Race Report!

This race report is brought to you by: ibuprofen, ice packs, and my awesome mom, without whom, I would not have made it through the race nor been able to get back home.


This is a long post. (It was a long race). Here is a summary: I did it! I finished the race I set out to run. And...it's still kind of unbelievable to me.


My mom and I arrived in Los Alamos on Thursday. It is a friendly little town at 7320 feet of elevation. They are all about physical activity: bike lanes and sidewalks everywhere, a ski area, an outdoor ice rink, and hiking trails accessible from the center of town!

That afternoon, we drove to find the start and the two aid stations where my mom would wait for me during the race, and then went to pick up my packet. I got a great shirt and a beautiful poster, showing a section of the trail that burned in last year's Las Conchas fire.

On Friday we did a little bit of hiking before attending the pasta dinner and pre-race briefing that evening.

The 50k started Saturday at 6:00 am with cool, breezy weather. The check-in and start were very low-key, but I was nervous anyway, and feeling nauseous. I had choked down a granola bar and some grapes for breakfast, but I should have eaten a little more before the race started. This being my first ultra, the start was pleasantly different than most other races I have run: no gun or airhorn to signal the start, and no one took off incredibly fast.

I managed to trip and fall after only two or three miles, but other than scraping my knee and being embarassed, I was fine. The first aid station was around five miles. I still had plenty of water, so I took an orange slice and kept running. Oranges must have magical powers; I felt instantly awesome and wished I had grabbed three or four slices. It didn't last long, though; the nausea came back. By this point, we had started gaining some elevation via a switchback climb, and I knew I had better make myself eat something. So while walking up the switchbacks (I walked most of the uphill portions, along with many other runners), I nibbled a few pretzels and ate a package of CLIF ShotBloks.

My mom was waiting at the aid station at 10.4 miles, which I reached in about two and a half hours (much later than I had estimated--she waited a long time for me). She handed me a fruit cup while I refilled my water, and then I headed out again.

The section between the second and third aid stations, at 10.4 and 16.4 miles, was the toughest overall: it was almost entirely uphill to the top of the Pajarito Ski Area, above 10,000 feet in elevation. The climb was so steep in places I was using trees to pull myself up. All the runners I saw at this point were hiking rather than running this long, steep climb. I tried to eat as I hiked, and I ran anytime the trail took even a brief turn downhill or across level ground. During the two hours this stretch took me, I contemplated several times dropping out at the 16.4 mile aid station--I felt that bad. The nausea I was experiencing and the trouble I was having breathing and going uphill at the high altitude was causing me to have serious doubts about my ability to finish this. But then we started going downhill. It was steep, straight down a ski run, but I was so grateful to not be going up anymore that I was almost certain I could finish the race now.

My mom was waiting at the ski lodge aid station. Even though I was feeling better, I must have still looked bad, because one of the EMTs at the station hung around to make sure I was okay. I couldn't figure out what I wanted to eat, and finally ended up devouring some grapes and some Salt & Vinegar kettle chips (thanks Rebecca!). My mom sent me off with a peanut butter sandwich as well, which didn't appeal for some reason--after a couple of bites, I chucked it into a bush.

 

After this aid station, I continued to feel better, and I remembered wishing I could let my mom know how much better I was doing so that she didn't worry. The scenery was beautiful the entire way, but at this point, because I wasn't as miserable, I was really able to enjoy it. There were three more aid stations to pass through, and the last one was my favorite. Cardboard signs led up to it, saying "Just ahead: Last Chance Saloon!" "Last Chance for Beer and Pumpkin Pie!" and "Last Chance to get spiffed up for that finish line photo!" It was great. There were two more miles to the finish, and even though the advertised beer and pie sounded amazing, I just drank some soda and kept on going.

My official time was 9:08:14. (All the results can be found here). I wished I had stopped my watch at the aid stations, to get a better idea of the amount of time I actually spent covering the thirty-one miles, but it didn't occur to me then. 

I was so glad to be finished that it didn't sink in immediately. And it's still kind of unbelievable to me, that I really ran that far and achieved this goal.

I have so much to be thankful for in this. Foremost, for the Lord's help, for being with me when I felt alone out there. For my mom, who woke up at the crack of dawn, waited hours in the morning wind and afternoon sun, provided indispensable support, and took awesome pictures. For my sister, my dad, and my friends, who provided encouragement and believed in me. And for all the awesome aid station and race volunteers who kept us all going.

There were times during the race that I thought, "This is it. This is the longest I'll ever go, no more long races, I'm done." I was in pain then. I don't know if I have already forgotten how bad some of it was, or if I'm just crazy, but I'm already looking for another challenge. I want to  know, maybe, how fast I could run a 50k on flat ground, at a lower altitude. Or if I could (someday) run a 50 miler. But for now, I have some recovering to do. And a lot of laundry.

North Franklin: An Unplanned Summit

I went trail-running again yesterday morning, at North Hills. We don't get many cloudy days in El Paso, but yesterday was one of them, and it stayed cooler far longer than it has in recent mornings. So I took full advantage, by going further than I had initially intended--all the way to the top of North Franklin Mountain, the highest peak in the Franklin Mountains.

The top is always further away than it looks...

East El Paso from a little below the summit.

Summit view of Northeast El Paso

The Franklin Mountains stretching away to the north.

 

 

Desert vegetation in bloom!

 The run (and hike...and climb...) to the top took nearly two hours, and the run back down only took a little over an hour. Sections near the summit were so steep, while running down I was terrified I was going to fall. I have improved at controlling my downhill speed, and with close attention and a great deal of prayer, I managed to not fall. Near the top, that is.

Only ten minutes from the parking lot, I took what I imagine to be a spectacular fall. The ground had leveled out, so I was not paying as much attention. And I was tired. I didn't notice I had tripped until I was on my stomach with bloody knees and elbows and several bruises.

I didn't encounter anyone else during those last ten minutes, so I didn't have to explain why my knees and elbow were dripping blood. It crossed my mind to say something hilarious if I did, like "Run! The zombies are attacking!"

So, it's probably a good thing I was the only one on the trail.

A Mountain-Running Morning

Most of my El Paso trail running is done in the North Hills section of Franklin Mountains State Park. For a change of scenery, this morning I drove to the top of Transmountain Road to run the Smuggler's Gap Trail, which runs south through the mountain range. And by "through the mountain range," I mean "up and down the mountains." This trail requires some very steep climbing, often on loose or jagged rocks, and is at the outer limit of runnability for me. I spent maybe half the time running, a quarter climbing, and a quarter descending carefully. It was a blast!

I saw Indian paintbrushes:

And ran on edges like this:

And climbed stretches like this:

About an hour into the run, I reached the chain-assisted section of trail. The park has bolted chains into the rock on some very steep parts of the route. Even though it wasn't runnable I descended the chains for fun, so I could climb back up.

There are three sections of chain, and after descending the first two, you reach the window, a hole in the rock face with a view of east El Paso:

Taking a good picture of the window is difficult, because it isn't possible to back up very far--the only standing room is a narrow ledge.

I turned around at the bottom of the chain-assisted section, and after climbing back up, I pulled out my burrito. That's right, a burrito. Vegetarian refried beans in a tortilla. (I also had CLIF ShotBloks for backup).

Two things about the burrito:
1. It was delicious.
2. Half a burrito is enough.

It was so handy--I was even able to run while eating it--that I think I'm going to do it again. I'll make mini-burritos next time, so I'm not tempted to eat a whole big one.

The run took me an hour and four minutes, including photo-op-stops, to get to the bottom of the chain assisted section, and 53 minutes to get back to the start. 

And then I went to Starbucks.

Twenty!

I had planned to run eighteen miles this week. But instead of taking another shot at the out-and-back road course I attempted during my failed eighteen-miler on Wednesday, I decided to revert to my 3.75-mile desert loop (there was more traffic on the road than I had anticipated at six in the morning). Five loops would have made 18.75 miles. At first, I thought Why not run a few extra minutes to get nineteen? But during the run, I kept thinking When I've already gone nineteen, what's one more? And that is how I ended up running twenty miles today.

It took me three hours and nine minutes. I am ecstatic to have made it over the mental hump that is twenty miles! It gave me such a feeling of I really CAN do this! But all the credit belongs to the Lord--I could not do this without Him by my side, nor would I even want to try.

I took a waterbottle and two packs of Clif Shot Bloks to the start with me. I ate at least one Blok per lap (probably 15 to 20 calories each), whereas on previous long runs, I just ate a GU near the mid-point of the run. I think eating every lap helped, if only mentally. I like chewables better than gels, but I had a problem with these in particular: they are so large and dense as to require more chewing than I want to engage in while running. GU is too gooey, the Bloks aren't gooey enough...there is a perfect solution out there, and I WILL find it!

(Side note: in the book Born to Run, Christopher McDougall mentions ultrarunners who eat real food during both training and races. This idea appeals to me, but I don't know where to begin. Peanut butter sandwiches? Bean tacos? Applesauce? I want to try it, and I guess it will just be trial-and-error).

I felt great, until the last two or three miles. And even then, I didn't feel as bad as, say, Frodo and Sam on the final approach to Mount Doom,* but I was ready to be finished. A few minutes before the end, I saw a girl walking a dog, and since I usually see no one out there, I started to think I was hallucinating. But she was real, no worries. That, or my hallucinations reply when I say hello to them.

Also, by this point, it was starting to get hot. I started at 6:20 am, comfortable in long-sleeves for the first few laps. But by the last few miles, it was after nine o'clock, and I felt my face burning in spite of the sunscreen I was wearing. Speaking of which, I am on the hunt for a new sunscreen--the one I have been using causes excessive face-sweating. The heat at nine in the morning in April makes me dread the approaching summer, when El Paso will turn into Mordor.*

Well, I'm off to begin the search for better sunscreen and running fuel! As soon as I feel like moving again, that is.
________
*I just finished reading all the Lord of the Rings books, and watching all three movies. And I will probably re-watch The Return of the King while icing my legs today. I guess you could say I've become slightly obsessed...

A Difficult Run

This morning I set out to run eighteen miles. I had the route planned days ahead of time and I had mentally prepared for the distance the night before. Just as the sun was beginning to rise, I fueled up with a slice of toast and headed out the door.

And it was great...for the first five minutes, anyway.

Suddenly, I felt like I was trying to run upstream in a river of jello, with bricks instead of feet. My shoulders tightened up to the point they were practically touching my ears. I slogged on, periodically shaking out my arms, and repeating to myself a mantra I once read on an ultrarunning website: "It never always gets worse."

But it did. My body felt heavier and slower with each stride. I know there are times to keep going, to push through it, but after a few more miles I decided this was not one of those times. I turned around at the four-and-a-half mile mark and finished out nine miles with several two-minute walks thrown in.

I couldn't help but compare it to last week's fifteen, when I hadn't felt this bad even at the end. While my brain knows that there will be good runs and bad runs, sometimes for inexplicable reasons, my heart has yet to accept that as a fact. But I did everything right! I whined. I ate a good supper, I got enough sleep, I've even been stretching! 

Reminding myself that there is a reason for everything, that God always has a plan even when I can't see it, is a tactic I've tried lately to quiet the inner-whiner. It works better at some times than others. This time, it calmed me and helped me make peace with cutting the run short, but I couldn't stop analyzing why this had happened, and wondering what it means for my training.

Am I dehydrated? Did I not get enough rest? Did I eat too soon before running? Am I starting to get sick? Am I going to be ready for the race in five weeks? I don't know what the answers are. I don't know why these runs happen. But I know that I can learn something from every run, and hopefully today I learned something that will help me somewhere down the road. Today, I will refuel, rest, and try again on Friday.

Escape from El Paso

Most of the time, I love our home in the desert. But sometimes I find myself craving a visit to a place with tall trees and abundant vegetation.

This past weekend, my good friend Rebecca and I went camping in the Lincoln National Forest near Cloudcroft, NM. Even having seen this area before, I couldn't help but be astounded all over again that this place exists only two hours away from El Paso!

Bluff Springs Recreation Area   Image Credit: US Forest Service

There are several hiking trails in this area, and while I did not do any running on this trip, I plan to return soon for a long trail run. Although it was a short trip, it was so refreshing to relax by a campfire and soak in the beauty of the tree-covered mountains all around.

A minor downside: the state of my feet when I arrived home.

I don't think my feet had been this dirty in a long, long time. The dirt of the trails permeates shoes and socks more easily than the desert sand, and I didn't know that was possible. But the trip was well worth the grime!

Sunrise at North Hills

Sunrise is my favorite time of day here in the desert. Which is a good thing, because most of the year you need to get up that early to run if you don't want to be toasted, baked, and/or broiled. But I digress...

Waking in the dark is more than worth it when the reward is an unobstructed sunrise from the North Hills section of Franklin Mountains State Park. I stashed my camera in my camelback for a seventy-five minute run, but ended up carrying it in my hand the whole time.