As I mentioned previously, I was a NEUROTIC mess going into Terrapin.  I carried all of that stress and anxiety on my shoulders up those climbs and when my foot started to hurt (as I knew it would), I kind of fell apart.  Even though I was happy with my time, I knew I *should* have enjoyed the day more.

Promise Land was different, and I’m not sure why.  I haven’t been training harder (if anything, there has been too much racing and not enough running this Spring).  We certainly still have a TON of stress at home as we get ready to put our house on the market next weekend.  But as I rolled out of town on Friday, I just decided I was going to enjoy the day and the run and not worry about anything.  I wasn’t going to try and crush the mountains.  I wasn’t going to try for an arbitrary time goal.  Just like Boston, I had the whole day to run, and I was going to love every minute of it.

This was my April!

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It doesn’t hurt that Spring has finally come to the Virginia mountains.  It was a beautiful drive down to the camp, and when I rolled in around 6pm, the Richmond crew had set up a big tent and were hanging out . THIS is why I run ultras!  Familiar faces, pizza, Horton’s always-entertaining race briefing, and a big bonfire made for a fun evening.  We turned in early, and I climbed into my van to catch a few hours of sleep before the EARRRRLY morning wake-up call.

At 4:15 I was up, taking care of the usual pre-race stuff.  Oatmeal.  Coffee. Mole-skin.  My big question was which shoes to wear. I had worn my new Hokas for the last few long training runs.  While I like how they handle the downhills and expedite recovery, I’ve never yet LOVED running in them.  I had my Brooks just in case, but in the end I decided to give the Hokas a chance.

The race began promptly at 5:30, and we jogged out of camp.  I knew the first 4 miles were uphill, and I settled into an easy pace.  My plan was to conserve energy through the first half so I’d have some mojo left to climb Apple Orchard Falls (miles 26-29…the hardest part of the race).  I’m not sure how much I ran or walked up this stretch, but we made it to the top, and started the first downhill.  It was on a grassy horse trail, and truly a delightful run.  My Hokas felt like they had little motors in them, and all I had to do was relax and let gravity do the work.

Before the start, I had studied the elevation profile and knew there were four climbs.  As we started up the second, I still felt great, and decided this was going to be a good day.  I could see a girl about 30 seconds in front of me, and while I could never catch her, I kept her in sight for almost the entire race.   This helped me to feel, even when I was tired,  like I wasn’t coming apart at the seams.  I stayed on top of my nutrition and hydration, so avoided the bonk that got me at Terrapin.

My energy did ebb at times.  The stretch between Colon Hollow and Cornelius Creek (mile 20-25) was a bit rough, as there was more climbing than I expected.  But I had some nice conversations along the way and I knew we were just grinding through the miles before the Last Big Climb.  And then we were there.  Martha had told me it usually took her an hour to climb Apple Orchard Falls.  Drew warned me that I’d hear the Sunset Fields aid station long before I’d get there.  Ed let me know the exact number of steps I’d be climbing.  I was ready to do this!!

Ugh.  Just because one is prepared does NOT make it any easier.   But I moved forward, step by step, in the final death march of the day.  I passed a couple of guys, but was humbled when another girl came up from behind and passed me like I was standing still.  I watched her billy-goat climb enviously!!

I trudged along, loving the beauty of the falls and the majesty of the mountain.  Then, I heard the cow bells and cheers from Sunset Fields.  Finally, I was at the top.  I rolled through – with one finally small section of uphill, I  started the 4 mile descent to the finish line.

A few miles on trail, and then the last 2.5 on gravel road….a quad-busting thrill ride that carried me across the finish line in 6:10.  I was pleased with my time and placing (7th female), but over-the-moon to have finished a TOUGH, BEAUTIFUL course and kept the smile on my face throughout.

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I sat at the finish awhile and chatted with Stacin and his friend Mark.  And then the final-4 downhill miles took their revenge.  My gel-filled stomach rebelled, and I excused my self so I could be sick in solitude.  With a now-empty stomach I hobbled back to the car, cleaned up a bit, and hauled out my air mattress so I could lie in the sun while the world spun around me.  Kyle & Nebs were there and we chatted for awhile as the rest of the Richmond group finished…first Brian, then Martha (with the grand-masters win!!)…then Mark (bloodied and muddied…but with the Best Blood prize as a consolation).  Some protein and Pedialyte helped my tummy, so we all went to the finish line to cheer for the next batch of finishers…Nigel….Emily & Phillip…then Loretta (with a HUGE PR).  I had to leave for home, but got word that Hurley, Brooke, and Alli all finished as well!!

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Attitude is everything, and this sport is such a mental one.  I’m really, really happy with the day.  Truth be told, I’m happy with my performance in the first three LUS races.  I’ve been consistent – with my 6th place at Holiday Lake, 8th at Terrapin, and 7th at Promise Land.  For the most part, I have a good balance between running and my “real” life.  And there is SUCH a crazy great group of people that I am fortunate to call friends!

I am REALLY looking forward to some down time in May, as we finish up the house and move.  Summer has its own adventures in store…Alaska in June, Catherine’s and Catoctin in July (I hope)…and I’m sure August will be find me in the Tye River or Rip Rap swimming hole after long training runs.

Happy Trails, y’all…

One week ago, I was in Boston.  Preparing to run the marathon.  And, though I hate to admit it now, I was thoroughly ambivalent about running it.

There were so many people.  And they were all wearing the same blue and gold jacket.  And the expo was crowded.  And my foot hurt.  And I was cold.  And there were so many people.  And it was another weekend, one of too many recently, that I wasn’t home with my babies.

Why is Boston such a BIG DEAL?  Why do people want to run it so badly?  Why do they take themselves so seriously?

I crawled into bed and tried to sleep.

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I woke up the next morning, and the world wasn’t much better.  My dog was missing in Richmond.  I had lost my driver’s license.  My foot hurt.

I ate my breakfast, got dressed and donned my “throw-away” gear that would keep me warm while we waited to start.  One last inventory of essentials (hydration pack, arm warmers, ear-buds) and I headed to the bus.

And then, just like that, the magic hit.

My phone buzzed:  Daisy had been found – she was safe!!  It buzzed again:  Pam and Crista were at the start & wanted to run together!  There were a half-dozen familiar Richmond faces on the bus!  In the athlete’s village, I bumped into another friend and got to wish her luck!  In the starting corral, yet another Richmond friend to hug & run with for a mile or two.

Coming out of my funk, I realized that I was the luckiest gal in the world.  I had then whole day to run with friends and enjoy life, and I’d be dammed if an achy foot was going to ruin that.

As soon as my attitude changed, Boston unveiled herself to me.  I got it.  26.2 miles of joy.  From the front lawns in Hopkinton and Framingham to the college kids at Wellesly and BC.  On lawn chairs and trampolines and fire ladders and balconies, we runners were treated to the longest stretch of cheerleaders I’ve ever seen.  Thousands of hands to high-five.  Music and dancing.  Celebration.

The runners were not the cause of the celebration, we were merely the excuse for revelry.  The town was celebrating itself, its tradition, and its culture. I felt honored to be a part of that.

By the time I crossed the finish line with my friends, I had fallen in love with this crazy town.

20 minutes later, the bombs went off.

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We were still in the finish area, retrieving our drop bags from the bus.  Boom! We turned around.  Cannons?  It is Patriots Day.  Boom!  Cell phones are raised.  There is smoke in the street.  Things no longer make sense.  We look at each other, a silent question:  Is everything OK?

A lady next to me can’t get through to her son.  He is at the finish line.  ”Do I need to panic?”, she asks me.  ”I don’t think so”, I answer, “No one is panicking.  We don’t need to worry until they tell us something has happened.”  She knows, and I know, that something has happened.

A police office stares blankly ahead.  Staying calm until his radio crackles.  Keep moving out of the finish area folks.  We start moving more quickly.  My hotel is a block away and I head straight there.  A quick text to my parents and brother and Jimmy.  I am OK.  If you see something on the news, know that I am OK.

In the hotel, people are still oblivious.  I head up to my room and drop my stuff.  No Jimmy.  I come back down and its buzzing.  Bombs.  Terrorists.  Other devices.  Lock down.

The next few hours are a blur.  2 hours after the blast, Jimmy finally gets to the hotel.  He describes the panic, the injured people he saw on the street.  Messages and texts trickle in.  All Richmond runners are safe.  Debbie and Tim are locked out of their hotel but find room at ours.  My marathon-tired body needs food, but when my plate arrives, I can only stomach a bite.

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We fly home the next morning, on a clear day.  We fly over Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, and I see my small babies running along the sand with their school friends.  Gleeful shrieks as they jump off the dock and into the chilly water.  I hold tight to the memory of last summer – of moms and kids and no bombs in the street of Boston.

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And now.  One week later.  One bomber dead, the other captured.  The nightmare over.

My heart aches for Boston.  And my mind is resolved to return next year.  I owe that city an apology, and as a runner, I owe that city my sweat and tears.  For 117 years, the Boston Marathon has been the lifeblood of our sport.  For better or for worse, it represents the pinnacle of amateur accomplishment.  I will never run in the Olympics, or stand upon a winner’s podium.  But with a reasonable amount of time and training, I can qualify to run Boston.

So this girl who so loves the mountains and trails and woods – she won’t hang up her road shoes just yet.

Intrepid souls nearing the top of Three Ridges

Done!! This is a run I’ve wanted to do for a LONG time, and can’t wait to come back during swimming hole season

Still, I was excited for Terrapin, and a new adventure.  My quads, glutes, and hips had recovered quickly from Holiday Lake…the only lingering problem was my feet.  The tendons and ligaments had loosened, and I was constantly rolling my ankles.  I was worried, especially since I have a history of issues with my left achilles.  10 days before Terrapin, my RIGHT foot decided that it was its turn to complain.  Serious bruising and weakness led me to believe I might have a navicular stress fracture.  Drawing inspiration from many stubborn seasoned trail runners before me, I buried my head in the sand.  I iced, compressed, rested, and put my fingers in my ears when anyone mentioned going to get it x-rayed.

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In part because of my cranky foot, and in part because of the serious reduction in training mileage, I was a neurotic mess going into Terrapin.  My non-running life has been CRAZY lately…we are in the middle of a home renovation, the girls’ activities are ramping up for Spring, and the never-ending-richmond-cold-rain-winter-weather has kept us from being outside most afternoons.  I’ve been short-tempered at times, and, although the girls were thrilled to be spending a River weekend with their grandparents, I couldn’t help feeling guilty as I rolled out of town Friday afternoon.

I started to settle down when I turned onto Rt. 29 outside of Charlottesville.  It is SUCH a beautiful drive, as one leaves the Piedmont and gets a glimpse of the Blue Ridge.

Who needs medication? Go climb a mountain!

By the time I reached the Sedalia Center at 6pm, greeted friends, and set up my “tent” (really just an air mattress in the back of my minivan), I was ready to get my mind back in the game.  The Sedalia Center serves as the start and finish point of the race and provides a wonderfully terrifying view of Terrapin Mountain.

Martha, Mark, and Me. That’s Terrapin in the background…it looked MUCH larger in person, pre-race!

There was an open pavilion where we got our race numbers, AWESOME pottery mug (love!!!), and pizza.  A band was on stage, playing laid back music (kind of a celtic-folk sound).  I chatted with the Richmond crew…almost all of the “usual suspects” were running…

Some of us stayed for the photo op….

…then headed back to the van for a COLD night.

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The race started at a very civilized hour – 7 am!  I had plenty of time to fire up the camp stove, eat breakfast, get dressed, and check in before we lined up and the gong sounded.  I wasn’t sure how my foot would handle six hours of running, but I felt loose and good on the first 1/2 mile of asphalt and the initial 3 mile climb up the mountain.  Coming into the Camping Gap aid station (the first of three times we’d visit), I peeled off my long sleeves and handed them to Drew.  I was third female, but I knew that wasn’t likely to last.  Still, it was encouraging, and I reminded myself to just take the day as it came and not get hung up on placement (soooo much easier said than done!!).

Leaving Camping Gap, we were treated to FIVE miles of downhill on forest roads.  I tried to let gravity work and roll down the hill….making time without trashing my quads.  About halfway down, Kristen Chang passed me.  We introduced ourselves, and she stayed 15-20 seconds ahead of me through the next few miles.  Once we started heading uphill, however, she pulled ahead.  It was on this LONG uphill (Seven miles, in all, back up to Camping Gap) that another girl passed me…I think it was Emily Warner.  She was moving fast, and very quickly was out of my sight.  My foot had started to hurt, we weren’t even halfway through, and I began to worry.  Still, when we hit Camping Gap, I got a nice shout of encouragement from Horton, and I rolled through to finish the climb to the summit of White Oak mountain.

It was on this loop, about mile 18, that I really started to slow.  The downhill was steep and my foot hurt, and two more women passed me.  Coming off of the “lollipop” section, I started to see the runners behind me.  I got a moment of sympathy from Mark, then lots of smiles from Debbie, Nigel, and Hurley.  I came back into Camping Gap in a happier place, determined to get this race OVER and head home!

But first…Terrapin Mountain.  Drew warned me as I was leaving the aid station that I’d have a 3/4 mile climb, and he wasn’t kidding.  Straight up and up and up to the summit of Terrapin.  We had to climb out on some rocks to punch our bib (one of three required check-ins), and then start the trek down the mountain, squeezing through a rock gap (the aptly named “Fat Man’s Misery) in the process.  The descent was HARD and TECHNICAL and I did NOT enjoy it!  But I got it done, and came to what I thought was the final aid station.  Not so quick, Annie!  Only a sign & some volunteers letting us know we needed to go downhill another half mile to check-in, and then retrace our steps back up.  Ooof!

5.5 miles to go.  I don’t know why I thought that this section was on a fire road, but it wasn’t – just more rocky trail – a lot of it uphill.  I could see the valley below and knew we’d have a lot of decent – where was it??  I trudged along, until we hit the road with about 1 1/4 miles to go.  It felt nice to open up the pace and fly for a bit, and my final mile was 7:12.

I finished in 5:47; 8th female.  I met my goals, but wouldn’t call it a great race.  I hurt, both physically and mentally, for a big chunk of the race.  Horton came up to me afterwards and said “You died out there, didn’t you.  When I saw you earlier you were running well, but then you died”.  And he was right.  Somewhere around mile 18 my foot started to hurt and my strength ran out.  From that point on, the uphills were OK, but the downhill killed me mentally.  I knew I wasn’t running those sections well, and that was the difference between an great race and a so-so one.

Most of the Richmond crew post race

I gained a LOT of experience yesterday.  I know the training I need to be competitive in the mountains.  I saw how the fast girls run.  I learned that you can’t always use mileage as a nutrition guide (I did NOT eat or drink enough yesterday…I only consumed about 600 calories, or about 100 per hour.  I think 150-200 might have been better).  My foot hurt, but after mile 18 it did not get dramatically worse.

Going forward?

1. Recover
2. Go run some mountains (not going to be easy with our Spring Break trip to…..Delaware….)
3. To the extent that my “real” life will allow, I need to get my mileage back…I whine less when I run more!
4. Finally, I need to work on my nutrition – both on race day and leading up.

I can’t wait to run Terrapin again next year.  Hats off to Clark Zealand, the volunteers, and everyone who came out to make it a fun, laid back, day!

Saturday was the winter edition of Mark Iscool’s semi-annual Really Early Morning Run (REMR).  A group of 10-12 crazies (mostly ultra-junkies) gather at 2 a.m. to run up to 25 miles.

Upon returning to Mark’s house, runners enjoy coffee, baked goods, and lots and lots of BACON.  Its always a good time.

The companionship and BACON did not disappoint this year, but the run…ugh.  Its been a long time since I hurt that badly.  While I am really annoyed at myself for suffering like that, there are a LOT of lessons to be had.  I realize that we need these bad runs (or bad parenting days) every so often so we don’t take the good ones for granted.  Just because one has the base mileage doesn’t mean one can ignore such important factors like recovery, nutrition, sleep, fuel and hydration.

• Recovery.  Still healing from running hard at Holiday Lake.  Upping the strength training has left me with aching quads and glutes.  The tendons and ligaments in my feet are also still sore.

• Sleep.  The run started at 2 am.  I did not get ANY sleep beforehand.  I went bowling instead.  Bad Annie.

• Nutrition.  I’ve had a lot of luck with eating a big breakfast, protein-rich lunch, and carb-based early dinner the night before a big run.  A bowl of oatmeal 2 hours before the start tops off my tank and gets me through the first 2 hours feeling strong.  Friday, I had a small breakfast, a salad for lunch, and ate a late dinner – a huge mexican meal that sat like a rock in my stomach.

• Fuel.  The undigested food in my tummy meant I had NO desire to eat anything during the run.  I forced down a gel around 90 minutes in, but it had no noticeable effect.  I ate nothing else the rest of the time, and I bonked HAR D around mile 14.

• Hydration.  I also had no desire to drink anything.  I forced down about 20 ounces of fluid, but probably needed twice that amount.

I believe ALL of these factors contributed to the extreme nausea that plagued my run.  I knew 1/2 mile in that it was going to be rough.  By mile 6, I was questioning my ability to continue.  I wanted to throw up, but couldn’t.  I ended up slogging through 18.5 miles – almost 3 hours.  Even though it was miserable, I knew it was good training.  I’d much rather feel this was on a fun run than in a race.  As an added bonus, it was dark – so no one could see the near-death expression on my face!!!

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I have more of these “bad runs” as a mother than I’d like to admit.  When my patience frays.  When I’m not as present with the girls as I’d like to be.  When the clutter, mess, dishes, and laundry take over the house like a mutant-plant-creature in some B-grade horror movie.  If I can just step back, there are always root causes.  There are always solutions.  And, like muscles, bones, and tendons, my family grows stronger each time we’re tested.  Thank goodness for tomorrows – a chance to wipe the slate clean and start over again.

I know I’ve spent a lot of time comparing running to motherhood (its kind of the point of this blog, after all), but the metaphor rings so true….Holiday Lake 2012 kicked me in the rear end….revealed hidden strengths…utterly exhausted me…and gave me something so precious that I couldn’t understand until I experienced it for myself.

Like motherhood, ultra running has pushed me beyond my perceived limits, introduced me to some crazy wonderful people, and provided a structure and rhythm to my life that makes me a better person.

Of course I was going to do it again in 2013!

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I had been looking forward to this race for a few reasons.  The experience and mileage of this past year made me much more confident…I knew I’d be able to run the distance.  But aside from that, I was thrilled that my cousin Mark would be coming down from Delaware to make his ultra debut.  Mark, 18 months older than me, has always been like a big brother.  We spent our childhood and teenage years at our family’s cabin…hiking, mountain biking, and getting into trouble.  I know I can count on him every July for hilly runs and spirited Tour d’France commentary.  This past summer, when he mentioned training for a fall marathon, I suggested that he run Holiday Lake with me.  He took the bait.

We arrived at the 4H Center and settled into our (unheated) cabin in plenty of time for the pre-race dinner and race briefing.  That’s the other reason I was happy to return.  Last year, I knew hardly a soul.  But this year, it was like walking into a family reunion.  So many familiar faces, so many memories of the past year of training runs, races, and adventures.

Deluxe Accommodations at Holiday Lake!

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Morning came too soon, of course, but a few cups of coffee and some oatmeal cleared the cobwebs.  At 6:30 we were off.  I had lost Mark in the pre-race shuffle, and headed up the first 1/2 mile of paved roads.  Like JFK, I tried to use this time to get positioned for the upcoming trail section.  The only thing worse than being stuck behind a much slower runner on single-track is BEING that slower runner and sensing others’ impatience!  Fortunately, the course has a lot of fire roads and wider sections – I never felt “out of place” on the trail.

There is something so wonderful about the early miles of an ultra.  Rested legs, adrenaline, and relief combine to make the first hour effortless.  The sun rose, illuminating the woods and trail.  The first aid station came and went.  At some point between aid station 2 & 3 I realized that my water was frozen in the hydration-pack tubing.  Uh Oh.  I was able to get some liquid at the aid tables, but by mile 13 or 14 I realized I was seriously dehydrated.  I felt tired, much earlier than I expected to.  I was carrying 60 oz. of electrolyte-laced salvation on my back.  I HAD to get it working.

Biting and bending the tubing didn’t help, so I stuffed as much as I could down my shirt…anchoring it with my sports bra.  It didn’t bother me a bit, and a few miles later – TA DA – it flowed freely!!  It was AMAZING how quickly my energy returned once I rehydrated, and, feeling well, I picked up my pace as I neared the turnaround.

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Holiday Lake’s course consists of two loops.  The first is run in a clockwise direction, the second counter-clockwise.  I hit the turnaround at mile 16 and felt great, pausing only for a moment to look for my Aunt Sue.  I didn’t see her, so I rolled right through and got back on the course.

Last year, I easily spent 1-2 minutes at each aid station (and probably a solid 5 minutes at the turnaround).  This year, I had packed sufficient liquid and fuel so I didn’t need to pause at all.  I love the volunteers that work these races, and gave them all a smile and ‘THANK YOU’, but it felt great to breeze past each table and know that I knocking time off my total.

The first few miles after the turn are a bit dicey, as runners pass each other on narrow single-track.  However, it redeems itself with the best reward – an opportunity to see and cheer the other runners.  Spotting friends, giving a wave, the relief (this weekend at least) that everyone seemed to be having a good race, provided a lift that carried me back to the Mile 20 aid station.  But one familiar face was missing.  Where was Mark??  He’s a stronger runner than me, but had planned to run a conservative pace.  I really had no idea if he was ahead or behind, but I totally thought I’d see him at some point.  Finally, I passed Sir Nigel, who gave me a nod and told me “go catch your cousin”.  ”How far ahead is he?” I asked.  ”A bloody eight miles, at least” was the reply.  Thank goodness…the one thing I wanted more than anything was to run a strong race AND have Mark beat me to the finish line.  I figured that would ensure many more ultra-adventures for us in the future!

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This year’s strategy for the second loop was the same as last year’s.  Run aid station to aid station, without thinking too much about how many miles remain.  Coming into each one, I did a quick inventory.  Did I need anything?  Since I was running with my hydration pack, I’d grab a cup of water so I wouldn’t have to stop & refill my pack later.  How am I feeling?  Can I run at this pace for another 4 miles? Go, go, go!

I had switched the display on my watch so I could only see the time of day – no mileage, no pace information.  Each mile it would buzz, and I’d allow myself a quick look at my pace.  I was thrilled to see it stay consistent for most of the day.  When the trails opened up to service roads, I was cranking out 8:20 and 8:30 miles.  On the true trail sections, I ran in the low 9′s. I felt strong and solid up as I approached the last aid station.  Coming up a long hill, I saw a familiar form.  It took me about 10 minutes, but I finally caught up to my cousin.  He had run a SOLID race for almost 28 miles, and it was so great to see him.  He had twisted his ankle, and was starting to slow down, so he waved me on.  I ran through the last aid station, and and started to feel the accumulated distance.  I was tired, and the last four miles were tough.  Even so, I was able to pass two women, and kept running as hard as I could to maintain my place.

At last, I saw the wonderful orange paint telling us there was 1 mile to the finish.  Soon after, I hit the road and ran downhill the final 1/2 mile, crossing the finish line in 4 hours and 44 minutes; 6th female and 41st overall.  A Horton Hug made the day complete, and I stumbled over to a soft spot of grass to stretch out and watch the other runners fly down to the finish line.

I soon started seeing familiar forms coming down the hill.  First Brian, then Monte.  Where was Mark?  Even accounting for fatigue, he should have crossed the finish line by now.  Finally, I saw his red jacket approaching.  He gave me a quick glance, shook his head, and ran through the line.  He’d twisted his ankle again, but also veered off course for almost 3(!) miles.  Despite this disappointment, he ran so well – especially considering he’d never previously run a marathon.  He’ll be back next year, I’m sure…

The Richmond Crew – all done!!

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A year of ultra-running…four seasons of accumulating experience, mileage, and stories.  I’m thrilled with a top-10 finish, but more so that I ran my own race, and it was good enough to stack up against the chicks with way more experience and credibility.

And even though it was a good day for me, I’m taking away a few lessons learned:

1. DON’T watch the watch!  It’s so important for me to run a pace that’s comfortably hard.  When I have preconceived pace targets, I end up going off track.  Listening to my body is the best way for me to ensure that I’m running at the right speed.
2. DO check in from time to time.  Noting my average pace every mile or two helps me validate and quantify what I’m feeling.  It also gives me data for future runs (Onset and rate of fatigue…physiological response to Clif Shots…etc).  My left-brain personality LOOOOOVES this kind of info!!
3. DON’T ignore hydration.  This caused me problems at Catoctin, and it could have really hurt me at Holiday Lake as well.  Running in the cold and not sweating a lot, its easy to think you’ll only need to drink every 4 miles.  Stuffing the hydration pack tubing down my shirt to melt the ice probably saved my race.
4. DO know your nutrition.  As appealing as the aid station food might look, this girl works best with energy gels.  Every 4 miles, starting at mile 12, was all I needed today.
5. DO enjoy the competition!  Of course we all want to place well, but the thing I love about longer distances is that you can’t fake it.  One of my favorite moments of the day was at mile 23, when a girl (Kelly Devine) ran past me like I was standing still.  I was feeling good, and running strong, and amazed by her speed and fluidity that late in the race.  It was a joy to watch.  (We chatted after the finish and she shared that it was her first trail run ever- WOW!)

All in all, it was another wonderful weekend, and nice to come full-circle.  I’m looking forward to Terrapin, Promise Land, and all the other adventures 2013 has to offer….

I suppose there are as many answers to that question as there are ultra-runners.  When I first mentioned to family and friends my intention to run the JFK 50, I got a LOT of questions:

• How many days will that take you?
• Will anyone else be out there running too?  (Implied – are there other crazy people that do this??)
• Can you stop and sleep during the race?
• What about your poor knees??  
  

I explained each time that, if my luck held, it would take me between 9 and 10 hours to run.  That yes, in fact, there were over 1200 other registered runners.  Since there was 12 hour time limit, I would not need to stop and sleep.  And fortunately, my knees have never caused problems for me, so I was sure they’d hold up just fine (my IT Band – now that’s a different story….).  But I stumbled every time on how to answer that first question:  why did I want to run 50 miles?  Truthfully, its taken me over 10 years to figure it out.

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2001.  I was a novice runner, training for my first marathon, and chatting with my neighbor.  She was primarily a triathlete (with a recent Ironman under her belt) and she mentioned that she had run ‘JFK’ a few years before.  ”What’s that?” I asked.  She replied it was a 50 mile race up near DC.  I was skeptical, and dropped the subject.  As far as I knew, 26.2 miles was as far as humans were capable of running.  A few months later, I got curious and googled “JFK 50″.  I was amazed to learn that not only was it a real event, it had been run every year since 1963 in Washington County, Maryland where I grew up.  I still thought 50 miles was a crazy distance, but it I were to ever run that far, I knew where I’d be headed.

As I logged the miles for that first marathon, I found that rhythm and patterns of running suited me.  I worked through problems and stresses of the day, made new friends, and enjoyed the challenge.  When the world seemed to fall apart that September, I ran and tried to make sense of it all.  Three weeks later, with the Pentagon as a backdrop, I finished the Marine Corp Marathon.  I carried that enthusiasm into 2002, with several triathlons and another fall marathon.  But a month after running Chicago, on a crisp-blue November Sunday, my world was shattered.  My cousin Joanna was killed.  She was 32.

I didn’t run much after that.  While at the time, I muttered excuses about being burned-out, it was simply too hard to focus on training.  Over the next nine years I ran sporadically – usually just enough to get through the Monument Avenue 10K.  Life continued, I became a mom to a beautiful little girl in 2005 and two other daughters soon followed.  I quit my job to be home with the girls.  I didn’t need to run:  there is no workout like swinging a baby in its car seat so it will stay asleep  or chasing two toddlers through a crowded shopping mall!  But at the same time, I lost touch with a bit of myself.  For the first time in many years, I wanted to lace up my shoes and head out the door.

I found my way back to running in the dark winter months of 2011.  It started as a way to improve my fitness, but I soon found that I needed the solace and quiet of my morning run.  I ran a few 10Ks that spring and as the weather warmed I ran just a bit further each week.  I was hooked!  Running gave me the patience and energy to be a better mother.  My girls loved cheering at races and helping me set up a “Running Mix” for our iPod.  By the end of the summer, I had to admit that I was secretly training for the Richmond Marathon.  As the crisp days of autumn returned and my mileage increased, I dusted off a thought that had long lay dormant:  JFK.

Now I had no idea how I was going to run 50 miles, but as soon as the Richmond Marathon was over I started to plan.  A good friend mentioned that she was running the Holiday Lake 50K in February, so we trained and ran it together.  Through the Richmond Road Runners I met a great group of folks who showed me around the James River trails.  I looked forward to our Tuesday night runs as my night off from dinner & bed-time duties.  Maybe it was the increased focus on trail running, maybe it was the novelty of training for something that seemed beyond reach, but I had so much FUN over the summer months.  When we went on vacation, I explored the island through long runs.  A family visit became an excuse to fit in the Catoctin 50K – a gnarly, rock-filled trail ultra with several rattle-snake sightings.  Training became a catalyst for new friendships, an excuse to eat really great foods, and a way to find a bit of the kid I used to be.  And throughout it all, I thought of my cousin Jo.  This adventure was so much like the ones we had growing up.

Ten years ago, the JFK was held on the last full day of Jo’s life.  This year, I carried her memory with me when we set out from Boonsboro at sunrise.  As we climbed the first two miles up to the Appalachian trail, I thought of the South Mountain ghost stories she’d tell to scare my little brother.  Over the rocks and roots we ran, and I remembered our weekend explorations.  Soon, the Potomac River was in view, and all along the endless canal I recalled biking trips and our summers on the river just a few miles upstream.  When we finally turned onto the last nine miles of roads, I laughed.  This is where she taught me to drive – how much fun we had over these rolling hills!  And across the finish line, a stone’s throw from her old home, we finished.  50 miles, an amazing day.

A few days later, after the soreness had left my aching quads and the eupohria subsided, I realized that I had the answer to my question.  Why do I want to run 50 miles?  To celebrate life – past, present, and future.

The labor was agonizing, but I got through it, and the pain was soon gone.  The sleepless nights were rough (and continue to this day), but I discovered that I didn’t need much sleep after all.  As I emerged from the first six months of motherhood, I had started to form a new identity.  I was Emma’s mom.

With this new identity came many changes.  Some for the good:  new friends, new layers of patience and self-sacrifice, new depths of feeling.  Some for the bad:  more wrinkles, more chaos, more laundry.  Running, my faithful go-to method of sorting out life’s stress and problems just wasn’t an option in those early years.  Sure, I’d put in a half-hearted effort to train and run Monument Avenue each March, but afterwards I’d just throw my running shoes to the back of the closet for another year.

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I found my way back to running in the dark winter months of 2011.  It began as a way to stay fit.  But as I gained strength and set a few 10K PRs I thought that, just maybe, I could recapture a bit of my pre-motherhood self.  I started training for the marathon.  I read ‘Born to Run’ and dusted off a thought that had been pushed aside a decade ago:  JFK.  It was the tiniest little spark – just a wild idea that seemed so fantastic, so out-of -reach – an embryo really.  But it gestated and grew over the ensuing months.  Each time I went for a long run – it became more real to me.  Every race was a stepping stone.  The long runs and speed work, the hills and the trails, they all brought it closer.

Not long ago, it hit me.  I wasn’t recapturing my past.  I was a BETTER runner than I had been before children.  Motherhood has given me an edge.  The grittiness required to endure a toddler’s tantrum, the exhaustion that comes from waking four times a night, the knowledge that hard work yields marvelous benefits all help the runner in me.  I may not be vying for a podium spot, but in this small way, I feel like a winner.

So here I am on the eve of JFK – the race that started it all.  This time next week, I won’t be holding a baby in my arms, but I will have given birth to a new me.  And while I want so badly to cross the finish line – I don’t think the result matters so much.  The changes of this year – the discipline, the knowledge, the experience, and the amazing network of new friends – will endure regardless of whether there are numbers or letters next to my name.

So I will deal with this anxiety head-on, just as I will handle the pain and fatigue on race day.  I acknowledge it, accept it, and calmly put it to the side so I can carry on.

Stay tuned!

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It’s been way too long since I last posted, but I have been busy.

Running….Running….Running….

JFK is less than a month away, and I have been hard at work.  The girls and Jimmy have most of my waking hours but  - when they leave for the morning – I put on my shoes and hit the road or trail.  I’ve had so much fun this summer and fall…from Blue Ridge swimming holes to AT adventures to countless miles all over the River City.

As the weather has cooled and the leaves changed I’ve built up my weekly mileage, logged two-a-day workouts, and cross-trained as much as my schedule allowed.

While I have a few more tough weeks ahead, last weekend I logged the last 30+ mile run before JFK.

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I signed up for the Baltimore Marathon about three weeks before the race, almost as an afterthought.  Logistically, it was simple.  I could stay with my cousin and leave the girls with my parents for the night.  Jimmy offered to ride his Mountain Bike and provide any support I might need.  While I liked the idea of running 26.2, what I really needed was a 50K.  I wanted the time on my feet.  I wanted road miles to simulate the last 35 miles of JFK.  So I did what made sense (to me)…I decided to run the 8 miles to the start of the marathon.

Well, while it was a good idea in theory, we nixed it the night before.  Too many sketchy sections to run in the dark.  No car at the finish line.  In the end, we decided to drive down early and run around the harbor before the 8AM start.  Excellent choice.  This was my daybreak:

I  logged just under 7 miles before getting to Camden Yards right as they were singing the National Anthem.  No time for a potty break, just able to shed my long sleeves, hand them to Jimmy, and we were off…

…I love Maryland, and Baltimore does a great job of showing its state pride.  From the sights and sounds of Camden Yards and Ravens Stadium, the Inner Harbor, Druid Hill Park, Fells Point, the marathon wends throughs the neighborhoods and hills of Charm City.

I felt great at the start, and despite the fact that the first five miles are uphill, I was clocking 7:30 miles.  Too fast, Annie!  By mile 8 or 9 I was settling into a funk. My worn out Saucony’s were pounding my hips and IT band.  I started feeling demoralized – bored and unmotivated.  When I saw Jimmy at Mile 10, I asked him to meet me in a few miles with my other shoes (Brooks Pure Flow).  Just before Mile 11, on an out-and-back section of the course, I passed my friend Brian.  He wasn’t that far ahead of me, but I knew he was planning on running a lot faster than I was.  It was then that I made the decision to SLOW DOWN, and I settled into an 8:15 – 8:30 pace that would carry me the rest of the way.

At mile 13, Jimmy gave me my shoes.  While it wasn’t an instant fix, within a few miles my IT band pain had eased.  I broke the remaining miles into chunks:

• Just get to mile 16…you’ll only have 10 more to go then, and you know you can run 10.
• Just get to mile 20…with six left you can start taking walking breaks if you need to (though fortunately I never had to).
• Mile 22 will be huge…just 4 to run.
• Mile 24 – anyone can run 2 miles.
• Mile 25 – just the victory lap left.
• Holy cow, there’s mile 26…you did it girl…sprint to the end….26.2 and a 3:36 – nice BQ to cap off the day!!

33 miles run.  A free Chic-Fil-A sandwich and cookie.  Natty Boh for the ride home.  Going into the day, my goal was a 9 min/mi pace.  I was happy to see I had the strength to run faster.  Even happier that I could run well this week.  Training continues, after all.

Lessons Learned:

• ITS ALL MENTAL!  At no time did I feel like my body was about to give out.  I did have a solid hour, however, when I desperately wanted to quit.  I am so glad I kept going, for if I had folded I think it might have derailed my confidence for JFK.
• BACK UP SHOES ROCK!  I was really, really lucky that a) I had packed a back up pair of shoes and b) we drove to the start.  Those Brooks saved my race, and I will always have an extra set on hand at ultra event (provided that I can get crew support to deliver them when needed!)
• FUEL YOURSELF WELL – I ate a nice breakfast Friday, and a great pasta dinner Saturday.  A bit of muffin and three gu’s were all that was needed during the run.  I carried my hydration pack with 50 oz of Nuun, which lasted me until mile 23.

Baltimore was a hilly, but fun course.  The weather was absolutely perfect.  While I prefer the trail, of course, it was nice to get another road marathon under my belt.  I did what I set out to do, and will see if that pays off on November 17.

]]> http://run-mommy-run.com/2012/11/12/race-report-baltimore-marathon-50k/feed/ 1 runmommy1 Rip Rap Overlook photo-6 photo-5 http://run-mommy-run.com/2012/08/01/race-report-catoctin-50k/ http://run-mommy-run.com/2012/08/01/race-report-catoctin-50k/#comments Wed, 01 Aug 2012 17:47:15 +0000 runmommy1 http://run-mommy-run.com/?p=378 ]]> I’m not sure how I first heard about the Catoctin 50K.  It could have been in February, when I went trail-running with the Frederick Steeplechasers for the first time.  Or maybe it was during my spring recovery — I couldn’t run, so tortured myself with the internet.

It sounded intriguing.  A summer 50K would fit nicely into JFK training.  It’s held right outside of Frederick, on trails that I’ve run before.  The girls could stay with my parents, and I could have a day in the woods.

I started asking my running friends about it.  ”Great race, fantastic!  Oh, except there are a lot of rocks”.  ”Awesome time, really – you should do it.  Oh – but its really, really hot and humid most years”.   “So much fun – watch out for the rattlesnakes”

Of course, I signed up.

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The course is an out-and-back, starting at the Tea Room at Gambrill State Park and going to the Manor area of Cunningham Falls State Park.  It’s entirely trail – about 95% of it single track.  It’s famous for its rocks and technical elements.   People often quote that Catoctin is harder than the nearby JFK 50 miler.

By design, the event is held in the middle of the summer – so much the better to take advantage of the local heat and humidity.  It’s “only” a 50K, so there is are no frills, no whining tolerated, no sympathy, no awards.  Finishing earns a hand shake and the “Cat Card”

When I arrived at the Tea Room around 6:45, there was still plenty of parking.  I went over to the registration table and got my number.  On the way, I passed a line of T-shirts from prior years – all with witty sayings related to rocks, snakes, trails, dirt, etc.

After checking in, I had about an hour to chat with the other runners.  I saw Ronni, Rupert, and Eddy (who I had run with earlier in the month).  I also met up with Brian and Loretta (who had come up from Richmond).  Kevin Sayers, the RD, gave a briefing shortly before 8, and we were off!

The first six miles to the Hamburg Road aid station went down into the valley, and back up again.  This would be a tough stretch, but I still went out a bit too fast.  I knew the one female in front of me was a really strong runner (she would finish 10th overall, first woman), so I let her go and settled into a more manageable pace.  I fell into conversation with a couple of Grindstone veterans and made it to the first aid station in about 70 minutes.  I quickly grabbed a fig newton, but since I still had plenty of water I kept going without pause.

The next 10 miles were so-so.  I was starting to tire mentally, knowing that I still had so much effort to go.  My pace stayed steady – I’d be passed on the downhills, only to take over again on the ascents.  At about mile 10 or 11, a group that included two women passed me like I was standing still.  I watched them go, content that I was running my own race and knowing that I would need to conserve my strength for the return.

But even though my brain told me I was tired (“can’t we just stop running at the turn-around….why are we out here anyway?”), when I went through my physical checklist, everything was still working.  My legs felt good, I was eating enough, I wasn’t dehydrated (HAH!).  I kept going, and going, and going, until I was on the final downhill, splashing through the creek and coming into the Manor aid station.  Someone told me I was third female (one of the girls who passed me decided to drop at Manor).

A very nice volunteer topped off my water, I grabbed a sandwich and watermelon, and headed back out (2.5 minutes total).  As I started the two-mile slog back up the mountain, I saw the smiling faces of my friends and the other runners behind me. As the crowd thinned, two things went wrong.  First, my water pack had been overfilled, and was a) too heavy for my comfort and b) slowly leaking.  I had to stop, empty it a bit, and reseal the closure before I could continue.  I’d just gotten started again when my right foot seized with the worst cramp.  I couldn’t run, so I sat down and massaged it for 3-4 minutes.  Finally, a runner came by and gave me a S! cap, which helped tremendously.

I set out again, trying not to be discouraged by the few girls that had passed me (“this is NOT a race, Annie…this is a training run…this is a learning experience….”).  I knew what I needed to do – one foot in front of the other – all the way back to my car.

I ran the eternity to the Delauter Aid Station (mile 23) and then had fun running with a couple of Maryland guys.  Their sarcasm and jokes made the next three miles pass quickly.  It was a huge mental boost coming back to Hamburg (mile 26), for I knew the next stop was home.  I also knew that the next six miles would be the most difficult.

And they were.  My legs were always on the edge of cramping.  I was tired.  But again, I just shut out those thoughts and kept moving forward.

With 4 miles to go, I finally took a wrong turn.  Following the runner in front of me (bad Annie), we ran 3-4 minutes downhill before realizing that we’d lost the trail.  It took us another 5-6 minutes to get back on track.

I ran the final miles with the same group of people – leap-frogging each other, making jokes about the day.  I caught up to a super-nice lady from DC, who diagnosed my dehydration and gave lots advice.  It turned out that she had taken a wrong turn as well, which added three extra miles to her run.

We came to the lower parking area, and I knew there was less than 1/2 mile.  Scrambling up the hill, someone told me I’d be done in 2 minutes if I ran hard.  That’s all I needed to hear.  A flat trail around the Tea Room, a few more steps, and I was across the line.  Kevin slipped the Cat Card into my pack, and I sat down in the softest patch of grass ever!

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The post race BBQ was great, though I had no appetite.  I was really dehydrated.  I’d peed at 7:30, ingested somewhere north of 100 oz of liquid, and didn’t pee again until 5:30 that evening.  I think the cramps were a direct result of that, and I’ll admit that the hydration pack makes it hard for me to judge how much I’m drinking.  Next time I plan to rely on bottles instead.

Catoctin was by far the most physically demanding race I’ve run, but I was happy with my  performance.  I was able to squelch the demons, carry on, and finish.  Where the trail permitted running, I kept a consistent pace throughout.  I really need to work on my technical skills – specifically descent.  Without the detour, I would have finished in 5th place.  To get any higher, I need to build the strength to run those hills and the experience to better manage my hydration.

Mentally, I didn’t experience the high that Holiday Lake provided.  But I think that is a good thing.  My body and mind are learning that this is what we do.  No big deal.

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Going into it, I knew it would be a challenge to keep up with my mileage goals.  Five moms, 13 kids, and too much energy & chaos to track.  My friends assured me they’d watch the girls so I could fit in a daily run, but I still felt a bit guilty.  I did a 20-miler the day before we left, and I managed one six mile run that first week, but took the rest of the time as “recovery”.   With the increase in training, by bones and muscles needed some time to rebuild.  I also needed a bit of a mental break.

It was the right decision.  I was able to enjoy the first week at the beach with my girls and have the energy to explore the island with them.  The second week, three of us (with our 8 kiddos in tow) headed to Nantucket.  The kids were in camp five days, and that’s when I got to work.  My plan was to run 10 miles Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. I’d cap off the week with a 20 mile run Friday.

Monday morning, I headed out from our house and headed west along Cliff Road.  I wasn’t familiar with the island, so I just hugged the coastal road until it turned to a rutted, packed sand path.  About 5 miles in, a single-track trail cut South, so I turned and rambled over the moors.  I picked up another road and took that back to Town for a total of 11 miles.  Cloudy and overcast, the day was made for runners.

Tuesday, I left from the kids’ camp.  I ran East this time towards Polpis.  I stayed on the bike path, which rolled nicely but was generally boring.  I’ve started adding runs like this into my schedule – the monotony of a fixed course is what I can expect for the middle portion of JFK.  10 miles even.

Wednesday, I thought I needed to veer off-road, so I planned an out-and-back through conservation land.  It was beautiful, and I was reluctant to turn around.

I decided that it would be fun to come back for my 20 miler a few days later.  My Friday long run started out well, with an overcast sky and the trail running to the southern (surf side) of Nantucket.  I saw a part of the island that few tourists witness and became lost in my own reverie.  Unfortunately, the clouds parted and the sun came out.  With the direct heat, no shade, and touch of stomach distress, miles 10-12 because pretty miserable.  I decided to cut it short, which turned out to be a good call.

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We flew from Nantucket to Baltimore, and the next day headed to my family’s mountain cabin in South-Central PA.  I ran 27 miles on the shale-rock trails and roads there – the best run being my shortest, a seven miler with my cousin Mark.  He’s 18 months older than me, and since childhood I have strived to keep up with him hiking or biking, and now running.  I’d love to talk him into coming to VA for an ultra next year….

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We stayed at the Cabin for a few days, and finished off the week with some time in Frederick, MD.  I hooked up with some local runners to get out on the Catoctin Mountain Trail.  I’ll be running the Catoctin 50K in a few weeks and wanted to get my bearings and a feel for the terrain.  We ran 20 miles on Saturday – the conservative pace and small group made it easy to focus on learning the trail.  However, about 6 miles into our run, we heard a strange rattle noise.  Sure enough, we had hopped right over a HUGE rattlesnake!  Fortunately, it did not want to mess with us (any more than we wanted to mess with it).  When we passed the spot a few hours later, he was long gone!

I swear he was HUGE in real life. However, the photographer was reluctant to go in for a close up!!

I  returned Sunday to run the course in reverse – a total of 16 miles for the day.  Running on tired legs, but finishing strongly, I gained a huge amount of confidence for the actual race.  The Frederick Steeplechasers are a great running club, and I’m so thankful they let me tag along.  I’ll see many of them at Catoctin and JFK and hope that I’ll be able to log a few more training runs with them over the coming months.