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. 

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)

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