Bouncing Back

Fall 2013

I'd be lying if I said the past few months have been stellar. And I'll probably be lying if I speculate that the next few months will be stellar.

Battling an injury since May - some sort of low-grade, chronic, achy pain - has not been fun. It's left me feeling miserable, grumpy, and overall meh. And paired with a busy schedule and an impending thesis deadline, everything kind of compounds.

Tonight I went out for a run. I think I ran 2.5 miles total - the most I've covered in one shot since July. The run started off well enough, but by a mile or so in, Vera and I were at odds and I could feel the grumpy growing. Vera was pulling, not listening, and acting bratty, and I was feeling frustrated. Finally, in the open field out front of the stadium, I had her sit nicely, unclipped her leash, and watched her take off in full-blown whippet-style sprint.

Summer 2014 - North Diamond Peak

Her ears flattened, her back legs tucked up under her chin, and she grinned, she literally grinned, as she flew through the waning light.

I sat down on the pavement on the edge of the freshly watered grass, and gazed up at the stars peeking out in the sky. Vera runs for the pure joy of feeling the wind on her face and that feeling of strength and ability. She doesn't think about how hard it is, or how tired she is. She just loves to run - a sentiment I've lost in the past few years.

It's so easy to get bogged down by the stresses and negatives to every day life, and to let them overshadow the pure joy that can arise from simple moments in life.

I might still not be able to run much, but it is time to find a way to recapture that feeling.

PRs are fun! Strained muscles are not.

I haven't really been running much since early December of 2013, after running the Tucson Marathon. I took a week off to let my legs recover, and planned on a down-month before jumping back into serious training for the Colorado Marathon in early May. Except that neither my brain nor my legs were really digging the whole "training" thing. A recovery month turned into two, then three, then four and I suddenly found myself toeing the start line for the Colorado Half Marathon (I was at least smart enough to realize that the full marathon was definitely not going to happen in enough time to switch races).

I really hadn't worried too much about the half marathon. I'd been putting in a 10-18 mile easy run every week or two or three since Tucson, so I knew I wouldn't have trouble with the distance. But those longer miles had been at a pretty casual pace, and my weekly mileage had barely ever bumped out of the low-20s. And speed work - what's speed work? A couple of early morning single-digit mile repeats at the cemetery with some trail runner friends and one mediocre 5K in March where I figuratively literally hit a wall and ran out of speed on my legs in the last mile and trotted it in with a 7:24 final mile after starting strong in the 6:50s.  To add insult to injury, I also, at some point in the winter months, strained a couple muscles in my left leg that had bothered me on and off (and mostly on when it came to running fast).

But suddenly, as I was sitting on the earlier-than-5AM bus out to the start-line it occurred to me that all joking about not being at all prepared for this race aside, I was not at all prepared for this race. I've run plenty of halfs with this level of preparation, but I've kind of grown out of the whole "running a race for fun" thing. I really dig the idea of landing on a podium, if only for an age group award, and feeling like I really ran as hard as I could for whatever distance I was planning on running.

I did an easy mile to warm-up and a few striders to get my legs going, and jumped in with the 1:40 pacer as the race started. We eased into the race, ticking off times just under 8 minute miles for the first mile, easing into the 7:38 pace needed to hit a 1:40 half. The pace felt easy and relatively comfortable for the first few miles. As we exited the canyon and dropped the pace a bit more into the 7:20s than the 7:30s/7:40s, my hamstring (well adductor and rectus femoris muscles, to be nerdily specific) started tightening up and I could feel them pulling a hair with each step. I wasn't feeling like I was running that hard, but with 7 miles still to go, I dropped off the back of the 1:40 group and settled into my own pace, judging it off of how my leg was feeling. There were a few times when I thought about reeling the group back in, but every time I picked up the pace beyond a 7:45 or so, I could feel things tightening up and pulling in all the bad places. So I mentally let go of 1:40 or sub-1:40 and decided to hold it steady for a much-needed updated PR. With a mile to go, I gritted my teeth and pushed a bit harder through the tightness just to feel like I was finishing with a bit more of a kick rather than running it in kind of pathetically. I think that last mile ticked off in the mid-7:30s (7:33??). It was really fantastic to come out of the last bit of bike path and onto the turn on to the road and find some friends out cheering for me. I kicked it into gear up the last quarter of a mile and across the line in a shiny new PR of 1:41:29.

Can't wait to see what kinds of times i can bust out this summer, with a hopefully healed up leg and some actual training and speed work on the legs!

Snowshoeing!

I'm sitting at my office, still, after 9PM on a Monday night because I am hellbent on finishing up all (12) short answer essays I still need to crank out by February 15 in order to apply for Dietetic Internships and a scholarship. So obviously this is the ideal time to write up a quick race recap on the Sourdough Snowshoe Race that Alex twisted my arm into running a few weeks ago.

I signed up for this (free!!!!) race way back when registration first opened. Mostly because it was free, but also because it would be a fun opportunity to get together with the big group of friends that were planning on snowshoeing (running?) that day down in Nederland and experience a new sport (snowshoeing). I had literally never seen a pair of snowshoes in person when I registered. Let's forget about actually snowshoeing. Who needs race specific prep anyways?!

At the start of December, I actually had the opportunity to get out on a pair of snowshoes, courtesy of a research group outing organized and outfitted by my advisor (he has a rather large number of snowshoes between all of his children that we were able to borrow). We headed out for a fun day in the deep snow near Cameron Pass in the Poudre Canyon, where we successfully slogged 3.5 miles in a 3 hour time period. I was feeling really great about 30 kilometers in snowshoes. Yep. But it was an incredibly fun day, nonetheless, with some good friends and fun powder to frolic in.

As the big day - my A-Race for the winter season - approached, all other competitors began dropping like flies. Even TNC decided to wimp out at the last minute! And I tried to drop out too. I really did. But after telling Alex my plan to bail (since everyone else had), I got a text from him the day before informing me that he was dropping to the shorter distance and he would pick me up at 6:30am. So just like that, I was running (snowshoeing?) my first ever snowshoe race. I borrowed a set of racing snowshoes from a friend of mine on the Runner's Roost team, and majorly over packed every item I thought I might possibly have a use for at the race.

Alex and I somehow made it to the start-line, despite a consensus from us both that not going would have possibly been preferable. We picked up our packets, strapped on our snowshoes, and hobbled off onto the course. I'm a pretty spazzy person to start with. Put me on snowshoes, and well, it actually wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. I stumbled my way through the first mile, almost entirely at a run, and then decided it was an extreme amount of work and started trudging. And trudge I did, all the way to the turn-around at mile 5.8. And I'm proud to say I only fell twice outbound. There, I replaced my snow-drenched gloves (I kicked up roughly an entire winter's worth of snowfall onto my right hand, but not my left??), downed some hot tea and a few doughnut holes, and took off again for the finish. The return trip wasn't a whole lot more eventful than the outbound.

With about half a mile to go, I found Alex waiting for me on the side of the trail and we ran it in together. And I actually ran at the end! And picked up the pace a bit! And managed to beat Joe Grant by four whopping minutes (he won the 30K...I ran the 11.4 mile race). But I am disappointed to say that I was a full minute slower than my marathon time from December.

So I'm pretty sure that this was, at best, a pretty mediocre performance (but for real, it was one of my worst showings in the past few years). So, um, I probably won't be turning pro as a snowshoe racer any time soon. But I am glad that Alex dragged my butt down to Nederland to get in on some wintertime fun. Kevin Lund et al put on a pretty incredible, and really well-supported and well-swagged, event. For the whoppingly expensive cost of $0, I came away with an incredibly well-supported aid station, two pairs of new socks, and some random race swag. Pretty kickass. 

2013 In The Books

Freeze-Frame High Five!

In Russian culture, New Years is a huge deal. As my Russian friend, and New Years celebrating partner Dasha, informed us all this year, the way you celebrate New Years Eve sets the stage for the entire year. 2013 started out BIG. If you will, Legen...wait for it...and I hope you're not lactose intolerant because the next part is...DAIRY. Legendary. January the first of 2013. What did I do? Oh yea, that's right, register for the Leadville 100. A controversial move in many circles, mine included, but not because I registered for a 100 mile foot race. Nah. People just get really amped up about the topic of Leadville. But yea, 2013 started off big. We also rang in the New Year in epic fashion, at a kick-ass house party in a gorgeous house nestled at the base of Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Democrat, just down the hill from Hoosier Pass.

I'm not entirely sure why I decided to run a 100 in 2013. I think it might have had something to do with Pete goading me about registering last minute for the Run Rabbit Run 100 back in September 2012 (a move I am beyond grateful I didn't make - NEVER make decisions at the Trailhead - NEVER register for races at the Trailhead - occasionally it's okay to buy engagement gifts via iphone there, though).

2013 was punctuated by running events and achievements, more so than anything else. I called it the year of the ultra, and it sure as heck was. By the numbers, here's how 2013 went...

2,184 miles run
316 miles: biggest single training month
100 miles: biggest single training week
100 miles: longest race run (Leadville 100!)
65 hours: longest time I've ever gone without real sleep (just a couple catnaps)
16 races total
3 PRs (2 in the 5K and one in the Marathon)
3 Pacing/crewing experiences at different 100s
3 Ultras run (Moab Red Hot 55K, Grand Canyon R2R2R, Leadville 100)
1 BQ
1 100 mile race

I got to participate in several friends' journeys through 100 mile races. Those are their stories to tell, but I am beyond honored to have been asked and allowed to participate in their weekends. Ultras are tough on all that are involved - the crew, the pacers, the runners, the family, the friends, and the dogs of those involved. But at the end of the day, being able to share in such an intimate experience of joy, sorrow, pain, laughter, and elation is worth every sleepless night and hangry comment that it illicits. So thank you to Victoria, Pete, Alan, and Rob Howard for including me in your adventures. And thank you to Cat, Mike, my parents, Kristel (and Victoria, Pete, Alan, VFuel, and so many others) for your support, patience, and participation in my own 100 mile adventure and training.

But now for 2014...
In 2013...I laughed a lot, I ate a lot, I learned a lot, and I had some totally awesome times, all around. But I find myself hitting 2014 feeling kind of let-down by 2013. I'm not sure why, but I have a feeling it was the singularity of focus that I gave to 2013. It was completely awesome running so much. And if anything, I want to run more in 2014. But I also forgot to rock climb, and bike, and climb mountains. I hit the summit of precisely zero 14ers (or 13ers or 12ers) this year. I went on no backpacking trips. My year was so consumed by training, that I let go of a lot of the other things that I really love to do. So in 2014, I want to do everything I did in 2013...but then do more awesome in 2014. And not run a 100 this year. Maybe in 2015. Or 2016.

I love to exercise, not for the sake of exercise, but for the ability to do.

I bike to spend time with friends, to go really freaking fast, and to see parts of the road I might not pay attention to when driving. I want to spend more time biking in 2014.

I rock climb because I love the challenge, the feel of rock and chalk on my finger tips, the sensation of barely holding on when falling would really suck. It's also the only motivator I have to lift. I want to be strong to climb better, not to be strong. In 2014, I want to start lead climbing more consistently. I want to get outside more.

I run pretty much just to run. It gives me the ability to see so much of the mountains and cover trail systems it would take others days to hike around. Running gives me community and some of the best friends I'll ever have. It also makes beer taste better and food more delicious. Trust me. I ran a lot in 2013. I don't know that I'll run more in 2014. But I want to savor it more. And I want my running to be more about the journey in 2014, not the destination. I also really want to run a 3:15 marathon, so maybe a little bit about the destination.

I want to spend more time in the mountains. A lot more time in the mountains.
I want to start taking steps towards a real and lasting career, and carving a path that will be fulfilling, worth-while, and enjoyable.
I want more awesome, and less suck.
I want to simplify my life, and eliminate the clutter.
I want to read more and watch less TV.
I want to be more in the moment.

If I can do all of those things at least halfway, I think I will be able to call 2014 a success. Bring it!

Tucson Marathon

December 8, I ran the Tucson Marathon. It was my first road marathon since October 2009. For some reason, the idea of running a marathon a mere 4 months after my first hundred seemed like a really good idea back in July when I registered. An even better idea, or so it seemed at the time, would be shooting for a goal of a 3:15. HAH! Six weeks after Leadville, I was still barely running. And when I did run, my legs felt like they had lead weights attached to them. After a run where I managed to...barely...knock off an 8:20/mile average for four whopping miles, I made the decision to do something unprecendented. I decided to find a coach, and significantly revised my marathon goal time down to a 3:30, or at the least a BQ. I contacted Mike Chavez off the recommendation of two friends who were currently working with him, and we set to work creating a plan to get me to the start-line of the Tucson Marathon in 9 weeks.

It took me until about three weeks before the marathon for my legs to snap back into shape, and I found myself on the start line with a 15.5 mile run as my longest since Leadville four months prior. With a light snow falling, a strong wind whipping around, and temps about 10 degrees cooler than forecasted, I was feeling pretty apprehensive standing on the start-line waiting to get going. I bounced back and forth from the porta-potty line to the shuttle buses in the hour leading up to the run and, with 10 minutes to go, shed my layers and jogged out a ways and back again as a warm-up. It wasn't really effective. The temperatures were just too cold given the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing.

I knew the course was pretty downhill (something like 2000 ft of descent??), but it also had a few pretty decent hills thrown in and a handful of rollers throughout the course (not really represented in the elevation chart). I took off at a 7:40 pace (too fast!) and pulled it back a bit before settling into an average just under 8/mi for the first 10 miles. Didn't hold that for the whole marathon, but also didn't drop off it too much. Mile 9.5 or so was hit with an incredibly *fun* (read horrific low point) set of rollers on an out-and-back section. It took more mental fortitude to get through the 5'ish miles I was on that section than any other piece of the course. My pace dropped a touch, but I hit the main highway again around mile 14 or 15 and it was rainbows and unicorns again. Well kind of. My legs felt pretty tired. I was officially at the longest distance I'd run in the past four months. But I was still running strong, and still hitting about 7:5x/mile without the effort feeling strained. Around mile 18, even that was over. I was running 8 minute flat, but it was feeling more labored. Even then, I was grinning ear-to-ear (or in my mind I was - I'm sure pictures would show something that looked like a tortured twisted grimace) because this was the furthest I had ever made it in a marathon uninjured!

The last 10K was pretty horrendous. I know, I know, the last 10K is always a pretty horrendous gut-it-out labor-of-something-that-isn't-love. But this was worse. I think. I actually don't really know. I've run two other road marathons. In marathon 1, I came in still recovering from a bad case of runner's knee, and landed myself with a stress fracture that blew up on me at mile 8. I finished. And limped across the line in 5:47. In second to last place. After walking 0.5/running 0.5 (limping all of each mile??) for the final 18 miles. I should have been pulled. I should have quit. Thank you record-breaking temps for guaranteeing not a single medical person on the course, due to high numbers of heat-stroke. Marathon 2, IT band issues starting at mile 15. So that 10K hurt like hell (or what I imagine hell to hurt like). But it also hurt only in the "holy crap I've run a reasonably hard 20 prior miles off of relatively little training" sense and NOT AT ALL in the "holy crap I'm injured" sense. A last minute course reroute threw in a few extra fun hills at mile 21. They were a real joy to run over. But, at least, I knew when I hit mile 23, I was in the home stretch. Only a 5K to go, and there really was no more decent or ascent. Just a lot of turns. So many turns. Every half mile was a turn. Even as I approached the last two tenths of a mile to the finish, I couldn't see the finish. It was around a final turn.

Just kidding, that didn't happen.

I crossed the line in 3:32:51 (woohoo BQ!!), which was not at all my goal. But I am still, nearly an entire month later, beyond stoked about it. Given how I really never felt prepared, or trained, at any point for this race, I am first and foremost stoked to have actually run the entire whopping distance. Then there was my awesome level of fueling in this race. The thing that totally freaked me out the most about running a road marathon was the separation from my safety blanket of handhelds and hydration packs - where do you put your gels when you run a road marathon?! (I safety pinned mine between a tank top and my sports bra. Undoing the safety pins in near-freezing conditions with chilly fingers while running was scary. Scary.). But despite that, I managed to settle into a good technique of basically perpetually carrying and occasionally sipping on my gels. No bonk! Woohoo! I really should be better at the practice of sports nutrition... Maybe in 2014. But also, most importantly, I ran this race exactly as I had planned. I ran smart. I ran uninjured. And I stayed really freaking positive the entire time. I even had fun! It was awesome!

Bring it on, Boston Marathon 2015! Can't wait to meet you. 

26.2 and other stickers

The other day, when I was in a car with a friend, we pulled up to a stop sign behind a car with a 26.2 sticker and a 13.1 sticker on it. She asked me if, after running the Leadville 100, I laughed at how short those distances are and the people who displayed those stickers (paraphrased, of course). It wasn't intended as a jab at any snobbery or better-than-thou attitude on my part. It was more just a genuine question - "hey you ran 100 miles, so now does the idea of running a half marathon seem silly to you now?"

I have a tattoo that maybe 10% of the people I know know of. Or maybe more. I don't really know. I also don't really care that much who knows about it. It's a 26.2 in a circle. I cared who knew I had it when I got it, and strategically placed it where no one at my job (at the time, trading a financial product no one has ever heard of outside the industry at a big international investment bank) would be able to see it. Mission accomplished. Minus that I inadvertantly landed myself with a marathon-themed tramp stamp. Oops. Lesson learned. I got that tattoo at a time when I thought I'd run marathons forever. Also at a time when I thought marathons were pretty damn badass. I still think that, for the record. So are 100s. And 5Ks.

The 5K distance scares the crap out of me. Run almost as hard as you can for 3.1 miles, so hard you might actually puke when you cross the finish line? Oh that terrifies me to no end. I was a bundle of nerves leading up to Leadville, but it was nothing compared to how I feel the night before a 5K. Not that the distance is that far, or my pace is even that fast. It's just hard, and those 20'some minutes go on forever. FOREVER. Longer than a treadmill mile.

I have a marathon coming up on Sunday - my first road marathon in over four years. Good thing I have a marathon tattoo, huh? It's clearly a really important distance in my world. I didn't get that tattoo because I love marathons - at the time I was both intimidated by and enamoured with that distance. I still am. I got that tattoo to symbolize my love for running, a twin of one my best friend (a term I reserve only for one friend, who I have been sisters with since we met in shopping carts at the grocery store prior to our first birthdays) got the same day. And also because I really wanted a tattoo. 

So back to that question that was posed to me. Do I think those distances are silly? Hells no. It really shouldn't matter if someone wants to run 100 miles or a 5K or 1 mile. If someone chooses to run repeats for 10 hours on a track, 10 miles on the wide open road, along the coastline, or through the mountains - well that's great. They're out doing something they love - or they're trying to learn to love - they're running! I've certainly fallen into the judging in the past, as I'm sure almost all of us have. But really, aren't we all just different breeds of the same species?

Anyway, um, 3 days to my first marathon in 4 years. A race for which I feel woefully unprepared. But at least it will be warmer than the forecasted 18 degrees F in Fort Collins. Bring it on, Tucson. Let's do this.
 

The Leaves are a'Changing

At this very moment, I am sitting outside with yellow fall leaves crunching across the cement patio, billowed about by the wind, drinking a hot chai tea and wearing jeans, a light sweater, and boots. So what you say? Well, I'm not sweating my butt off and I'm not freezing cold. I'm going to go ahead and declare this as the Perfect Weather. I might not get a tan (who needs skin cancer anyways??), but I don't want to go inside. And this evening when I go for a run, I'll probably still wear a tank top and shorts. I might finish with a chill on my arms from a light wind and falling temps, but I call that perfection.

Monmouth Coffee Company: some of the only gooooddddd coffee I found in London

The rainy, angry transition to Autumn that Colorado has been having these past few weeks brings me back to the two Autumn seasons I experienced living in London. It's the only time of the year that I ever feel at all nostalgic for the dreary grey city that I was exiled (er...transferred for work) to for a brief blip in my life. This weather, though, makes me crave lazy Saturday mornings wandering through Borough Market to buy overpriced groceries for gourmet cook-a-thons in the kitchen while drinking hot spiced wine or lattes from Monmouth Coffee Company and scouring the craft beer stall for delicious American micros for later indulgence. And it really makes me dream of running through and around Hampstead Heath - the closest thing to a real forest I ever found in London.

I spent many a weekend afternoon meandering around Hampstead Heath - when I could work up the energy to drag myself out into the drear

I'm sure, though, that in a few days I'll snap out of this phase of waxing poetic about a place where I actually really hated living. Not that I'd ever turn down a trip to run on some of the moors and heaths around England, nor a meal at VitaO... 

Apple & Pumpkin Season!

Even as the weather continues to hover in the 90s in Fort Collins, the growing season ticks on. Peaches are ripening, the transition from summer squashes to fall squashes is in full swing, and pumpkin beers are dominating the shelves at beer stores. Fall is tangibly working itself into the air - I couldn't be more excited for chilly nights, frost-tipped grass to run through in the mornings, hoodies, hot tea, fleecy blankets, and good books. Most importantly though, pumpkin spice lattes have hit the coffee bars at Starbucks all over the country.

Although I spend a lot of my time running, food and nutrition pretty much top the lists of my other passions. Fall foods are hands down my favorites too.

The pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks is my favorite guilty indulgence. But since I'm still not running much in my post-Leadville recovery, I'm delaying my first PSL of the season. To quell my cravings though, I opened a can of pumpkin puree the other day to make my own (slightly healthier) version of a pumpkin spice latte. Combine 1/2 C almond milk (or whatever your milk of choice is), 1 tsp of sugar, and 1.5 TBSP pumpkin puree in a 16 oz coffee mug, heat it up, and top it off with 10 oz of dark roast coffee. A sprinkle of pumpkin pie spices to top it off, and you basically have heaven in a (ceramic) glass.

Then last night I had dinner with a friend. I had a pound of pork loin in the freezer, and couldn't decide what to make with it. So I went to trusty ol' Google for some answers and found, and slightly modified, a recipe for Pork & Apple Curry with Coconut Rice. I don't love coconut, or coconut milk, in general but coconut rice is one of my favorite ways to cook rice. The coconut flavoring is just subtle and creamy enough that I can totally get on board. Prepare yourself for some pure awesome.

Pork & Apple Curry (serves 4)

• 1 pound boneless pork loin
• 1 apple, peeled and diced
• 1/4 C OJ
• 1/4 C chicken stock
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 3/4 small onion, chopped
• 1 TBSP curry powder
• 1/2 tsp ginger powder
• 1/2 tsp  cinnamon powder
• optional post-cooking addition: toasted coconut flakes

Throw it all in the slow-cooker on low for 5-6 hours. Prep time of roughly 5 minutes - so easy!

Coconut Rice

• 2 C rice
• 1 3/4 C water
• 1 C coconut milk

Either mix all in a rice cooker (easiest way!) or bring water to a boil in a small pot, then add the rice and coconut milk, cover, and let cook approximately 20 minutes, or until all liquid has evaporated and the rice is tender. 

I ended up with extra pumpkin (though my pup has been enjoying a spoonful in her chow every morning this week) and extra coconut milk. I decided to make a really simple pudding-like dish for dessert this evening. I combined 3/4 C coconut milk, 1 C pumpkin puree, 1 TBSP sugar, 1/2 tsp cinnamon powder, & 1/4 tsp nutmeg (serves 2). Boil until it thickened, and enjoy! This might be my new fave fall dessert. 

Hooray for Fall!

Leadville Trail 100

bring it on Pb100!

I've sat down no less than 5 times to write a recap on this race - and actually came pretty close before accidentally deleting the entire thing. It's kind of hard to wrap up 29+ hours of action, not to mention nearly a year of training and preparation, into a blog post. This run was what I will describe as semi-rad - 29:25:56 (I can even list the milliseconds if so requested, thanks to Leadville providing us with finisher sweatshirts, name and time stamped on the sleeve) isn't a particularly impressive finishing time, but I did what I set out to do. I ran 100 miles. And I kept it pretty easy throughout. Now that's not to say I didn't have some bad spots and fall into some dark places or hurt like hell - I did all of those things. Multiple times. But I also didn't really push to breaking, or run my hardest. I just sort of let the run play out in front of me, let my legs slowly unwind until the finish line was in sight, and enjoy the experience as much as I could.

Leadville Trail 100 starts at the ungodly hour of 4am. 2:30am my alarm blared at me, and I awoke feeling sort of hazy. You know that feeling on Christmas morning, back when you were a kid? You'd awake knowing you should be feeling all kinds of excited and antsy, but it would take a few seconds to remember why exactly you were feeling that way. That's what waking up on the morning of the Pb100 felt like - if Christmas was one of those whiffle ball bats ready to bash your legs and back and shoulders and arms and head repeatedly for nearly 30 hours.

breakfasting at 3am

about to head to the start line

Breakfast was bacon, eggs, toast, fruit, and lots of delicious coffee with Kristel's and my crew. After stuffing our faces for a while, we made our way out the door and down to the cluster-fuck that is the start line. But seriously - the starting area was gated off from the crowds, with 900 runners lined up en masse. It felt kind of like a bunch of cattle being herded through the shoot. Kristel and I snuck in to the crowds and 5 minutes later, the race was off to an anticlimactic start and we were clipping off pretty pedestrian miles down 6th street, before turning onto a dirt road on our way to Turquoise Lake and AS#1 - May Queen. I immediately, unfortunately, fell in line with a dark shadow that would haunt me for the better part of the first 40 miles. It didn't matter how much I sped up or slowed down - she was there. The perkiest girl alive. This chick was chattering away at 4am, with anyone who would listen, telling her whole life story and narrating every move of her run.

TL outbound, dreaming of a time
when I wasn't running

I rolled into May Queen at 6:30am or so, right on the slower end of my schedule, but also really grumpy from having to listen to that girl chatter away for the first 2.5 hours of my day. I handed over a light jacket, my headlamp, and arm warmers to my crew and swapped out my gel flask for a full one. May Queen seemed to be the only AS of the race that I was able to get in and out of with any level of rapidity. Out to Twin Lakes (outbound), I pretty much ran a lot, walked a bit, volleyed back and forth with Alan Smith for a while, and trudged up the climb out of Half Pipe that continued on most of the way to the Mt Elbert Mini Aid Station (basically a water drop operated by CamelBak). I came in to Twin Lakes, some hot spots forming on my feet, still pretty much right on pace. My crew taped up my feet and set me up with dry socks (proved pointless 10 minutes later as I forded a river) to stave off blisters. I picked back up arm warmers in case it got cold over the top of Hope Pass, a 10 oz handheld of coke, some nutella, and set out for Hope Pass. As I was walking out of the Aid Station, Mindy walked with me for a ways, giving me one of the greatest pep talks I have ever received.

Making Hope Pass my be-otch for the 2nd time that day
Photo Cred: M. Genauer

The 21 miles I spent on Hope Pass were hands down my favorite of the entire race. I'd driven out to Leadville twice over the summer to run Hope Pass, and had made my way out and back on the Twin Lakes side of the the trail twice, and about halfway down the decline on the Winfield side once. I felt really comfortable on the trail, and had a huge burst of energy and positivity on my way up. It was fun to see the leaders cruising down and get to cheer on some (much faster) friends from Fort Collins, both running and pacing, as I was on my way up. Passing the llamas at the Hopeless Aid Station was just fun, and hitting the top of Hope Pass and taking off running downhill felt amazing. I kept up a controlled easy jog (except over the talus rock sections that I tend to roll my ankle running over) all the way down the 3 miles or so of descent until the trail leveled out to runnable rollers. I started to feel a bit nauseous or light-headed around this section - just generally not great - so I walked a bit more than I might otherwise have needed. I ran pretty much my exact planned split into Winfield - about 4 hours flat. I walked into the aid station to find Rob and Mike and started crying, from some combination of relief, exhaustion, and who knows what else. Rob looked at me hard and told me to buck up, "there is no crying in ultra running." After a few gasping breaths, I pulled myself together, and requested a bit of additional foot care and another sock change to readdress the still lingering hot spots, and a gear swap to pack my needed gear into Mike's pack as he would be muling for me over Hope Pass. Mike came prepped with some awesomely awful bad jokes and lots of chatter to distract me from the hike back over Hope Pass. My legs weren't that tired, and other than a few spots where I paused to catch my breath on the ascent, I felt really good on the return trip over Hope Pass. We reached Twin Lakes a solid hour ahead of schedule - 3:11 as opposed to my goal time of 4:10. I lost some of that time back at the Aid Station re-taping my feet and collecting the gear I needed for the next 17 or so miles.

Swapping out Pacers at TL (return)

Cat and I headed out from Twin Lakes, headlamps lit, back up the climb to the Mt Elbert Mini AS and then down into Half Pipe. Somewhere along the way, my achilles tendon on my left foot and the tendon running across my first metatarsal on the same foot began to ache pretty severely and I started walking more and more, even though my legs still felt pretty good. Coming in to Outward Bound (Fish Hatchery), it was getting cold. In the AS, I filled up my 10 oz flask with hot water and chicken broth and pulled on a pair of running tights since my legs were getting so cold it was hard to move well. After a brief break to warm-up, Cat and I were off again for the never-ending climb up Pipeline. Seriously though - it felt like this climb was going to go on for the rest of my life. Memory is a funny thing too - I really didn't remember the descent off of Sugarloaf pass being that steep or that long. It flew by pretty quickly. Somehow, I missed the multiple false summits and winding endlessness that is this climb when I was running down it. And the same thing happened with the section of Colorado Trail from the turn-off from the jeep road following Pipeline into May Queen. A couple of miles out from May Queen, I decided I was finished with this run. Not DNF finished, but just an "I am so tired of running and this isn't fun anymore" finished.

I came through May Queen at 5:45am, an hour ahead of the cut-off and with 4:15 to trudge the final 13.5 miles. I passed off my bottles for a refill of water and coke, grabbed a dixie cup of potato chips topped with m&ms and walked on, towards the finish line. I really just wanted to be finished. Rob Erskine was taking over pacing duties for Cat, and in short order, he'd caught back up to me with some extra potato chips and my filled bottles. Though my handheld of coke was mixed pretty disgustingly with old chicken broth. To illustrate my level of not caring, I drank it. It was gross. Really gross. And I finished it all. A few miles along the trail around Turquoise Lake later, with the other side of the lake still depressingly far away, I broke down and decided to run. And found that it wasn't really that bad. It would take a few (hundred) mincing painful steps to settle into a rhythm, but once I got there, I found I could hold it for a long while. As long as the terrain didn't change too significantly. At the Tabor Boat Ramp, we heard a couple of different possible mileages and it was actually looking like we might be able to make it to the finish line before 9am. Unfortunately, that mileage estimate was a couple miles shorter than actual. And after 40 minutes of solid running, we'd only covered a "half mile" according to updated (probably more accurate) mileage estimates. That was discouraging. But on I ran, or more realistically, shuffled towards the finish line. At 8:15, I had 4 miles to go, pretty much all uphill. Rob deserves a huge thank you for putting up with me, especially over those last 4 miles, when I don't remember mustering any energy for anything but an eye roll at the relentless climbing, and I doubt my "run" pace topped 14 minute miles.

my ridiculous crew and pacers (minus my dad, the photographer), walking me in to the finish.

the guys and me, at the finish

My crew found me at the turn-off onto 6th Street and ran/walked the last mile in to the finish line with me. Being genuinely ridiculous. Across the finish line, I grabbed my medal, flowers, and stood for the weigh-in to ensure I hadn't lost too much weight over the past 30 hours. I hung around the finish area for a while watching more finishers come through, and cheering on Alan Smith as he finished in 29:45. I limped back to the house, into the shower, and onto the floor for a nap.

Palisade Peach and Spring Kite veggie pizza

To cap this off, I want to give a HUGE thank you to my crew, pacers, and those people I peppered with a hundred thousand questions along the way. Cat, Mike, and Rob Erskine - thank you so much for your awesome pacing and crewing. Mom, Dad, and Rob Howard - thanks for being out there to crew and cheer me on! Scott - it was so much fun to have you at the finish line to run in that last mile with, capping off the ridiculousness of my crew. And thanks to Pete and Kristel for training with me, lending me gear as needed, answering a million questions about running 100s, and generally putting up with me stressing out for months over my decision to actually register for one of these crazy runs. Oh and a thank you to Meghan and Michael at Spring Kite Farms for a delicious "congrats on finishing Leadville" bag of Palisade Peaches - yumm! (and I'm sure I forgot about a whole bunch of people, so thanks for whatever awesome contributions you had)

Maroon Bells & Leadville Packing

Looking down at Snowmass Lake from the 10 mile mark

Last weekend, I drove out to Aspen for a weekend of camping and running fun with some great friends, and plans for a final long run before Leadville around the Maroon Bells 4 Passes Loop. With a handful of last-minute cancellations by friends who were planning on watching children and wonder-dog Vera, Kristel and I made the call that running the whole 28 mile loop would have us out on the trails for an unfairly long time to the friend who was dog/child-sitting for us all morning. Instead, we abbreviated our run to a 20 mile out-and-back over Buckskin Pass, u-turning on a part of the trail overlooking Snowmass Lake.

On the ascent up Buckskin Pass from the TH (CCW direction)

The route is absolutely gorgeous! High mountain passes, sparkling lakes, thin oxygenless air. Pretty much a perfect day on the trails. I felt horrible the entire time we were running. Headachey, light-headed. Legs had no lift at all. Chest felt tight and breathing was labored. Basically, one of the crappier runs I've had. I attributed it all at first to altitude - we were hovering between 9580 ft and 12,500 ft at the summit of Buckskin Pass. However, it took another week before I started to feel normal again, so I probably was just fighting off some kind of a bug.

Snowmass Lak

I'm now less than 5 days out from Pb100 - yikes!!! I spent the past couple of days over the weekend figuring out what is going to go into my drop bags, what I'm going to eat and drink during the race, and then actually packing it all up. Let me tell you, that's been pretty stressful - like nightmare-inducing panics that I'll have forgotten to pack warm enough clothes or energy gels or something else. But some extensive list-making and stressed-out conversations with my 100-miler-veteran friends, and I feel a whole lot better about the whole thing.

Little Vera, bringing back the 80s

The dietitian in me has demanded extensive thoughts on the food aspect of running 100 miles. Although I typically eat a diet pretty heavy in vegetables, whole foods, whole grains, limited bread products, and limited processed "junk foods," running an ultra is a whole other ball game. Starting today, I'll be cutting out all dairy leading up to the race (I'm a mild lactard and don't want any risk of lactose-related GI issues). Over the course of the week, I'll also be transitioning from my usual diet to a lower-fiber diet (no kale salads on Friday for me!). 100 miles is brand new distance to me, and I'm going to have to figure out how to eat consistently for almost 30 hours straight. Luckily, I pretty much eat non-stop anyway. But in this case, I'll have to not only find a way to eat a little bit consistently throughout the race, but to also consume foods that will deliver glucose straight to my muscles while sitting easily in my stomach, requiring minimal digestive energy, and being neutral enough that I won't be repulsed by the food after a few hours of consistent consumption. I'll be aiming to consume between 100-200 kcals per hour, likely more on the front end and less towards the end.

So the line-up looks as such (and reads like every 8 year old's dream diet, except maybe the coffee, Vfuel, and broth):

• Gel flasks of Vfuel - about 50 kcals per hour 
• Crust-less Nutella sandwiches on white bread
• Vfuel oat balls (see below for the recipe)
• Coca cola 
• Starbucks Via instant coffee with vanilla vfuel 
• Lemon-lime Skratch
• Boiled potatoes
• Potato chips
• M&Ms and Snickers, as needed
• S-caps (for electrolytes)

But of course that's just a general plan. And I really have no idea how it will go. However, the oatballs are delicious right now, and below is the recipe:

VFuel Oatballs

2.5 C dry oatmeal

2/3 C Vfuel (pick your favorite flavor)

1/3 C honey

1.5 tsp vanilla

2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 C almond butter

1/2 C chocolate chips

Mix together, cover and refrigerate for an hour. Form into balls and store in the fridge or freezer until ready for consumption.

Is there anything more torturous than the taper?

A friend of mine, a few days before Karl Meltzer's Speedgoat 50K, threw up a facebook post: "Is there anything more torturous than the taper? Methinks not." That about sums it up. For like 15 gazillion reasons. But that's too many to discuss, and I definitely made up that number (but I'm still not convinced it's an over-exaggeration). Five is a nice round number though, so here are the top five reasons I hate tapering, even though I woefully long for it during every final week of high mileage I run before any race.

Courtesy of the Oatmeal

1. I'm still hungry! You'd think that running less, and therefore burning less calories, would mean that I might possibly have some let-up from the 24/7 hunger beast that haunts my life and forces me to the fridge over and over to scrounge for food. But nope. Sitting in class the other morning, following 3 (small'ish) breakfasts and a run of roughly half the distance I would normally have covered this morning, I was so hungry I could barely concentrate. I ate two banana
s on the 10 minute drive to class. That lasted me five minutes. The legs still demand feeding.

2. I have SO much more free time. Sounds awesome right? Wrong. Because when I have free time, I want to go run and hike and ride my bike and climb some rocks. Except, oh wait, I'm tapering. And supposed to be letting my legs recover. So, um, substituting a 20 mile run for a 50 mile bike ride probably isn't the appropriate response. Except that it's taking every fiber of my being to not go do that.

3. I'm almost back to being well rested. Which is awesome. Except see #2. I finally have the energy to want to go and have epic (well probably not quite epic) outdoor adventures. And, well, see #2.

4. My legs also don't seem to have the energy to do my shorter and easier workouts. Probably because I've spent every waking moment since tapering began a whopping 4 days ago feeling just a bit on edge and antsy because of the one day I took off and all the extra sleep I've gotten in the interim.

5. Oh hey! Race day is now right around the corner. And all at the same time, I want the race to be here right.now and I also really really really want an extra month of training before I have to start tapering. I'm not actively stressed out or nervous - yet - but I'm also not exactly relaxed and ready for it to be race day yet. Kinda like limbo. Just sitting around and waiting.

Oh and in other news - my mileage for July was 316 miles. A whopping 60 miles more than any other month I've ever run. Boom. 16 days until Leadville.

100 mile week or how to run while sleeping

So, ok, guys. I ran one hundred miles. In one week. 100 miles. In Seven Days.

looking down towards Twin Lakes from Hopeless

I hit 100 miles as a rolling 7 day total on Thursday of last week. And 103 miles as a rolling 7 day total on Friday of last week. And then a measly (haha, just kidding) 97.67 miles for my weekly Sunday-Saturday mileage on Saturday. And rather than celebrating that fact, I instead felt a wave of relief that I'd pulled it off. I mean, if I could cover that distance in one week, I have an exponentially higher chance of not just finishing Leadville, but of finishing it without completely dying (and without trudging up Powerline at such an obscenely slow pace that my total badass of a pacer wants to punch me in the throat). But it's also kind of a big deal that I ran 100 miles. Because that is the furthest I have ever run over one 7 day period. Ever. I definitely had some ice cream to celebrate.

For Hope Pass, follow the arrow pointing towards Hope.

It wasn't fast. It kind of wasn't pretty. I definitely was 80% of the way asleep for an entire 9.2 mile run (just ask "Kind of a Big Deal" Kristel Liddle and The Erskine). Like eyes drifting shut as I was still moving in a forward trajectory. I also started this 100 mile week directly off of a weekend in Silverton pacing and crewing at the Hardrock 100, where I maybe packed in 5 hours of sleep over a 65 hour time period. Because, why wouldn't I want to make a 100 mile week any more challenging than it needed to be?

In other news..24 days until the Pbville100.  

Pilot Hill 25K

While my incredibly awesome and badass friend and to-be pacer at Leadville, Cat, was out in Bryce Canyon running the inaugural Bryce Canyon 100 miler in an awesome time, I drove up to windy & chilly Laramie, Wyoming with a couple friends to run the Pilot Hill 25K trail race.

2003 Cross-Country Season

I am a huge fan of the small, local, niche trail race environment. All of your closest running friends toeing the line in frigid morning conditions with the wind whipping at your face, all of us turning purple from the wind and cold, jumping up and down and shivering miserably with a couple kegs of home-brew taunting us from a few feet away. I might complain about not wanting to run in the moment, but the reality is that it's a delicious reminscence of high school cross-country season.


Just after 8 am, the race began, with us runners charging 25m or so down the road to a tight turn onto double-track sandy trail. The course basically climbs steadily uphill for around 8.5 miles at a just-steep-enough-to-hurt grade, but not so steep that you can really get away with walking anything at all. The terrain alternates from sandy double-track to limestone pitted trails to rutted out rocky hills and back again. My head felt fuzzy the whole climb and my stomach was dancing a bit from my pizza breakfast (which I definitely knew at the time would be a bad idea), so I was generally happy that my uphill performance wasn't nearly as pathetic as it could have been. The last bit of the climb winds around 3 steep switchbacks that are so close to the top it would be ridiculous to walk them, but are just horribly not fun at all to be running up. I broke into a walk on the second steep section only to hear Mary Boyts call me out from behind and order me to get my butt in gear and back to running. Yes ma'am! Mile splits up: 8:35, 8:21, 9:17, 9:29, 10:04, 11:11, 12:15, 10:29, 10:11 (part uphill, part back downhill).



The whole field just after the start, running straight into a *fun* headwind (photo credit: Nora Testerman)

At the turn-around, I threw back a few sips of water and took off down the hill, running hard. About 3/4 of a mile down the hill, I found myself facing a cattle grate that I had no memory of coming over on the way up. Abby was right behind me as I crossed over and stopped. We looked at each other and around at our surroundings and couldn't see any orange flags in the horizon, nor did we recognize any of this section. So we u-turned back over the cattle grates, running hard back up the hill and found the turn-off that we'd both missed. Whoops! But that marks my first time ever going off-course in a race, so I guess that's cool. I kept on running as hard as I thought I could maintain for a 7 mile downhill, with Abby right on my heels almost the whole way.

Coming out of the last aid station, maybe 2 miles to the finish line, the tendon behind my left knee locked up a bit and, as we turned back into the wind, Abby passed in front of me. I tried to match and just...didn't. It wasn't really that I didn't have it in my legs, but I think I just psyched myself out at the thought of another couple fast miles and mentally checked out for a few minutes, letting myself use the twinge behind my knee as an excuse when it really wasn't. Abby picked up a few seconds on me, and then a few seconds more. By the time I got myself back into the game, I had run out of real estate to catch her. I finished in 2:22:09, with a 56:45 descent. Good enough for 42 place and 8 woman. Mile splits on the downhill: 8:33 (including our slight detour and course re-evaluation), 8:05, 7:53, 7:40, 8:37, 8:13, 7:28 (pace, last 0.42 miles). Race results here.

Almost at the finish (photo credit: Nora T.)

I think Pete sums things up best in the text he sent me at the end of pacing Cat at Bryce: "That f&%#ing sucked. Awesome course and totally worth it though." Totally stellar course, directed in a fun and professional fashion, with one of the best post-race spreads out there.  But it definitely sucked. Yogurt with fresh berries and granola, breakfast burritos and sandwiches with delicious salsa, fresh fruit, coffee, juice, water, and BEER (home brewed!) for breakfast after!


Some of the FoCo Crew, enjoying the summer heat in Laramie (photo credit: Nora T.)



Quad Rock 25

2012 Quad Rock 50

On Saturday May 11, I ran the Quad Rock 25, a killer (both in its levels of awesomeness and its tendency to literally kill your quads) trail race in the foothills of Fort Collins, put on by Gnar Runners, with a 25 mile and 50 mile option. I freaking love this race. Last year, the race's inaugural year, I ran the 50 miler for my first ever 50. And blew up pretty badly. I ran a 13:36 with a 5:50 first half. It took nearly a week before I could walk normally again and months before I could even fathom wanting to run anything more than a couple of miles again. But the trails that day were magical. Ethereal in beauty, with a light frost hanging on the leaves of the trees and a mist pervading the trails, our trails were transformed that day. If I was ever to have a long rough day on the trails, it was at least a great day to be on the trails.

This year, I decided to run the 25 mile option. I set some pretty lofty time goals for the race, with a hard C goal cut-off of running under 5 hours. Mostly though, I just wanted to run as hard as I could, not blow up, and have a great time. Lindsay and I got to the race start right around 4:50AM, got our bibs,  stashed our drop bags for the finish line, and generally milled around waiting for the 5:30 start.

2013 Race Start
Photo by: Michael Hodges

This year's course started 30 minutes later than last year, in the early dawn hours of the morning as the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. We took off in a big group down the Lory Park road towards Arthur's Rock Trailhead, a minor reroute this year after the March 2013 wildfire destroyed some of the bridges along the valley trail. I settled into a fairly easy pace, keeping my eyes peeled for THE Kristel Liddle. We turned on to Sawmill and began our first ascent of the day up towards Towers Rd. As we turned onto Stout, I found Cat and ran with her part of the way up Towers. I pulled on ahead, having a much shorter day than she did, and trying to run a bit harder on the ups than I normally do.

Coming in to Horsetooth Aid, I saw Rob Erskine straight off, being basically completely awesome in his role as aid station captain. Even more awesome, though, was the cooler parked on the bench next to him, marked "Liddle/Wilburn" and filled with bite-sized snickers bars, icy cans of coke and coconut water. I snagged a handful of snickers and stuffed them in my pack, downed a few mouthfuls of a coke and took off again, up the 2 mile climb to the Westridge junction.

Mile 19 or so, heading up Howard. Photo by Erin Bibeau

I was moving a bit slower than I wanted on the climb up Horsetooth, but I knew Mill Creek would come soon enough, and with it, some solid downhill sections. A huge shout out to Chris Hinds as well, for his lovely aid station at the Towers Road/Mill Creek/Spring Creek junction. Last year, he had some delicious and reviving ramen noodle soup going on his camp stove. But this year was even better - mounds of fresh-cooked and greasy bacon. I grabbed a huge handful and stuffed it into my pack. For the last 12 miles, whenever I started to feel a bit hungry or weak, I'd just alternate between munching on slices of bacon and chomping down mini snickers.

Cruising down Mill Creek, I caught up with, and passed, a couple of runners I knew. Kristel caught up behind me, and shouted forward that I'd better stay ahead of her. I found another gear and picked up the pace a bit. Crossing one of the gushing springs that had popped up after weeks of rain and snow, I passed by two men who were limping along pretty badly, waiting for some crew to come and help them out of the course. The course crosses over from Horsetooth Open Space into Lory State Park and turned down the Mill Creek Link towards the Arthur's trailhead, and I approached the Arthur's AS at mile 18 or so to find Mindy hiking up to help the guys I'd passed. It was so wonderful to see her, and to hear her encouragement that I was in a "really really good place, keep running hard!"

Running down Mill Creek towards Arthur's AS.
Photo by: Michael Hodges

I really don't think that Howard Trail is that brutal of a climb, but since I only ever seem to run it mid-way through Quad Rock or during a training run on the course it always seem much worse than it is. A few switchbacks before the Arthur's Rock turnoff, a woman running the 25-miler passed me by. We'd been going back and forth all day and as much time as she'd ever managed to get on the uphills, I'd always been able to catch her pretty fast once the course turned downhill again. So I let her go, feeling comfortable that I could bomb down Timber fast and hard enough to pass her before the finish. That didn't happen. I guess she found another gear, because she crossed the line a little over 2.5 minutes ahead of me. After doing my best to make a dramatic finish (er totally missed that whole crazy finish line thingy), I ended the race in 4:59:59. Sub 5 hours. I will take it. 7th woman, 44th overall. Not too shabby, I suppose.

Finishing. Photo by: Shannon Price

I spent the rest of the day gorging on the delicious food at the post-race barbecue, and drinking Mountain Lightning. I finally made my way over to the Arthur's Aid Station around 3PM to help out, just in time to see most of my favorite Fort Collins and Boulder runners finishing up the 50 miler! It was great to have a chance to cheer people on and bask in the race atmosphere without still running. I know quite a few of them didn't have the races they'd hoped for, but despite that, they all were moving well and looking strong (despite a few good-natured flip-offs at the news that they were still 2.5 miles to the finish).

A huge thanks needs to go to Pete and Nick for putting on such a great event, as well as one to all of the incredible volunteers out on the course and in the shadows for helping things to go so smoothly. And with that, bring on the next few months of training for my first 100!

That one time we lost Alan in the Grand Canyon

THE Kristel 'I'm Kind of a Big Deal' Liddle sent me a text: "Want to go run in the Grand Canyon in 2 weeks?" Well, um, of course I do! And like many other great FCTR plans before, Kristel and I were on a plane headed to Phoenix, AZ to meet up with Alan Smith and run Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim in the Grand Canyon on April 13 2013.

"Mother Nature's Buttcrack" ~Nikki Gallant 

A mile or so down Bright Angel Trail

Kristel and I ran R2R2R both ways along the Bright Angel Trail, with some bonus miles while waiting at Phantom Ranch for a respective estimate of 53 and 50 miles. Alan ran the Bright Angel Trail in the north direction and finished his day on the South Kaibab Trail, clocking in roughly 44 miles? The day was absolutely beautiful, with temperatures peaking somewhere in the 80s and just enough cloud cover that we didn't fry in the sun nor overheat too badly on the 14 mile section with no chance for a water refill, aside from the limited snow at the top of the north rim.

I could wax poetic for hours about how amazing the Grand Canyon is but it would just be a much repeated drone of "omg this is the most incredible thing I've ever seen." Instead...

1. The Grand Canyon is one of the most spectacular places I have ever seen or been in my life. Every twist and turn of the trail brought me face to face with truly breathtaking views. From the nearly tropical environment around Indian Gardens Campground to the desert landscape between Phantom Ranch and the final push to the North Rim to the rushing Colorado River, slicing the canyon in two, to the forested upper reaches of the North Kaibab Trail, heavily scented with fragrant spicy pine needle, I soaked up each and every bit and wanted more. My favorites parts were hands down the mini-oasis at Indian Gardens and the forest-like climate approaching the top of the North Rim.

2. The lemonade at Phantom Ranch is incredibly delicious. Thank you to whoever the Texan was who bought glasses for me and Kristel. This man thought we were absolutely hilarious and crazy people for running ultra distances, and self-reportedly didn't even like to drive 100 miles. But he took our crazy in great humor and asserted himself in true Texas fashion to procure 2 lemonades, even though the canteen was technically closed. The 3 cans of coke that Kristel and I brought into the canyon were worth every extra ounce of weight to carry as well. Very little, minus maybe the lemonade at Phantom Ranch, ever tasted as delicious. I think I enjoyed those cokes and that lemonade more than any piece of cake, kale, broccoli, pizza, cheeseburger, or $100 a plate meal that I have ever consumed.

Coming through Phantom Ranch on the way to the North Rim

3. Clearly communicated plans are pretty damn critical, especially with no means for instantaneous communication. Kristel and I were separated from Alan at Phantom Ranch on the return trip at around mile 37. We ended up spending around 3 hours, first patiently and then increasingly anxiously, awaiting his arrival. Finally, as the sun began to set, we made the judgment call that we needed to head for the south rim, hoping we'd catch up to Alan along the way or find him at the top waiting for us. We did, thankfully, get in touch with Alan (already at the top of the South Rim) with about 3 miles to go and found him pretty immediately upon returning to the car.

Repping some VFuel tats

4. Always always always always always (have I stressed that enough?? maybe add in 30 more "always") pack a headlamp. Even if you're planning on running entirely in the daylight. Kristel and I covered the last 11 miles or so in utter darkness, with only one headlamp between the two of us. Lemme tell ya, technical uphill with one headlamp is not the greatest. We were literally running up the trail holding hands to stay even on the trail and be able to see the obstacles on the trail in front of us. It made for one hell of an adventure though.

5. I freaking love running downhill. And running. And seeing amazing sights. And running in beautiful places.

Running down North Kaibab Trail back to Phantom Ranch

6. Bring way more food than necessary on a self-supported 50. I think I had maybe 2000 calories in my pack, and not nearly enough of it was solid. That snickers bar that I passed up buying in the grocery store out of fear that it would get too melty haunted me the whole way. And the two extra mini-fruit & nut bars I packed on a whim were saviors. Though I had a sufficient amount of food for 12-14 hours on the trails, hitting the 16 hour mark was over the line for me. I can't remember ever being so ravenously hungry in my life.

Bridge across the Colorado River to the South Kaibab Trail