Mo Jo: Clifford Gets Into Shape

Distance: 3 miles
Pace: Oh, 11s, with sniff and pee breaks
Mood: Happy

This is Clifford. Clifford is big boned.

Clifford is my 90-pound American Bulldog mix. He is shaped a bit like a sausage. He does not taper from the chest. His round belly protrudes like he is a pregnant lady. He is very, very good at cuddling and couch time. Basically, there is more to love.

He is not an active pup. When the other dogs hear someone outside, perhaps innocently walking their dog, my other two race to the door to bark and then run outside to let that dog know he should GO AWAY. Clifford will raise his head up from the arm of the sofa to assess the situation, conclude the other two have it handled, and then return to his sleepy meditation on doggie issues.

The vet, however, does not use words like "big-boned" and "slow metabolism." She says Clifford is fat. I grow concerned she is looking at me as well. You know what they say, fat dog, fat owner. I feel a sudden need to produce Betty Bamba, my slim and trim dog.

Now, as someone who runs fairly regularly, you would think there would be an obvious solution here. Take Clifford running. But I haven't wanted to for two reasons.

First, running with a dog is not going to produce good running times. Maybe you have trained your dog perfectly to run to your pace on a leash, but I find that I run more slowly, am more focused on making sure the dog is safe and not about to trip me, and take way more breaks. I've been working on my pace this year so it has not been convenient to take a dog along.

Second, Clifford usually has about a mile in him. Then he slows down. Then he falls behind. On one memorable run, he stopped and refused to proceed. Poor guy was Over It. I threatened to leave him, and he said fine, he would find a new home on that block. We had to walk home.

But, I am also worried that my good, sweet, cuddly boy is going to die prematurely because I'm selfish in my running goals and won't help him lose weight, so we've been doing some run walks so that he can get into better shape. It's basically a couch to 5K program. And today he did amazing! Three whole miles--just .1 short of a 5K. I thought he'd flag for sure after two, but he did not fall behind. He seemed to be having a great time.

We:

• Sniffed some street signs
• Got barked at by an angry beagle (one-third the size of Clifford)
• Checked out a pair of gorgeous Golden Retrievers
• Tried to go make friends with some children 
• Loped around the park without a leash

It was actually a really happy run. Did I kill it on pace? Nope. Did I go very far? Nope. But did I have a good time and enjoy my morning with my Very Good Boy? I did. And he is taking an extra long nap right now to celebrate.

TST Gets Her Groove Back

Distance:  18 miles

Pace:  9:58

Vomiting Incidents:  0

After quitting a 17 miler at 15 miles and becoming violently ill from pushing myself too hard through 13 miles, I really needed a good run.  Before Saturday’s pity party/pukefest, I was pretty confident.  After running hills at altitude in the bitter cold, I thought my upcoming 18 miler in flat, temperate, practically sea level Phoenix would be a walk in the park.  Then, after discovering that altitude training did not, in fact, give me supernatural running powers, my confidence was shaken.  But more than that, I was not looking forward to the run.  At.  All.  I’ve reached a comfortable place with my long runs.  I know they will be long and tedious, but I look forward to the solitude and repetition and, most of all, the accomplishment.  I had none of that going into today’s run.  I was filled with trepidation.  I was afraid it would be miserable.  I was afraid I would get sick.  I was afraid I’d just want to give up.  Oh yeah, and I had to get up at 4:00 am so I could get ready, make the family’s smoothies, and my coffee would have time to settle before I started running at 5:00 am.  I spent the last half of Wednesday actively dreading my run. 

The dread was far worse than the run. When my alarm went off at 4:00 am, I almost went back to sleep.  I drank coffee, then set my alarm for a 15 minute snooze on the couch while my coffee kicked in.  My dog decided this was an invitation to lick my face every time I closed my eyes.  No snooze for me!    

Okay, okay, I can't resist you.  Even when it is 4:10 am.  

I left the house right on time at 5:00 and made myself start running without thinking about it. I told myself to shoot for a 10:30 pace and just take it easy.  Not surprisingly, I ran my first mile in exactly 10:00.  But I felt fine, so I tried to back off a bit and just sank into the rhythm of the run.  The moon was very bright and still high in the sky (though intermittently hidden by scattered clouds).   The weather was cold, but not biting.  I was generally comfortable.  I planned to stop at my boxing gym 11 miles into my run, so well over halfway.  About mile 5, I started feeling kind of tired.  I realized I was hunching my shoulders, which was affecting my breathing and making my upper back sore.  Plus my audiobook was not engaging.  I branched off from crime thrillers to listen to “The Husband’s Secret,” which I found on this article recommending books for long runs.  It is narrated in a delightful Australian accent, but I found the story moved a little slowly at first.  And I was growing increasingly concerned this book was going to be generic chick lit.  I almost put on my music, but really wanted to save it for the last portion of my run.  I’m glad I stuck with the book.  By the time I got to the gym, I was actually a little sad to switch to music. 

My average pace was 10:07 when I stopped at the gym. I refilled my water, peed, said hi to my coach and to Yogi (from my Ragnar team), switched over to music, and set right back off.  “Only seven miles,” I thought.  And I was not being sarcastic.  I was over the hump and loving the run.  With music playing, my average pace dropped to 10:04 then 10:03.  It was just me and the music and the sun coming up.  The remaining miles ticked away.  I call this experience "Zen running." I wish all runs were this way.

I hit 16.85 miles when “Fight the Power” came on and I decided I felt so good, I’d run fast for the remaining 1.15 miles.  I flew through the last mile (considering it was mile effing 18!) in 8:52, which dropped my average to 9:58 – a hair under three hours total.  And I felt good!  My hamstrings and hips were tight, but I could have run farther.  I peeled of my clothes and barely remembered to weigh myself before jumping in the shower.  Other than the scary dehydrated number I saw on Saturday, this was the lowest number I’ve seen on the scale in my adult life.  But I felt much better today.  Score!  Once in the shower, the first streams of hot water hit me and I screamed “OW!  AYEEEEEE! SON OF A . . . MOTHER FUCKER!!!!”  I can only conclude that a half pound of my weight loss was skin that chafed off along my sports bra.  Then I giggled because I realized that, technically, all men are sons of people who . . . um . . . had relations with their mothers.  It wasn't a very inventive or obscene curse.  Then I put on pajamas and worked for a bit from home before dragging myself to the mall to reward myself with new (and smaller!) pants.

And now, several hours later, other than the fact that my bra clasp is rubbing right where my sports bra stole my skin so I keep awkwardly and inappropriately adjusting myself, I feel good.  A little tired, sure.  But I’m wearing smaller pants and I’ve kept down all my food (a delicious grilled cheese – god bless a 2,097 calorie burn).  I’ve even wearing heels!  Kitten heels, but they are still heels!  I’m happy because I got my groove back.  

Mo Jo: Wait, the Marathon Is in Eight Weeks?

Distance: 12 miles
Pace: Slow
Attitude: Better

I have a confession, loyal readers of ROW. I decided to quit. I tried to run 12 and quit at 9. I was OVER it. I was over the boredom, the low-level pain, the sweat. No audio book could save my mood. I did the walk of running shame back to my car and decided, eff it, I am not doing this marathon. Who wants to run 26.2 miles without music anyway?

Plus the long runs are an absolute killer to an otherwise good Sunday. I come home, eat, drink Gatorade, take a lovely shower, and then lie on the couch the rest of the day like a slug. I think, "Boy, I'd sure like more water, but the kitchen seems so far away..." This is not how I want to spend every Sunday for months and months. I quit.

But I'm afraid to tell TST. So I hint to her that I am now seriously undertrained and probably need to drop out, thinking she'll say, "Oh, that's totally understandable!" TST is not having any of it. "You still have ten weeks!" she says chirpily. Hmm. She's not really letting me off the hook.

So, not wanting to let my marathon partner down, I lace up my shoes and start over. Short runs, slower pace. Try to remember why I like running. Do some fives and sevens at tempo, feel fine. Then I even run twelve and do not die of boredom, despite my chosen audio book trying to kill me with teenage angst. I was trying to listen to The Maze Runner, but sometimes YA fiction just has to be read, not listened to, so you can skim the adolescent "oh, let's examine how I'm feeling for three pages" BS. I changed back to Amy Poehler's book Yes Please for the last four miles, and that helped a lot. Laughing is good for running.

(What is bad for running is gross construction workers that feel the need to pause all work and just stare at female runners as they go by. This is in no way flattering. It is uncomfortable, and I don't want anyone focusing on my ass in running pants--anyone. I had to change my route because I was running a loop and didn't need to provide another sideshow. Makes me want to carry a Taser.)

The other thing that helped--and TST's last post was interesting on this point--was slowing down! I have been working on bringing up my pace to a less turtle-like speed, and so naturally I didn't think I should be doing my long runs at my former, glacial pace. I was, for some reason, putting some low tens in there. But long runs are supposed to be slower than race pace, according to the gospel of Hal Higdon, and it is much harder to recover from long runs if you go faster. You get the physiological benefit of the long-run training from the slow workout. I think both TST and I are feeling stronger this year, so we're making new training mistakes based on our assumptions we can do more.

So, we still have eight weeks or so. I can do this! Just need to get a quick 14 out of the way tomorrow and I'm back on track. I mean, a slow 14. 14 miles? Yes please.

TST: New Year, Same Old Training Mistakes

The good news is I am still on track for the Napa Marathon.  I’ve done all my long runs, all my tempo runs, and most my speed work.  I remain injury-free (knocking on wood as I type this).  My runs have been pretty good.  Overall, I’ve maintained a better pace than my training runs last year.  I spent two weeks up in the mountains for Christmas and New Year and stuck to my training at 7000 feet.  On the days I had the kids by myself, I dragged them to the local track, where I did both tempo runs and speed work.  (PS, speed work is the evilest devil ever.  I hate it!  Also, running with the kids at the track leads to many interruptions.)  The temperatures were often below freezing and I wore layers, which added new and fun dimensions to chafing.  On Christmas Eve, I started a 17 mile long run and it was 18 degrees.  I felt good for the first 10 miles.  Then every mile became more tortuous.  Nothing in particular hurt.  It was just an overall discomfort and, if we’re being honest, ennui.  The temperature climbed to 32 degrees, which is still cold, but was enough to make my triple-layers soaked and miserable.  I gave up and called Husband #1 at 14 miles.  I kept running while he loaded the kids in the car and found me a mile later.  Then I felt like a loser for quitting two miles shy of a 17 mile run.  So a couple hours later, I went back out and ran my final two.  In what passed for a suitable punishment, I ran the first of those miles straight up a big hill.  I made up for it with 10 very good miles on New Year’s Eve, right before a big snow storm hit.  Between December 1 and December 22 (the day I went up to the mountains), I had allowed myself exactly one rest day.  I took regular rest days between December 23 and January 3 (when I returned).  And by “rest,” I mean I didn’t run.  I did plenty of sledding, skating, skiing, fort-building, and hiking. 

Suffice it to say, by the time I returned to Phoenix on January 3, I was feeling great – altitude trained, but rested in a way I hadn’t been for weeks.  When I arrived home at 1:00 pm, Phoenix was a balmy 54 degrees and I thought “what better time to do my scheduled 13 mile long run???”  It was a spur-of-the moment decision.  My nutrition hadn’t been great:  a half smoothie, two lattes, and tater tots from Sonic (the midway point of the trip home).  But my altitude training would totally make up for that.  Oh yeah, and I could tell by my scale I was a pound or two dehydrated.  But so what.  I set off running, thinking I would see just how great the altitude training had worked by attempting to PR a half-marathon.  I ran my last official half at a 8:28 average.  So I decided to shoot for an 8:15 average.  Totally doable because, you know, a few rest days and high-altitude training had clearly transformed me into super-woman.  I did my first mile in 7:47 and was hardly winded.  I began mentally composing my victorious blog post.  By mile 7, I realized I was not super woman.  I began to feel very fatigued and my legs suddenly weighed two tons each.  No biggie.  I’d slow down for a couple miles and then pick the pace back up at mile 10 or so.  I watched my average pace slip from 8:07 to 8:15 to 8:22 to 8:29.  I just couldn’t make myself go fast anymore.  My last mile was my slowest:  9:26, bringing my average pace to 8:34.  Now, 8:34 is still a respectable pace, fantastic for me!  At 8:34, I’m still well under a 2 hour half marathon, a barrier I never thought I’d break.  But I’d been so convinced I could slash my pace on too little water and an order of tater tots, I was devastated at my time.  I was almost in tears when I came home.  I was also missing several inches of skin from various chafing areas. 

I stepped on the scale and realized I’d lost another three pounds despite taking a salt pill and drinking 16 oz of water (it is actually the lightest I’ve ever been in my adult life).  Husband #1 was kind enough to go on a Gatorade run while I showered and curled into the fetal position.  Nausea hit hard and came with serious chills.  I simply could not get warm.  I am well-acquainted with nausea after hard runs, so I knew I needed to eat.  I tried a few crackers.  Gross.  Then I made the mistake of going to a Mexican restaurant with the family.  I drank half a beer and tried for the mildest thing on the menu I could find (a salad loaded with guacamole, sour cream, cheese, and beans).  I took a few bites and realized I needed to go lie down in the car because I could no longer even tolerate the smell or sight of food.  Shortly after we got home, all the food I’d managed to get into my stomach came right back up.  As a two-time survivor of horrific morning sickness, I should have known not to eat Mexican food on an iffy stomach.  It is among the worst types of food to come back up (I’ll not detail it here, but if you need recommendations, I can give you a list of my preferred foods to throw up – pregnancy is fun!).  I curled up on the couch under a huge blanket because I was still freezing.  I half slept and half watched the UFC fights while gingerly sipping water.  Toward the end of the evening, I managed to hold down some brown rice with a little soy sauce.  I know, totally your idea of a wild Saturday night, huh?

The bottom line is I screwed up my run.  I didn’t adequately prepare for it, thinking I could just power through.  I had unreasonable expectations and I started WAY too fast.  Experts disagree on what causes post-run nausea.  In my case, I suspect it is closely tied to dehydration because I lose a lot of water and salt when I run.  But whatever causes my post-run nausea, yesterday was the worst it’s ever been . Even today, my stomach is a little queasy (which I did not help by doing a 90 minute boot camp, but, come on, I haven’t boxed in two weeks!).  I will run the PF Chang’s half marathon in 13 days.  I still intend to try to beat last year’s time, but maybe not by 13 seconds per mile.  And I’ll make sure I start and stay properly hydrated.  Most importantly, my race plan will be to start slower and finish faster – the opposite of yesterday’s run.  I’ve learned banking time early just doesn’t work, a lesson I keep forgetting and re-learning.  Despite my best efforts, I may not beat last year’s’ time.  My secondary goal is to finish in less than two hours.  I promise to try and be happy with that.      

Toe-Shoes Tina: Music Monday (Or . . . how embarrassing can one playlist be?)

Distance: 5 mile tempo run

Pace: 7:50 (oh hellz yeah)

Temperature:  48 degrees

Shoes!  I got new shoes!  I decided to give Newtons a try because they uniquely help you stick to a mid-foot strike.  They have rubber lugs under the ball of the foot to remind you to land there and (supposedly) to help propel you forward faster.  I tried them on last year, but ultimately went with Brooks because they were more comfy and my feet were bruised (after running 13 miles in Vibrams).  But I’ve been curious ever since.  They are the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned, so I took a leap of faith by ordering them.  I know Brooks work for me.  I got through training and a marathon with no joint pain.  Why would I change things up now?  I shared my trepidation with Mo Jo and she pointed out that perhaps I had no joint issues – not because Brooks are magical – but because I was properly trained. Cool.  We’ll go with that.  I woke up (with no alarm) at 5:30 am on a Saturday because I was so excited to try them out. 

(Each Newton is 7.5 oz of awesomeness!)

By 6:30 am, I was fully caffeinated, dressed, and ready to go.  The sun was not yet up.  My favorite time of day to run!  I hit play on “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift and took off.  (Reserve judgment until you see my full play list below; there will be plenty of opportunity to judge me, I assure you.)  Indeed, I was “lightning on my feet.”  I did my first mile in 7:40 and thought it was too fast.  I tried to slow down a bit, but running just felt so good!  Between the shoes and the cold and the music, I was in a groove.  I ultimately finished with an average pace of 7:50 and was delighted.  I’ve been struggling to keep my short runs in the 8s, so I was concerned I lost all the speed I built up last training season.  Turns out my speed was just in hibernation during the summer heat.  So I had a great run, but that’s not my main point today.  No, today marks the day I publicly disclose my running playlist and thereby fully humiliate myself (good thing TST is not my real name). 

My playlist is always evolving.  With the exception of Eye of the Tiger (to which I start every race, but frequently skip on training runs) and Good Vibrations (Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch have gotten me through some miserable runs), the songs get rotated off my list as I tire of them.  Then sometimes I miss them and they come back.  I must also note that my running playlist is not representative of my general taste in music.  Sometimes the most embarrassingly lame song in the world turns out to be great for working out (no joke, I had a Gangnam Style/2 Legit 2 Quit mashup on rotation for quite some time).  With no further ado, TST’s current running list:

Timber – Pitbull featuring Ke$ha                   Work B*tch – Britney Spears

Don’t Stop the Party – Pitbull                         Wobble – V.I.C

Give Me Everything – Pitbull                         White Lines – Grandmaster Flash

Shut it Down – Pitbull and Akon                    Burn – Ellie Goulding

The Beast – Tech N9ne                                   Ruff Ryders’ Anthem – DMX

Bailando – Enrique Iglesias and Sean Paul    Good Vibrations – Marky Mark

Blood N My Hair – Andre Nickatina             Check Yes, Juliet – We The Kings

Bleed It Out – Linkin Park                             Come Get It Bae – Pharrell Williams

Sandstorm – Darude                                       Eye Of the Tiger – Survivor

SexyBack – Justin Timberlake                       Turn Down For What – DJ Snake and Lil Jon

Shot Me Down – David Guetta                      Fight the Power – Public Enemy

Remember the Name – Fort Minor                 Black Betty – Ram Jam

Can’t Hold Us – Macklemore                         Lean Like A Cholo – Down AKA Kilo

Can’t Remember To Forget You – Shakira    Shake It Off – Taylor Swift

Can’t Be Touched – Roy Jones Jr.                  Move Shake Drop – DJ

More – Usher  Die Young – Ke$ha

The Monster – Eminem           

I will now go hang my head in shame.  

Mo-Jo: Almost Half Time!

Distance: 5 miles
Pace: 10:15s (well, with a recovery mile and a warm up mile and a kind of a long pause and stuff)
Medical emergencies: 2

CC is doing her first half-marathon on December 7, so Coach, CC, and I have been a Training Unit for weeks now. This involves getting up at 5:15, driving to the path in the dark, starting the run in the cold and dark (I know. We are in the warmest place in the country right now. But it still feels cold), and generally getting it done.

Last Sunday was a long run at 8 miles, and man, I felt great. I don't know if it was the good sleep, or if I ate well, or if I had just been putting the right kind of miles in, but it was a good run. Didn't even slow down on the half-mile that is one long hill. (We used to call it the Wild Mile, but now it is Dead Chihuahua Mile due to an unfortunate discovery I made on one run.) I hammered it. Was super pleased with my pace.

This leads me to my plug for my friend Dave's blog. He's a very talented ultra-runner and has begun coaching and has a blog called Coach's Corner with practical information. Also he's a good writer, so the blogs are fun. Anyway, in today's blog, he notes that one's performance at a race depends on our training. Here's an excerpt:

"Between the day we start training to the day of the race, we have a million opportunities to make choices that will either help us or hurt us on race day, and it starts at the beginning of the day.  Here are 10 questions to ask yourself:

• Did I routinely wake up early to get in my training run, or did I decide to sleep in?
• What was my diet like?  A hard tempo run followed by cheesecake, perhaps?
• Did I have a specific purpose for every training run I ran, or did I just basically run the same pace each run to hit some arbitrary weekly mileage goal?
• Did I routinely skip/modify workouts or cut them short?
• Did I make sleep a priority?
• Did I routinely stay out at happy hour or on a weekend night longer than I should have?"

Wait a minute. What now? I stopped reading at that last one. You should click on the link and read the whole thing, though.

Anyhoolies, today did NOT feel as awesome as my recent 8-mile Run of Awesomeness so I was definitely thinking about what I had done the night before to sabotage myself. Plus, today was Push Your Pace day. As you loyal readers of ROW know, Mo Jo, formerly Slo Jo, can run some slow-ass miles. I mean, I was the queen of them. But now I'm trying to get my pace up, and that means I have to run faster. Coach thought we could do three 10:15-minute miles after our warm up. Here's how that went:

First half mile: I feel incredible! Boom. I am fast fast fast. Woot!

Second half mile: W. T. F.

Immediately after that mile ended, I had an asthma attack, adding a little exclamation point to the end of the run. Had to walk a bit. This was the third exercise-induced asthma attack I've ever had, and they are really not so fun. Remember at the marathon where that lady with the broom tried to suck out my soul? Anyway, I indicated my possible imminent death to running buddies through pointing at throat and wheezing. Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, walk, wheeze, try to calm down...and hey! I had air again. We decided to do a "recovery mile" for Mile Three, then ran hard again for Mile Four and to the end.

Meanwhile, CC had developed a severe headache and showed up wearing her scarf wrapped around her head like she had a Civil War head injury. She said keeping the cold out of her ear and eye was helping, but not being able to see was not. She looked absolutely miserable--but what did she do? Finished the training run. Because we are committed!

• Did I routinely skip/modify workouts or cut them short?

Not today, muthaeffa. Not today.

Toe-Shoes Tina: Trails Are Hard, mmmmkay?

Miles:  15.5

Hours of sleep:  maybe 4? 

Solid foods consumed over 24 hours:  very little

Ragnar!  I’ve wanted to do Ragnar for years, but have never been able to make it work.  So when some of my friends from the gym invited me to join a team for Ragnar Trail, I jumped at the opportunity. 

(Sadly, I cannot run trails in toe shoes, so this is my best "toe" shoes pic.)

For those of you who aren't complete running nerds:  Ragnar is a 24ish hour relay race.  Traditional Ragnar is run on roads and has teams of 12.  They are point to point and each team member runs three different legs (varying in distance from a couple to several miles).  The runners are shuttled to each transition area in one of the team’s two vans.  Ragnar Trail is, as the name suggests, run on trails.  There are three trail loops:  green (short), yellow (medium), and red (long).  Each team member runs each loop one time.  Ragnar Trail teams have eight members and a central campsite instead of vans.  The logistics of Ragnar Trail are simpler and thus more appealing.  Plus, I have a ginormous tent that never gets used because we are not camping folk.  See?  Already contributing to the team!

(The main building is up, the east and west wings are still being constructed.)

Each team member gets a number, one through eight.  There are twenty-four legs total, so if you are runner 1, you run legs 1, 9, 17.  When it came time to assign numbers, I boldly said I was fine doing my long run last because I feel like I am a pretty strong runner (not fast, but consistent).  This is how I became runner 8 and ended up agreeing to do my 8.4 mile trail run at the end of a 24-hour trail relay.  As runner 8, I ran legs 8, 16, and 24.  My team was assigned an early-ish start time of 11:00 am on Friday.  We all met up at 7:00 am.  I carpooled with KO Kennedy. Peppy, who has run many Ragnars and has a knack for organization, rented a huge cargo van to get all our stuff in and out of the campsite.  Another of our teammates, Go Pro, had the foresight to go up on Thursday night and rope us off a sweet campsite, which she reserved with cones and a pirate flag. 

(Death to ye who think of stealing this spot!)

We were initially a little disappointed that we didn’t get a spot in the main “village” (which filled up lightning quick) and had to stay a quarter mile down the road.  But this turned out to be a blessing.  It was quieter where we were and the bathrooms situation was infinitely better (porta potties were less used in our area and our campsite was far enough away to be free from the odor).  My tent is truly a monstrosity and – oh yeah – doesn’t have directions.  KO Kennedy is a master tent setter upper and figured it out.  My tent and her pop up did not fit on our allotted space, so we encroached onto other campsites.  Oops.  People were nice, though.  (I later found out Mo Jo’s friend, Flash, had a campsite very close to mine.)  We had our camp set up by 8:30ish and I was HYPED!  Due to time constraints, I had skipped my 6:30 am boxing workout and was full of normal energy topped off with a little nervous energy.  I began to realize the drawback to being runner 8.  I would not run my first leg until approximately 5:00 that evening.  I joined my teammates in a pre-run beer and wandered around the village.

Our first runner, Sombrero, got us off to a great start with his 3.1 mile (green) leg.  He was followed by Nike, our second runner who ran the 4 mile (yellow) leg.  He finished strong, but looked a little wobbly from the heat after finishing.  This made me nervous for my later runs.  KO Kennedy was up next with her 8.4 mile (red) leg.  She had selected runner 3 so she could get the 8.4 miler done first.  It was stressing her out and by this time it was friggin’ hot!  She did great, though, and finished strong.  I still had several hours to go.  Our teammate, Yogi, then rocked the 3.1 (green) again, despite the heat.  She was able to beat the heat a little by running in shorts and a sports bra.  Something I could never do with my (lack of visible) abs.  Maybe I should take up yoga . . .  Sparky was up next (KO Kennedy is going to kill me for giving him an ASU name when she didn’t get one).  He ran the 4 mile (yellow) loop and I was interested to hear how he liked it since – when I FINALLY got to run – I’d run that first.  He warned me it was hilly.  Specifically, you get up one hill and think you’re done, but it is a cruel hallucination.  There is more hill to climb.  Great.  Go Pro set off for her 8.4 mile run in the merciless desert sun and I went back to camp to rest a bit.

At that point, a dilemma emerged.  I was hungry.  But my stomach is the first thing to go when I run.  I prefer to run with no solid food in it, which is easy when I run at 6:00 am.  Not so much when I run at 5:00 pm.  I chose to eat a banana and granola bar and just live with the rumbling tummy.  I had also been aggressively hydrating, but decided to cease all water intake at that point so I would not have to pee on the trail.  Go Pro triumphantly avoided heat stroke.   Then Peppy ran her 3.1 and I was FINALLY up!  The sun was just starting to go down, so I got some relief from the sun, but it was still warm.  And Sparky was right; the yellow loop was HILLY!  But I thought I would be fine.  I can do hills.  I run hills up in the mountains.  I know trails are supposed to be harder, but surely the 7000 foot elevation I get in the mountains would offset itself with the increased difficulty of the trail.  Nope.  The terrain is uneven and my feet slipped a bit on the way up.  This does not happen on pavement.  Then, when I got to the top of the hill, I could not fly down the other side.  There were too many rocks, ridges, holes, etc. for me to go full speed down the hill without jeopardizing my ankle.  And this screwed me.  When I run up The Beast at 7000 feet, I chug up at or just below a 10:00 pace.  But then I cruise back down at up to a 7:30 pace.  My pace did not have any such rescuing on the trails.  I did my 4 miles as fast as possible, which required me to really push myself up the hills.  It was hard and I wanted to vomit (glad I didn’t eat!) and my pace did not reflect my effort.  I ended up with a 9:27 average pace and decided to be happy with it.  I was happier still when my teammates greeted me with a beer at the finish.  Suddenly my nausea improved.  And I was happy to have finally contributed to the race!  I went back to camp and ate two slices of cheese to celebrate.  I followed it up with a couple handfuls of chips.  Health food!

My next run was at 1:00 am.  I tried to get some sleep, but only managed to doze several times. Did I say I’m not a camper?  I’m not a camper.  And the ladies in the tent next to us were loud.  And it was COLD as soon as the sun went down.  I was in running clothes covered by sweats wrapped in a sleeping bag and was still chilly.  Desert weather is ridiculous.  I managed to get to the transition area to wait for Peppy (who was just finishing her 8.4 loop).  She looked at my jacket (which was over a long sleeved top) and told me I didn’t need it.  I couldn’t imagine taking it off, though, so I ignored her advice.  Plus, I was holding my bear spray in one hand and my phone in the other and didn’t want to deal with the logistics of un-jacketing.  I just wanted to be done.  I switched on my headlamp and set off.  Yes, headlamp.  It was the desert in the middle of the night.  We had a full moon and some of my teammates were brave enough to run just with the moonlight.  I was not.  I’ve never run at 1:00 am before and certainly not on a trail.  It was not my favorite experience.  I began by telling myself pace doesn’t matter.  I very quickly laughed at myself for thinking I could abide by that. 

The headlamp was really bright, but did not light the area directly around my feet.  So I nearly turned my ankle several times.  My ascents were difficult and my descents were cautious.   Then we ran through some washes, which are filled with sand.  Every time somebody passed me (which happened more than I care to admit), sand would go flying into the air right in front of me.  This was an unexpected attribute of the headlamp:  I was able to see all the dust and sand swirling in the air.  I’m sure it was all there during the day as well, but there is something extra special about actually seeing all the crap going into your eyes, nose, and mouth.  I finished my 3.1 with a 9:47 pace and fought nausea (and regretted the second beer I had after my first run) while Peppy (who had stuck around for me to finish) handed me my sweatshirt and we walked back to camp together. Still restless, I walked her and Nike back to the transition area to welcome Sombrero back from his third (and final) run and send Nike off on his final run: the 8.4.  

I then slept poorly on the floor of the tent.  At some point during the night, I moved onto an air mattress and slept a little better.  KO Kennedy finished her last leg at around 5:00 am and took off to catch the ASU/Notre Dame tailgate and game.  I was not awake to see her off, but woke up 6:00 am and went in search of coffee.  The sun began to rise and it was gorgeous.  Sparky was running his 8.4 leg at that time and I decided I was jealous of him.  I love running as the sun comes up.  Instead, I got to run my 8.4 at 10:15 am, when the sun was up in force and the temperature was hellish again.  I was tired and had only eaten a banana for breakfast.    

(The view from my (coffee) run.)

Sparky told me he really liked the 8.4, despite most other people complaining about it.  Yes, mile 2 was all hill, but it was gradual and the views were fantastic.  I decided I wanted to really enjoy one leg of this race and I would not push myself to the point of nausea.  For once, I stuck to this plan.  I ran, but didn’t race.  It was challenging.  There was no relief from the sun and there were lots of sandy washes and brutal hills.  But I still enjoyed it.  After the big hill (which I ran to prove I could), I walked the steeper inclines and sometimes even walked sandy portions.  I still managed to finish the whole loop in an hour and 29 minutes.  I regretted being runner 8 until I approached the finish line and my whole team (minus KO Kennedy) was there: wearing our team shirts and waving our team flags.  I got a burst of energy as they cheered and ran in with me.  They once again handed me a cold beer and all was right in the world.

We lounged around the campsite for awhile.  Peppy scrounged a stick of butter from another campsite.  She and Sparky used it to make grilled cheeses on Sombrero’s propane grill.  Hot, solid food never tasted so good!  And, my god, I’ve never had a shower so divine as the shower I took upon arriving home.  I thought I appreciated my post-marathon NOLA shower.  But this shower put that shower to shame after more than 24 hours sweating it out in the dust and sand.  Husband #1 asked why my shower was so short if I liked it so much.  I answered his question by passing out in my warm, clean, pillowed bed.  No matter how awesome the shower, I could not let it delay my non-camping sleep.  Aaaaaaah.