Queen Of The Mountain

Distance:  50K
Total feet climbed:  6,947
Time:  8 hours

Yesterday I finished my first ultramarathon, the Crown King Scramble.  It is a trail 50K that starts near sea level and runs up into the mountains.  After the hell that was trying to finish a marathon with a very ambitious timing goal, I was looking forward to a race where I did not have to push the pace.  How hard could it be, I thought?  I'll jog the flats and downhills and walk the uphills.  I can hike for hours.  This will be fun!  After the marathon, I had every intention of doing a couple more long runs and some trail work to prepare for Crown King.  Well, I didn't.  My longest run between the marathon and the ultra was 7.25 the Monday before Crown King.  And it was completely flat and on the road.

The Crown King has a course limit of 9 hours.  They allow an early start for runners who are concerned they won't make it.  I signed up for the early start (1) to take the pressure off, and (2) to get some miles in before the hot sun came up.  The race accommodates two drop bags:  one at mile 15 and one for the end.  I packed a change of clothes and snacks (Pringles and granola bars) in each as well as a bunch of ziplock baggies.  They store things, they keep things dry, they are always useful!  As luck would have it, the Crown King came at an unfortunate time of the month (just like my first marathon, I'm a lucky girl!).  So I packed for that contingency as well.  This was particularly complicated as there are no bathrooms on the trail course and you must pack out what you pack in.  I'll just say that after reading a bunch of women's running blogs, I've discovered the Diva Cup, which is awesome.  And, while I'm happy to answer any questions privately, I'll spare the rest of  you any further discussion, and sorry for the tangent, but hey, it's biology!

(The race shirt has a helpful elevation map on the back.)

Peppy and Go Pro picked me up at 3:00 am.  They weren't even running.  They were taking Peppy's Jeep and manning the aid station at mile 19.  We picked up KO Kennedy and headed to Lake Pleasant, just north of Phoenix.  The advantage to running a race with only about 200 participants is that logistics are easy.  We picked up our shirts and bibs and dropped of our drop bags, then lined up at the start.  I felt like a pack animal.  I had a Camelback packed with water, Gu, powdered Pedialyte, salt pills, chapstick, tissues, baggies, and Pringles.  Then I had two waist packs holding my phone (in a baggie), two pairs of wireless headphones (in case the battery gave out), my ID/cash/credit card, and Body Glide.  One of the members of my new running group, Bisbee, had also signed up for the race after weeks of me talking it up on our group runs.  He and KO Kennedy and I started out together at 5:00 am.  I started out to Eye Of The Tiger, like I do every race, and then realized Bisbee was down for sticking with me, so I took out my headphones so I could socialize.

The first 15ish miles are rolling hills.  We started by running up and down and flat.  Then by about mile 3, we started walking the steeper inclines.  I didn't need my headlamp for long and the desert sunrise was beautiful.  The regular race start was at 6:00 am.  Bisbee and I talked about when we might expect to be passed by the 6:00ers.  We were hoping to make it to the 8-mile aid station before being passed.  In fact, we made it 12.5 miles before three speedy men ran by us making the trail look easy.

The first cut-off for the race is at mile 15, which you have to make by 9:30 am.  That allowed us 4.5 hours, but I really wanted to make it in the 3.5 hours allowed for the normal start time.  We cruised into the aid station just under 3 hours.  I picked up my drop bag and proceeded to find a bush to offer privacy so I could change out of my sweathy top and sports bra and attend to other issues.  Desert foliage is not what you would call lush, so I had to walk quite a ways before I felt comfortable disrobing.  Once I had dry clothes on again, I felt amazing.  I grabbed some Gatorade, put some more water into my Camelback and dumped in some Pedialyte to keep my electrolytes up.  Bisbee waited patiently through all this.  Then we put on some sunscreen and set off again.  We'd spent about 15 minutes at the aid station, but it was well worth it.

Everyone said 15-19 was straight uphill.  That was only partially correct.  There were a bunch of steep downhills.  While it was nice to jog them, I couldn't really enjoy them because I knew we had to go up to 6500 feet before the end of the race.  For every foot of decline there are several feet of incline.  Around mile 17, I got shaky and dizzy.  I realized I hadn't eaten anything at the last aid station.  Oops.  I sucked down some Pedialyte and consumed all the Pringles in my Camelback with all the style and grace of cookie monster.  There was one particular downhill where I was afraid my legs were too shaky to support me.  But, I made it without falling.  My blood sugar stabilized soon after.  We finally made it to the 19-mile aid station and I saw Peppy and Go Pro.  They were happy and festive and gave me a little Tecate.  I also drank Gatorade, ate some fruit and salted potatoes, and discovered a love for gummy worms.

(These Altras went from gray to mud-brown throughout the day and still, no blisters!)

Miles 19-27 are kind of a blur for me.  I know we descended more and crossed a stream multiple times.  There was lots and lots of climbing, too.  After the 22-mile aid station, it was basically a hill until the 27 mile station.  The worst part is, you can see the aid station for more than a mile before you get to it:  perched at the top of a very steep hill and never (seemingly) getting any closer.  Bisbee and I walked.  A lot.  On this stretch, I discovered my knees were aching and blamed it on the short, but numerous, downhills.  Perhaps I should have run some trails to train for this race.  Another complicating factor during this portion is that we began to see a lot more traffic on the course, which follows an ATV/Jeep road.  ATVs were blowing by us with fair regularity, kicking up dust.  I had a buff that I could pull over my mouth and nose, but doing so caused my glasses to fog, so it wasn't sustainable.  Bisbee and I spent much of our time in silence, occasionally trying to stay positive by pointing out things like "this is the best I've ever felt after 22 miles" or "this is the longest I've ever been on my feet" or "now we're officially past the marathon!"  It was good to have a running partner at this point, too.  We took turns reluctantly pointing out that we should probably jog the downhills and flats.  Left to my own devices, I probably would have walked a lot more.

(The view from mile 27.  As I posed for the picture, I thought "I'm on top of the world" and then had the Imagine Dragons song stuck in my head for the rest of the race.  Hey!)

The aid station at mile 27 is at 5600 feet.  We had a spectacular view of the the area, all the way down to where we started.  So, of course, I made Bisbee take my picture.  This aid station was distinctively less of a party atmosphere than the prior stations.  There was no music or alcohol.  Bisbee and I refueled and refilled (I had run out of water completely about a half-mile before the station).  I reapplied sunscreen and discovered a massive loss of skin when I tried to spray the back of my neck.  OUCH!

(The aftermath of running with a Camelback.  And this is with multiple layers of Body Glide.)

We plodded off toward the finish, knowing we had 900 more feet to climb over two miles before the "screaming fast" (the race organizer's words, not mine) final two miles towards the finish.  A little before the aid station, I had told Bisbee I was looking forward to being in the cool pines and being done with hills.  Bisbee pointed out that the foliage around us was still desert-scape and he seemed skeptical that we would ever end up in the pines as none were visible from the trail.  Well, at about 28.5 miles, we came around a bend and, lo and behold, PINES!  The smell of the pines baking in the sun invigorated me.  Soon we were at the summit and ready for the "screaming fast" two miles into Crown King.  Relatively speaking, they were pretty fast.  ATV-ers rode by us and clapped, by far the oddest crowd support of any of my races.  There was finally shade and the trail was nice, smooth, and sandy.  My ankles and knees felt like they would explode with every downward step, but I just let gravity take me.  My last mile was 9:22, which is not bad considering.  We turned the corner and finished in the Crown King Saloon, where we were presented with a mason jar beer mug and a finisher's jacket.  Eight hours.  A lot faster than I thought I would do it, without headphones!  My joints ached, so I took a couple of Advil.

(Me and Bisbee with our victory beers and our big victory smiles.  I am wearing comfy, dry sweats and my finisher's jacket -- aaaaaaaah.)

Poor Peppy and Go Pro were sidelined with a flat tire and never made it back up to the finish line. I enjoyed a couple beers with KO Kennedy, Bisbee, and some other folks from my running group.  We were a happy, if tired, crowd.   Husband #1 picked up me and KO Kennedy (who came in just a little after me and Bisbee).  The drive back to Phoenix was long.  28 miles on a dirt road and then lots of freeway.  I have to hand it to Husband #1 for always going along with my crazy ideas and providing the support I need to accomplish them.  At home, I took a shower, then a bath, then ate 3 pieces of pizza and fell asleep.  Today I woke up feeling really good.  I haven't had any Advil since right after the race, so I decided to go to my normal boxing boot camp.  With the exception of a leg exercise during which my quad just said "no," class felt fine.

This race was harder, but so much more enjoyable, than my last marathon.  I think I've got more ultras in my future!  In closing, I'd like to heap some praise on Aravaipa Running for putting on an amazing race.  It was well-organized.  The course was beautiful.  The aid stations were well-stocked.  Everything ran smoothly.  And I LOVE my finisher's jacket.

Mo Jo: Starting Over

Distance: Nunya
Pace: MYOB
# Poops (by dog): 1

I am out of shape. Mo Jo, runner of marathons (well one marathon), attacker of hills (downhills), is done. I'm not sure what my new name should be. Something like "No Go."

I am signed up for a half marathon this weekend in Moab, Utah. Let's just say I ain't doing it. I will go make a sign for my friends, Coach and Pixie and CC, and cheer them on. I will probably be drinking a beer while cheering because nothing says morning beer like watching other people work out. Or being in Utah, for that matter.

The wheels fell off the bus last fall. I'm not sure what happened. Call it burnout, or boredom, or laziness, but I just Didn't Want To Run Anymore. I discovered a dirty little secret, too: it was easier to control what I ate if I DIDN'T work out. I lost five pounds. I was like, who needs it?

Eventually, I started thinking, well, I should run for fitness and health and that elusive creature, mental health. I love the endorphins of running, and it helps me manage stress. So I agreed to sign up for Moab, thinking this would be a good goal to get me started again. I did a few training runs.

Then I got Cold No. 1 in January. (We are fond of numbering things here at ROW. Look at how TST tracks her family.) Cold No. 1 turned into Sinus Infection No. 1. After a two-week respite, during which I jogged exactly once, I got Cold No. 2 aka Flu No. 1. I went to the doctor, insisting I could not possibly have another virus, and the doctor said basically nope. Go take some cold medicine. So I suffered through that, and got better for about ten days, and then got Cold No. 3. I know, right? Do I never wash my hands? Do I run a kindergarten? Is someone waging germ warfare on me? Cold No. 3 turned into Sinus Infection No. 2. Fan-effing-tastic, I said.

Needless to say, I am completely out of shape now and I'm weak and apparently need a sinus transplant. But I popped my last augmentin for the sinus infection this morning and took Clancy (or Dog #2, as TST would say) for a short run.

Clancy likes couch time, too. 

The first half mile was okay. Then my right knee hurt. So we walked a little, then ran until the knee hurt, then walked. Then my ankle decided to chime in, like "Hey, what happened to couch time? This hurts. We haven't finished Season Three of Bates Motel yet. Let's go sit." I suspect what's going on is I lost some muscle during my long hiatus and so the muscles aren't supporting my joints like they need to be.

Oh yeah, and Dog #2 peed on lots and lots of stuff and only pooped once. I was, frankly, grateful for the break.

I finished the run/walk with mixed feelings. I mean, good to get back out there, but seriously, I have a ways to go! SO, in the interest of motivating me to get back in shape, I decided to update the blog so I can post about my efforts. I mean, maybe next time I will have a 3 mile run/walk with two poops. A girl can dream.

TST: I Just Ran My Dream Marathon . . . So Why Am I Crying?

Distance:  26.2
Time:  3:57:29
Pace:  9:04
Bucket List Items Completed:  1 Big One!

Yesterday I ran the BMO Phoenix Marathon.  Yes, I managed to get through an entire marathon training season without a single blog.  Sorry about that.  And thank you to the loyal readers who keep asking about Toe Shoe Tina and Mo Jo.  I am thankful people enjoy reading about our running experiences.  Toe Shoes Tina is a misnomer at this point.  I haven't put on toe shoes in well over a year.  I log too many miles to go without padding.  But Newton Tina or Altra Tina just doesn't have the same ring.

In any event, when I started to take running seriously, I came up with two "bucket list" race goals:  break 2 hours in a half marathon and 4 hours in a full marathon. At the time, both seemed to border on impossible.  Well, I've now logged 4 half marathons in under 2 hours, with my latest PR at 1:45:59.  The 4 hour marathon, however, has remained elusive.  And with previous finishes of 4:27 and 4:50, I was not sure I could break that barrier.  So I signed up for the BMO Phoenix Marathon.  First, it required no travel.  Second, it was not held in a city associated with drinking (New Orleans and Napa, anyone?).  Third, the course elevation looks like this:

With the exception of one hill, it is a downhill course.  If was ever going to break 4 hours, this was my course.  I changed up my training, too.  I (mostly) followed Hal Higdon's intermediate marathon training program.  This meant I ran more than my normal 2-3 days per week.  Because I stubbornly refused to give up boxing, this also meant I doubled up on a lot of workouts, boxing in the morning and doing shorter runs (3-5 miles) at night.  I struggled with tendonitis in my foot and eventually backed off the running a bit.  Once my long runs reached 18-20 miles, I gave up some of the shorter runs and simply did 3-4 runs per week.  This eased the pain in my foot.  I also trained faster, logging a 20 mile training run at a 9:26 pace and running many intermediate runs well into the 8:00s.  Unlike prior training seasons, my hips did not hurt at all.  My problems seemed confined to my feet and ankles:  tendonitis on the left and a bunion developing on the right.  As of this blog, I haven't worn high heels in months.  On the plus side, I've lost about 5 pounds without really trying.  Yippee!

I got to race day relatively unscathed.  I felt lazy and bloated from tapering and carb-loading.  I was ready to run. KO Kennedy and I caught the bus at 4:45 am and arrived at the race start about 45 minutes later.  It was freezing up in the dark desert mountains (okay, foothills).  Some people took advantage of the dark desert to avoid porta-potty lines.  Some of those folks ended up with jumping cacti stuck to various parts of their skin.  KO Kennedy and I wisely opted to stand in line for the bathrooms.    

(TST and KO Kennedy, ready to kill this race!)

The race started and I flew down the first 4 miles, which was my plan.  Normally it is not a good idea to start a race so fast, but it was the steepest decline and the sun was not up yet.  With a forecasted high of 90, I knew I'd struggle once the sun came up (about 30 minutes after the race started).  As I sped down the hill, I came across a group of 6 runners in bright orange shirts with some team name I could not read, but said "Mexico" at the bottom.  They spanned the entire path, which annoyed me because it was hard to get around them.  I eventually did and passed the 3:55 pacer, too.  I hit the course's only real uphill feeling great, having averaged just over 8:30 for the first downhill miles.  I backed off my pace on the hill, which lasted for about 1.5 miles.  Lo and behold, here came the orange-shirted team, holding steady at an 8:35 pace.  They passed me, but I caught them again on the next downhill.  This time I stayed behind them because they were solid steady pacers.  They seemed jovial, chatting with each other and waving to people in the crowd.  People seemed to recognize them and cheer, so maybe I should know who they are?  We hit the halfway point at 1:54:25, a respectable 8:44 pace.  

I stayed with the orange-shirted Mexican team through mile 17.  I ate some salted potatoes at mile 5 and then had Gu (rootbeer . . . yum!) at miles 10 and 15.  By mile 17, my pacers had slowed to 8:45ish miles, but I was struggling and had to slow down more.  The sun was hot, there was no shade or breeze, and the course no longer felt downhill -- the elevation map says we were on a slight decline, but it felt completely flat.  Shortly thereafter, the 3:55 pacer caught me.  I kept at my (much slower) pace and counted down the miles until I would spot my family on the sidelines at mile 20.  ("Three more miles until you see your family!"  "Two and a half more miles until you see your family!")  For all of you who show up on the sidelines to cheer on your friends and family:  I know it is a lot of waiting around for about 5 seconds of cheering, but it makes all the difference to a struggling runner.  I found them just before the 21 mile mark and it took everything I had not to just stop and go home with them.  Instead, I gave my kids hugs and ran on.  

(I may or may not be whispering to Daughter #2 "Please just put me out of my misery")

(Refreshed by seeing my family, I lurch off to finish the last 5.2 miles.  I'm clearly heel striking here, which is neither normal nor good.)

I don't remember much of the last 5.2 miles.  My legs felt like cement and I allowed myself walk breaks, always on the lookout to make sure the 4:00 pacer wasn't coming up behind me.  I ate more potatoes at mile 22.5, but it didn't really help.  When I hit 26 miles, I tried to sprint to the finish and managed to bring my pace back into the 8:00s, but nothing close to my normal finisher's kick.  I crossed the finish line, gulped down a bottle of water in about 3 seconds and then the pain hit.  My legs wobbled, I felt like Bambi walking across ice.  My feet hurt, my skin hurt, my legs refused to obey my brain.  Everything seemed to be happening so fast around me while I was in slow motion.  I shuffled to medical tent for some vaseline to slather on my numerous chafed areas and then followed the crowd toward the exit.  I called Husband #1 and he was ecstatic about my time:  3:57:29.  But I just wanted to go home. He asked where he should pick me up and I had no idea.  We were in a big outdoor mall complex and I couldn't tell where I was.  He told me to go out to the main road so he could pick me up and I just cried.  I didn't know which direction the main road was and couldn't bear the thought of being on my feet any longer.  The pain was overwhelming and I wanted to just give up and lie down in the middle of the parking lot.  Surely Husband #1 could find me and carry me out?  I realized the mapping function on my phone could orient me, which allowed me to limp to the main road.  Along the way, some very well-meaning spectator asked me where the finish line was and tried to engage me in conversation.  I mumbled some response, but was irrationally mad at her because, did I LOOK like somebody who wanted to stop and chat?????

Husband #1 found me wandering down the main road.  I collapsed into his car and sobbed like a baby.  Not out of happiness.  I felt awful.   More awful than I can recall ever feeling.  That feeling persisted all day. Every little thing seemed impossible:  "I cannot possibly go all the way across the bedroom and put on my flip flops.  They are SO.  FAR.  AWAY."  "But the Advil is ALL THE WAY IN THE KITCHEN!"  It was very frustrating.  I should have been sore, but elated about my time.  All I felt was pain, sadness, and lethargy.  To make matters worse, I had a hard time relaxing after the race because my legs felt crampy and restless.  Every time I stood up it took several seconds to steady myself and then my gait was slow and wobbly when I finally got going. It was nothing like I'd ever experienced.  After my two prior marathons, I actually felt pretty okay.  This was a whole other beast.  

I've now had about 12 hours of sleep and feel much better.  My legs are sore, but they are obeying my brain's commands.  My feet hurt, but I can bear weight on them and walk like a normal adult human instead of a drunk toddler. Finally, I am enjoying the fact that I BROKE FOUR HOURS IN A MARATHON!!!!  I will never do that again.  I'm not sure what happened to my body and brain, but it is not something I'm anxious to do again.  Sure, I'll run more long races (I have a 50K in 5 weeks and then another marathon in June).  But no more pushing for goals that hurt so bad.  I keep wondering if maybe I shouldn't have started out so fast.  I truly felt comfortable during those early downhill miles. I was not breathing heavily and was hardly sweating, so I don't think I put myself into a deficit.  I think I would have struggled those last few miles in the sun regardless of my starting pace  -- perhaps even more because I would have had to keep a faster pace in the later miles if I'd started slower.  But I guess it will remain an open question because I do not intend to find out! 

I would also be remiss if I did not give a HUGE congrats to KO Kennedy.  She managed to rock her first full marathon, finishing with a respectable time without worrying about all that pesky training that most of us do.  She's a stud.