. But, the elevation definitely makes a hangover about 13X worse.

 

Highly recommend this local brewery.

Probably should only have one or two if you want to 

feel your best. Do as I say, not as I do.

Because drinking 4 Brown Ales in one sitting wasn't smart.

 Sleep: I haven't quite mastered this one yet. And I find that the mornings are extra hard for me at elevation. Normally, I pop up and am ready to go in the mornings, but I'm always more groggy and still feel tired when I wake up in Leadville. Probably because I don't sleep as well there. But, if anyone has any good sleeping at elevation tips, I'd love to hear them!

Anyway, it's not groundbreaking stuff, but, it's not something I ever considered before my first trip out there, so, maybe it will help someone!

Trip pics and re-caps to come!

Week 21

"Losing hope is not so bad. There's something worse: losing hope and hiding it from yourself."

Walker Percy

Last week was an absolute and utter trainwreck.

After recovering from the black plague (I am NOT a good sick person. Living alone for 5+ years has not helped with this. As I just pretty much wallow around in my pajamas and randomly yell expletives), I figured the rest of the week would be awesome. For one, my birthday was on Friday and I was excited about that AND it was going to be the hardest marathon training week, which, in a sick and twisted way, I was also excited for.

And it was the longest and hardest running week I've ever had (on paper), but to be completely honest... I don't even fucking remember that. My running felt no different than any other week. 

Wednesday started the week's downward spiral. Wednesday afternoon I got some disappointing news and while I spent an hour long run with The KoB that afternoon bitching and moaning about it, afterwards, I still hadn't shaken it. Thursday somehow turned into a pretty damn good day. But, by my birthday on Friday, I was a live wire. Any and every little thing would result in my eyes welling up with tears. There are about 2-3 times a year where my hormones get out of whack and I can never pinpoint when it's going to happen. It must have something to do with my cycle and the moon or the tides or some other granola bullshit, but whatever it is, when it happens, I am a MESS. And frustratingly, I know it's irrational and not me, but it's so overwhelming that I can't help it. As it turns out, Friday, those hormones started flowing. HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY. WORK LATE AND GO TO THE GROCERY STORE AND BUY YOURSELF A SAD SLIVER OF SHITTY RED VELVET CAKE, SING "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" TO YOURSELF, AND EAT IT WHILE STANDING AT YOUR KITCHEN COUNTER LISTENING TO BON IVER'S "RE:STACKS" OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

To be clear... it was my choice. Earlier in the week, I had told my family and the KoB that I didn't want to celebrate my birthday on Friday, because I had my last long run early Saturday. Normally, I am a sane and reasonable person and this would not have been a big deal. I had no idea that my hormones were going to turn me into a 14 year old, self-obsessed, melodramatic, depressed bitch.

Unfortunately, Saturday I wasn't feeling much better. After crying to my mom on the phone that morning and then crying to The KoB on Saturday night (I am the best daughter and girlfriend EVER!), I felt a little better emotionally, but I still felt like an irrational, crazy person.

I woke up on Sunday morning and felt more like myself.(GET OUT OF MY BODY, HORMONES) I saved my recovery run for the evening where I realized: holy shit. I ran 70+ miles this week. Emotionally, the week was pretty fucking rocky... but training-wise: it was an awesome week. Silver linings and unicorns and whatnot.

Because this is a running blog afterall:

Speed: 10x800s- Yasso style

Long: 20 miles at a specific pace

Total: 70ish miles.

Per usual, I did NOT want to do the 800s. And after each one, I contemplated quitting. BUT, I stuck with it and got them done and I have to say... they really weren't all that hard. I was just kinda bored. See ya this fall, Yasso.

My long run, I ran 6 miles on my own and then met up with Striders for a 14 mile group run. It was snowing. SNOWING. And the snow stuck to the roads and sidewalks, so I was a little cautious and ran a little slower than I would have liked.

 The good news? 20 miles felt like nothing.

At the end of the week I had 70+ miles WITH a day off. Yeah... I'd say it was a good week. (The KoB pointed out on my log that if I were counting my weeks Sunday-Saturday like weirdos do, that I would have had an 83 mile week. WHAAAAAA?).

I am happy to report that I am back to normal (normal for me, that is) and now that my hormone level is back to regular, it's time for me to catch the Taper Crazies!!!!! (Thank god those two times didn't collide. THE HORROR!).

Hurricane Run

This post may seem in bad taste, as my experience with Hurricane Sandy was a pretty "cushy" one in comparison to millions of others. But, I want to say that I mean no harm and am not a cold, heartless bitch (well, at least when it comes to my favorite city, NYC. The jury is still out otherwise). If you haven't done so already and can spare anything, please consider donating to a local charity in an area that was affected by Hurricane Sandy. Need some ideas?

Food Bank for NYC
Animal Care and Control of NYC
Tunnel to Towers Hurricane Sandy Relief for Staten Island

So, last weekend, I accompanied the KoB on what we thought was going to be a short trip to Boston. (So quick that I knew I wouldn't really have time to hang out with my BFF, Lauren. But, another trip just for that purpose will be planned soon. Promise). To be completely honest, I am like the worst person with the weather. I grew up in a family that never took cover during tornado warnings or stocked up on bread and milk before a predicted snowpocalypse. My mom, sweet as she is, is like the stoic evolutionist/survival of the fittest/we're only as strong as our weakest link leader of our family. Fall down and are bleeding and oh shit, is that a bone poking out of the skin? Nahhhh.. my mom would say... nothing a little peroxide can't fix. I mean, seriously. I never had a fever growing up. BECAUSE SHE WOULDN'T LET ME. Anyway... all this to say.. I have grown up to think that NOTHING can get me down. No sickness and surely no epic weather system. Hurricane/Smurricane. Weather forecasters always oversell that shit, right?

Uhh... except... they don't. I mean, 95% of the time, they do... but that 5% can be a real bitch. I had heard a little bit about Hurricane Sandy, but I completely wrote it off. A hurricane? No. That's not going to happen.

Anyway... our flight home got cancelled and so we were stuck in Boston for another day. Which, you think... ooooo fun... extra/bonus/vacation day. Except, no. Everything was closed, the satellite was out in the hotel (THE HORROR), and finally, after staring at the KoB for like 3 hours in our room, I dragged him out to walk around in the swirling winds and rain. I AM SUCH A FUN GIRLFRIEND. Full disclosure, we walked like a mile and then saw a cab and took it back to the hotel. PANSIES.

Anyway... let's back up. So, there was supposed to be a 5K that we were running on Monday morning, but in the expectation of the storm, it was cancelled. Yay! We can sleep in, etc. Uh... Wrong. We decided to run the race route anyway.

 

Dumbfucks.

Now, I've ran in monsoons, extreme heat, cold wind, snow, up mountains, down mountains, and everything in between. But, this was unlike anything I've ran in before.

As soon as we stepped outside, I was like... what the hell am I doing? It was windy and misty. And as we got further from the hotel, and closer to the water, it got windier and wetter. Finally we made it to some beach that the race was supposed to take place along and there was a causeway that went out onto the water and... yeah... WE RAN ACROSS IT. WTF? The wind was unbelievable and the water/mist/rain was pelting so hard that I thought the wind had picked up sand and was throwing it at us. I ran with one finger in my ear to protect it from the wind and water (Sorry, Mom! Total wuss move).

To make things MORE fun, the people we were following got LOST (I just assininely assumed that they were trying to run extra. But, WTF? Who runs extra mileage during a hurricane?), they eventually stopped and let us catch up and were all.. "have you seen that statute where we're supposed to turn?" YES YOU DUMBASS, IT WAS ABOUT 1.5 MILES BACK. So... we ended up running about 8 miles in a hurricane.

Survivors. (Still dumbfucks).

Rain-1, Amy-1

Even though I've been totally in love with running lately... I still don't wake up and jump out of bed excited to go out for a run (not sure that will ever happen). So, Tuesday morning when I woke up and thought that I heard the VERY gentle and faint sound of raindrops on my metal balcony railing I was kinda excited. I got up, peeked out the window and found a puddle to stare at... the thing was... there was barely any movement going on in that puddle. I mean, it was lightly drizzling outside... but I was tired and immediately texted Steve:

Me: Sorry... I'm not feeling the rainy run. I'll see ya tomorrow morning!

And then I rolled over and went back to sleep hoping that some huge thunderstorm would roll through and validate my decision. It didn't. The rain was over. So, all day I kinda felt like a wimp. And was pissed that I gave up the opportunity to sleep in on Saturday morning.

So, when I woke up this morning, I got up and peeped out the window and all was clear. Whew.

I got up started getting ready and as I was getting dressed I thought heard rain. So I ran over to the window and sure enough it was raining. And not just drizzling... but a steady rain. SHIT. I checked my phone... no message from Steve bailing, so I thought... well maybe it's not raining over there.

So I headed over there... as I got closer, the rain did slow down and I'll be damned if it didnt all but stop by the time I rolled into the park. Yes! Success!

And then at the turnaround point for our run, it started raining harder... Don't get me wrong, it wasn't pouring... but it was raining. Ugh.

The lesson here is... when its just drizzling.. get your ass out of bed and run, because you never know what the hell's going to be going on tomorrow.

Absolutely Not Ready...

After months of grumbling about the bitter cold (the wind!!!), the frozen icy sidewalks, and the rainy and dark skies of winter... it's now time to switch gears and start bitching about the summer.

Yes, I said summer. It was 90 degrees here this weekend. 90 on April 10. WTF?

And it's not just the temperature... it's the humidity! In April! Saturday morning Carolyn and I headed out for a 10 mile training run for the Indy Mini Marathon. 10 miles... no big deal, right?

It actually turned into a 9 mile death march. I was sweating so much that I rubbed raw spots between my nose and mouth from wiping the sweat off my face so many times with my shirt. And you know what? That shit hurts. Sweat is salty. Sweat dripping onto an already raw spot on your face... NOT PLEASANT.

So, while I spent the last few months fantasizing about running in shorts and short sleeves... I am now decidedly NOT ready.

FU humidity. (Thank god I'm not running a spring Marathon. I might keel over and die at Indy).

Where is the ideal place to live and run? Does such a place exist? My requirements:

1. Low humidity. I can handle higher temps if the humidity is low... so, maybe a range like 50-70 degrees YEAR ROUND.
2. No snow. I don't run on icy sidewalks.
3. Little rain. Running in the rain is not my ideal.

Where is this place? In Amy Fantasyland?



P.S. on a sidenote... once tax season is over, you'll be hearing a lot more from me. I MISS blogging and have some plans for the blog... just nothing that I can implement until my busy season is over.

Race Report: River Gorge 10.2 miler (Part 2)

So, we get to the race after winding all the way up the mountain and it's all foggy and raining and cold and I feel like I'm being driven to the set of Twilight or something. Seriously. It's gross.

We get there kinda early and we sit in the car for a good 10 minutes before we do anything. Who wants to get out in this mess anyway? Oh yeah.. and we have to run 10 miles in it. awesome.

Finally, nature calls and I hop out to walk around and find the porta potties. Ehh... not so bad, I tell myself. the rain wasn't as hard as I thought it was... now, my main concern was the condition of the trails. A mud-fest was not something I was looking forward to (or more accurately the extremely sore legs afterwards). I walk back to the car and Theresa had to go to the bathroom, so I walked over with her, too. On our way back to the car we met up with another friend and fellow Nashville Strider and a couple of his friends... after glaring at him and tossing out a few cuss words in his direction (he's the one that convinced Theresa to run the race and she's the one that convinced me.. so, clearly... the weather was all HIS fault) he told me which part of the Stumpjump this trail covered. (Stumpjump is a lollipop shape, you go up the stick, around the lollipop part and then back down the stick for 30something miles. This race is just the lollipop part, which, I kinda enjoyed during the 50k). So, I was psyched that I now knew what part of the trail we were running.. however I was not psyched that this meant that I would be running the rock garden (a stretch of trail that isn't trail.. it's rocks) which were bound to be slippery and more treacherous than they were back in dry October.

We started down part of the trail (which starts with a big downhill) and I was pleasantly surprised with how great of shape the trail was in. Then Theresa nicely pointed out, that by the time I got to them, they would be muddier. Touche.

As we started back to the start of the trail, a HUGE bolt of lightning struck right in front of us. We all kinda looked at each like... WTF are we doing here?

The one thing that pissed me off, was that this race started late. So, here I was... standing out in the rain (which had picked up at this point) getting drenched and convincing myself that I was indeed experiencing the preliminary symptoms of hypothermia for like 15 minutes (I got to the start 5 minutes before the race was supposed to start). SUCKY SUCK.

FINALLY we started and I was in the back of the pack (big surprise) and it felt good to finally get my legs moving.. I enjoyed the group, I started remembering why I liked trail running and was sooooooo thankful that I made a list and remembered to pack my HAT.

And then my shoe string came untied. I shimmied off to the side of the trail (single track trail the whole way) and tried to bend down to tie my shoe string. And DAMN, not even a mile in and I was already stiff as a board. I managed to tie my shoestring and hopped back in the line... even closer to the back.

We were cruising and I was careful to watch my footing and then.. about 2 miles in, my OTHER SHOE STRING CAME UNTIED. OMG. I hate shoestrings. So I hopped off the trail again and managed to bend my body enough to tie the other shoe string and for good measure, I checked on the other one. And by the time I got back on the trail... I was the last one in sight.

It's a trail race, I thought to myself.. there's gotta be some people who are walking this race (ummm... yes, I'm a dumbass, I thought people would walk this race in this weather). So I took off.

Picture stolen from Rock/Creek's facebook page. Not my legs. I shave.

And then I fell. on my right side and I got spooked. All to my left is the side of the freaking mountain. As in... one wrong step and there you go... falling off the side of the mountain, into the fog and the river below. Not a scenario I was excited about.

So, I kept running, but I definitely slowed down. No need to break an ankle or fall off a mountain.

A few minutes later, I started hearing people behind me. And finally they caught up running what seemed like a BREAKNECK speed in these conditions and the guy was all... "Hey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (seriously, it was that enthusiastic) How are you doing?" and I was all... "I'm doing great!! (enthusiastic, but not as much as him), how are you doing?" And then he said...

"I'm doing great!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm the SWEEPER."

And in my head... I said... HOLYFUCKINGSHITBALLS... I'm not even to 3 miles and the sweeper's on my ass??? And not only that, but he's like the Tony Robbins of trail running. He's telling me he's going to be my cheerleader and my trainer and get me through this. Nice sentiments, dude... but I'm not your girl. I'd rather puke than spend 10 more miles with you up my ass telling me how great I look, am doing, etc. I wanted to have fun at this race... not be annoyed for 2+ hours.

So, I tried to pick it up and I felt like he's seriously running a ridiculously fast pace to be the sweeper. I mean, I wasn't even aware that there was a time limit for the race, but I started trying to haul ass and was praying that that isn't going to come back to bite me in the ass at the end.

Finally we reached the aid station (mile 3.5) and even though I figured it would be the only chance I had to have some water (the other aid station was said to be closed if the weather was bad), I took a quick drink of HEED and flew through the aid station, taking only a second to tell the other woman who was there... Ummm.. you see mister awesome over there?? Yeah, he's the sweeper.

And I was off like a bat out of hell. This part of the trail was not along the edge of the mountain and so I just tried to run as cautiously fast as I could. And I never saw the sweeper again!

I was feeling good and having fun. I really love trail running. Especially when you get a wide range of experiences... like.. getting to run some miles alone. And then some miles with other people. It's great.

Of course, I employed my favorite trail race song that never gets old... Rocky Raccoon by the Beatles. I sang it to myself for miles and miles, until finally.. at what I assume was mile 6 or so, I caught up with a group of 6 runners. They were running in a pack and I kept my distance in the back of the pack for awhile, but then some of them let me go through some of the water crossings ahead of them, because I was just plowing, stomping, and splashing my way through them... they were trying to avoid the water as much as possible. I liked the fact that the water cleaned my shoes off and gave me better traction for a little while.

No idea who this handsome gent is, but I thought it was

a great pic of the trail that I stole from facebook.

We hit a break in the forest and started walking up a jeep road. a VERY steep jeep road and at this point, I figured, I needed to take some shot blox. Even though, I had no water.. I knew I needed to keep my concentration on point for the rock garden that was surely coming up. And then at the top of the hill.. was the mile 7 aid station!!!!! At first I thought it was a mirage. But, no... I was able to wash my mouth out after the shot blox with some water. And then we started climbing...

This is probably the steepest part of the trail, BUT the good news is that we only had 3ish miles left to go, total!! At this point I started chit-chatting with the ladies around me (those shot blox make me chatty mcchatterson) and we climbed up the mountain.

It was fun. Together we made  it up the mountain and got to the rock garden and I have to admit, there were times where they were walking and I wanted to run... but I mean.. at this point.. whats an extra couple of minutes to shave off of a 10 mile trail race? I decided to stick with them and we made it through the rock garden and up the hill to the finish!

I was in shock when we finished.. I mean, it didn't feel like I had just ran 10 miles. The entire race had flown by... and it was a blast. My time? 2:37:xx which makes it even more amazing that it went by so fast.. even with the miserable weather.

The first thing I wanted to do when I finished was PUT DRY CLOTHES on. I was freezing. The after of the race was definitely the worst. It took me a good hour or so to stop shivering and warm up to regular body temperature.

It was fun, though and despite the shitty weather... I think I'd do it again. The sad thing is, I can't really blame the weather too much for my shitty finish time... considering the winner set a new course record. (ugh. show off).

Sweet Gender-sized Patagonia Race Shirt!!!

Chattanooga, you may have given me bad weather... but I still love you!

Training... kinda.

So, technically, I was supposed to start training for the Knoxville Marathon the day after I got back from Mexico (Dec 13). However, my flights were delayed, there were no taxis at the airport for a good 30 minutes because there was snow on the roads and I didnt end up getting home till around 2:00am that Monday morning... The next day was also kinda snowy/icy, so I skipped it, too. Now, since then I've been good with the running. I've been running consistently, but I haven't exactly been following my very specific training plan.

Lately it seems like there's a huge difference between TRAINING and RUNNING for me. I mean, sure... they seem like they're the same thing and for my last 3-4 races, I've just been using running as training. But, to PR in Knoxville (nay, not just PR, but break 4 hours) I know I've got to TRAIN and not just run.

And truthfully, I'm excited about it! I'm excited to have specific runs planned with specific paces to hit. But, I guess not excited enough to actually start doing them yet. They look really fun on paper, though!!

Oh well.

I did get in a semi-long run this weekend (if you call 11.7 miles a long run, cough cough). But, I'm not worried. I'll get back on the training track very soon. (Literally, in fact). I'm going to re-adjust my training schedule to start fresh next week and I'm going to attempt to include getting back to some strength training routines (as easy as it was to convince my brain that running and yoga everyday is covering my strength training bases... my body has quickly convinced me that that's not the case. sigh).

If anyone has suggestions on a good calendar either online or a way to set one up in excel or something (My present one looks really kick ass in excel. (Have I mentioned before that excel is my bitch?) but, it's not really easily set up to accomodate cross-training, etc. It's less calendar-like and more agenda-looking). Main requirement is that I can print it out and hang it on my fridge and cross my workouts off when I skip them when I complete them!

When Reading Screws You

So, I'm kind of a message board junkie... at least with one message board... my local runner's group Message Board is the crack of my day. Seriously, I'll be sitting at work, waiting for some slow-as-shit program that is on our work server to load on my computer and I'll think to myself... hmmm.. wonder what the chatter is... and I'll pull up the ole Nashville Striders Message Board. And I'll click through the topics... smiling as I read some people's posts, rolling my eyes as I read others... it's fun. And what's even more fun?? Trying to match up the members with their user names when you meet them at runner's events.

Like... ohhh... YOU'RE "runsfartherandfasterthanallofyou?" I always thought that guy would be... younger. Or whatever.

It is a bit disturbing when you meet some of these people though and find out their message board handle. Like... DAMN. I thought you were a guy all this time. (Which is why I have "girl" included in my handle).

Anyway, I'll log on and click away and see what all my Nashville Bitches are up to. It's good. It's all good.

Except yesterday... And, I KNEW that I shouldn't click on the topic... Because, not only am I a local runner message board junkie, I'm also totally a dramatic diva when it comes to running. So, when I saw the topic that talked about not being able to breath in this wretched heat and humidity... I knew that I shouldn't click. I mean, to be honest... the heat hasn't really been bothering me that much (maybe its the fact that I've been spending 90 minutes a day everyday for the past 30 days in a room heated to 105 degrees with 40% humidity stretching, pulling, and sweating my way into crazy ass poses. Literally). Sure, I'm sweating like crazy every morning... and wiping my brow constantly, but I've not been too miserable. Yet.

And then... because there was so little else of interest on the board... I clicked on it and had a typical dramatic diva Amy response:

WHAT? People are having problems breathing in this heat while they run????????? I had no idea! I haven't felt this way!!! What's wrong with me??? I'm a total wuss. I hate the heat... why am I able to breath? I must not really be able to breath, I must just be imagining that I can breath.

And just like that... I went from totally handling the heat (not loving it, but handling it) to utterly dying in the heat this morning. All I could think about was... am I huffing and puffing more than usual? What's wrong with my breath? Oh god... I'm getting weather-induced asthma. Is that even a legitimate condition? It is now. Definitely.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Just goes to show that my mind is about 85% of my problem. Hopefully I'll forget about my weather-induced asthma tomorrow. And hopefully I'll refrain from clicking on posts that talk about the weather (or heaven forbid: injuries).

Amy 2- Stumpjump 0

I see how you do, Stumpjump. You're a sneaky little bastard. You let me have an awesome tempo run on Day 1. Allowing me to start getting cocky and confident in my abilities. And then the next day, day 2, you strike with your first attempt to de-rail my training. You arrange with mother nature to have me wake up to off and on downpours of rain.

Puh-lease. Who do you think I am? Some kind of amateur? You think some little rain storm in JULY (for chrissakes) is going to keep me in bed? You think I'm some sissy who melts in the rain?

Nice try, Stumpjump. Next time... you'll need to bring the big guns with you.

Part 3: I almost threw him off the mountain in a fit of ridiculous bitchiness.

As we rolled into the Aid Station #9, Vandy Montana immediately ordered me to "get him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." And he immediately went over and sat down in a chair. I looked around and the first table we came to had bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Ummm... you have to make your own? I looked around the table and saw no pre-made sandwiches. Hmph. I thought to myself, at my aid station we had them all already made and covered up so they wouldnt get stale. I shrugged it off and proceeded to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As I was just pressing the two pieces of bread together, an aid station worker came over to me and said, "the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are on that other table." I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw that just ahead to the right, there was indeed a table that had a stack of pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I glared at her, thinking.. why the hell would they put THAT table ahead of this table???? Told her thanks and took the sandwich over to Vandy Montana.

Simultaneously, the guy from the previous aid station that was impressed by Vandy Montana's personal attention was just rolling in and had a seat next to Vandy Montana. "Ahhh..." he said... "still taking care of him, I see." And then Vandy Montana immediately responded... "Yeah, put your order in to the waitress."

WHATTHEHELL??? At that moment, my first reaction was to take that peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I had just MADE for him after I had just climbed a friggin' mountain for him and shove it into his mouth and try to suffocate him with it. I mean, are you kidding me? Don't mess with a tired, thirsty bitch. There's a long way down that mountain, hoss.

I was just opening my mouth to let him have it, when I stopped myself and turned away. I looked at the mountains and tried to Zen it out. He's delirious or he knows that he's in a position where I'm there for him and not complain about anything and he's taking total advantage of that fact by throwing in cheap shots whenever he can. He's been out here for 40 miles and he's just climbed that friggin mountain, too. And I let it go. (But obviously, I didn't forget it. haha).

In hindsight, I realize he was joking. And under normal circumstances I wouldn't have cared, and would have had the oxygen to come up some kinda zinger about a tip or something. But under the present circumstances, it touched a nerve.

After filling up his water bottle and getting him some chips that I didn't realize were salt and vinegar till he cried out at how nasty they were once he ate them, I started comtemplating my own existence. My water bottles were bone dry. All of them. And it was another 4-5 miles to the next aid station. But, the location of this aid station made it difficult to get supplies and water to. They were actually getting the water for the aid station from a freaking creek. So, instead of taking care of myself and filling at least one of my bottles up with water, I decided to leave the water for the runners and continue on with empty bottles.

It was a decision I would regret.

Just as I was getting ready to start nicely nudging Vandy Montana out of his comfy seat and back on the trail (which I had been trying to do for the last couple of minutes and kept getting shot down), a gentleman to our far right start puking and just like that.. Vandy Montana was ready to get out of the aid station.

Chilling at the aid station.

A broader view of the aid station happenings.

The next mile was all downhill. Which was awesome, but it was also all downhill in snow. And not Tennessee snow that is like 1/2 inch deep. No people, we're talking SNOW that people ski on. Snow that isn't completely compacted and so with every step you're  one, unsure if your foot will slide forward and out from under from you making you fall on your butt in slow motion.  Two, if your foot will slide off and down the side of the trail making you lose your balance and topple off the side of the mountain. Or three, if your foot will crunch right down into a foot deep hole which makes you fall forward from your other foot.

Good times.

Once we finally got out of the snow we were able to cruise down the mountain pretty rapidly. I was super impressed and proud of Vandy Montana and his mental stamina at this point. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, we RARELY walked (only if the footing was precarious) and only took a little break for his feet every 20 minutes or so. We rocked down the hill and for the most part, I felt good, too. But, I felt like I could have spit fire from my mouth. I was DYING of thirst. All I could think about was getting to that last aid station where I was going to drink a gallon of water even if I had to kneel down at the edge of a creek to drink.

After being told by multiple hikers along the way that were "just about there" when we were actually 20-30 minutes away usually (FU hikers) we finally started hearing people and knew we were coming up on the last aid station.

Aid station Number 10. HALLELUJAH. And best of all, it was in a public park with PLENTY of water. I took care of Vandy Montana's multiple cups of coke and then got myself a huge cup of water. Ahhhhhhh. Relief. I filled my water bottle up this time, too, even though we only had about 4 miles left to run.

Once we left the aid station, I was ready to get this mofo race DONE with and I'm sure I unfairly pushed the pace a little on my fresh legs...

It was at this point that I felt like Vandy Montana needed me, but I didn't know what the hell to do. I didn't know if he wanted me to talk the entire time to try and take his mind off it. I didn't know if he wanted me to stay quiet. I didn't know if he wanted to take his handheld water bottle and beat me to a pulp and leave me for dead. And, I suspect, that he didn't know what he needed (if anything) except to see the finish line. I was beginning to feel like I hadn't really done anything to help him. I mean, sure at aid stations I took care of him, but other aid station workers would have done that for him, if he had asked. I felt like this was my time... the time that I was supposed to be doing something and that I was supposed to intuitively know what that something was. But, I didn't. Vandy Montana is one of my best friends and I know him really well, but for once... I didn't know what the hell to do. So... I ran.

And apparently, I annoyed him by looking at my watch too much (which, would have annoyed the shit out of me if I were in his position, too). As soon as he told me to stop looking at my watch, I felt his pain. I knew at that moment, that he was in that stage... that raw stage where you'll obsess and drive youself crazy over any little random thing. Like.. your running partner looking at their garmin every 2 seconds.

Finally, it was time for us to break off. We had already discussed that he wanted me to "sprint" (muahahahaha) ahead of him so that I could be at the finish to video tape him (with his flipcam) crossing the finish line. I took the camera from him, and told him I'd see him at the finish line...

Part 2: Running err... Climbing.

So here I was finally "pacing" (or as I liked to call it.. keeping Vandy Montana company and annoying the shit out of him for 17 miles). It had been a long day of waiting around anxiously, and it was finally time to get down to business.

Going into this pacing gig, I had all kinds of preconceived notions: I was going to be the best damn pacer there was. Vandy Montana was going to attempt to throw in the towel and everytime I was going to go all Herb Brooks on him and inspire him to the finish line. He was going to attempt to throw himself off the side of a mountain instead of finishing and I was going to talk him off the ledge. Literally.  I was going to be the pacer that drived him and urged him across the finish line and all the other runners were going to be jealous that I wasn't their pacer.

In reality though, that didn't happen, at all. 

Once we left the aid station, we kind of took it easy. The next 7+ miles to the next aid station were the toughest of the course. And we had no idea what to expect. We knew we would be topping out around 9000 ft, and we were at about 6500 feet at the aid station. I wore my garmin and Vandy Montana asked me to put the elevation setting on the display, so that we could monitor it as we went along.

Eventually we started climbing a bit and I thought... oh shit. Here we go. We got up to about we were hovering around 8,000 feet for awhile and I was looking forward to getting the hard part over with.

And then... we started going down.

And I started to get pissed. In my head I was cussing the race director. What the hell? When are we going to get this freaking mountain over with? You have us go up part of the way, to tease us, only to make us climb BACK down and then BACK up another mountain????? Ass-hole. I kept it cool with Vandy Montana though. That was my strategy for the day, when he asked me how I was doing (which, he did a lot) my response was going to always be upbeat, but not annoyingly so. My usual response was, I'm good. Or I'm okay. Even if I was suffering from acute mountain sickness I wasn't going to led on that I was in any pain or discomfort. I wasn't going to be a problem for Vandy Montana. He had enough problems. 50 of them.

Eventually we got to a clearing and Vandy Montana took a break, laying down. I looked ahead and saw this

Ummm... Okay. And then in the white stuff up there, I saw tiny little dots moving. Must by my imagination, I thought. A guy passed by us and I asked him... ummm... that's not the mountain, right? He told us that indeed it was. And that white stuff?? Yeah, that's snow. And those tiny dots are racers. F@*K.

The next mile or so, we would be climbing that mountain. Straight-UP. No switchbacks, no trails around the mountain, but straight up.

We got back on the trail and started our ascent. I've done some hiking that is straight up and I've ran at 8000-9000 feet of elevation before (at the Madison Marathon in Montana last year), but I've never CLIMBED AT ELEVATION like this before. I was out of breath literally after about 5 steps. We were climbing about 100 feet of elevation every 10 minutes or so. And we stopped to take breaks about every 125 feet.

The breaks were awesome. As soon as I caught my breath, I felt fine and the next few steps up felt wonderful, and then the elevation would zap my breath again and I'd huff and puff until our next break. And once we took a break, it took me a good 2-3 minutes to actually catch my breath.

If I could have cussed and breathed at the same time, trust me, I would have been throwing expletives off that mountain like you wouldn't believe. And then we hit the snow and it was slippery and annoying. I mean, it's bad enough to be struggling with your breath, but now we were struggling with our footing. Luckily, going up the mountain, there wasn't too much of the path that was covered in snow. But enough to be shitty.

Finally, we started approaching the top. We stopped for a minute to take a last little break and I could tell that Vandy Montana was not doing so hot. I had been offering him food everytime we took a break, but he never took it. Finally, he agreed to take a mini cliff bar that I had. I chowed down on some shot blox and before we got ready to tackle the last little bit, we chatted up someone going past us.

Turns out, because of the snow, the top of this mountain, wasn't actually our summit. Oh no, we actually had to climb up another mountain next to it for another 300 feet of elevation. Just a little bonus, ya know. I mean is this a damn race or a freaking mountaineering expedition? Jeez.

At this point, Vandy Montana and I were both pissed. We started to make our way, slowly up to the top of the mountain. We took another break and Vandy Montana ate another cliff bar (a full size one) and admitted to me that he had started feeling light-headed awhile back.

D-U-D-E. You gotta tell me this stuff! I'm your pacer, you gotta let me save you and be awesome! Ugh.

Finally, we got to the flippin top of that piece of shit bonus mountain.

9500 ft. The highest I've ever been

And I was thrilled. Thrilled with the view, thrilled with the fact that the aid station was close by and thrilled with the fact that the hardest part (course-wise) of the race was behind us. 

Vandy Montana taking a break with other runners on the summit.

Self Portrait (duh)

Views.

We started making our way down the mountain and towards the aid station... Only 10ish more miles to go...

Why I run.

When people ask me why I run I generally give the same answer all the time. It's always something along the lines of "it's the healthiest way to simultaneously calm and satiate my inner control freak." On the one hand, it's something I'm in complete control of. When I go, how far I go, where I go... it's complete freedom to obsess about something that doesn't affect anyone else. On the other hand? Running is something I have absolutely no control over. I can't completely control how I feel when I run or how fast I run. I can merely try my best to prepare myself for the situation, but how it turns out is completely out of my control. In the end, every run is a crap shoot.

But, if I'm being honest... aside from all that psychological mumbo jumbo, there's really only one reason that I truly hit the pavement as many days as I do. And that reason is very simple... it's so I can indulge. In bad food and more importantly, booze. How many times have I exclaimed... "I'm carbo-loading, bitches" while I raise a beer bottle in the air? Yeah, too, too many.

Sure, running doesn't erase all the calories from alcohol or from my favorite meal of nachos. But... it does make me feel a little less guilty about stuffing my face when I've had a good run earlier in the day. And a lot of times, I crawl out of bed early in the morning only because I remember the enormous whole pizza (or the enormous whole bottle of wine or Woody*) I inhaled the previous night. Gotta do some damage control, right?

This is the sole reason that I found myself running in the rain on Sunday morning along one of the hilliest freaking routes around... Yes, folks. I got up at 7am and headed to Loveless Cafe to meet up with a group of crazy ass runners to run 10 miles on the Natchez Trace. You see, this is called the biscuit run. You run 10 miles of rolling, climbing, heart-pumping, awful, awful hills and then you go into the Loveless Cafe and gorge yourself on the most wonderful breakfast food that there is... Biscuits.

I got to the meeting place a little early and after a little socializing, we all took off to get the run over with. And literally about 2 minutes into the run, the sky opened up and it started raining on us. The rain continued for the entire rest of the run. Despite the weather, initially, I was feeling really good... I was even like... "why is it that we only do this once a year? we should have a fall biscuit run!" and then by the time I had hit 7 miles or so, I was thinking to myself, "oh my freaking god, if I stop right now and sit on the side of the road in the rain, will one of the fast people drive back to get me?" I mean seriously. After running 20 miles the day before... those hellacious, hilly 10 miles sucked.

But in the back of my mind the entire time... were those biscuits. They became like some sort of runners porn. I imagined one steaming hot with honey dripping all over it. Another one slathered in salty butter. I came up with every salacious biscuit scenario I could and finally... finally the run was over.

We all went inside to gobble up the biscuits and the other breakfast grub and as I ate my one biscuit (ugh. stupid diet) with honey drizzled all over it, I thought to myself... this makes the shitty, shitty run all worth it.

*Woody... Yes, it's finally the time in our relationship to start using an affectionate nickname for my beloved boyfriend, Woodford Reserve.

Mother Nature 1 - Amy 0

So, Mother Nature hates me. It's official, I've decided.

I'm still trying to get back into the groove of heavy training, since my week off thanks to the flu. But everytime I start to get all gung-ho and ready... I wake up to ice. For instance... today (and last monday and tuesday, but who's counting?). Last night, I did something that I haven't done in years... I laid out my running clothes for the next morning. Hoping that that would speed up my morning routine which has seriously gotten ridiculous over the past few months (Is it really necessary to sit on the couch and watch 25 minutes of awful local morning show? No. Should I be running or sleeping during that time instead? Yes).

So, when my alarm went off this morning, I hopped out of bed and looked out the window. And what I saw did not make me happy. There was ice. Not just snow people... ICE. All over the parking lot behind me. F-ING ASS! I contemplated giving it a try anyway... but in the end, I didn't. I went back to bed in the hopes that maybe this afternoon the sidewalks will be clear for a little evening run.

UGH. Yes, I'm a control freak and Yes, I get very upset when I can't have things my way.

Please, Mother Nature... you can be as cold as you freaking want. Bring it! ... but please spare us the frozen precipitation. It's getting a bit ridiculous. I have a marathon to train for.

Race Report tomorrow (Oh, yeah... did I forget to mention I ran a half marathon on Saturday? My bad. Details tomorrow).

The Things I Carried

To The Race: Complete change of clothes including underwear, socks and flip-flops. Forgot actual shoes. Diet coke, gatorade, and water bottle for after the race.

During The Race: Fuel Belt with two bottles. One bottle with water and one bottle filled with gatorade. A Cliff bar for the half-way point, a snickers bar, black cherry shot blox, dried cherries.

Home From The Race:

About 2 pounds of Memphis mud and rain water. Awesome.

On Thursday night,I finally got the nerve to dig my clothes from the race out of the plastic bag that I shoved them into on Sunday afternoon and attempt to clean them in my bathtub. It was not pretty. Mud caked deep inside my shoes and leggings. Gross.

It's Official...

 Approaching the finish line.

I'm an ultra-marathon runner.

Unofficial time: 8:29:xx (all I remember hearing was 8:29, when I crossed the finish line).

Details to come... hoping to get some pictures from the race before I post a full on race report.

Teasers: Hardest thing I've ever done, worst race conditions I've ever experienced, most emotional I've ever been after a race, the toughest I've ever felt.

Hibernation Funk

First of all... this cold weather STINKS. I am seriously over the past two weeks of frigid temperatures. I hate going to bed (with my thermastat set on 71, mind you) wearing sweat pants, a long sleeve shirt, and a sweatshirt. I hate that the majority of my weekly runs are in the dark. I spent about 2 hours yesterday, bundled up under a quilt watching a No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain marathon (ugh.. don't even get me started on the crappy NFL playoff games this weekend) trying to figure out if I could sell my place and move to an island in the Caribbean, how long I could live off the proceeds. Sometimes, I think I forget that I'm an adult. That means I can make these type of decisions, now. If I want to move to a sunny, tropical oasis and become a waitress, I can do that. And right now... that is sounding pretty damn good.

See all this negative energy? I've been in a funk all weekend. When I'm cold, I'm grumpy and I don't want to do anything. This cold weather has essentially sent me into hibernation mode. And as such... my running and working out has suffered as well. But today... today I will start to get back on track. (Nevermind that I slept in this morning).

Another thing is that I'm running this little Ultra this weekend... and while I'm super excited to go down to Memphis and spend the weekend with April, I'm not so excited to actually run the race. Like... not excited at all. Ever since I got into the race and neither of my other friends did, I've been kinda bummed about it and I haven't put in the time on the trails like I should have. I'm anticipating this race to absolutely, positively suck ass. So... I can't really say I'm all that excited about it. I'm just ready to have it over with and to get back on track training for Big Sur.

So, there's your dose of the Monday Morning Blahs. Hopefully all I need is a Monday night 9 miler to shake me out of this funk.

How to...

Prepare for a run in the rain.

Let me set the scene for you...

This morning I awoke to the gentle rumble of thunder. I looked at my alarm clock, it was 5:00 am. Sweet! I said to myself... another 30 minutes to sleep. When my alarm went off 30 minutes later, I could still hear the rain outside and I immediately reached for my phone.

Drats. No text message from Matt. I was kinda/sorta hoping he had woken up already... tired from our run with the East Nasties last night and that coupled with the sound of rain would make him bail on our weekly Thursday morning run. No such luck. So, I got out of bed and got ready.

Now, first let me say... I used to HATE running in the rain. Seriously, I would skip any scheduled run if it were raining (and living in Middle Tennessee, that means I missed a shit ton of runs, because it rains a lot here). But, starting this past spring, in my attempt to become more hardcore, I decided: hardcore runners aren't afraid of rain. So... I started running in the rain... and along the way I learned a lot things that have made the experience less awful.

I realize that a lot of people LOVE running in the rain. Count me in that group if it's a slow drizzle on a hot summer day. Otherwise... I hate it. I hate being wet in general. I hate the feeling of wet clothes sticking to me. I hate having water dripping down my face and body. I hate puddles. I hate carrying around an extra 3 pounds of water because my shoes are soaked and sloshing. I hate being cold. And most of all... I hate coming home to my place a dripping wet mess.

But, I do have a few fairly obvious tips that all of you probably already do (but never told me about, shame on you!) that I have learned along the way about preparing for a rain run.

First of all... What to wear.
It's raining. So you reach for your rain jacket, right? WRONG. That sucker will only keep the rain off you for like 2 minutes and after that, it too becomes a sopping mess that not only doesn't keep you dry, but also suffocates you with your own body heat. It's been awhile since I've read it, but I'm fairly certain this is one of the punishments in Dante's Inferno: Running constantly in the pouring rain while wearing a rain jacket. I made this mistake during the Tom King Half Marathon this year.

The absolute best thing you can wear is something that is fitted and one layer. Wet fabric flopping against you with every step sucks. If it's already fitted to you... it flops less. Everything is going to get wet anyway, so the less layers you have on, the better.

Shoes? Wear some dirty, old ones and immediately take out the insoles when you finish so that they'll dry quicker.

Last, make sure you wear a cap/visor of some sort. It will keep the rain out of your eyes and make for a much more pleasant run.

Next... Prepare your home.
Allow me to use a visual aid. My entry way this morning before my rainy run:
So, let's start at the door and work our way down. A towel. Two plastic grocery bags laid out. A robe.

I walk through the door and immediately I wipe my face off with the towel. Then, I take everything off... shoes, socks, clothes, hat, and place them on the plastic bags. I dry myself off as much as possible with the towel, then I put the towel on my head and put the robe on. There. No more wandering through my place and leaving wet spots all over the floor. (Yes, it took me 3 years of running to figure out this super obvious and easy routine).

So, if you hate running in the rain like I do (or the effects of running in the rain, I should say), maybe some of these tips will help you get your ass out the door.

Race Report: The Madison Marathon, America's Highest Road Marathon

So, I guess I have some 'splaining to do, huh?

The Backstory: Wayyyy back... even before the St. Louis Marathon took place, Vandy-Montana and I had planned on running the Grizzly Marathon in Choteau, MT on August 1. It was the perfect situation. I could knock out Montana and Vandy-Montana could run a marathon in his home state. But, sometime back in early April, Vandy-Montana emailed me a link to a Montana race calendar... "are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked.

Turns out... what he was thinking, was to run the Grizzly Marathon on Saturday and then drive 200 miles and run The Madison Marathon in Ennis, MT on Sunday. Back to back marathons in the same weekend. Crazy, right? Heh. I immediately jumped on board with the idea. We talked about how to train for it and decided that running back to back long runs and bumping up our weekly mileage totals was the best way.

I kept it quiet. I actually only told April and my two Thursday running partners (I felt like I needed to explain why I was running so slow and running so much) and Vandy-Montana told a few people, but all-in-all... we tried to keep things hush-hush. I didn't want to announce to the world that I was running back to back marathons, because if something happened at the first one and I wasn't able to complete the second... everyone would be like... "ohhhhh you couldn't run 2, could you?" It wouldn't be about running one marathon, it'd be about NOT running 2. And then there's the subject of my mom... who would have freaked the freak out, if she had known in advance.

So, it wasn't like we just up and decided the day of... we specifically trained to run back to back marathons. (And... strangely enough... I enjoyed that high mileage training a LOT). I never really thought that we couldn't do it. Until the week of... when at a running shop in Missoula, we casually mentioned that we were running both and the people in there gave us the ole eyebrow raise, looked us up and down once over and said... wow, really? When the people at the local running store think you're crazy. You start to think... hmmm... am I crazy?

So, after the Grizzly Marathon, Vandy-Montana and I went back to his house, showered, ate our cheeseburger and milkshake and hit the road, heading back to Bozeman for the night. Along the way... we stopped at 4 bars and had a beer at each one and dinner at one. (Hey... we were carb-loading).

That night, I didn't sleep well, at all. The plan was to get up around 5:15am and head out the door 5:30am. I probably woke up a zillion times that night. Even though I was exhausted from the week, and exhausted from the marathon, my body just wouldn't settle into a deep sleep. I woke up anxious.

This wasn't just another marathon. This marathon bills itself as the highest road marathon in the U.S. And, I have to admit, the elevation freaked me out. I'm a sea level girl... I wasn't sure how I was going to react to running at 8500+ feet. Particularly the day after a marathon.

Here was the scenario for the morning... first... we had to drive an hour from Bozeman to Ennis. In Ennis, we caught a shuttle that took us on the hour drive on an insanely bumpy, gravel road to the finish line. In route, I tried to nap on the shuttle bus and almost experienced what could have been a race-ending blow: I opened my eyes and saw Vandy-Montana's 64 oz water bottle dangling over the side of the overhead cargo bin. Directly positioned over my outstretched shin. One more bump and that water bottle would have landed firmly on my shin. Close call, my friends. I considered this a good omen.

The finish line was where the registration, etc happened. After hanging out there for about 40 minutes or so, we hopped on the shuttle again for another bumpy 35 minutes or so to the start line. Good times.

The race registration area, before the race

This was a SMALL race. There were only 7 marathoners and about 30 half marathoners and 4 teams of marathon relay-ers. Vandy-Montana and I were basically the celebrities of the race. The race director knew that we were running back to back races and had pitched an article to the local paper about the race... and about half the article was about how crazy Vandy-Montana and I were. So everyone we met said... "ohhhh.. you're the ones." Yes, yes we're the ones.

The original plan was for Vandy-Montana and I to run the race together. We were going to enjoy it, take pictures, walk the uphills and run the downhills and straightaways. We didn't care about our times, we just wanted to finish.

At the start line. No actual line, no fanfare, just a stick in the ground with a
colored plastic strip on it to mark the start line.

The race officially started around 10:15. And immediately, we were greeted by a steep uphill. Surprisingly, my legs felt pretty good. Full credit goes to the gravel course the day before. Gravels are a beyotch to run in, but they are so much easier on your legs than asphalt.

Now, let me just say... that Vandy-Montana is a much stronger and faster runner than me. Hills are his forte. He should get a bumper sticker for his truck that says... I eat hills for breakfast or some shit. Seriously. He knocks those bitches out. Me??? Ehhh... not so much. My bumper sticker would say... hills eat me for breakfast. And this course was constantly up and down hills. I was struggling to keep up with his pace. I had to walk a lot of the hills. I knew this was not making him a happy camper. Particularly when he'd ask me if I could go a little further before the walk breaks.

Around mile 2 was the first time I told him... "if you want to go ahead... go ahead..." to which he replied... "I just don't want to be out here for 6 hours." And as soon as he said that, I knew it was just a matter of time before we'd part ways on the course. Because, obviously I didn't WANT to be out there for 6 hours... but, I also could care less if I was. I just wanted to finish the damn thing. No matter how long it took. I couldn't blame him for wanting to finish sooner, when he knew could.

At some point early on... I made the comment that even though we were running at a VERY easy pace for him... it wasn't an easy pace for me. It was very similiar to the pace I had ran the day before at 3000 ft during a much flatter race. He said to me... "I just think you're walking more than you really have to." I laughed. I knew he didn't mean it in a jerk-y way. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was walking more than I had to, but I felt like I needed those walk breaks. And for about a mile, that comment lit a fire under my ass. I wanted to see if he was right. Was I just pansying out when I saw so many other people walking? I pushed up the hills for as long as I possibly could before I stopped. I'd stop for just a couple of minutes and then start back up again. I tried to keep up and not appear to be the pansy that I really am. But, I finally realized... there is no way I can keep this up for 26.2 miles.

So, around the 10 mile marker... after about 6 miles of little to no conversation between the two of us... I said... "I think at the half, you should go ahead and run your own race." He didn't believe me. "You're not going to be mad?" he asked. "No! I think we'll both enjoy it better running our own paces." He still didn't believe me. "Are you sure? Chicks say things all the time, that they don't mean... I dont want you to be mad that I went ahead" While he had a valid point... we DO say things all the time that we don't mean... I meant this. I wanted him to go ahead, I felt like shit both from trying to keep up with a reasonable pace for him, and also for knowing that I was holding him back. Finally, I convinced him, and we decided to go ahead and part ways then, instead of waiting till the half. We fist bumped and he took off. And though his company would have been nice... I was so freaking relieved to slow down and settle into a comfortable pace and I know he felt the same way.

The lone picture taken during the run. I made Vandy-Montana stop and
take a pic of me at the highest point in the race.

Once I settled into my pace. I was like a whole new person. Since I slowed down a bit, I had a little more energy to tackle the hills. And when I got to the half-way point, I decided I'd better use the porta potty, since it was the only one on the course.

It just so happened that the porta potty was right next to the finish line and lots of Half-ers were finishing. So as I ran up everyone tried to corral me into the finish line. And I had to announce to EVERYONE loudly... that I wasn't a half racer... that I actually just had to use the porta potty. Pretty embarrassing.

The next 5 miles were good. Just as I was contemplating taking my shirt off and running in just my sports bra (I mean, hell... there were only 6 other runners, what did I care about showing my flabby belly?) the sun went behind some clouds and the wind picked up. For about 5 minutes there was a slanted rain, where every raindrop landed directly in my ear.

The last half of the race was an out and back and when I saw Vandy-Montana coming back before I made the turn around... I told him that there were two dudes ahead of him... which he already knew and then I asked him what was in store for me. To which he replied... "Don't worry about it." (He doesn't have any recollection of that comment...). So, I immediately... worried about it. Up ahead of me, I could see a massive hill (they were all massive, honestly), but I could also see a truck and a water station at the top of the hill. Yay! I thought! The turnaround! I ran/walked up the hill and when I got to the truck there were two older gentleman there. They handed me a cup of water and then one of them said... "So, you just have to go down the hill and to the cattle grate for the turnaround."

WTF? THIS isn't the turn around? You mean, I have to run down this hill... and then run up it AGAIN. DAMMIT. So, I soldiered on... down the hill... only to turn around and have to run up it again.

It was at this point... that I finally realized... you know what? I'm actually going to do this thing and NOT die. It got pretty lonely for those last few miles. I gotta admit though... I like the solitude. I spend a lot of time training alone, and so I don't mind long stretches of race where I don't encounter anyone.

Around mile 22 I started to notice some dark clouds rolling in. The wind also picked up. The clouds did not look good. And within a few minutes... I saw my first strike of lightning and immediately I burst into tears. I just KNEW that I was going to see a vehicle coming down the road, and that the race director was going to be in it to pick me up. I cried because I was so close to finishing... to accomplishing this huge goal that I had set for myself. I finally got myself together and decided that even if he did come out to pick me up... that I'd signed a waiver and that I'd tell him I'd sign another one if he wanted... but I had to finish this race.

I tried to pick up my pace... to hurry up and finish before it really started storming, but the hills were still massive and it was impossible to run up them all. I started praying. I prayed to God to please just let the lightning stop. For the next 4 miles, with every step... this was my Mantra... "please God, let the lightning stop." I was tempted to make sacrifices, to offer up things, but I just kept plugging away at my Mantra... slowly, I passed the rest of the mile markers. Occasionally, I saw lightning strikes, but I tried not to let it phase me, I stuck with the mantra. Saying it out loud, even.

By the time I saw the 25 mile marker, I was ecstatic. When I got to the finish line, they held a tape for me to break and I finished in 5:22:26. (Incidentally... only 6 minutes longer than my worst marathon time. Not too shabby, eh?).

The first tape I've ever gotten to break!

Apparently, the race director wasn't really paying much attention to the weather, so my fears of the race being called were unfounded. But, in the process of those last 4 miles... I realized that this was the greatest accomplishment of my life so far. I realize that tons of people of ran back-to-back marathons and tons of people have done far harder things with their lives. But for me... this was it. And at that moment, I knew it was only the beginning. Instead of hating running after that race... I loved it even more.

There were only two female finishers, so I wound up being Runner-up! I ate half a hamburger, took some pictures and grabbed a bunch of beers for the shuttle ride back to the car. On the shuttle... Vandy Montana and I talked about the race with one of the other marathon finishers. Honestly... I felt like I do after any marathon. Tired, but thrilled. But there was something else... being out there in nature alone for a good part of the race... tackling tough hills... outrunning the weather... proving to myself that I am capable of bigger things. In a cheesy sort of way... it was kind of life-changing. All marathons are life-changing. You always learn something about yourself in the course of 26.2 miles. Always. But this time... I learned that I can do more than I ever thought I could. I learned that if I train properly... I can do anything!

Alright, Let Vandy-Montana get a good gulp of beer down before the pic...

Marathon Maniacs!!!!

Vandy-Montana and I stopped at a bar on the way home and had a couple of celebratory beers. I got to wear the shirt he had made for us, because we had successful marked off everything on the checklist:

Long-sleeve tech tee. Kick ass.

I gotta say thanks to Vandy-Montana for coming up with this idea. I can assure you that I would have NEVER thought to do this on my own. And I also appreciate him offering to stay with me for the entire race. In the end, I definitely think it was the right decision to do it on our own.

I'm kind of sad that this experience is over. But, that just means that it's time to pick something else to train for... this is definitely just the beginning for me.

Randomness: So, the Madison Marathon has one of the coolest logos. I was super excited to get a tshirt with the logo on it. I was a little disappointed in the overall design of the t-shirt, but still... it had the cool logo, so I couldn't be too disappointed, right?
But after about 5 seconds of looking at it, I noticed this...
How do you mis-spell Marathon? Jeez.

My splits:

Mile 1: 12:01
Mile 2: 9:15
Mile 3: 12:10
Mile 4: 13:12
Mile 5: 14:28
Mile 6: 10:00
Mile 7: 12:16
Mile 8: 11:17
Mile 9: 9:22
Mile 10: 10:43
Mile 11: 12:53
Mile 12: 10:26
Mile 13: 10:45
Half-way: 2:28:52
Mile 14: 16:05 (porta potty break)
Mile 15: 13:22
Mile 16: 12:34
Mile 17: 12:55
Mile 18: 15:43
Mile 19: 13:28
Mile 20: 15:09
Mile 21: 12:09
Mile 22: 13:24
Mile 23: 12:43
Mile 24: 13:54
Mile 25: 11:21
Mile 26: 8:36
Mile 26.2: 2:10