Secret Recipes

RIP Steely Dan, my best furry friend

2012-01-26T23:12:00.000-08:00

(June 23, 2005- January 25, 2012)

Steely was diagnosed with an aggressive type of lymphoma on November 1, 2011. He was 6 years old. I was devastated.

We tried all the different chemotherapy meds but, in the end, none worked. I took him off all cytotoxic chemo drugs and kept him on the prednisone, and made the best of the limited time we had left together.

Steely declined at first by the week, and then by the day. Still, he lived well and was happy and playful for all but the last 2 days of his life. Even now, it's hard to believe that 3 days ago, we went for a 2 mile (slow) walk and played tennis ball.

But then his body systems started failing and he stopped eating. It was a quick decline after that.

In the end, Steely died yesterday at home with Tim and me at his side. He died without pain or suffering. He was free at last.

I feel as if I started the mourning process the day he was diagnosed, knowing then that even the best successful treatment was a one-year remission. Unfortunately, we weren't that lucky.

I am engulfed in sorrow, but there is a glimmer of relief that I remember him in his physical glory running on the trails with his tail up and his ears flopping, always looking back at me especially from the tops of the hills, waiting, watching, as if saying "What's taking you so long? It's just a hill!"

Aside from Tim of course, Steely was for me the best companion in all areas of my life, running being one of them. And boy did that boy love to run! He would regularly and easily run 20 miles with me, crash for an hour or two afterward, and then spring to his feet, scoop up his tennis ball, drop it in my lap, and beg for a game of fetch.

He was a goofy boy, he loved life, and if he wasn't lying on his back waiting for a tummy rub, then he was looking at you with a smile and a wagging tail, which would usually result in a treat.

He was a poser, loved the camera. I have never before known a dog so much a ham for the camera.

I could go on and on about how empty my life will be without him and how I fear my rescued greyhound (who learned everything he knows about the dog world from Steely) will get very depressed without his brother around. I could go on and on about how Steely became my best furry friend and how his life enrich ours greatly, but I have already said enough, and wish to post a link to my eulogy for Steely.

He will always be in my heart and I will remember him for his zeal for life and running, and even more so, for his steadfast selfless companionship.

Rest in peace, Steely.

I'm back!

2011-11-06T21:01:00.000-08:00

It's seems like I've been away from my blog for longer than 2 months. A lot has happened.

Here are some updates:

I have recovered well from my Badwater to Whitney self-contained solo. There is a fun article in this month's Out There Monthly magazine by Jon Jonckers on it:

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Click HERE if you would like to read it.

Through August and September, I trained hard for the Northcoast 24 Hour National Championship Run. I ran it last year and eeked out 117 miles, and felt with better training and pacing I could do better.

Well, I was very pleased to log 125.98 miles in 24 hours, nabbing the 3rd place award for women. This is a nice PR for me. Machelle Poole crewed for me and made all the difference! What a fantastic lady she is! Next up... 130. I think I can do it if the stars align. :)

I did not recover well from that race. Maybe I had done too much in the preceding months. Maybe it was because we jumped right on an airplane right after the race to head home and I returned to work without a day of rest. Probably a combination of several things, but my legs remained swollen and sore for about 2 weeks.

I was nervous about that because Tim and I had already registered for the Big Dog Backyard Ultra in Tennessee on October 22, a unique race contrived by the sadistic race director of the Barkley Marathons. It was a "last man standing" format, and I knew I needed to be running on all cylinders for this one if I stood a chance at doing well. It was just a 4.167 mile loop through trails, kinda gnarly trails, and on the hour every hour runners had to be at the start line to start the next loop. So, it really didn't matter how fast you ran the loop (except that speed - or lack of - did impact your ability to refuel or change into warmer clothes, etc.). What mattered was who could do this the longest. There was no distance or time cut-off. Many good runners came to run an N number of loops. Tim and I went to run N+1.

But I was worried because my body required lots of rest in the month prior to this race. Instead of training, I was trying to sleep, get some massages and eat well, all to help charge all my cylinders.

That's when a good friend and massage therapist suggested I try Xango, which is just a fruit drink but very high in antioxidants. She suggested I drink it every day. Now, I'd like to say that I eat healthfully every day, and for the most part I do, but no, not always. So, I took her up on this. Additionally, as I was describing to her what I felt to be an "endocrine fatigue," she suggested I try Eleviv to see if it would help. Since both products are completely natural and free of any additives, I gave it a whirl.

Interesting thing, I felt better. Much better. And very quickly much better. My energy returned, even my motivation to run returned. And when I ran, I felt back to my normal strong self. So, I continued both the Xango and the Eleviv and thought the real test would be not so much during the race itself, but in my recovery.

As it turns out, the race was awesome! We had such a fantastic time making one loop per hour. We had no idea how long we were going to be out there - 12 hours, 24 hours, 36 hours? I think most everybody - including us - was expecting 24 hours.

But as the race progressed, runners were dropping one, two, sometimes three at a time. It was a lot tougher than anyone could predict. By nightfall, there were 9 left, and with each additional loop, one would drop.

Until the final 6. And then until the final 4. At that point 16 loops (hours) into the race, it was Tim, Dave, Joe, and me. I was happy to still be playing with the boys. The guys ran together for the most part, and I ran alone far back in the field. They completed their loops in about 50-55 minutes, leaving a little time to regroup and refuel. I had been looping a lot slower, coming back to the start area in 58 minutes and sometimes just as the bell would ring to start the next loop. I loved it! I really did. I felt great from an "endocrine" perspective. I felt strong and healthy. What I was losing, however, was my grace in jumping over downed trees and managing the loose rocks. (Have I ever mentioned that I have a bad unstable ankle that doesn't like unstable surfaces?) :)

So, the 4 of us set out on loop 16 and only 2 made it back in time - Tim and Dave. Joe missed it by seconds, and I missed it by minutes. That meant one of these two was going to run N miles and the other N+1. But nobody knew how many loops it would take. They both started on the bell, but after the short out and back section, they come back through the start staging area, and it was there that Dave decided to drop and not continue the loop. The race director's report said that Dave said, "Clearly Tim is the tougher runner."

So, it was just Tim on the rest of loop 18, and all he needed to do was finish it under the time. He had been running strong and smart the entire race, so I didn't doubt for a second he could do it. Sure enough, he saunters back in 53 minutes...the Last Man Standing. The Big Dog!

While there is only one winner, one last man standing, I at least was the last woman standing. :) So, Tim and I took our winning buckles and sat around the fire with Laz and are old and new friends, some of us smoking cigars and others passing around Laz's moonshine. Near morning, we left, but came back later to sit around and trash talk some more. It was a wonderful event, not just the run, but the entire event.

Here are the race results.

I continued my healthy supplements and I made the quickest, easiest and fullest recovery I have ever made after a tough ultra. I am sold, I love the stuff. It's pure health with no toxins or anything.

So, I approached Xango with my story and they offered to sponsor me! I couldn't be more thrilled. I believe in the product. We have set up a website for information if anyone is interested. I do not sell the products, and I have no financial interest in them whatsoever. Like my Drymax socks, I just believe they excellent quality products, and in my life, they support my crazy ultrarunning hobby.

If you want to check out the products, then you can go HERE.

So, great recovery from that race. Flew back home to Spokane and picked up my dogs from boarding, and Steely Dan was looking lethargic, kind of sick. I thought I'd watch him a bit, but when he didn't get better, I made an appointment at my vet. That vet appointment day, I went to work, and stopped back home after work to pick him up to go, and OMG! the lymph nodes in his neck were nearly the size of tennis balls, and he was very ill, now with a fever, and was vomiting. It didn't take the vet long to tell me, "I have bad news..." She said he most likely had lymphoma and that he would need chemotherapy if I elected to do that. She took an aspirate from the node and sent him home on Prednisone.

The next morning I headed to WSU where I spent the next 11-1/2 hours with him while he received test after test. THe verdict? Yes, lymphoma, stage IV. Chemo provide 90-95% remission for at least one year. Dogs tolerate the chemo well, not nearly the side effects of humans, and his quality of life would be good. So, I started him on chemo that day.

Wow.

He's only 6 years old. He's my baby. I didn't expect this; it came on so suddenly and he was at death's door.

But now, one week later, he is doing GREAT! No exaggeration. He's his normal self in spirit and energy and goofiness. I can't tell you how much this has affected me emotionally. And yes, I now let him sleep in my bed with me! :)

His treatments will be weekly and will last for 6 months. A long time and lots of money, but it's a decision Tim and I made and we made it easily. We love our dogs.

So, given that, things are now good. There is a plan in place with which I am comfortable. Life is precious.

Being that I stayed home with Steely after that first dose of chemo to monitor him, I had to cancel my trip to the Wilderness Medical Society meeting in Tucson, where Megan and I were presenting on the Badwater Ultramarathon Medical Coverage. I put together my part of the presentation and reviewed it with her and she presented it just last night. Word has it she rocked the presentation!

So, things are settling in now. The days are shorter and there is no longer sunlight to run in after work. My miles will decrease and that's ok; they always do in the winter. But I will still run because I love to run. I can't wait until Steely is well enough to run with me again. Those are some of the moments in life that are most precious to me.

Cancer

2011-09-07T07:35:00.000-07:00

It's a very scary word.

I have had several friends face the diagnosis and treatment of cancer this year.

And another friend was just recently diagnosed. Stage 3 Intraductal Carcinoma. Breast cancer.

Connie is my friend and affectionately referred to by me as my "partner in crime" from high school. We were very close.

Life separates people as we "grow up" and families are born and jobs take us across the US, far away from each other.

But despite this, you never lose a dear friend, they are always there. And when there is a celebration or a time of need, a friend will be there. No matter what.

Connie has a sweet daughter, Chloe. Her picture is on her blog page, which was set up by Connie's sister as a means of communication to family and friends about her health and treatments. It's also for family and friends to be able to come to a shared spot to give their support and love.

It also accepts financial donations to help offset this pending medical bill.

Connie has already had surgery and is back to work. Further work-up and maybe even additional surgery are pending, and then treatments start. She is positive and optimistic. Who wouldn't be? She has a beautiful daughter to smile with every day.

You don't know Connie. Heck, you may not even know me! Buy I bet you know someone with cancer. Maybe we can help each other, make the world a more loving place. Pay it forward.

If you would like, the blog site is accepting pay pal donations. I personally know that a bunch of little donations, even $10, can add up to a whole lot of help and security for someone, or a family. So, with Connie's reluctant permission, I am making her site available to all who read here. Whether a donation or a prayer, if you wish to help, please do.

GO HERE to help.

And thank you for taking the time to read this. Even just reading and caring make a difference.

I believe that.

And just like that it was over

2011-08-07T11:48:00.000-07:00

I completed the unaided, self-contained crossing of Death Valley to the summit of Mt. Whitney. I will try to find time to write up a report.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

For now, I will say it was brutally tough and worth every step.

Thank you so much to my dearest Tim Englund, William Holmes, Jeff Sauter, Danny Westergaard, Bill Latter, Ben and Denise Jones, and all those who supported me.

Special thank you to the kids at Crosswalk.

Here is a link to Dr. Ben Jones photos, which also include photos from Danny Westergaard:

Dr. Ben Jones's picture documentary.

More than a name

2011-07-08T21:51:00.000-07:00

Several people have asked me if I have given my cart a name. Yes, I have. The name was decided long ago. It came to me on a run. And when it came to me, I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, that will be the name. I knew instantly that it was perfect.

It's an unlikely name.

I had been thinking of "usual" names like "Badwater Bliss" and other plays on my last name. But those ideas never jived. They didn't have meaning, and I wanted meaning.

Then, several months ago while running my usual peaceful country roads, sort of in a zoned-out state, I was thinking of my uncle, the uncle who cancer claimed too early in his life. It was just this past September when I was at his side in the hospital, holding his hand, rubbing his swollen feet and talking with the doctors about easing his pain from the cancer that had metastacized to his spine. He was lucid at first, but as days went by and his lucidity started to slip, we knew there was a chance he wasn't even going to make it out of the hospital.

Then as mysteriously often the case, he had a "good" day, a day I knew I needed to make the most of, and so I took some time by myself to talk with him.

* * * * * *

Let me back up and share briefly a little about my uncle.

He was my mom's brother, only brother, except for the one who died at a young age. He was my "cool" uncle, the one I admired and wanted to like me. As a child, I saw him about once a year when our family made the annual family vacation drive from the Midwest to New Jersey, where my mom's family gathered for a sort of reunion, usually over Thanksgiving.

I thought he was cool. He went to Vietnam, served his country, had long hair, had a thin physique. He was in a motorcycle accident that shattered his femur and had a metal rod in place of bone there but still ran regularly for fitness. He was a vegetarian. That's what I remember.

The story went that he held a couple of jobs after returning from Vietnam and then he decided he wasn't made to work for others.

He loved horses. So, he started raising horses, training them for racing, and winning big races, and he made a good living out of it. He was happy and successful; a self-made person. He built his horse ranch in Ocala, Florida, and then eventually built a bigger and more beautiful one in North Carolina. He named it River Run.

I never saw the ranch...until this September when his wife took me there and we parked outside the gate (it had since been sold as they had just retired their business) and we talked about it. She told me about the horses, the stables, the staff, the racing, the hard, hard work that both of them did to make River Run what it was. It was a gorgeous ranch with a river that ran near the house that hummed to them in the evenings after a long day of work.

* * * * * *

After those early years of the annual family drive to New Jersey, there started to be times went we didn't go. And I lost touch with that side of the family. Not completely but there were long periods of time of no contact. Probably a lot had to do with the fact that that my own immediate family was splitting up. It was a hard time.

It was such a hard time that I left high school - before high school was over - and I went to Chicago. I was 17. Fortunately, however, my school allowed me to complete the class requirements for graduation through correspondence, and I did receive my high school diploma. My overall grades, however, were horrendous.

In Chicago, I had a minimum wage job, a whopping medical bill that I was responsible for paying, and no health insurance. I rented a house with two other people in Chicago for $200 a month. Enough said there! I did the best I could to stretch my income to cover basic needs. I did ok. College, which was something I had always planned on doing, was simply not an option. Still, I often perused the class listings at the university and picked out all the classes I would take if only I could.

So, still hopeful, with each measly paycheck I cashed, I saved. I would sit on the floor with labeled envelopes spread out in front of me, and I would put $100 in an envelope for "rent," $20 for "utilities," $35 for the "bus pass," etc., and $20 for "college."

Finally, I saved up enough money for a class at the university.

I applied and met with the registrar woman. I felt transparent and nervous as she looked over my transcripts. "Can you explain these F's?" she asked looking over her glasses at me. "I wasn't serious about my education then," I said, "but I am now."

"Sorry," she said, "I can't allow you admission."

But...

"You should go to a community college and prove that you are serious now...and then come reapply."

I was devastated. And gave up on the idea. And just continued to work.

* * * * * *

About a year later, I realized that it didn't matter what I wanted to do, it only mattered what I did do. Sometimes a promise "to do better" isn't good enough. The registrar woman was right. So, I went to community college.

I registered for my first class and I was, um, shall I say, proud to be there. I aced it no problem. The next semester I registered for another and aced that one too. School was easy for me. I loved it.

Three years it took me - one to two classes per semester at community college - to get through one college year of credits.

I wanted desperately to go to the university but reality was, despite Pell Grants and some aid, I could not afford it. I couldn't afford the hidden expenses of books and fees, aside from tuition itself.

So, as proud as I was, and as much as I fought desperately the need to ask for help, I realized that I had to at least ask before I gave up on a chance at an education. I honestly loathed asking for help, especially financial help. The refusal from a family member several years prior was still a knife in my gut, and I swore I would never ask for help again. My pride was fierce. But that wasn't doing me any good. My mother would have paid my tuition in an instant if she could, but she was now in school herself readying herself for the work world.

So, I asked my uncle.

And he said yes, he would help me.

* * * * * *

He helped me with some of my tuition and I paid the rest. I was still working full time after all, and by then had been living in a nice apartment in stable conditions. I had a car. Things were tight, but I was doing fine.

I reapplied to the university and was admitted with no need of promising anything. My community college grades were proof enough.

Truly, if it wasn't for my uncle creating that opportunity for me those first years at the university, I never could have done it. It was he who opened the door for me, the door I thought was jammed shut forever.

Nine years later, I graduated from Loyola University Summa Cum Laude, and thenhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif went on to medical school. The rest is not important.

My uncle is what is important. He trusted me, he believed in me, he gave me the chance. He created an opportunity that changed my life.

This past September, on that day in the hospital, I took his hand and I cried and I said, "Thank you, Uncle Paul, for helping me."

* * * * * *

So, when I was out on that run a few months ago and I was thinking of my Death Valley crossing, the teens at Crosswalk who will benefit from the GED and tuition fund-raising, the cart, and my uncle, the name came to me and I was overwhelmed with emotion.

I will be crossing the desert, an oft-thought godforsaken place (though that is so not so!) where there is no water, no less rivers. I will be pulling, creeping, crawling my way forward, sometimes less than a mile an hour up the passes (contrary to all that it means to "run"), and I will be totally unaided, completely self-supported, solo, self-reliant (and yet that is, in real life, never. ever. true.)....

And when the name came to me suddenly and took my breath away, I knew instantly that it was perfect.

River Run.

That is the name of my cart.

And it is so much more than a name.

The cart

2011-06-27T08:29:00.000-07:00

(Photo: Christa Copus, Tim Englund, Glen Copus of Elephant Bikes)

It's been called a wagon, a carriage, even a sled.

I don't think it fits any absolute definition, though "cart" seems to fit best. And if I had to describe the cart, I would say it is most like a rolling cooler.

It's coming along great! I took it for a test run yesterday. I'm getting excited!

It just needs a few finishing touches and insulation on top.

These are the most frequently asked questions:

How much does it weigh?

The cart itself is about 20 pounds, maybe a little more, made from aluminum.

How much will it weigh loaded?

The water itself weighs 180 pounds. With food, supplies, emergency gear, and a backpack and warm clothes for the Mt. Whitney summit, it will probably total about 230-240 pounds. I sure hope not much more than that!

Where will you sleep?

On top of the cart.

Will you push it or pull it?

It's made for either. I will mostly push it. It is pretty easy on a downhill! Flats won't pose a problem. However, even the slightest incline is difficult because of the weight, and the cart wants to pull you backward with each step. I found it impossible to push up the steeper grades. For those inclines, I will harness a belt around my waist and pull it up, inch by inch.

Does your dog sit on top in training?

No, not my dog; he'd rather pull it. But Glen and Christa's dog went for a ride!

Water is Life

2011-06-16T23:51:00.000-07:00

Somebody asked about how I will calculate my need for water for a 146-mile
self-contained crossing of Death Valley in July.

The answer is, I have no idea!

Ounces per hour or per mile won't work. My pace and work load will be
totally unlike racing the course with a crew. Instead of 30+ hrs, my time
in the relentless heat will be measured in days, probably 3-4 days. (It
took Marshall 77 hours and 46 mins.) And I will be pushing a heavy cart up
and down various grades. I have no experiences like this to help me
calculate specifically, and I don't think it is even really possible to do.

How much water do you use for dousing when running Badwater? Who knows? I have
never really thought about it while running the race; it was just always there for me. So, while I can guess, it is difficult, if not impossible, to calculate.

But I have done my homework. I spoke with Marshall Ulrich and Jeff Sauter,
the only 2 to have attempted this (Marshall the only one to have completed
it), and I am somewhat basing what I will carry on what worked and didn't
work for them.

Marshall had enough water to drink but not enough to douse with.
Jeff had enough for both.
They used different carts and water-carrying methods.
I require less water overall for rehydrating than either of them.
I might be out there longer.
I want enough to be able to douse somewhat freely.
I am nowhere near as physically strong as either of them for carrying weight.
Each 2.5G container of water weighs 20 pounds.
Water cannot be filtered on the mountain or resupplied at any time.
Water is life in the desert.
Running out of water is almost a sure DNF (unless I'm 1/2 way up the mountain).
Marshall's cart weighed about 225 lbs.
Jeff's weighed more than that.

In general, I am erring on the side of being prepared for anything, playing
it safe. The trade-off for that is the weight. But I am not going to leave
my warm summit clothes back in Badwater in the likely chance I will need
them on the mountain. So, no skimping for me on winter clothes, emergency
gear for the summit, and emergency supplies for the cart. I'm toting it all,
trying to cover all possible scenarios in the lightest possible fashion.
Similarly, I would be very nervous to skimp on the water. The best question
would be, how *little* water do I need for the crossing? But I don't know
the answer to that. Certainly, I'm not going to put myself at risk, and I
don't want to have to DNF because I wanted to do this *faster* with less
weight or something.

So, with all the general numbers and information in mind (really there are
no specific numbers) I'm thinking I should err on the side of a bit too much
water, but not so much that I can't push the cart. That would be around
eight 2.5G jugs. And maybe I will throw in one more just because I suck at
gambling? I haven't decided that yet. Nine 2.5G jugs = 180 pounds. And
that's just water weight! But, I can at least always douse with the extra
to get rid of it and lighten the load prior to the first major pass at mile 42.

Those are my thoughts and my preliminary plans. I will be experimenting
with the cart and water jugs here in the 50 degree weather that Spokane has
been offering for heat training. Not a fair simulation but it's the best I
can do. I'll make the best guesses I can and from there I'm just going to be
praying to the Death Valley gods to allow me safe passage.

No scientific method, no concrete calculations, and a lot of vaguely
educated guess work.

So, back to that looming question...

2011-05-22T22:33:00.000-07:00

"What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"

I have ruminated enough.

I have decided.

Despite the unfavorable odds, I am going to try.

The chance of failure is high, and therefore, the quote above simply does not apply.

So, instead, I am going with this question: What would you do if you thought you were very likely to fail but stood just a chance in hell that you wouldn't?

From my pregnant post 9 months ago, I now have this: That is the thing I still want to do, and now, that is the thing I will do. I will focus not on the apparently insurmountable obstacles in my way. Rather, I will see the glimmer of hope, the minute possibility that exists. And I will move toward it. How can there be fear of failure when it is likely and expected? How can there not be the thrill of success when it is almost, but not certainly, impossible?

What is it?

It is a solo, unsupported, self-contained crossing of Death Valley, from the Badwater Basin (the lowest elevation in the US at 282 ft below sea level) to the summit of Mt. Whitney (the highest elevation in the contiguous US at 14, 494 feet).

There are 135 miles of asphalt road that ribbon through the desert, through her valleys and over her mountain passes, that marry the Badwater Basin to the Whitney Portal Trail. From there, the route ascends 11 miles to the summit of the mountain for a total of 146 miles (235 km). Lowest to highest points. It has historic appeal.

There is an official race on the 135 miles of the paved route, the one and only Badwater Ultramarathon, known globally as "the world's toughest foot race." I've crewed at the race, I've paced there, I've run it, and I even once won it (in 2007). I've also headed up the medical team for 9 years. Needless to say, I love this race. Maybe this helps demonstrate my commitment to the Badwater Ultramarathon over the years. It's one of the nicest "salutes" I have and probably will ever receive. I am humbly honored to have been a part of the Badwater family for so many years.

But I am not running the race again (not this year at least!). Instead, two weeks after the official race, which is July 11, 2011, I will set out on a journey to test whether I can cover the same distance on the same route with the addition of the 11 miles to the Whitney summit totally unaided and self-contained. My go date is July 25, 2011.

Some definitions and clarifications:

The first crossings: Read about them here: Al Arnold was the first person to cross Death Valley via this route in 1977. The first organized race was held in 1987, and Jay Birmingham crossed solo in 2001. Then there was the first double crossing by Richard Benyo and Tom Crawford in 2004. For some, there is an allure of crossing the desert by the power of one's own feet, where temperatures reach well into the upper 120 degrees F. Some the desert seduces.

The official Badwater Ultramarathon - This year will be the 34th addition of the official race. Competitors literally from all over the world will attempt to finish the distance in under 48 hours with crews and pacers supporting them. Not an easy feat to be sure!

Solo - Many have chosen to do a solo crossing, which can be either aided or unaided. Aided means you have a crew that carries all your supplies and you cover the distance by foot with their help. There is no race, no cheering from other race entrants or their crews, no awards, no post-run pizza party, just intrinsic motivation and a big heart for the desert. Unaided crossings have also been done. Unaided means you carry all your supplies (including water, ice and food) usually in a baby stroller that is pushed by you. No outside help is allowed but you can restock your supplies and rest along the way at several points. Only a handful of tough ultrarunners have done unaided crossings. And a couple were so good at it, they made the crossing multiple times!

Solo, unaided, self-contained - This means that the person accepts no outside help of any kind: no food nor water, ice nor sunscreen, bandaid nor blanket. Every single thing that might be needed from the Badwater Basin to the Whitney summit must be carried by the person. There is no refueling along the way. This necessitates a kind of cart for carrying lots of water and ice, food and even winter clothes for the mountain. And you can leave the water filter at home because, well, for one, there is no water in the desert to filter, and two,the rules for self-contained say you are not allowed to filter water on the mountain anyway. Nope, every last drop of water, as well as everything else needed, must be planned for and carried from the start.

Has anyone ever done this? Well, yes, of course! The legend, aka King of Pain, Marshall Ulrich made a successful solo, unaided, self-contained crossing in 1999. (And just in case you didn't know, Marshall just published one of the best endurance running/love story books I have ever read - and you can get it HERE.) Marshall tried the crossing first in 1998 but failed to make it very far, so aborted that attempt and returned the next year for a successful completion. Want to read about his 1999 crossing? It's a fantastic story: Marshall Ulrich's unaided, self-contained crossing.

Who else has done it?

Nobody.

But, that's not the end of the "nobody" story.

Another accomplished ultrarunner, Jeff Sauter, planned and trained for and then attempted a self-contained crossing in 2004. And he just about almost made it! He successfully traversed the 135-mile asphalt road from the Badwater Basin to the Whitney portal trail, where he was able to leave his cart and begin the tail of his journey to the summit of the mountain. So, he headed up. And up, and up. And he got about 5 miles from the summit when he succumbed to the severe cold on the mountain and had to accept a blanket to ward off dangerous hypothermia. Thus, his journey ended just a few miles short. What a story it was that Jeff told me! And after hearing it, my obvious question was, Will you go back and try again? Well, I'll let Jeff answer that question, but I can at least say that he most certainly has the heart and the will to do so if and when he decides to give it another go. No doubt about that.

Has anyone else tried? Not that I know of. But if you know of any other attempts, please let me know. I am certain, however, that Marshall is the only one to have succeeded.

So, that is a great story just as it is.

The end.

BUT...

Jeff emailed me last year and retold his story.

Yay! Great story, great effort, great accomplishment!

And then he said something very much like: "You know, it's never been done by a woman. In fact, I think it's impossible for a woman to do because no woman could push or pull a 250+ pound cart up Towne Pass" (Towne Pass is at mile 42 on the course and is the first mountain pass. It ascends at up to an 8% grade for 18 miles.)

Sure, I said, you're probably right. That's a lot of weight for a woman to push.

So, wait, Jeff. Why are you telling me this?

And then he said, Well, if anyone could do it....

And he left it at that.

Dang it!

And so the mustard seed was planted and the rumination began.

I do not want to live within the borders of my perceived limitations. I have no desire to do something at which I know I cannot fail. How mundane! Rather, I want to risk failure. What's the worst that could happen? I fail to succeed?

Yes, I want to and I am going to try something that is likely - but not necessarily - impossible.

Why? Well, that's a whole other blog post....

However, to put it simply, I can at least say that I believe with all my heart and mind and body and soul that there is no failure in trying, for as long as we keep trying.

And I'll leave it at that for now.

Rumination

2010-08-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

I don't like facebook motivational quotes, really. I'm not sure if I've ever posted one. I don't think so. I hope not. I've read a gazillion of them...and liked only a few. To be honest, they kind of annoy me. If I wanted to read inspirational and motivational quotes every day, I'd buy one of those flip calendars with sayings across the top. Like Facebook, there are always one or two good ones in there.

But there is this question I can't get out of my mind. It's not a quote. Rather, it is a question that is stuck in my mind *because* of a quote I read. It's a quote we all have heard, a popular one. So, it must be one of the good ones, if not too well-known or well-worn. The quote is: "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"

I don't know who said it. I can look it up on google, but I don't want to because I really don't like the quote. I have never liked it. I never understood why I didn't like it. In fact, I never cared that I never understood why I didn't like it. It was just another one of those popular quotes, meant to inspire and motivate, and ooh and ahh you... just another one of those quotes I didn't like.

What a scrooge I am! What a cynic, a downer. How un-vogue that I wrinkle my nose at it. My apologies to anyone who has posted it on his or her wall and received 20 approving "thumbs up" in response.

Well, I took another look at that quote recently. A harder look. And the harder look prompted a question. And it is *that* question that made me realize why the other quote leaves me unsatisfied, uneasy, and shrugging.

You see, while I think it's fun to ask what we would do if we knew we could not fail, I think it's a silly question.

If I knew I could not fail, I would do lots of things. I would never miss a diagnosis, I would set a world record at 100 miles, I would fly into space, I would love only if it never hurt. But if I knew I would not fail then what have I accomplished?

Instead, what I really want to know is what I would do if I thought I was very likely to fail but stood just a chance in hell that I wouldn't.

It's not a quote but a question.

Certainty has no appeal to me, no challenge. It raises no questions. It's secure, safe, mundane. Uncertainty, on the other hand, is luring, exciting, risky. That is what I want to pursue.

What would I do if all odds were against me? What would I attempt to achieve if failure were my biggest obstacle? Of course, it's not a new thought in any way. In fact, there is one quote that I admit does in a way motivate me, and I posted it on the top of my blog many years ago.

"Only those who risk failing greatly can ever succeed greatly." – RFK

I like that one. It states a fact. Yet it doesn't pose a challenge. Therefore, I think I like better the challenge of a question that asks me what I would do knowing that I was risking failure, and better yet, that it was indeed very likely, though not certain, to happen.

That is the thing I want to do. That is the thing I will do. I will focus not on the apparently insurmountable obstacles in my way. Rather, I will see the glimmer of hope, the minute possibility that exists. And I will move toward it. How can there be fear of failure when it is likely and expected? How can there not be the thrill of success when it is almost, but not certainly, impossible?

I ask myself: What would I do if I thought I was very likely to fail but stood just a chance in hell that I wouldn't?

That is my rumination.

Spokane River Run 50k - 4.18.10

2010-04-20T22:53:00.000-07:00

Good friends, good times.

There. That's it. My race report! That pretty much sums it up.

It's becoming tradition that the e-burg gang drives out to my place on Saturday early enough to pick-up our race packets, chill out, barbecue, tell stories, laugh, and pretend to organize our race gear. We try to get to sleep early enough and head to the race start after a good breakfast.

This year, just Tim and I were going to run the 50k again, while David, Jody, Ethan and Willy had all decided to run the 25k. We got there a few minutes before the start and, for a change, took off our extra layers of clothes as the early sun was promising warm weather.

My goals were: 1) To have fun. That's always my goal cuz if it ain't fun then there's no reason for it. 2) To run like a trail runner again... that is, without my ankle brace and without that nagging phobia of re-spraining my ankle that I've had for 5 years now since surgery. 3) If it turned out to be a good day, I wanted to run under 5 hours. I figured that was a doable goal.

Being familiar with the first loop because of our training runs was very helpful. I knew where to walk, run, eat. I enjoyed this loop very much. I didn't care a bit about who was ahead or behind or my standing or who I passed or who passed me. I ran at a conversation pace. I had wanted to run faster than that, but I got into some nice trail conversation with Molly from MT (it was her first 50k) and Lew from Spokane (who is running his first Western States this year). I was quite pleased that I ran through the rocky section without any trouble. That gave me a boost of confidence, but I know all too well not to let confidence turn to cockiness on the trails ever again!

(pic from one of our training runs on the course)

I finished the first loop in about 2:25 if I remember correctly. I set out on the second feeling very good, like it was my first. I decided to pick up the pace. I was running alone as Molly went ahead when I made a pit stop and Lew was back just a bit. I liked running alone. I wanted to hear my breaths instead of my voice. Every once in a while I would catch sight of Molly running ahead. And I could sense her occasional hesitation about whether she was on the correct trail. For some reason, the markings didn't seem as reliable as they were on the first loop. Or maybe it was just because I knew that first loop very well. I wanted to at least reassure her that I too was paying attention to the markings and, while I wasn't totally sure we were on the right trail, I at least thought we were! We motored on and eventually, I passed a few runners.

The times when I questioned the route sucked some of the energy out of me, but for the most part, I felt fine. I decided it was time to stop singing aloud to myself and start pushing the pace. I wanted to work; I was in the mood for it. Eventually, I spotted Emily in the distance. She won the women's race last year. When we came to an aid station, she stopped and I passed on by. I ran down the hill and kept running....and kept running...and kept running... until I came to a trail intersection with trail markings going in another direction. Huh? I stopped. Damn! Then I see a runner coming towards me from another trail.

"Hey, did you just come from that aid station up there?" I pointed up the hill.

"No."

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" I was so mad, now frantically wondering where the hell I went wrong. Before the aid station, just after? Emily was there at the station too, so it must've been right. Maybe this runner is wrong?

"I'm at about mile 22 if that helps," he said and motored on.

Fuck. I had to think quick about what to do. Should I follow this runner? Would it just lead me back to the aid station again? Would it cut distance from the course? Add more distance? I hated to think the best answer was to go back up that freakin' hill, but it was the best decision I could make. So, up I went. I was not happy. When the guy manning the aid station was in sight, I asked which way to go. He was kind enough to jump up and run to the turn in the trail off to the right. It was clearly marked. I had majorly missed it. My bad. Crap. But oh well, right? What can you do? I picked up the pace. Now, I wanted to see how much of that 8 minutes I could make up.

So, as I head down the right trail, I see Molly and Lew walking toward me! Huh? We all stared blankly at each other for a second. WTF?

"Is this an out 'n back?" asked Lew.

"I have no freakin' clue. Did you hit that station up there?"

No, they hadn't either. I must've been crazy. Was there really even a station up there?? I figured my only way forward was to well, run forward. Whether I had added more distance (other than going the 8 minutes off trail), I had no idea, but at least I was now headed toward the finish. It took me awhile to set into a pace and to leave the anxiety behind on the trail. I got back into my groove though now with a little more purpose. I wondered how far Emily was ahead.

It wasn't until the course started hugging the river that I knew where I was, where I could push the pace, where the hills were (that I was now gonna run!) and how much further I had to go. So, I pushed. It felt good to work.

About 30 or 40 minutes after my detour, I spotted Emily ahead. After the long uphill to the aid station by the road, she let me by. I'm glad I remembered those last miles are long ones. It was too early to barn door it. So, I just kept within and fought the desire to slow down and "not care" about my finish time. I knew I'd have to keep up the pace to break 5 hours, so I did.

When I crossed the finish line in 4:58:55, I was satisfied.

It's always satisfying when you are able to meet all your goals. I had fun. I felt like a real trail runner because my ankle held up without a brace and I wasn't paralyzed by the fear of re-spraining it. I finished in a reasonable time for me. Also, my recovery has been easy. No troubles. Other than a stiff right ankle, I'm fine. Ran Monday and Tuesday, but will take a rest day today. I'm thinking I really need to learn that it's ok to run harder. I should at least run hard enough to feel sore the next day!

I just love this race! It's one of my all-time favorites. The scenic views rock. The rocks rock! It draws some fantastic competition, and there are distances for everyone.

Tim did great (despite getting lost too) and finished in 4:22, 7th overall. David, Willy, Jody and Ethan all did very well in the 25k. We returned home and fired up a tasty barbecue for everyone.
Good friends, good times. What more could you ask for!

Full results are HERE.

PS - Wanna read another report from the race? This one has EXCELLENT pictures from the course. See Scott's blog entry.

(these are my handsome boyz!)

2010 Best Doctors

2010-03-26T13:03:00.000-07:00

I am fortunate that I chose a field that I love. I have an inherent interest in how the body works, how to fix a "malfunction," and how to diagnose and solve a problem whose solution has eluded others. "Treating the whole person" has a prominent place in the field of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation. As a Physiatrist, we attempt to restore "wholeness" and oftentimes even hope.

I am thrilled to be named one of the Best Doctors of 2010 in the Spokane and Coeur d'Alene areas for the third year in a row.

(Voting is done by peers via an independent company, not the magazine. Spokane Coeur d'Alene Living simply reports the list.)

Death Valley: It wasn't about the marathon

2010-02-11T22:22:00.001-08:00

Have I mentioned before that I love Death Valley, that I think it is one of the most exotic places in the world? Not that I have traveled the world, but I have visited more than a few places, and Death Valley is distinctly different, unique.

I love the quiet, the peace, the stillness.

Do you know what silence sounds like? Have you heard it? Really heard it?

Have you ever experienced such absence of noise that you could actually hear the atmosphere around you?

Has the stillness around you ever been so pure that you've heard the buzz of a fly approaching from far away, growing louder and crisper as it passes an arm's-length from your ear then gradually fades into the distance?

Have you ever stood with outstretched arms and slowly spun around in the wall-less desert and gasped at how immensely small and insignificant you really are?

Do you know that there is no greater artist than Mother Nature? Have you studied her works, marveled at her colors and the detail of her palette?

Have you reached out to touch the mountains in front of you and were surprised to discover they were actually 20 miles away, that the dips in the road ahead were actually undulating hills hundreds of feet high?

When was the last time you were in the dark? A blind darkness, a black darkness without even the faint flicker of your cell phone light reminding you that you still have battery left? A darkness so thick you could not see your hand in front of your face?

And how about a piercing blue sky so bright blue it burned your eyes? Have you stared into it?

Have you ever seen how much life is in the desert? Or how the desert is always moving and changing, how the mountains are crumbling one grain of sand at a time, and yet are rising timelessly from the Earth, and yet from afar, the desert appears the same as it has for millions of years.

There are answers in Death Valley. One needs only to go and look and be still and listen.

Tribute to my boyz

2010-02-01T22:22:00.001-08:00

These are my boyz. I love them. They bring me such joy and unconditional love.

Steely is my Weimaraner, 4 years old. Zappa is his adopted brother, also 4. They are best buds that sleep, play and get into trouble together.

We are so lucky to be able to get them out to play this winter. Last winter we had so much snow that we were stranded for months. This year - so far - it's been wonderful! They love to run and are beautiful to watch. Zappa's the sprinter and Steely's the endurance runner. They both bring me joy when they run.

My backyard playground...

Riverside State Park...

And on the cold, rainy days, they watch me on the treadmill... (poor babies!) :)

Don't forget to love and hug and run your dogs today!

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T18:23:00.000-08:00

How nice to not be running around a mile loop over and over and over again for 48 hours straight from December 30 into the New Year! Not that I don't absolutely love the Across the Years multiday race - I do! It's just so nice to not be freezing my arse off through the cold nights of the Arizona desert. Despite the race's sunny and warm daytime hours, I recall the nights as being only miserably cold. No sleep, insufficient calories, and cold air cutting through my sweat soaked clothes.

Since ATY was canceled this (and I had already sworn off ever running another 48-hour race), we stayed home for the holiday. And it was fantastic!

We waited for the Blue Moon to rise to head out to Mount Spokane for a midnight snowshoe run. The second full moon of the month was there, somewhere, in the nighttime sky - but we never did see it. The snow started falling in the early evening and did not let up until the next morning.

So, we set out in the snow for a midnight snowshoe run on the mountain.

It was beautiful. Towering evergreens with bowed branches from the heavy snow. Serene, mystic, so quiet. Only the distant sounds of heavy tree branches cracking under the weight of the snow and the trickling water below the trail.

There was no one but us. We followed some snowshoe tracks but the maker of them had long passed through. So peaceful was our world inside the spheres of light from our headlamps.

We ran from 2009 into 2010. It was very nice.

This morning, we decided, despite the snain (snow + rain) to put in a few miles on the slushy and icy roads. The first loop was cold but nice, but as I neared the car, the wind picked up sharply and stormed across the frozen fields carrying icy drops of rain that bit the left side of my face. I pulled up my fleece headband over my cheeks and ran with my gloved hand at my face to shield it from the frozen snainy pellets. I laughed at myself and the idiocy of running in this weather. I stopped at the car, quickly reached for the keys and turned on the ignition and seat warmers.

Tim was still out there, on his second loop. The wind was howling and the rain streaming down. I drove to meet him and sort of asked, "You gonna tough this out?"

"Of course I am!" he said running near the trees for some shelter from the rain.

"Ok, I'll wait for you back where we started. I'll keep the car warm."

I drove back with the seat warmers warming my bottom and the heat drying my face...and I waited for Tim, who wouldn't be long.

Only five minutes later, the winds hushed and the clear blue sky in the distance started pushing clouds away. And as I looked around to marvel at the abrupt change in the weather, I saw straight ahead of me a perfect rainbow! It was the most perfect rainbow I have ever seen! The colors were absolutely brilliant. I followed the colors up until they disappeared into the trees. I got out of the car to take a picture with my new Droid phone. I stepped back...and Whoa! I gasped. Brilliant colors of the rainbow arced clear across the sky from the road to the frozen field! Brilliant colors with a lighter double arc nearby. It was breathtaking.

I snapped a few pictures, and still in giddy excitement, I watched Tim come running down the road back to the car, having run "under" the rainbow himself. He was soaked to the bone but radiant.

We were both so happy.

A sign of a good things to come this New Year.

Why I run

2009-11-29T23:21:00.000-08:00

I don't run for exercise. I don't run to escape or "run from" or to win races or impress coworkers. I don't run to brag, to overcome some need to achieve or to somehow pat my ego.

I run because I love the outdoors. I love the beauty through which I run. My feet take me to places to which I would never otherwise go.

Here's an example.

Our run to Selah the day after Thanksgiving.

2009 Spartathlon Race Report

2009-11-06T23:13:00.000-08:00

Spartathlon 2008 DNF

I failed to finish the 2008 Spartathlon. I struggled with my ankle for six hours after the mountain before I surrendered at Checkpoint 59 and requested a ride to my crew who was waiting for me just 3 km away. I emerged from the race vehicle and could hardly make eye-contact with them. My soul was heavy. After a year of training and obsessing about the race, I did not finish despite having only 50 km to go. It was a powerful and humbling experience, and I learned some great lessons. Nearly a month passed before I came to grips with that experience. I described the lessons I learned in my blog.

At the 2008 Spartathlon awards banquet, Marios Fournaris from Greece, a multi-time Spartathlon finisher, told me he did not finish his first Spartathlon. He gave me a gift and told me to come back and try again. I struggled to hold back tears and promised then that I would be back in 2009 to finish the race.

I planned for redemption. I had nothing to prove; I just needed to finish my unfinished business. I knew I was capable of completing the race, but I also wanted to run it “well.” For me, running well meant running and finishing with gratitude and joy in my heart. No more. That was my goal.

My Second Chance

I returned to the Spartathlon with my boyfriend Tim Englund who was with me last year. Last year, when I sprained my ankle five days before the race, he sacrificed his week in Greece for me as I attempted to heal up as much as possible before race day. Our plans of playing tourists and relaxing together didn’t happen. Instead, he was my physical and emotional crutch. He brought me ice, rubbed my ankle, and kept me smiling by telling me stories on the balcony of our hotel room. He assured me that he was there to support me, whether I was able to run or not. He never left my side. Without his love and care, I would not have had the courage to toe the start line. This year, he was back to help me finish. I owed him a finish…and a vacation. Privy to my weaknesses, strengths, and dreams, he understood my deep desire to finish this race, and to finish it well.

Also with me this year was Glenn Tachiyama, my gentle-souled friend who has never waivered in his steadfast support. He has believed in me through some difficult times in my life and also in those rare times of glory. He was part of my Badwater Ultramarathon crew when I won the race in 2007, and he was with me through the ankle disaster of last year’s Spartathlon race. Glenn, too, gave up that week in Greece last year, and instead of touring the great ruins and shooting photos, he scoured the streets of Athens with me in search of the perfect ankle brace I could wear during the race. And when we finally found the perfect brace and it didn’t fit into my shoe, Glenn didn’t waiver. With a dull knife, he gutted out the stuffing of my shoe until the brace fit flawlessly. Glenn, too, understood my desire for redemption in 2009 and he eagerly accepted my invitation to share in another attempt at finishing.

I had all I needed to finish this year’s race: Tim and Glenn, the lessons I learned and my own determination. Now, I just needed to train.

My Training

I trained harder and smarter than last year. Due to work constraints, I have averaged 25 to 30 miles a week over the past decade of ultrarunning. I knew I needed to increase that mileage to insure that I would finish well. Last year while training for the Spartathlon, I was able to increase my overall weekly mileage but I wasn’t able to sustain it. I became too fatigued and had to cut back. This year, I did my best to run more mileage throughout the year, and new to this year, I did my best to rest more. I thought often of my veteran ultrarunner friend Ray Krolewicz who, in response to my whining once, told me that there was no such thing as overtraining. I thought he was wrong. Gradually, however, I came to believe that he was right and that I have not ever overtrained; I have only under rested. I found that I was able to handle the higher mileage easily as long as I made the time to rest and recover. It required sacrifice like never before, but I kept it up as Tim reassured me that I was just paying my dues and would reap the reward on race day. So, this year I was better trained, and more importantly, significantly more rested both physically and mentally. I was in a much better place in my mind, and that freed me to push my limits physically.

I increased my training mileage in July after I had completed my post as Medical Director at Badwater. I ran as much as I could. I ran a few 60 and 70 mile weeks, which is a lot for me. When I was too busy with work or bogged down by other commitments, I reduced the mileage. Every step I ran in training was for the purpose of getting me to the finish line of the Spartathlon. I ran only on the roads to get my body used to the pavement. I imagined the Spartathlon course and my success in traversing the entire distance from the Parthenon to the statue of King Leonidas. I trained without music because it is not allowed at the Spartathlon and I started to take comfort in hearing the rhythm of my feet and breaths. I imagined that Spokane’s peach orchards were the Greek olive orchards and that the smell of apple cider was the smell of the vineyards of Nemea. I imagined that the cars on the roads that intruded into my space were the same cars I’d brush elbows with running through downtown Athens. And when the winds blew and the skies opened and dumped rain on me during my runs, I told myself I was preparing to handle any condition that could present itself during the race.

I imagined the inevitable fatigue, the possible stomach trouble, and the achiness in my hips, and I imagined that I would keep on keeping on despite these no matter what. I replayed every possible scenario in my mind and I imagined being able to work through it. I came to believe I could handle anything. I left no possibility unexplored in my mind. There would be no excuse for whining or quitting.

The last two weeks before the race I managed 80+ miles. I ran up and down Mt. Spokane. I ran back-to-back long runs without difficulty. I rested as much as I could. I was ready for the race.

The Days Before the Race

Tim, Glenn and I arrived in Athens Sunday afternoon. Our Rav 4 rental car (expressly ordered with a moon roof for Glenn and his camera) was ready for us at the airport, and we drove to the hotel. Though we still could not read the street signs, the bustling streets of Athens seemed much less foreign to us this year. Instead of fearing the motorcycles that drove between the car lanes brushing our side mirrors with their handlebars, we pulled in our mirrors to give them more room. And when we could not fit our car into the parallel parking space on the street, we parked perpendicular, like the Greeks. A sense of confidence filled the air. We were ready for our Greek adventure to begin.

I had no plans to run even a step once we arrived in Greece. Except for doing the tourist stuff we missed last year, I was going to rest. We ventured to the Parthenon and climbed a thousand steps. Up, down, up, down. To my surprise, my left hip, which is a chronic problem I have managed over the years, started shooting pain with each step. I mentioned it but kept on. Finally, I let Tim and Glenn go explore while I sat on the benches with the elderly ladies. I became worried.

I iced my back and hip that night and every night after that and took some ibuprofen to quiet the pain. I wondered if, like last year, I had just ruined my race, only this time more deliberately. I wondered if I wasn’t somehow sabotaging my dream of finishing the race, of running well. It was a pang of doubt that repeatedly crept into my mind in the days before the race.

Fortunately, the hip got better as we relaxed and sunned and ate Greek salads and baklava and sipped Greek coffee. Wednesday evening, we went to dinner with the other Americans running the race: John Price, Adrian Belitu and Bob Becker and his wife Suzanne, as well as Peter Foxall, everybody's friend from the UK. Adrian Belitu joined us for the pre-race meal the evening before the race. I got fairly decent sleep, and in the morning, Tim drove us to the Acropolis and we arrived just as the buses filled with athletes from Hotel London arrived.

Athens (Start) to Hellas Can (80 km)

For the first time, I was a bundle of nerves. I laced and re-laced my shoes multiple times. I nervously hugged old friends and new friends, wished them well, and agreed to a brief interview with Radio France, thinking it would distract me from feeling anxious. I tried to chill out by telling myself that nerves were a good sign, that I had prepared well, that, in my preparations, I had left nothing to chance. I had but one mission and that was to finish this race.

After the countdown, we headed down the uneven cobblestone path. I immediately recalled my ankle debacle from last year. This year, I was careful but confident. I ran the first miles with John Price. I didn’t mention to him that my muscles felt stiff and weak even in those first miles. Instead, I kept quiet and convinced myself that it was just because I hadn’t run in a week, just because my body was finally fully “experiencing” the run. I decided it meant nothing and predicted nothing. We had a long way to go. There would be no whining. I carried on.

I carried my usual energy drinks and food in my pack. I was sure to keep up on my calories and I supplemented with fruit juice and a few other nibbles at the check points. For some reason, however, I started to develop some stomach trouble, and before long, I was making stops along the way. Many stops. I wasn’t all that concerned about the cut-offs; I was ahead of those with time to spare. I was, however, a bit concerned about whether I could run for 246 km if I couldn’t fuel well early in the race. I forced the thought from my mind and focused on the present. I was feeling well enough now to keep running, I thought, and that was a good thing. I was able to push away the negative thoughts because, well, I didn’t really have a racing strategy. I only knew my 40 km and 80 km split times from last year, and I was hoping to be somewhere around those times. It was a comfortable pace for me, and if I could run close to those splits this year, I should have enough time to finish the distance. So, in attempt to limit my grumpy stomach, I decreased my usual calorie intake dramatically and just kept moving.

I was very surprised to see that I hit the 40 km check point two minutes faster than last year. I thought I was moving much slower but apparently I wasn’t. My legs continued to feel somewhat fatigued throughout those early miles, but my mind was committed to the race and, in that regard, I was moving along well. I set my legs on auto-pilot and they responded and did what I had trained them to do – move me forward. I stayed focused on the present and therefore I felt no pressure, fear or uncertainty.

I must have been wrapped up in my thoughts for a long time because I was jolted back to awareness when I stumbled on the sidewalk that bridged the magnificent Corinth Canal. I was so thrilled to be there that I let out a joyful holler as I chose to dodge through the sight-seers on the sidewalk so that I, too, could see the canal rather than run on the street. I knew what lie just ahead and for the first time, I was eager to be further along on the course. This was Hellas Can, 80 kms into the race, and the first time I was able to see Tim and Glenn. As soon as I realized how close I was, I saw Glenn with his camera. I was flooded with joy. I had made it to Hellas Can in 8 hours and 10 minutes, ahead of my time from last year. I was glad for that, but that was the extent of my thoughts about the split time. I was just so glad to be there, to see Tim and Glenn, and to get some of my own food into my system.

I told them about my stomach troubles, but I didn’t dwell on it or dally. I didn’t come back to Greece to whine. I was comforted to know I would be seeing them again soon and about every 10 km for the rest of the race. I was so ready to experience the ENTIRE distance with them this year.

My stomach got worse and over the next 20 miles I vomited many times. That has never happened to me before in a race. I have always had an iron stomach that could tolerate almost anything on the run. Sure, I’ve had some nausea before and once I had a batch of bad energy drink, but I never before had trouble like this. Again I became concerned. I made note of my concern but I was strangely detached from it. I knew I wasn’t doing anything “wrong.” I had taken inventory many times. I was eating properly, though not enough. My legs were tired, but at this point, everybody’s were and I finally fully accepted the fatigue. I wasn’t overhydrated, I wasn’t hyponatremic. If anything, I was mildly dehydrated and feeling some muscle twitches in my quads, signs to me that I needed to drink and salt more. It was hot out but despite no heat training, I wasn’t feeling overheated. I certainly wasn’t pushing too hard; my pace was comfortable. The food and fluid just wasn’t getting absorbed from my stomach, which bloated to the point that I had to loosen my waist pack. So why was I vomiting? I didn’t know. Between episodes, I felt great. My mind was absolutely in the right place and I recalled that some elite ultrarunners get sick but keep on running. So, my conclusion was that I was having trouble because I was running one of the toughest road races in the world. I took comfort in that conclusion and, while I continued to take self-inventory of how I was feeling, I ceased worrying after that. I reset my legs on auto-pilot and kept running. The race had yet just begun.

Hellas Can (80 km) to the Mountain Base (159.5 km)

When dusk came, I recalled the loneliness I experienced during the night last year. I remembered how much I longed for my music to purge the thoughts in my head. This year, there was to be no longing for music, no cobwebs in my head, no loneliness on the course. This year I was ready for anything… but I did not expect to be able to run with my friend Peter Foxall during this part of the race! Peter had been ahead of me, and when I saw him on the long orchard-lined road, I was delighted. “Peter? Is that you?” “Yes, it tis,” he said in his British accent. We merged missions and carried on together into the nighttime. In the months before the race, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to whine during the run. Not to my crew, myself, or to other runners. So, I paused before I confessed to Peter that I was having trouble keeping food down. He offered me some Jelly Babies; he said they could help. It was the first time I have ever tried them, and indeed, they were excellent! I ate two. They stayed down. And as we plugged along over the hills and down the road, we discussed the important and unimportant things in life. I was in good company. A while later, he offered me a few more Jelly Babies, which I gladly accepted. It was the first “food” that felt good in my stomach.

Peter walked the uphills faster than I could run them. Lengthening my stride to walk fast made me aware of some discomfort in my hip, which I hadn’t been feeling, and also some discomfort on the balls of my feet on push-off. I thought of the severe blisters I suffered through at Badwater in 2007 from power walking up Towne Pass. I decided against walking. Instead, I just took small baby steps and “ran” up the hills while Peter walk powerfully beside me. We started to develop a rhythm where he would walk fast ahead and I would walk slow, avoiding the longer stride and push-off, and then I would run with my mincey steps and eventually catch him. Despite the mileage under our feet and how far we’d already come, the hours and miles passed effortlessly.

Peter stopped to change into some warmer clothes and I moved on, knowing that I too was soon going to stop to don my ankle brace and warm clothes. When I arrived at the base of the mountain, Tim and Glenn were there to welcome me. Every time I saw them, I could sense their happiness. I don’t think they ever really verbalized it, but I could see that they were confident that I was going to finish. And I knew that they knew that I knew that. In some way I actually wanted to get nervous and worried or to complain, but Tim and Glenn seemed to have created an atmosphere that shielded each of us from any negative thought.

I did my best to quickly change into warm clothes, drink some soup and switch my right shoe into the shoe with the brace in it from last year. I wondered if this would be a good idea or not, thinking perhaps I should just put on my canvas lace-up brace instead. But I had decided on the shoe/brace combo from last year because it was not only easier and safer, but because it was a reminder as to why I was back there, why I was willing to venture from the security of the roads onto the rugged trail that wound precariously to the summit 100 miles into the run. The mountain is a milestone for all runners and it certainly was for me, as it was here last year that my ankle started to give me trouble. Ready for redemption, I headed eagerly up the trail in playful anticipation of the summit.

The Mountain Base (159.5 km) to Tegea (195 km)

My legs felt heavy but not weary. My soul felt light, so I let it carry me up the trail. I chuckled several times up the climb. The lights on the trail were there to light my way, the signs to keep me smiling. The fragile roll of paper that was draped just off the ground where the trail ended and the cliff began was there to amuse me. I laughed aloud at the game. For kicks, I timed the ascent. Twenty-five minutes. I emerged from the trees and rocks at the Checkpoint on the summit. 100 miles in just over 20 hours. Without pause, I shouted my race number, and was exhilarated to be heading down the far side of the mountain. My shoes skidded down the loose skree. Adrenaline filled my body as I barely kept myself from tumbling down. I laughed aloud. This is gonna be fun, I said to myself. In fact, I’m going to experiment with running. Some runners run this, and if some can, then I can run some of it too, right? So, I tried. Sometimes I failed and slid and almost fell. Sometimes, I couldn’t slow my momentum on the steep grade and loose rock, and would go barreling past a wiser and more cautious runner. I laughed at myself because I figured I would stumble uncontrollably and fall right in front of him as I passed…to his amusement. I knew it could happen. I didn’t care. I ran and tiptoed and slid and screeched my way down the far side of the mountain in the brace that knew the mountain from last year. Every sense was on heightened alert. It was thrilling.

And as I made my reckless way down the mountain, I saw my good friend Peter again up ahead. “Peter!” I yelled. “Lisa!” he replied. We exchanged updates on how we were doing. I told him I had to keep on going and he wished me well. I hit the pavement that lead to Sangas Village and I kept on running. In fact, I felt so good and free that I ran as fast as I could without tearing up my legs. I ran and I ran. I didn’t remember this part of the course from last year. I only remembered the physical and mental pain, and I remembered the cold dampness that shrouded my body, making me feel lonely and tired and hopeless. Where was that section this year? Was it here? Or here? I kept wondering as I ran down to the village. I met my crew and I could only smile. Yep, it’s all good this time. I’m going to be ok. I love it here.

As I made my way through the check points and the sky turned from black to gray, I realized that I never got cold this year. Yes, the temperature was warmer and there was much less humidity in the air, but that’s not the only reason I was warmer this year. This year I was moving. Last year I was dropping behind, getting slower and slower, carrying more and more weight on my shoulders until I couldn’t move any more and, alas, gave up. This year, I was making gains on the cutoffs. Tim would let me know I was ahead of last year’s splits or that I was increasing my time cushion, and I liked hearing that. But that’s all I needed to know…that I was ok, that it was possible to make it to the finish line. Because I knew that as long as it was possible, it was going to happen.

I slowed down as I approached Checkpoint 59. I saw it in the distance…a lonely little checkpoint in the middle of nowhere. This is where, after a mighty struggle last year, I gave up. My stomach turned in visceral recall. This is the checkpoint I crawled into last year and, before I could talk myself out of it, I told the race official that I was dropping out of the race and needed a ride to my crew who were waiting at the next checkpoint. “You sure?” He asked. “Sure you don’t just want to walk there? You probably have enough time….” “No,” I said, “I have already dropped out.” “Ok, I’ll give you a ride.” And I waited in the passenger seat of his car for him to finish up what he was doing. I wanted desperately to curl up on the floor and disappear. As we drove, I hung my head and avoided looking at the runners on the road who had passed me not too long ago, the runners, who unlike me, had the courage and strength to keep on keeping on toward Sparta. That ride to Checkpoint 60 took an eternity. I could not even imagine having to propel that distance on my own power. I knew I had tried in earnest. I knew I had given everything I had on that course. And perhaps even more than that. I knew the course beat me. I had surrendered to it.

I felt uneasy as I neared that same checkpoint. I wondered if it was in the same location as last year, if it really was the same spot where I had dropped. As it came into view more clearly, I could feel its emotional power and yes, I knew it was the same checkpoint. In some ways, however, it seemed very different to me. Still, I had the vivid image of the car and where it was parked, the tone of the young race official’s voice asking, “You sure?”

This time, as I approached, I asked, “Is this Checkpoint 59?” “Yes,” he said. “Wow. This is where I dropped last year,” I said aloud but to no one. I didn’t dally. In fact, I didn’t even stop at all. I ran passed it and was keenly aware that every step from that point was one step farther than last year and one step closer to Sparti this year. I had a pang of loneliness. It was one of those rare happy-sad moments.

My body moved on but my mind stood still. I wasn’t sure what to feel. I was now on uncharted ground. The giddiness was gone. I looked around as I ran, my legs still moving like wheels on cruise control. Before very long, I came upon some houses, and in the peacefulness of the early misty morning, I saw a young girl in her yard on the side of the road. I blinked. I rubbed my eyes. She was still there, holding a pink daisy out toward me as I approached. I was impressed by the fact that she was alone. There was no one else around for as far as my eyes could see. Surely she had been passing out flowers to all the runners who passed by her. Surely she had a whole garden of pink daisies that she tended to all summer just for the Spartan athletes. But where were they - the flowers, the runners, the other children? It was just her, one girl, one pink flower, and me. I ran towards her outstretched hand and stopped to accept the gift.

My voice quivered as I said, “Thank you, thank you so very much.” She just smiled shyly. “Thank you!" I said. "No…Efharisto!” I carefully placed the treasure behind my ear and marveled the world’s poise. I couldn’t wait to get to Checkpoint 60 to see Tim and Glenn this time with my head held high and a grin from ear to ear. As I told them the story about the little girl, Glenn snapped a picture. If not for seeing the flower in Glenn’s pictures, I would have thought the entire moment was just a figment of my imagination.

Tegea (195 km) to Sparti (246 km)

I had heard that the last 50 kms of the Spartathlon were downhill. Well, that is definitely NOT the case! The course climbs up the longest hill of the race at 195 kms during which I struggled to keep my pace and positive attitude. The hill was relentless. The rain started coming down fairly hard too, and I could see runners up the hill in the distance shrouded in the blue rain ponchos that were handed out at the checkpoints. Every car and truck that passed showered me with rain. I felt like I was making no forward progress as I climbed and climbed often reduced to a walk. And when I walked, I was barely warm enough in my light long-sleeved shirt and Houdini jacket.

I became grumpy….and then, suddenly out of nowhere, I became ravenously hungry. My stomach had long settled and I started to fantasize about eggs, bacon and pancakes. I was craving food, real food. When I saw Tim, I told him that the hill was “a cruel joke” and that I was starving. He gave me another roll of banana, peanut butter, honey in a tortilla, which I ate, and he said he would see what he could do. To my wonderful surprise, when I saw him at the next crew-access check point, sure enough, he had a warm egg and bacon sandwich made by the Artemis Restaurant. I devoured half then, and the other half when I saw them again 10 km later. It was the best tasting sandwich I have ever had! It helped replenish my lost calories and it filled my tank for the final push to the finish.

Just past the 224 km checkpoint, I found myself pacing alongside a runner from Japan. There was no verbal agreement to run together or shake of the hands, we simply started running together, knowing somehow that by sticking together we both could do better than either of us could do alone. We ran side-by-side or single-file, taking turns pacing each other. He introduced himself as Masayuki Otaki. There were very few words exchanged during the hours we ran together. Perhaps it was the language barrier or perhaps we just didn't feel like talking. Certainly, he carried himself graciously and humbly. Only when I asked did he say that he was a multi-time finisher of the race, but he never mentioned that he had won the race in 2000. I only learned that after the race. In our silence, we bonded. It was a silence rich in mutual respect and understanding as we methodically moved our protesting legs without complaint, faster I am sure than if either of us had been running alone.

I felt the pull of excitement from Tim and Glenn as Otaki-san and I pulled into the final crew-access checkpoint of the race 10 km from the finish. They efficiently assisted me with my fuel and I was ready to go, now certain that in time I would finish. But knowing that I was physically exhausted at this point, Tim said to wait just one moment before shuffling on. “Glenn and I have something for you that will take all your pains away,” he said. Yeah, right! I thought. I paused. They positioned themselves side by side. They counted down and broke into a synchronized choreographed song and dance: “Lisa’s goin’ to Sparrrrti, now it’s time to parrrrty..!” Glenn ended the ditty with a Woot! And I left them with my heart filled with joy and gratitude. I had never before been given the priceless gift of song and dance! It was just the right medicine to ease my pain and make me smile the last 10 km downhill to the finish line.

Upon entering Sparti, the air of silent perseverance between Otaki-san and I changed and became filled with anticipation. “Is this the final turn?” I asked. “OK, is THIS it?” Time was warped. My legs were moving in slow motion. My heart was flooded with excitement. A motorcycle escort joined us and led the way. People stood up from their café tables and cheered us as we ran by. Families cheered us from their balconies. We waved back and we thanked them. The crowds on the sidewalks thickened as we made our final right-hand turn to face the statue of King Leonidas. We were surrounded by cheers and outstretched hands. Children ran beside us to share in our victory. The clapping became a roar when we were moments from the steps to the King. Tim and Glenn were perched there ready and waiting for me just as they were there for me throughout the prior day and a half. With a look of great contentment and joy, Otaki-san turned to me and said, “We finish together.” The steps up to the statue were effortless. Hand in hand we clutched the foot of King Leonidas and bowed our heads. It is a finish I will always remember.

Spartathlon 2008 – DNF

Spartathlon 2009 - Finish time 32:23:26, 44^th overall, 3^rd place female, 1^st American

(all photos are by Glenn Tachiyama and Tim Englund)

Enough of this seriousness!

2009-11-06T00:18:00.001-08:00

Last weekend was Halloween. We ran a 5k. It was a costume race.

I think we had even more fun picking out and trying on costumes....though trying to run in a "one size fits most" costume was quite humerous too. The crotch hung to mid-calf on me. Hard to get a stride going.

And it was hot! Ok, only 62 degrees, but I thought I was gonna be road kill by the second mile.

We lived though. And had an absolute blast.

Now, what do we do with these costumes??

So, can you tell what we were?

Not too tough, I know: TELETUBBIES! I'm La-La and Tim is Dipsy.

Good thing the Subes gotta moonroof!

New York Times - Oct. 21, 2009 (It's the only way I'll ever make the Fashion Section of the NYTimes!)

2009-10-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

One Ultrarunning Problem, Solved for Good

Matthew Staver for The New York Times

Marshall Ulrich, left, and Mark Macy, long-distance runners, have found that permanent removal of toenails helps them in races.

By CATHERINE SAINT LOUIS

Published: October 21, 2009

GETTING serious about a sport can mean doing the previously unthinkable. Swimmers shave their bodies sleek. Cyclists take blood-boosters. And ultramarathoners have their battered toenails surgically removed — for good.

Matthew Staver for The New York Times

Mr. Ulrich's feet.

Toenail removal is not for the faint of heart, but it can be a big relief to people who compete in 50- or 100-mile races. Even the most hardened ultramarathoners, for whom 26.2 miles is a warm-up, can be distressed by bleeding under a nail or a loose nail that bangs repeatedly against the front of a shoe.

“From my experience, it’s the hard-cores” who choose to go without toenails, said Dr. Paul R. Langer, a Minneapolis podiatrist who has been on the medical team for a 250-kilometer 7-day race through the Gobi Desert. “Even within the ultra community, less than 10 percent or maybe even 5 percent are permanently removing their toenails.”

The average marathoner suffers from plenty of black-and-blue nails, but doesn’t sign up to have acid poured onto a nail bed for permanent removal.

Ultramarathoners, who number more than 17,000 nationwide, according to UltraRunning magazine — “appear crazy sometimes, but they are great strategists,” said Dr. Robert M. Conenello, a sports podiatrist who tended to contestants of a multiday race in the Sahara. “A lot of them look at their toenails as useless appendages, remnants of claws from evolutionary times long ago. I’ve heard them say, ‘Toenails are dead weight.’ ”

The most utilitarian of ultramarathoners remove the offending toenails and keep problem-free ones. Then they sport a checkerboard look in sandals.

But the practice strikes some runners as overkill. “You know any sport has gone off the rails when you have to remove body parts to do it,” said Christopher McDougall, the author of a recent book about ultrarunning called “Born to Run.”

Ultramarathoners tend to keep quiet about toenail removal, Mr. McDougall said, because they “tired of being freaks, and they don’t want to add anything more freakish to their résumé.”

Marshall Ulrich of Idaho Springs, Colo., who had all his toenails surgically removed in 1992, has become a example for the practice. He used to stop mid-race to poke a hole in a throbbing nail to relieve pressure. Now, he said, toenails are “one less thing to have to deal with.”

(You might consider streamlining, too, if, like Mr. Ulrich, you ran the sweltering Badwater Ultramarathon without a crew supplying water and food. Instead he hauled his own supplies in a cart for all but 11 of 146 miles.)

Mark Macy, a fellow ultrarunner, used to tease Mr. Ulrich about his curious-looking toes. “It looks like he has a bunch of bald-headed little men at the end of his feet,” said Mr. Macy, a lawyer in Denver.

But about five years ago, some of Mr. Macy’s own toenails grew back mangled, and he decided that permanent removal made sense. He now has only two nails per foot. “You eliminate one source of constant aggravation,” he said.

Plenty of distance runners lose their toenails repeatedly. For some, it can be a badge of honor, proof of miles logged and the repetitive toe-banging they have endured. The proud wear hats and T-shirts emblazoned with the slogan “Toenails are for sissies.”

Some marathoners have their nails temporarily removed by a podiatrist if they are ingrown or dangling precariously. For them, the leap to permanent removal isn’t inconceivable.

Take Dr. Lisa Bliss, who won Badwater, the 135-mile race in Death Valley, in 2007, two years after having her two big toenails permanently removed. Previously, she had four times had a podiatrist cut away two misshapen nails that had grown back — painfully — into the nail bed instead of lying flat. So, she figured, why not just get rid of the nails?

Her online photo diary of the procedure — which is not for the squeamish — has become a forum for people who are trying to decide if the pain and weeks of recovery are worth it.

Dr. Bliss, from Spokane, Wash., still wears open-toed sandals and says that her nails “look better now than when they were black and blistered, and half falling off.”

The podiatrists interviewed for this article said that permanent toenail removal should be a last resort. Many blackened toenails can be solved by wearing shoes that aren’t too snug, or ones that accommodate the foot swelling that’s the norm with long distances, or by filing the nails flat on top.

However, advice for the average marathon runner who runs on pavement may be of little use to ultramarathoners, who run on trails and downhill slopes that jam their toes against the fronts of their shoes. “When you run that far and for that long, something is bound to happen,” said Dr. Jamie Yakel, a sports podiatrist in Denver.

Run enough 100-milers, go up and down enough mountains on manpower alone, and a full set of toenails starts to seem like a luxury. “Once you lose the nail once, it never adheres to the nail bed like it once did,” Dr. Langer said. “That’s why someone might be prone to the same nail getting beat up over and over.”

Permanent removal carries risks. Sometimes a bulbous shape will form on the toe tip, Dr. Langer said, making nerves more sensitive and leaving the toe vulnerable to sores or calluses.

And, in some rare cases, toenails grow back even after surgery to do away with them. Mr. Macy’s big toenails started to return, and he got rid of them a second time. “Mine just keep coming,” he said ruefully.

Still, for some, the surgery is worth it. “It sounds bad, but it’s really not, because it solves all your problems,” said Roy Heger of Medina, Ohio, an ultramarathoner who had his big left toenail permanently removed to avoid mid-race patch-ups at medical tents.

Dr. Conenello, who once had a patient fly from Russia to his practice in Orangeburg, N.Y., for a permanent removal, said, “I’ve never had a patient have any regrets.”

Other runners rule out permanent removal. “My toenails are terrible,” said Tia Bodington, the editor of UltraRunning magazine, who recalled talking with a colleague, Lisa Henson, after the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run. “I was going to get a pedicure, but I only had three toenails, and Lisa only had four,” Ms. Bodington said. “We had a great laugh about it.”

That does not mean she wants to part with her nails for good. “I personally cannot make that jump,” she said.

* * * * * * * *

And here's the link to my "online photo diary." As you've already been warned, it's not for the faint of heart! So, don't go there if you don't want to see the pictures!

And here's a LINK to the above article in the New York Times.

....and NOW....!

2009-10-19T21:22:00.000-07:00

Well, that's the thing. I'm not sure what now. And wow! It feels sooo good!

The Spartathlon is over but the memories are still reverberating. I usually mull over the things I could have done differently, better after a race. Not necessarily in a good or bad way. It's just something I do. This time, since the Spartathlon, I have just been satisfied. I just don't feel the need to analyze the race much. Rather, I just think about it and I feel good about it. That's different for me. Nice.

Yes, I've been running...when I can...when I want. It's very nice.

Work has been very busy, but I am finally catching up and winding down. Thank goodness.

My weekends are delightful. No pressures. In fact, this past weekend was just wonderful. Tim and I went into Coeur d'Alene to hang at Java and sip a Bowl of Soul. We perused the art galleries and bought some art for each other. We got some fixins' done around the house. We lounged and we laughed. We tried on Halloween costumes and people laughed at us. (Hmm, if they're laughing, they must be...perfect!)

We didn't even run or talk much about running though we did register for some "little" races.

I looked through some of our tourist pictures in Athens from before the race. Of course, Glenn's always got the best photos so I'll share a few here. Some are Tim's too. And perhaps I'll share a few more of the race...and a few after... :) (in no particular order)...

The formal awards in back in Athens.

Does life ever get any better than this!?

Glenn sinks into the chairs, can't get out. Good thing there's no reason to. Just relax and enjoy!

In the medical tent after the finish where the nurses gave me a clean dry shirt and a foot bath!

Walking from the finish to the medical tent where all finishers go.

This is my favorite picture. I love you Glenn & Tim! You guys are just the best. Thank you for sharing in my dream and adventure.

The race ends at the foot of King Leonidas. You must touch it, though most kiss it.

Running in the rain, getting splashed by every car...and there are LOTS of cars.

The last big-ass hill is coming up. It seemed so cruel at this point to put a hill there. I'm ready though!

Finally running down. Still raining.

This is from back on the course after CP59 where I dropped last year. This year as I passed through, a little girl on the side of the street handed me this pink flower. It was magical. I carried it to the finish. And still have it. It's a treasure. Here, I'm telling Glenn the story.

Coming into CP60, about 200k

Base of the Mountain (Sangas). We go off road and climb climb climb up up up. It's 100 miles at the top. I put on my brace from last year. It brought all sorts of good juju. I hit the top in about 20 hours.

This is Marika from Germany and I at the start. She is a sweetheart. She came in 3rd last year.

Tim braids my hair before the race. (If only it could stay looking that good over the course of the next 32 hours!)

Tim and I at the Parthenon, overlooking the Acropolis.

Greek cuisine: Greek salad with hunk o' feta, giant beans, greens, beet roots and stuffed tomatoes. Yum!

Working out at the ruins of the ancient gymnasium.

Homie traveled to Greece with us and loved it. This is Homie at the Acropolis.

Oooh! Nice sandals! Very, uh, Spartanish. (No, didn't get those, but did get real Spartan sandals after the race.)
Walking the Plaka in Athens.

Spartathlon redemption

2009-09-30T12:29:00.000-07:00

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

Well, it's come and gone. I have been looking forward to the 2009 Spartathlon for the past year, ever since my 2008 DNF. This is not a race report, as I have too much to say and not enough time to say it. And even if I did have the time, I'm not sure I could capture in words the impact of this extraordinary experience.

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

So, briefly for now, I will post a few pictures and say that this was, for me, the perfect race. It's not that everything went absolutely fine and that I had no problems on the course because I, in fact, did have some GI issues during the first 70 miles causing me to spend numerous breaks in the bushes (or wherever I could through the city of Athens!) and several stops to puke up the much-needed calories I was imbibing in prep for the 153 mile distance. My mind stayed strong, never waivered. Eventually I recovered from those issues and had a great race.

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

(pic by Glenn Tachiyama - Awards ceremony in Sparta. 1st place woman Sumie Inagaki, 2nd place woman Yoshiko Matsuda.)

(picture by Tim Englund - my schwag)

(picture by Tim Englund - Adrian Belitu, Peter Foxall, Bob Becker - all waiting for the wine)

(picture by Glenn Tachiyama)

(picture by Tim Englund - post race celebration)

(picture by Tim Englund - Marika Scheilein - last year's 3rd place fnisher)

(picture by Tim Englund - John Price and Peter Foxall at the formal awards in Athens)

(picture by Tim Englund - Glenn celebrating with a cigar)

(picture by Tim Englund - me in Peter's hat)

Thank you to my boyfriend, Tim Englund, and my good friend Glenn Tachiyama for their ever-present support and encouragement. You guys are the best!

I finished the race. That was my goal. I kissed the foot of King Leonidas.

Also, I finished top 44 in 32 hours 23 minutes, which was good enough for 3rd place female and a spot on the podium during the awards ceremony.

Here are the final results.

I am perfectly pleased and satisfied. While I may want to go back, I do not feel the need to.

What a blessed adventure and lesson in patience and persistence.

The Adventure has begun!

2009-09-19T09:24:00.000-07:00

Tim, Glenn and I are on our way to Greece. It's always so hard to sleep on a plane, so it's nice that there is WiFi.

The Spartathlon is Friday, September 25. I think it starts at 6 am. (Greece is 10 hours later than PDT.) It starts at the Parthenon in Athens and winds its way down to Sparta, 246 km south (153 miles). There is a 36 hour cutoff with fairly stringent cutoffs en route.

The long-range forecast is predicting thunder showers for Saturday, but that certainly could change by then.

If you want to follow the race, there is a live webcast HERE. You can get the list of participants and see when the get through the checkpoints (cp's).

Here's the American contingent:

John Price #55
David Kamp #113
Adrian Belitu #230
Kira Matukaitis #231
Chad Ricklefs #236
Bob Becker #243
Lisa Bliss #90

Wrap up

2009-09-14T07:44:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've been here. Kinda hard to juggle everything when I ramped up my training the past two weeks before my taper here for the Spartathlon.

...I know... two weeks? That's it? Well, yes and no. I've trained the best I could, putting in some high mileage weeks, but I wasn't able to do it consistently because of work and travel to Europe and, well, a kidney stone. So, I increased the mileage these past couple of weeks, and now that my neuroma is good and flarin', I can start my taper and my caffeine wean (the hardest part about training for a major race!).

I've run up and down Mt. Spokane, lots of roads, back-to-backs, and I've tried to sleep to recover. Now, it's basically done except for the re-building of my body, feeding it well, sleeping when I can (yeah, right!), and wrapping up real life here too so that we hop across the pond for the second time this month.

Yesterday was very nice. I had already put in my training miles, so Tim and I took Izzy out for a spin. It was very nice to do something "normal." We made the 30 mile round-trip ride to the bike store for some supplies. Izzy's a heavy steel tandem...great on the downhills. On the uphills, however...whoa! Try a 15% grade climb on a tandem! 'Twas fun. I think my legs are sorer today that after my last long run.

Here's the link for the Spartathlon. They have a Live Update. I'm number 90. My goal is to finish. That's all.

Good luck to all runners!

CNN - Badwater Ultramarathon: 135 miles in 130-degree heat

2009-08-14T22:48:00.000-07:00

CNN's Ashley Fantz came to Badwater this year and aired this great story on CNN.com. Check it out.

Badwater Ultramarathon: 135 miles in 130-degree heat

Story Highlights
* Badwater Ultramarathon is 135 miles through one of the hottest deserts in the world
* It's essential that runners bring crews who check their vitals through three-day race
* Prize for finishing the course that traverses three mountain ranges? A belt buckle

updated 7:10 p.m. EDT, Wed August 12, 2009

* * * * * *

DEATH VALLEY, California (CNN) -- Today, you get a call from a friend. They need a favor.

Would you mind spending your vacation time this summer in Death Valley, a desert where temperatures hover around 130 degrees?

Would you be OK with sleeping in a van, if you get to sleep at all, for three days, because you'll be working your tail off spraying runners down with water, dunking them in ice and keeping track of everything that goes in (and -- yes -- out) of their body every 15 minutes so they don't die running 135 miles in the hardest footrace on the planet?

"Yeah, man, it's Badwater. You don't turn down a chance to be at Badwater," Mark Paterson said, adjusting his visor as sweat soaked his face.

He pulls at his shirt, trying to create some air, pointlessly. It was 4 p.m. and 126 degrees in a Death Valley village called Furnace Creek, what whoever coined the phrase, 'Hell on earth' had in mind.

READ THE REST OF THE STORY HERE.

Badwater Ultramarathon 2009

2009-07-20T19:18:00.000-07:00

(pic: about 5:30 am at Badwater. Kim, Jeff and Tim dance on the salt flats 282 feet below sea level.)

(pic: Thalia Kostman sang the National Anthem and sent chills up the spines of the runners waiting in the heat to start. Her voice is gorgeous.)

(pic: 10 am starters)

This was my 8th consecutive year at Badwater. I crewed and paced Steven Silver in 2002, headed up the first sort of organized medical team in 2003. Ran in 2004. Headed up medical in 2005 and 2006, ran in 2007, and back to medical these past 2 years. Wow. No wonder I feel like I'm going to my Badwater Family Reunion every year. I love these people.

This year we had 10 people on the medical team. If I may brag, I would say we are a great team. We have skill and experience and the all-important sense of humor to help us get along as we work straight into day 3 of the race.

(pic: Steve Teal, George Miller, Tim Englund, me, Jeff Lynn, Kim Keeley, Mary Kashurba. Not pictured: Alene Nitzky, Dave Heckman, Woofie Humpage.)

We treat minor and major problems from mild to severe dehydration to overhydration to heat exhaustion to stomach and kidney and muscle problems. We see and treat it all.

(pic: how to avoid dehydration in Death Valley)

(pic: one of our belly-bustin' outings on the third day of the race. Corey and Jay try to scare me straight at the pizza place where we ate dinner at 10 pm.)

It was a fabulous experience once again, and adventure etched into my memories forever.
* * *

Two days before the race, Tim and I ditched our plane tickets to Vegas and decided to drive. It was the best decision ever! It was a casual unhurried road trip and we took a full 2 days to do it.

We stopped whenever and wherever we wanted for short or long breaks. One of our favorite stops was in Austin, a cute historic mining town with a cool trail to an old castle. Even better, as we went for a run and explored the trail, a storm started to roll in. Very exciting indeed!

(pic: Stokes Castle 1897)

We got to Furnace Creek (near Badwater - the location of the race start) on Saturday night. It was 110 degrees as we drove through Beatty, promising a hot race for Monday.

(pic: Furnace Creek before the pre-race meeting)

We took a little time Sunday morning before the pre-race meeting to run down the road to Badwater, and at noon, it was all work for the next 3 days straight (with of course, the usual spatterings of decompensated humor and laughs).

We slept very little, about 10 hours total over 3 nights. Despite that, we scored passes for Mt. Whitney and made the summit on Thursday. This was my 4th (maybe 5th?) summit and Tim's second. Words cannot describe how exotic that mountain is! We kept tradition by smoking a cigar at the summit. Instead of trying to put it into words, I'll post a few pictures instead.

(pic: destination Mt. Whitney summit)

(pic: Whitney portal)

(pic: surreal)

(pic: see the tree line far below)

(pic: 14,500 feet)

(pic: it got a little chilly on the descent as we got off to a late start in the morning, ended up finishing just after dark.)

The drive home was just as easy and relaxed. We stopped at Mammoth Lake to spend $300 at a t-shirt shop (!!!!) and eat a New York salt bagel (they don't have those here in WA).

(pic: Mineret Vista)

It was tough to shift gears and get back into work today, but I am now caught up. I'm already planning the next adventure!

Sparta!

2009-07-01T07:20:00.000-07:00

I received my 2009 Spartathlon race packet! Race number 90.

I am so looking forward to go back this year. Some of you may know that last year, after spraining my ankle just before the race, I dropped 50k from the finish, mile 121 of 153. I was devastated. I swore I'd never go back. I broke that promise the next day at the awards ceremony.

(The Brace after the 2008 race. Photo by gtach.)

I am not going back for revenge or redemption or to conquer the course or anything like that. I must go back for the peace and the history and the longing to kiss the foot of the King Leonidas waiting for me in Sparta.

Rats and ABCs

2009-06-25T20:06:00.000-07:00

I do not mean to spark controversy. I only want to say that no matter what you think of him and no matter what he did or did not do, Michael Jackson had extraordinary talent.

I mean, remember being so moved by a song about a rat?

And who else still has their Jackson 5 albums? I do!

Deepwater 50 - Farragut State Park, Idaho

2009-06-15T22:10:00.001-07:00

I decided to run the Deepwater 50-Mile Trail Run this past weekend. It was a new trail race in the beautiful Farragut State Park in northern Idaho, just a bit over an hour from home. How could I pass it up?

I had heard through the running grapevine about this race and it sounded good. It was part of an adventure racing week, just one of 25 different races. Since I don't swim well (and the water is still freezing) and I don't mountain bike well (because I'm scared of falling), I decided the trail run was the right thing for me - if it wasn't too technical for my wimpy ankle.

Gunhild and I ran a loop of the course the week before the run. I decided then that I could give this a try. There was one long rocky section by the water but lots of very runnable trails over rolling hills. It certainly was beautiful there.

I woke up pre-dawn, and picked up Gunhild (she ran the 1/2 marathon) and met some friends at the start including Ali who was running her first 50-miler.

Eight runners turned out for the 50-miler. There were many more in the shorter distance races, but still few people overall. Guess the economy is affecting us all in many ways...or maybe it was the lack of advertising for this great venue.

It was perfect! Few people, lovely trails, turquoise lake, sunny skies with a few scattered clouds. Thunderstorms were predicted but it sure didn't look like they would appear during the 10 or so hours I expected to be out there.

It was nice and hot. I like the heat. BUT what I wasn't prepared for was the humidity! Gads! Just three miles into it, my body was slimy and my clothes soaked with sweat that wouldn't evaporate. It really wasn't all that humid but the temp rose into the 80s and, well, my body just wasn't prepared for it. I haven't run in humidity like that since I lived in Chicago. I kept praying that those predicted thunderstorms would dump on us to cool us off. About three rain drops fell in the afternoon...and that was it. The dampness preferred to just hang out.

The course was five 10-mile loops plus a little extra to make it slightly over 50 miles according to the RD's pre-race briefing. Nice. More trail for our money!

I made mental notes of all the places I could stop to dip some water along the way. There was a very fast little stream of crystal clear cool water that ran along the trail and, starting with the second loop, I stopped there to douse my body at each passing. Ahh! It was the only "cool" on the course as the aid stations were unmanned and just had water and sports drinks and gels laying out for self-service.

I drank at least two water bottles per loop and I took a few Thermotabs along the way for sodium replacement. I knew I could get depleted quickly in this kind of weather. Despite my vigilance, I started to cramp up pretty good just 20 miles into the race. My quads, my calves, and even my neck was cramping (because I am a wimp on the trails and spend too much time looking down for rocks and roots).

I started to feel whiny when the cramping started; I had 30 miles left to go and it was only getting hotter. At the 25 mile mark, I failed to pick up my cramping leg and I caught my toe on a rock and SPLAT! I went down. I started falling forward, arms outstretched, but instinct caused me to turn to my side to avoid hitting my face on the trail. I landed on my right side but the side of my head still thumped the ground pretty good. I sat there for a minute and got back up, still a bit shaken. I hate falling. I took inventory. Nothing was broken. The right side of my body was covered in dirt. I started to brush it off but the slimy sweat caked in on. I left it and tip-toed more carefully into the aid station. I refueled and carried on. I had a headache. I was grumpy.

I struggled from there with constant cramping, especially in my left quad. Every time I had to lift my leg up over a branch on the trail, my muscles threatened to seize on me. I started running AROUND the branches. I forced a smile and shuffled along. I felt better when I thought of my promise to Tim to come home "spent" so I just kept running. No one's ever died from muscle cramps.

I was so glad to see the finish line in under 10 hours, just glad to be done. I was surprised at how beat up I felt. I held onto Gunhild's shoulder and we took the steps down to the lake to soak in the cold water. Delightful! I was feeling better already!

Ali finished in just over 10 hours. We all hung out for a bit, I ate a nice salmon meal and then drove Gunhild home.

While I ran, Tim road his bike 110 miles, so when we were both done, we shared stories of our adventures, rubbed out each other's sore feet and got some good rest. I thought I was going to be immobile the next day but was surprised to feel pretty good. We went to Cat Tales, a zoo here in Spokane that rescues big cats from people who think that baby lions and tigers are cute for the first year.

Here's a picture of Zamba. He's the retired MGM lion. Check out that mane! King of Beasts, yes! Gorgeous, huh? Walking around the zoo did us both good and the cats were awesome. It was a great birthday weekend.

Birthdays after 40 can still be fun

2009-06-11T21:08:00.000-07:00

I thought about canceling my birthday this year. I don't really mind birthdays; they're not so bad, really. On one hand, they're just another day on the calendar, just a number for how many years we've been around. On the other hand, they're definitely a day for us to call our moms and thank them for birthing us. Not that we had a choice in the matter, but I think it's nice to remember our parents if they are around.

My mother is a blessing. I'd say she's even a saint for raising me. I wasn't the easiest kid to raise. Even as an adult, she is ever present, ever motherly, and now too, a best friend to me.

So why cancel my birthday? I don't know. Guess I wasn't excited about it this year. I guess for the first time, I actually feel a little older. Now, I don't feel old, but just a little older. You see, birthdays for me are times to reflect. I don't do it consciously. Rather, I just find myself reflecting.

I remember when I turned 30. I woke in a panic. That has never happened to me before. I certainly didn't feel old. I was happy where I was in my life. I have never felt a "clock ticking" or some of the things I hear from some other women as they get older. I envied no one. I was satisfied. True, I was working hard. I had completed medical school at a later age than most of my peers. I had lived on my own for 13 years by that time. I was confident and had a good life. So, why the panic?

I remember the stone-hard truth that hit me like an unexpected truck. I was thirty, and while I was happy with my life and had no regrets - in the big picture - I was in great debt. It was "good" debt - school loans. It was an enormous debt that I accrued with full intention. But it was enormous. For some reason, that morning when I woke on my 30th birthday, I was struck by the fact that I was 30 years old with nearly a quarter million dollars to pay back to the government for my education.

Yes, that's what I said: a quarter million.

That's a lot of money, yes? Yes.

It was a "responsible" debt as educations are priceless, right? Hmm. It's still a very large debt. I was assured I'd be able to pay it back. My medical school peers, after all, drove nice cars and had condos and took vacations. In contrast, I drove my '91 Cavalier into the ground. (I finally "donated" it in 2003, leaky pop-up sun roof and its bumpers in the trunk from several Chicago-style accidents over the years.) In contrast, I took loans for living expenses as well as for my priceless education. I even took loans so that I could travel for medical school and residency interviews.

I attended Northwestern University Medical School and did my Physiatry residency at The Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago. Good school? You betcha. I was accepted all over, but I could only get a full financial ride from Northwestern. It was a lot more money in the end, but it was the only way I could afford it at all. So, that's where I went. It was an honor to attend there and I consider myself very lucky. It also put me in great debt.

For some reason, that was my "30-year-old" scare.

I got over it.

Tomorrow, it will have been 11 years since that day. One quarter of my lifetime ago. I suppose it's time to reflect again.

I am happy with my life. I have made reasonably good choices as an adult. I have screwed up and learned, which is the best we can expect to do, right? I have chosen the right career for me. I love what I do. Being a Physiatrist is a natural expression of who I am and what I want to do in the world.

My personal life is good too. Again, I am happy with my choices. We do the best we can to make the right choices, and when we make choices, we do the best we can to make those choices right. Right?

I was prompted today to reflect because the good people in my life just don't stop being good to me! I am absolutely blessed to have a great family, a wonderful boyfriend, and caring friends. These people in my life keep me smiling. Today, they did not let me cancel my birthday. Gloria is my medical assistant. She started my day with treats and a rose from her garden and a Mini Mouse balloon. Now, one can't help but be filled with joy and gratitude from that, eh? We put the treats out for my patients today and many helped themselves to cake and cookies, and they also wished me a happy birthday. More warm fuzzy feelings for me. It was nice.

Then, one patient I have been treating on a regular basis for a while came in. He, too, wished me a happy birthday and said that he wished he had known in advance of his appointment today. Well, he left and came back with his Russian interpreter, and they brought me these flowers.

Wow. What an incredibly nice thing!

So, now that the work day is done and I reflect, I must admit that birthdays are nice. I think birthdays are days to remember all the good people in our lives, a day to appreciate them and how much they care and make us smile. Perhaps birthdays are actually more about them than us after all. Yes, I think a birthday is the perfect day to celebrate the people in our lives.

Forget the clock, the number, the debt, the car, the education, all that. Remember the people - family, friends, loved ones. After all, they are what our lives are all about year after year after year.

Fences

2009-06-05T20:00:00.001-07:00

Fences are funny. They are built to contain and yet there's freedom in that. I bought my house for its yard. My dogs like to run and play. They deserve a big yard. I figured I'd have to replace the existing fence one of these years, but the long hard winter really beat up the old fence. I needed a new one...for the dogs. Safety for them and reassurance for me.

It's a big fence with lots of gates. A lot of money too. But I love it. Steely and Zappa love it too.

Maybe even better yet though, Steely found a baseball on our walk today. He was obsessed all day with that ball. He's so cute. Of course, I'm biased, but isn't he? :)

What I did and didn't do this week

2009-05-31T17:53:00.000-07:00

Well, we didn't get to run around this mountain.

But the week was yet filled with all sorts of goodies!

I headed to Seattle Tuesday for the American College of Sports Medicine conference. The kick-off speaker was Dr. Dan Lieberman. I first heard him speak in Chicago in 2006 at the LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon 2006 World Congress: Science and Medicine of the Marathon, which was presented by American Road Race Medical Society (ARRMS)and the ACSM.

This 2006 conference was IMO the BEST conference ever on running medicine. I admit I get totally geeked out about this stuff, so please bear with me....if there are any running medicine geeks out there other than me, here are the topics that were presented and discussed at that outstanding conference. You may notice that these are the world's most prominent researchers on these topics. So, if you ever want to look up information on these topics, you should start with names from this list. If you're not interested, I'm not at all offended if you just scroll on down....or just check out the pictures below.

Demographics of modern marathon running
1) An overview of the 1976 New York Academy of Sciences Meeting – Dave Costill
2) The Marathon Race: Historical perspective – Amby Burfoot
3) Endurance running and the evolution of man as a marathon runner - Daniel Lieberman
4) Marathon Medical Care: Historical Perspective – Dan Tunstall Pedoe
5) American women in the marathon - Russ Pate
6) Can children and adolescents run marathons? - William Roberts
7) Marathon Runners: How do they age? – Scott Trappe

Physiology
8) Physiological limits to marathon performance - Ed Coyle
9) Thermoregulatory function during the marathon - Mike Sawka
10) Running economy and body dimensions - Carl Foster

Marathon performance
11) Elite marathon performance: How fast can they go? – Ed Coyle
12) Marathon Performance in Thermally Stressing Conditions – Scott Montain
13) Strategies for optimizing marathon performance in the heat – David Martin

Energy Metabolism
1) Metabolic adaptations to marathon training and racing – John Hawley
2) Regulation of substrate use during the marathon - Lawrence Spriet
3) Protein turnover in endurance activity and dietary requirements - Marty Gibala
4) The role of the lactate shuttle in marathon energy metabolism – George Brooks

Nutrition and fluid balance
5) Nutritional strategies for marathon training and racing - Louise Burke
6) The effects of negative energy balance on women in the marathon – Anne Loukes
7) Fluid replacement during the marathon – Sam Cheuvront
8) The role of salt and glucose replacement drinks in the marathon – Bob Murray

Muscle Damage
9) Muscle adaptation and rhabdomyolysis in the marathon: “Normal” findings and
potential pathophysiology – Priscilla Clarkson
10) Muscle cramping in the marathon – Martin Schwellnus
11) The role of sodium in muscle cramping during and after the marathon – Randy
Eichner

Exercise tolerance and collapse during and after a marathon
12) Hyperthermia impairs brain, heart and muscle function – Jose Gonzalez-Alonso
13) The central governor model of exercise regulation applied to the marathon – Tim
Noakes
14) Heat exhaustion, exhaustion, and dehydration as causes of marathon collapse –
Sawka
15) Reduced peripheral resistance and other factors in marathon collapse - Tim Noakes

Doping issues
1) History and prevalence of doping in marathon competitors – John Hoberman
2) Blood doping in the marathon: infusions, EPO and artificial oxygen carriers – Randy Eichner
3) Customized androgens: Fooling drug testing – Don Catlin

Environmental issues
4) Altitude training for marathon performance – Ben Levine
5) Heat and cold: what does environment do to marathon performance? – Ron Maughan
6) Heat and cold: what does environment do to marathon injury? – William Roberts

Psychology
7) Psychological characteristics of elite marathon runners - John S. Raglin
8) Monitoring and titrating symptoms of anger, fatigue, depression and pain: A science-based approach to using your brain to improve marathon performance - Patrick J. O'Connor

Immunology and Hematology
9) Marathon training and immune function – David Nieman
10) Strategies to enhance immune function for marathon runners – Thorbjørn Åkerstrøm

Biomechanics
11) Biomechanical factors contributing to marathon race success - Keith Williams

Genetics
12) Genotypes and marathon performance – Yannis Pitsiladis

Race day medical care
Marathon medical care and planning
1) Marathon race medical administration – Greg Ewert
2) Exercise associated collapse care matrix in the marathon – William Roberts
3) Intravenous fluids post marathon: when and why? – Scott Pyne
4) Marathon running injuries: epidemiology and etiology – Michael Fredericson
5) Exertional Heat Stroke in the Marathon – William Roberts

Cardiovascular medical issues
7) Cardiovascular adaptations to marathon running – Paul Thompson
8) Cardiac arrest and sudden death in the marathon – Dan Tunstall Pedoe

Hyponatremia in the marathon
9) Hyponatremia: Identification and Evaluation in the Marathon Medical Tent – Joe
Chorley
10) Renal function and vasopressin during marathon running – Joe Verbalis
11) Hypertonic saline to treat hypervolemic hyponatremia: The Boston Experience – Art
Siegel
12) Hydration in the marathon: too little or too much – zeroing in on safe replacement? – Tim Noakes

So, when I heard that Dr. Lieberman was giving the opening lecture at this year's ACSM, I was thrilled. He spoke on "Human Evolution, Endurance Running and Injury." I am now convinced that we were adapted to run and that only in modern times have we started "de-evolutionizing" our feet with treatments such as orthotics and motion control shoes and thick soles that prohibit us from sensing the ground. Interestingly, all the various models of expensive running shoes have NOT decreased the incidence of injury one bit!

Coincidentally, while I was staying at my friend Glenn's house (eating yummy healthy food made by Glenn), I got a call from Chris McDougall, author of the new best seller "Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen."
I had the opportunity to tell him personally that I am reading his book and find it a highly compelling read. I am quite the book critic and have started and put down many books half-way through. Born to Run however is engaging, entertaining and thought-provoking. McDougall starts with the question of "Why does my foot hurt?" and by way of history and mystery, humor and appreciation of the reclusive Tarahumara Tribe, he proposes the answers. When I mentioned Dan Lieberman's spectacular lecture on the evolution and endurance running to Chris, I was not at all surprised to learn that the two are friends.

I chose to spend most of the conference in lectures on endurance training, hamstring strains, stress fractures, supplements, and immunology. I even FINALLY regrouped enough to readdress some research data we collected at the Badwater Ultramarathon a couple years ago, and we are going to get those data published. Yes, finally! (This is a difficult task when research is a hobby and happens only in "spare" time and with the money in our pockets.)

And just when I thought the conference was good enough, I wedged myself into the packed auditorium to hear Dr. Barbara Drinkwater of WomenSport International and the first female President of the ACSM in the 1980s talk about "Evolution of the Female Athlete: Myth Versus Reality." All I can say is Wow! She was outstanding, highly inspirational. Her talk was interrupted several times by the audience bursting into applause. There were even tears, yes. Even me. She received a never-ending standing ovation. It was the most poignant and inspirational talk on the history of women in sports I have ever heard. Oh, and in case you were wondering...we are for real!

So, after all that geeked-up good stuff, I left the conference early and headed to Cougar, WA to meet Tim and eight other friends for a run around Mt. St. Helens Saturday morning. Well, unfortunately, Tim's MRI results came back still showing the femoral neck stress fracture, so we decided instead to just hike on our own while the others attempted to make it around the mountain before dusk. We all hoped that the snow would not be a significant problem. Sure enough however, they made it only a few miles into the trail before they were forced to turn back due to the inability to locate the trail in the high snow conditions.

While everyone else was making his or her attempt at the mountain, Tim and I hiked 6 miles out and back along the Lewis River. It was nice to move slowly and be able to really look around. The trees were so tall and the air was thick with fragrance. I have some pictures, which I'll post here.

(pic: tree parasite)

(pic: Tim races a slug and barely wins by a toe-box)

(pic: Bolt Camp still standing since 1930)

(pic: Tim and I shimmied up this downed tree, and then had to figure out how to get back down!)

(pic: Tim bushwacks back down)

(pic: look how strong I am!)

(pic: sappy)

(pic: sufficient clearance for hikers but not for mountain bikers. Doh!)

Next up is another adventure...just not sure what yet.

Gosh I love Coeur d'Alene!

2009-05-26T13:41:00.000-07:00

I just love this place. It reminds me of where I grew up in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Quaint tourist town that bustles on the weekends and holidays. The smell of the fresh deep blue lake, the gentle breeze, the sail boats, the resort, the vacationing beachers (who are out whether it's a nice day or not!), and the outdoor cafes.

Tim and I headed to Cd'A Saturday to pick up my Cd'A Marathon race packet. We brought the bikes. We headed East on our bikes and ended up just following the marathon course, which includes a very nice 10-mile out and back along the lake with one most excellent hill.

The sun was shining and the breeze was very light. We rode a bit hard but I saved my legs for the race the next morning. Tim too was saving his legs for a century ride on the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes instead of the run. We topped off a wonderful afternoon with a salmon and rice dinner at Tony's on the Lake.

I ran the marathon with no real goal in mind. I wanted to run hard but not too hard - same old routine. I met up with Gunhild (who was running the 1/2) and Wild Bill with whom I ran the first few miles.

I made sure I kept my pace slower than last week's sub 8's. This time I shot for about 8:15's or so. I did not like running through the winding streets for the first few miles, but once we hit the Centennial Trail, it was all good. I just loved it. The rolling hills were nice and the one long hill was fun. I was ready for it and it was easier to run it than bike it. The weather warmed up beautifully.

I struggled the last few miles as the course wound around and around and out and back to get in the mileage for this certified BQ course. I was eager for it to be over, mostly because I didn't know where the finish line was. I never felt a bonk like I did last week and finished in 3:37, satisfied.

My recovery is easier this time too. I'm ready to run again but can't as I am headed to Seattle for the American College of Sports Medicine conference. This is always a simulating conference that pumps me up for doing more endurance running research. We'll see what this year brings. From Seattle, I head to Mt. St. Helens for a jaunt around the mountain with a group of friends. I'll bring my camera for that one!

Hope everyone enjoyed Memorial Day weekend!

How I Survived the Windermere Marathon

2009-05-18T21:19:00.000-07:00

So, I'm not the brightest person when it comes to pre-race planning. I've gone to races completely unprepared, like not reading up on the course before hand, or not even knowing the start time until the night before the race. I've packed for major races in the wee hours of the night in a panic, praying I wouldn't (and sometimes that I would) miss my flight out in the early morning.

I'm not sure why I am this way. Part of the reason, for sure, is that I am very busy with work during the week and I just don't have time for the mental and physical planning for races. Part too, I think, is that I have one of those irritating personalities that is often "late" for things. Everything gets done in that last minute, like I always think that my commute somewhere will take 5 minutes less than it actually does (even if I've made the same commute a hundred times).

Perhaps that's arrogance, or perhaps impulsiveness. Maybe there's even a psycho-babble BS component of not wanting to put in too much preparation ... only to fail at whatever it is I am going to attempt. Hmm. Maybe it's all of that. Or maybe it really is because I am fairly consumed by my work during the week and by the time I have the mental and physical relief to prepare, I just do the best I can.

So, I registered for the Inaugural Windermere Marathon, not passing up the opportunity to run a new race right here in my town. Tim registered later. We decided to just run and "have a good race" - whatever that means. In my previous post, I was trying to analyze what "a good race" meant to me, and I decided that I would run hard, but not too hard, and have fun and not be too sore the next day.

Truly, I don't really know how to pace myself at marathons. Hence, my last post on How do you run a marathon?

So, Eric - the "Master of Marathons Who Runs With Joy" - responded in jest (like he's NEVER been known to do) :) and he says:

"As far at the marathon goes I think you should run as fast as you possibly can for as many miles possible. Then when the wheels blow off in all directions do a death march to the finish! That describes many of my first marathons. They taught me to respect the distance."

And I think that sounds good. I'd like to blow up during a race. Cool. I've never done that before.

So, Tim and I decide the night before to do a sauna session. We made a point to drink so as not to get too dehydrated. Well... 60 minutes later at 145 degrees, we were completely dehydrated...but well rested and feeling good. ...Yes, it was my idea. I'll take the blame. Why would I suggest getting dehydrated before a race? Well, I was only thinking as far as my nose and not about the next day. I guess you could say I just wasn't thinking. In any case, it was nice and relaxing AND it completely depleted our bodies before the morning's race.

So, at the start, I talked to Michelle and met her friend, Margaret. I also saw Lori Burrato, a mighty fast winner-of-marathons toward the front of the line. Always a pleasant person and a fine athlete who's overcome some injuries, I wished her well in the race, pegging her for the women's win.

I started at a slightly faster speed than I usually do. I had no idea how fast it was. It was mildly uncomfortable. I could hear my breathing and my feet. That bothered me, so I turned on my music. The mile markers suggested I was under an 8-minute mile pace. I made a mental note and decided to keep on until I crashed, knowing I would eventually because I just don't run that fast. It was an experiment. Eric suggested it! I was intrigued, so went with it, again, fully aware of what I was doing and the potential (likely) consequences. I liked it.

So, I ran sub-8's for about 10 miles. Then, I grew weary. The mile markers were off on the course, so I really can't say what my true splits were, but that doesn't matter. What mattered was that about 20 people passed me over the next 5 miles. On one hand, it bothered me. On the other, I couldn't care less. But every time I felt like I was slowing, I did my best to suck it up and push harder.

So, I was the ONLY runner out there carrying a water bottle. I cannot drink Heed, which is what was on the course; it makes me sick. So, I brought my own Gatorade and figured I'll drink water from the aid stations when that was done. A little insurance for me. Well, it was warm out, our hottest day of the year so far. I rationed the Gatorade as much as I could, but gosh darn, I was thirsty! I started drinking water from the tables. It is something I've yet to master. I tried to learn how to do it by watching the runners in front of me grab a cup on the fly and drink it down and toss the cup a few yards away. Invariably, I'd slow WAY down, grab a cup, cinch it, and try to pour it in my mouth - while running! - and I would lose most of it down my chin or it would just splatter to the ground (which felt great on my legs in the heat). And then, I would struggle mightily with throwing down the cup. I looked for garbage cans, which were non-existent. I looked for the usual ultra boxes for trash set just yards from the aid station. Those were non-existent too. So, I'd throw down my cup and feet so guilty and afraid that Earth's karma would come back to get me for it. Hm.

So, anyway, I couldn't get in enough fluids. I was so thirsty. I opened my water bottle to get any last dribble of fluid from the crevices. This all started around mile 10. Usually I can get through a marathon distance on one water bottle. But this was a warm day AND well, some numskull thought an hour in the sauna the night before wasn't a bad idea..

And then there was the problem of calories. For this distance, I like a gel or similar every 45 minutes. I carried 2 with me, one in each Moeben Sleeve. I did not carry a pack, as the marathon promised Hammer gels and "other goodies" at numerous aid stations along the course, starting at around the 7 mile mark. Well, there was none. As I'd come into the aid station, instead of saying "thank you all for being here. May I have water please," I said, "Gels? You got gels?" "NO? Where are they? Next station?" "You don't know?" Oy. I was crashing hard. I can't run without fuel. I did get a gel at one of the last aid stations, but at that present time, I had no idea if there were going to be any calories (other than in the Heed drink) on the course.

I did have about 5 jelly beans in holder in my bottle. I started rationing those - one per mile. I was getting pissy. I don't like to get pissy; I like to run happy. That's much more fun, really. So, I cranked up my music and tuned it all out. I started feeling better despite near complete depletion. I even picked up the pace and nobody passed me for a long time. I wondered if I had gone off course....

Then up ahead at about mile 18 or so, I see the impossible. It's Tim. He's struggling. He steps off the course and bends stiffly to loosen his lace. I ask if he's ok. He says fine, and I tell him I'm going to run on. He gives a smile and reassurance. Poor guy. I knew by his gait that he was struggling. He's a fast runner, can easily pull off a 3:15 time. But not today, no. That dang sauna!

I got a little better at the water cup maneuvers and I stopped looking for garbage cans and just tossed my carnage to the ground for the volunteers to pick up (that's just wrong but perfectly acceptable in a marathon). I played my "Just Wait" song by the Blues Travelers over and over and I pushed on.

I started reeling runners in and passing them. I just didn't let my pace wane. I passed a few women too, those that had passed me back after the 10-mile mark. Then, I finally caught up to this one woman who had solidly passed me earlier looking totally in control and strong. I could see she was struggling a bit. This was the only time I talked to anyone on the course. As I was passing, I said, "Come on, let's run this in together." She said, "My quads are trashed." I said, "And my foot's totally numb," (which is was). And she mustered up some good energy from somewhere and we ran together. I didn't slow down. In fact, I pushed the pace. We ran from about mile 21 this way. And when we passed the SECOND Mile 23 mile marker, she could only spit out a "That's wrong!" comment. "Yes, it's wrong," I responded, too tired to make any more words.

We ran on together. Up and over the Gonzaga bridge. It felt like a big hill. Would she run I with me I wondered? Sure she did! And down too on trashed quads! I knew I was running with someone I could be friends with! And then she says through pants, "The woman ahead of us was struggling..." Hm, I think. I don't really care. I'm only trying to stay graceful on my tired legs as I'm now running through the final 2 miles in Riverside Park around hundreds of people out for a stroll in the park and who have NO IDEA that there is a marathon finish line just ahead...or that we have run 24 miles so far to that point. So, I just say, "Oh."

And then, I see her ahead. She's still moving. Not as fast as when she passed me way back when, but she's angry and determined. So, I kept running, assessing if I had enough to pick up the pace that much to catch up to her. After a bit, I decided I did. So, I did. And my new tough friend, though she fell back just a bit, stayed right with me.

Yes, we passed her. No, it wasn't "in the shoot." It was a a bit before that (check out our finish line times. :))

3:36 was my finish time. My my new through-the-wall running buddy was right behind me. Whew! What fun! We shook each other's hands and congratulated each other and thanked each other. And it turns out, it is her FIRST marathon! Wow! What a phenomenal push from one determined lady!

But, as with any race, there is no pomp and circumstance. You just finish, get your medal and limp away. Well, first I went straight to the water table. I ended up drinking 8 glasses of water! OMG, I was so thirsty! Dang sauna!

Tim came in shortly after me and he too was quite dehydrated and spent.

We sat in the sun a bit, watching people, and we couldn't help but laugh at the poor guy with the white t-shirt and huge bloody circles from his nipple chafing. We drank some broth, which tasted fabulous, drank some more water, and meandered back to the car. We drove into Coeur d'Alene and got us a Bowl of Soul and some lunch and enjoyed the rest of the gorgeous day. We even did some biking on our Beach Cruisers.

So, that's it. I don't think I have ever written a marathon race report. This is the first.

I was sore yesterday, and still feel a bit today. But tonight I signed up for the Coeur d'Alene Marathon, which is next weekend. I can't pass on the opportunity to get in a good long run on the roads so close to home. And I do, after all, have to start training for the Spartathlon, which is my ultimate race this year. I'll be taking the Cd'A thon a little easier for sure. No pacing experiements. No sauna the night before. And no headphones. The Windermere Marathon is my last road race with headphones (I don't wear them when I am on the trails). They are not allowed at the Spartathlon, so I'd better get used to hearing my breathing and feet.

It was definitely work but also fun. I'm looking forward to the next one.

How do you run a marathon?

2009-05-13T20:06:00.000-07:00

I've run a marathons. Well, more than a few. Maybe about 30? My first marathon was in 1996, I believe, at the Chicago Marathon. I had never run more than a half marathon and that was just a month prior to the marathon (Yes, in those days you could still get registered for the marathon that late in the year). I ran that 1/2 marathon in just over 2 hours (got to the start line late and had to run to catch up with the racers - some things just haven't changed over the years!). I then ran the marathon in just under 4 hours. I finished and said, "I wanna do that again!" And I meant RUN it again, like turn around and run back to the start. I just didn't want it to end. I found my fix.

(pic: after my first marathon - me and my friend Sam from medical school)

I couldn't walk for days after that.

But soon, I recovered and I ran lots of marathons after that, always for the fun of it. I sometimes ran harder, sometimes I lollygagged, but I never had any desire to run Boston or anything like that. That's what everybody else wanted to do, and I liked to go against the flow. So, I never cared about speed or my finish times. I can say only that I more often than not finished around the 4 hour mark.

My last year of medical school was in 1999. I had some extra time - compared to the 3 previous years of 60-120 hour work weeks. (Yep, I averaged 120 hours a week during my surgical rotation, which was 9 weeks long. I had 2 days off during that time. I ran maybe twice. I crashed my car twice because I feel asleep at the wheel, and I fell asleep during surgery several times. ... but I don't want to get started on the stupidity of how hard students and residence are often worked!). So, anyway, I had some extra time and decided I would try a 50-mile race instead of trying to run a faster marathon. Distance was much more intriguing to me than speed.

I was clueless, freakin' absolutely clueless about how to run a 50-mile race. In the end, I survived it with 24 minutes to spare under the cutoff at the finish line. I was hooked. I just LOVED the people. That was my appeal.

Again, I couldn't walk for days after that. I thought I would never walk right again.

But soon I recovered, and well, I couldn't quell the urge to keep upping the ante. And I loved it all.

So, now....

I run ultras. I do not particularly like marathons. I like trail marathons that take me through beautiful scenery. But road marathons are too short and I don't know how to run them. Really, I don't. I can run them fine, but I'm not very good at them. I don't know how to run fast; I only know how to run at a steady slower pace for a long time. I've run maybe 30 marathons, but I've run at least 60 ultras. I've lost my niche for the shorter races.

Last winter, Tim and I went to Death Valley for the marathon there. He asked me how fast I wanted to run it. I said 3:40. He said ok. He's a much better pacer and stronger running than me, so I just hung with him and we finished in...3:40. It was easy.

This weekend I'm running Spokane's inaugural Windemere Marathon, whose route hugs the Spokane River. It'll be fun. I think. So, if I don't particularly like marathons, then why am I running it? Well, it's here, for one. I like to support local events, and many of my friends are running it as well. For a "road" marathon, it will be fairly scenic and the River will be nice to race against. It looks like it is going to be very well directed. I bet the weather's going to be great. It's not hilly. And there are no rocks or ankle-catching traps on the course. Yes, I imagine it will be fun.

But, how do I run it? Do I run it fast? What is fast? Certainly, I'm not fast. Never have been, never will be. I'm jiggy with that. I often joke that if I didn't run out of course so soon, I would have done better. I often feel creaky for the the first hour or two, and only after that can I groove. By then, the marathon is more than half over.

Do I try to keep even mile splits? Even 5k or 10k splits? Do I learn how to work the "splits" function on my watch? Would I even remember to look at my watch anyway? Do I run easy the first half, harder the second? Do I try to run a PR? Should I care about that at all anyway? I mean, who cares, really?

But then again, it's good to push ourselves, right? To see what are we made of, What are we capable of? What are our limits? Shouldn't we push those? Shouldn't we keep testing the stuff we're made of?

Hmm. Is that really necessary? Why would limit-testing matter at all? Certainly my marathon time will not be on my tombstone epitaph. Nor will my 100-mile time, for that matter.

I had some time to think about this upcoming marathon last weekend, at least for a brief moment. I asked Tim what he thinks I should run. 3:30-3:35 he said. Ok, I said. I made him promise to run ahead when I started to slow him down. He can run a much faster pace than me (though he's run only 2 marathons in his lifetime, and those were long after he had run many ultras, even long after completing the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning - where he finished first male)... but I digress...

Can I even run an 8-minute mile pace? He said sure I could. I don't know. I don't do speedwork and fartleks or run 5k's or 10k's and all that good stuff in training. Heck, even I wouldn't follow my own style of training if I had a choice. Basically, my long hours at work just prohibit me from "proper" training. I wish I had more time (don't we all?), but I don't. That's my choosing. I'm self-employed. I make my hours and set my standards of care that I am not willing to compromise.

So, last Sunday I decided to see if I could run 8-minute miles. I picked the least hilly route, which included a big hill (I can't get away from the here), and I ran five 8-minute miles. Ok, now I know. It's possible... at least for 5 miles.

My final thoughts on the whole thing: Whatever.

So, I can only guess I'll run my best without stressing myself. I have no desire to not be able to walk the next day. I don't push myself that hard in my longest ultras either. I like walking the next day. I've got things to do. So, I guess that's one of my self-imposed limitations and I guess I'll accept that one. And from there, I'll just run and keep it fun.

I've always thought (and IMO known) that those who run with joy run well. Those who run with anger or contempt for fellow races or toward themselves do not run well. You can see the difference. It's not the physical struggle that separates the two, it's the "joy" factor. Hm, I don't know how to explain it. But if you've run angry or if you've run with joy, you'll know what I mean. When I start running with bad feelings, I'll stop running. So, as per my usual plan, I will run well, not so hard that I'm too sore the next day, and most importantly, I will run with JOY!

Maybe THAT'S how to run a marathon...if you're me, that is.

Your mileage may vary.

See you there!

Sunflower Iron Double 5.02.09 - Twisp, WA

2009-05-03T14:58:00.000-07:00

The Sunflower Iron is a 21.5 mile race in Twisp, WA. Its name says it all - there are billions of sunflowers (technically Balsamroot) blanketing the hills. Tim and I ran the double again. We started at 4:10 am at the race Finish and ran into the sunrise to the Start. We did a bit of trail navigation to find the course in the dark, but we didn't get lost this time. We made it to the start with minutes to spare and then ran with the racers back to the Finish. We came in 7th from last place. It was fabulous. Lots of lollygagging and picture taking. We stopped to look at the views and to talk with friends on the course. Tons of fun and soaking in the beauty of hills. A perfect way to spend the day.

For more pictures, go HERE.

Windy Butte

2009-04-27T23:13:00.000-07:00

Windy Butte - that's what we're calling it.

On Saturday, Tim pioneered a new running route. It turned out to be very difficult and the winds were fierce. I was at a work conference in Seattle and so missed out on the adventure.

We went back to the route for a little taste of one of the hills he climbed Saturday on his 20 mile loop. This is it in a picture story. It was absolutely beautiful!

ZuZu didn't like the bridge and had to be carried across.

Spokane River Run 50k - 4.19.2009

2009-04-19T19:09:00.000-07:00

The Spokane River Run is a wonderful trail run just a few minutes from my house. There are several distances available to run - a 5k, 10k, 25k, or 50k. Tim, David, Ethan, Craig and I ran the 50k. John ran the 25k. The guys came in from Ellensburg yesterday and stayed over for this morning's race. We had a blast. Lots of laughter - the best part of running with friends.

(pic: David, John, Lisa, Ethan, Craig, Tim.)

We carbo-loaded with pasta (with the Englund family sauce and meatballs recipe) and grilled chicken, topped off with a little apple pie (if you had saved some room). We slept well and the dogs woke us bright and early this morning for the run.

The weather was great. The forecast was for mid to high 70's. I don't think it got past low to mid 60's a light overcast. Really perfect for running.

My previous blog entry shows some of the course. It's a beautiful course, not too easy, not too hard. Most of the trail is very runnable, as long as you're good with hills. There were some incredibly rocky sections (see picture in last post) and lots of well-groomed hilly trails through gorgeous scenic views of the Spokane River, which was rolling pretty good.

My goal was to have a "good race." That means that I would try to run well but stay happy. After all, I'm in this sport for the joy of it.

Trails are very difficult for me ever since I ruptured my ankle ligaments and had surgery. I've since ruptured those surgical ligaments too, so needless to say, I'm just no longer a good, and certainly not a confident, trail runner! I wear my ankle brace now - every time I'm on the trails. I have run trails in the past few years but I've never run them without fear of reinjury. I've been running trails filled with tension. I've made progress with that more recently, but this run was going to be a test of whether I could return to running trails with joy and confidence.

That was my goal.

I accomplished it.

It was invigorating to be on these beautiful trails...and to be racing on them. I had only a few scares where my ankle started to turn but I caught it early. Instead of looking at the rocks and trying to avoid them, I instead looked at the flat spots and tried to plant my foot there. Sort of a subtle difference. Kind of seeing the "negative space" if you will. And this turned out to be hugely positive for me. I found myself running through, around, even over the rocks with confidence. I was thrilled, overjoyed.

(pic: 3rd (Francie), 2nd (me) and 1st place women (Emily).)

I finished in 5:08, 2nd female overall. Tim finished in 4:33, 7th overall. It was a fast race! Lots of fast runners as you can see in the results.

All the guys finished well and we celebrated with beer brats on the grill back at home. Thanks to Tim, David, John, Ethan, and Craig for sharing a fabulous weekend and for all the laughs.

Spokane River Run 50k - loop #1

2009-04-13T07:40:00.000-07:00

We ventured out onto the course to have some fun. Friday, we ran a part of loop #2. Saturday and Sunday, we ran loop #1. Other than getting lost for a bit, it was a blast. Well, even getting lost was actually fun.

The Spokane River Run is next weekend. It is my favorite 50k, not only because it is practically in my backyard, but because it is an absolutely perfect 50k course with stunning views. Most of the trail is very runnable. Only portions of it are a bit scary for my gimpy ankle. It's a 2-loop course, 15.5 miles each. There are different distances available for everybody - 10k, 25k and 50k. I think there's even a 5k.

(pic: Tim at Deep Creek Overlook)

(pic: across the overlook. can you see my yellow shirt?)

(pic: Yes, this is the trail, added so that the Montanans can feel right at home during the race. Don't worry, it doesn't last long!)

Last year, I ran this 2 weeks after Umstead. This year it's 3 weeks after Pac Rim. I'm feeling pretty good though, so my goal next weekend is to have a good run. What does that mean? Well, I ain't gonna win it. That's for sure! I can't do that. I'll never be fast enough to win a trail 50k like this. A good run is one where I push a little and have a lot of fun. Just keep me away from the swinging rope on race day!

(pic: the swinging rope around 5 miles into the loop. a mandatory stop for all kids.)

Yakima Canyon Marathon - Off-road version

2009-04-04T19:08:00.000-07:00

Tim and I set out the mile-markers early this morning for the Yakima Canyon Marathon runners. It was a brisk sunny morning that promised to warm up, a great day to run this gorgeous marathon. The tail wind in the latter part of the race would help to push the weary runners up the final hills to the finish.

We had a carful of cones, staked markers to anchor into the ground, and Talking Rain mile signs for each mile plus the half-way point. That's 26 sets. We also had 2 dogs, Steely and Missy, as well as our own running gear. The plan was to mark the course, leave the car in Selah and run back on an off-road trail somewhat parallel to Canyon Road, on which most of the marathon course is run.

Our friends David, Ethan and Willy were running the same course as us but in the opposite direction. We would meet them at about the 1/2 way point and exchange car keys so that we could all meet later and get our own cars back. I thought the plan was brilliantly designed.

Tim and I set out on our run a little late because it too longer to mark the course than we thought it would. We had written instructions about where to place the markers despite that the miles actually had already been staked out a few days ago. So, all we really had to do was set the odometer and look for the stakes and read the instructions if needed. How hard could it be? Well, it was easy actually, but it was also quite humorous. The instructions were like: "20 mile: Across road from rock with stick protruding, about 50 feet up, 185 paces south of pine tree between road and river." Finding the rock with the protruding stick was just great. It was waaay up high, but sure enough, it was there. The instruction were always spot on, just spoke to the remoteness of this gorgeous course that winds along the Columbia River through the Yakima canyon. A far cry from the Chicago Marathon course, eh? :)

So, we finished marking the marathon, parked the car, and hit the trail. I've done this route only once before but remembered it clearly. We climbed and climb and climbed and from far above we could look down and see scattered runners on Canyon Road far below. The weather was perfect. We started wearing windbreakers but shorts and a thin long-sleeve was all that was necessary for most of the run. We took our time and captured lots of pictures. I am pretty much recovered from Pacific Rim two weeks ago but my back has been grumbling so I wasn't too aggressive on the climbs. The dogs ran and ran and ran with big grins on their faces. They were in their glory. My warnings to them to pace themselves - as we had lots of miles to run - were completely ignored. I guess sometimes you just have to run with abandon. They certainly did.

We met up with Dave, Ethan and Willy as planned and made sure everyone was feeling good and recovered from Pac Rim (all of us ran there). We exchanged car keys and continued on. The guys ended up finishing 15 minutes before us because we got such a late start, so they waited at Tim's for us as we drove David's 1985 Subaru home.

It was a great day and warm enough afterward to eat thai food on the porch in shorts, a t-shirt and sun glasses. Now, we're chillin'. The dogs are crashed. Tired dogs are good dogs!

Go HERE for more pictures.

Pacific Rim One Day Run race report - 3.21.2009

2009-03-23T11:11:00.000-07:00

I went to Pac Rim to have fun. I really enjoy the atmosphere of this race. It is quite a low-key event but one of the best venues for a run. It draws many very good ultrarunners and has been known to have more than 20% of the small field of runners exceeding 100 miles in 24 hours. Pac Rim starts on the third Saturday of March, which is the same day as Chuckanut 50k, about 4 hours away. Some come to walk, some to run 50k, some to do 100k, and some to "stay out there all night long." Many runners run at Chuckanut and then make their way to Pac Rim to put in either a few extra miles, support a friend or spouse, or even to put in enough miles to log two ultra in a day. I went 1) to have fun, 2) to run 100-miles, 3) to set a 24-hour PR if I were having a good day.

My concerns about goal #3 were numerous. My training mileage has been low. I peaked at about 45 mpw for three weeks. I had been managing nagging pains in my hamstring and ITB, and I have been feeling very much like a weekend warrior, as I was putting in all my miles on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. One week out, I had planned on putting in a faster 12 mile run and ended up with an 8 mile slog on lead-pipe legs. My back was hurting me and I felt like I was at the bottom of my game. My taper was forced over 2 weeks because of my back. I saw a physical therapist twice the week before the race to help with the muscle spasms and disc pain I was having. It helped, but the 3 hour drive to Ellensburg, WA on Thursday undid the benefit.

Despite this, I was quite relaxed about the run. I did not put any pressure on myself. I figured I would know within 20 miles if my back was going to hurt too much to carry on, and I simply decided that if it did, I would just stop and finish the day by crewing for Tim.

My strategy for the race was to walk in the three natural spots on the course where there are small inclines, one steep, two gradual. I knew the course from last year when I used the event to get in two 50k's with a rest in between as training for Umstead. I planned to make no further decisions about when to run or walk around the loop. I would walk (and perhaps run if I were feeling really good) in those three spots, and I would run (no matter how slow) the rest of the loop.

I like rain and I don't mind cold for a while, but I am a wimp in sustained rainy cold weather, especially if it's windy. Unfortunately, this is norm for Pac Rim. It is known for miserable weather, at least interspersed throughout the 24 hours. The forecast got worse every time I checked it...so I stopped checking it and just hoped for the best. You can't change the weather; it's going to be what it's going to be, so I changed my attitude. I decided to take the attitude that "every hour of no rain, cold or wind was just bonus" for the run. It worked. Of course, it was easy because the weather turned out to be excellent for this race!

I got a good night's sleep the night before and the 9 am race start helped with that. This was one of the first races I've done where I felt well-rested going into it. I really think part of the reason I was able to relax and rest was that I did not put any pressure on myself to perform. I was just going to keep running and the miles would just accumulate themselves.

The other pre-race strategy that worked was to get to the race early enough to set up our aid station. As some know, I tend to get to races last minute and jump in with only half my gear and food organized. I stress myself out. This time, Tim and I got there an hour early and had plenty of time to set up our table, chair and supplies, to help Willy out with his pre-race foot taping, and to return to the car for a few minutes to warm up before the start. Two minutes before the start, we lined up with the other runners. It was cold but there was no rain. Glorious!

(pic: my and Tim's aid. no crew.)

I ran the first 5 miles or so without walking in those designated spots, then decided I'd better stick to my plan as I know those little inclines will soon turn to hills and then mountains as the miles progressed. I was thrilled to be there. My spirits soared. It felt so good to be running with friends and new and veteran ultrarunners. I had chosen my clothes wisely and my body temperature was fine, not too cold, not too warm. My muscles, however, felt horrible. I'd say from the first hour, I had a sore back, butt, hips and legs. I felt "twisted," like I needed an adjustment. It wasn't getting progressively worse or anything; I just never felt good. My brain was in the right place though, and I ran on, walking some and keeping a fairly steady pace.

(photo by Tim Lawson)

My plan for splits was loose. I figured I did not want to run faster than 5:30 for the 50k, 9:30 for the 50 mile, and then I would take it from there. Because the weather was good - no rain except for a few mistings, little wind, and even brief moments of sort-of sun - I could focus on just running and not concern myself with staying happy. I ran mostly by myself, which is not really alone when you are on a loop course with 40 or so other people. But I remained mostly inwardly focused, which allowed me to escape into my head and be at ease. While looping, I took in my surroundings and admired their beauty. The lake we ran around was gorgeous and the locals brought all sorts of big and little dogs to walk in the park. I never got bored, and there were always other friends running to talk with to catch up on what's been going on in their lives.

(pic: Willy Holmes)

I hit 50k at 5:33 and 50 miles at around 9:30, give or take 5 minutes or so. My pace was good despite having to make many bathroom breaks due to a grumbling stomach. I ate a lot during the day, mostly all my own food that I brought: energy bars, Sustained Energy, oatmeal bars, Frappuccinos, Gatorade, carob bars. Maybe it was all the carbs that upset my stomach, I'm not sure. I do know that at one point towards evening, I severely craved "real" food. I wanted a burger or pancakes or pizza or something hot. The weak broth and even potatoes from the race aid station didn't cut it. I stopped at my own cooler and found some turkey jerky, and boy, that did the trick! Satisfying. It carried me a long way.

(pic: Tim Englund and Ben Blessing)

Tim was doing very well at this point. Strong and steady, never faltering. He looked happy and his gait was good. I figured his hip must not be hurting him, but still, I didn't ask. Figured I'd just leave well enough alone. He won the race last year with 121 miles on meager training and a strong mind. This year, he had taken several winter months off to let a femoral head stress fracture heal, and this was to be his come-back run. But still, there was just not enough months to get in the kind of training one would expect to need to excel at this kind of race. But hearts and minds can remain very strong even when the body is not in tip-top shape. It was obvious to me that he was doing well and that made me stronger too.

(photo by Tim Lawson)

The competition was very good this year. Not a lot of runners, but certainly there were some well-known ultra regulars with whom to share the course. The strong men's field included Tim, Dave Stevenson, Tony C., Joe Lee, Rob Hester, and Steve Stoyles. There were others too, like Ben Blessing, fairly new to ultrarunning and certainly capable of far more than 100 miles. And, of course, someone could have a bad day, and someone else could have the perfect day. 24 hours is a long time for rankings to change. We all know that.

(pic: Steve Stoyles and Rob Hester)

Last year, there were many very good female runners, but many of them went to Pac Rim after running Chuckanut or to put in 50 miles or so. Few were there to "stay out there all night," and that's the only reason I was able to take the soft win with 63 miles. This year, I was very glad to see my dear friend Olga there, and also Van Phan, both excellent ultrarunners with whom I could run through the night and into the next morning. Van, in fact, led the entire field early in the race, maybe even half the race. She was a machine, relentless, unwaivering in her steady stride. She never slowed and rarely paused to walk. She told me her goal was 100 miles in 20 hours...as a training run for McNaughton 3 weeks from now. I was mightily impressed. Many of us wondered if she would win the race overall. It was certainly possible. Olga too ran well but started to have some recurrence of hip pain that she's had in the past. She tried to walk it off, and then would run again. She looked strong and it looked like she was back in the game, but then she would slow again. At one point, she had some stomach trouble, so I got her some ginger. She said it helped the stomach, but what can you do for hip pain when ibuprofen doesn't help? It seemed she struggled with that question for a long time, still trying to stay on the course. Finally, after 100k, Olga decided to save the hip for her future goals including Hardrock this July. There were a few other runners, including Lorie Alexander from BC, who ran strong the first part of the race. I'm not sure how many miles she did, but she left the course. I expected to see her come back and rejoin us but she didn't.

(photo by Olga V.)

So, round and round we went. I never hit a bad slump. Sure I was sore and had random joint and muscle pains, and I struggled with nausea and a bad gut for 12 hours, which is unusual for me...but I always felt good. (Hmm, does that even sounds remotely logical?!) I hit 100k between 11-1/2 and 12 hours, and decided about then to change into nighttime clothes. I was able to de-layer early in the race down to a running skirt, short-sleeved shirt, Zensah sleeves and Moeben Sleeves, and was very comfortable as long as I kept moving. I knew nighttime and early morning would bring the cold and dampness back, so taking the time to change into tights and warmer clothes was mandatory for me. I took an entire loop organizing in my mind what I would need to get from my aid bins and take into the park bathrooms to change. I figured I would change my socks (Drymax to Drymax!) since I had to take my shoes off anyway to get my tights on. My feet looked great. No blisters, no hot spots. I dumped out a bunch of little rocks that accumulated in my shoes over 60+ miles. I put on tights, my Badwater long-sleeved shirt, and my windbreaker. I added hand warmers to my gloves. The stop was long, maybe 20 minutes, but I didn't want to neglect anything. I am well-aware that, despite a day of nice weather, things could change at the drop of a hat.

Then, no sooner did I get back on the course did it start to rain! Boy, was I ever glad I changed clothes! The rain didn't last long though but the temperature dropped. Still, as long as I kept moving, I was ok. I hit 100 miles around 20:50 or so. I figured with 3 hours left, I could eek out 4 mph for a 112 total. I felt good, never sleepy. Not sure why since this was the first time I did NOT wean myself from caffeine 2 weeks before a race. I really think it was the pre-race sleep and the day off work that helped so much.

(pic: Van Phan)

At this point, Van and I had accumulated the highest women's mileage. In fact, she was still ahead of me by about 4 miles but had slowed and was walking. She had been running at night in shorts and a short sleeve with arm warmers and was obviously cold. She changed into much warmer clothes and continued to circle at a slower pace, mostly walking. She was near her stated goal of 105 miles. The men were still duking it out. They were amazing to watch. Tim took the lead with about 3-1/2 hours left and I took the lead with about 2 hours left.

At 22 hours into the run, we received our Pac Rim baptism. The rain suddenly poured down and the winds picked up severely. We had wind at our backs 1/2 the time and in our faces 1/2 the time, so when I reached the corner and turned into the wind, I just put my head down and plowed ahead into it. It was NOT going to push me back. It was NOT going to stop me. My hands were very cold and my eyes were watering like a stream of tears, but I kept reminding myself that we had 22 hours of perfect running weather, and anything is tolerable for 2 hours. It worked. We all forged ahead, racking up those last few miles. Some time around here, Tim caught up to me. I had been averaging about 4 mph and he was averaging about 5 mph, so I'd see him every 5 loops or so. This time, the timing was perfect as he was just about to pass the 200k mark! I was so pleased to be able to be right there and we cheered loudly into the wind. And then just kept going.

I finished what I thought was my last loop at 23:45 or so. I was ready to stop because I had slowed down and was getting very cold. I asked the timers if I could run out to the 1/4 mile mark and back to get an extra 1/2 mile (which is ok) but was told instead that I had time to run another loop, so that's what I should do. My brain was in such an "automatic" mode, that I just did what they said, cranked up Janis Joplin on my ipod and ran another loop. I was fearful I wouldn't make it all the way around, so picked up the pace and ran a nice 10 minute loop with a wide grin. I felt great. It was my favorite loop.

(pic: Tim Englund and me)

So, the race was over. Tim won with 126.75 miles and I won with 113 miles, good enough for a female course record. Olga ended up with 100k+, a nice training run for her upcoming races, and Van ended up with 108 miles, very respectable in any case but especially considering that she is running 150 at McNaughton soon. Joe Lee came in second with 121.5 miles and Dave Stevenson came in third with about 119. Dave Lygre finished his planned 50 miles, Ethan Bergman finished his planned 50k, and Willy Holmes, one of the toughest guys out there, finished with 70+ miles. Ben Blessing, whose father crewed for him the entire 24 hours, set several PR's along the way, and finished 5th with 110 miles. We collected our awards, hugged our friends, showered at the Y, and drove back to Ellensburg, making multiple mandatory stops to stretch on the way.

(pic: it ain't all easy: getting out of the car at a rest stop.)

Today, I am feeling good. My back hated the car ride home after the race but ice helped that significantly. Despite sore muscles, I slept well. I have no blisters or injuries, and am completely satisfied with the entire weekend. I met all my goals. It was so very nice to see friends, I had lots of fun, I paced myself well, and I set a new 24-hour PR. I am certainly stiffening up as I finish typing this and have to get up and move around, but I am sure my recovery will be quick because I am able to go up and down a flight of stairs without having to hold the rail. (That's the official test to see where I am in the recovery process.)

Thank you to Fred Willett, the race director, his family, the timers and all who volunteered. Thank you to those who inspired and motivated me including Tim Englund, David Lygre, Willy Holmes, Ethan Bergman, Olga Varlomova, Van Phan, Ben Blessing, Michelle Barnes and her friends, and all the dogs running around in the park.

There are no written results yet. Fred will email them to us when he's done with them. All my times and distances here are approximate and from my memory, which often fails me.

Upcoming RUN this weekend...

2009-03-16T21:07:00.000-07:00

I had a crappy "last run" before this weekend's Pacific Rim 24-hour Run (AKA Longview). I never peaked my mileage above 45 mpw, and just for a few weeks at that. I certainly would have run more but I just can't find the time. Work is keeping me busy, which is NOT something I am complaining about in this state of the economy. I am self-employed, have my own business, so if I need to work harder, well then, I simply need to work harder. I do what I've got to do.

Ultrarunning is my hobby, my recreation, my avocation. Yet, it is also somewhat a way of life because it is an extreme hobby. I takes lots of time to train and plan and perform and recover. Much of what I do hinges on how it will affect my running. Diet, sleep, illness, injury, time, social life. Of course, this is what I choose and I can change it at any time, but I really love my ultrarunning hobby and will continue to do it for now.

I have had to modify things a bit this year, however, and much of that is because I work a lot, and my work is very very important to me. I am exceedingly pleased with the scope of my speciality as a Physiatrist and I care very much for my patients. As long as I "take care of business," I am free to play by running, from training to traveling to exotic places to race.

Given the state of the economy (and a few other factors), I have decided to train and race more locally this year...at least until the Fall adventures that are in the planning! There are so many wonderful local races here in the Northwest.

First up is the Pacific Rim 24-hour Run. It's a 1-mile loop, and you run around it as many times as you can or want, and the runner who accumulates the most miles wins. Simple. And yes, fun. I ran this last year as a training run for Umstead 100-miler, which was just a few weeks later. I ran 50k, then went to sleep, and came back out on the course and ran another 50k. Tim Englund, who I helped crew a bit when I was not running, won the race with 121 miles. That's a pretty darn good amount of mileage! Even more appealing is that there were many high mileage (100+) tallies at the end of the 24 hours. It was a highly competitive run!

The other appealing thing about this race is that it is marketed as a RUN and not a RACE. It prides itself on providing a stage for mostly local runners to convene and share performances. It's not talked about in ultra circles like other well-known runs. There is no website, except for the entry form that must be printed and mailed in with a check. There is no Entrant List to review so that we can see who will be there. Only word of mouth and personal emails will give you clues as to who is running. We will find out on race morning. There are no formal results that get posted anywhere, not even to the ultralist or to Ultrarunning Magazine...unless you want to collect the data and present it yourself.

These are the things that I really LOVE about this race. It is laid back and just a run. It just happens to sometimes be a competitive run, but I would even dare to say that most runners go with a certain mileage goal in mind as opposed to "win" or to "beat" someone else. The casual atmosphere just doesn't promote this.

I am looking very forward to this run next weekend because I want to go "to my happy place" and leave everything else behind temporarily while I am out on that 1 mile loop for 24 hours. How simple! How uncomplicated! How pure! It's just me and my shoes (and clothes, yes), and my friends, and my own mind. It's a pure sport. A good run or a bad run depends on my ability to adapt to conditions, whatever those are. There are no guarantees about what food or drink will be provided, though surely there will be lots. But if it's not what I tend to need for fuel, then I will rely on my own foods and fluids.

And then there's the weather, which never promises to be sunny and 60 degrees with a light breeze. No, there is surely at some point during the 24 hours to be wet gloomy rain that muddies parts of the loops. Sometimes the sun will peak and dry your clothes, but usually not fully before it rains again. This is typical weather, but you just can't predict. My plan is to try to stay warm since I don't tolerate cold and wet at the same time very well. I can take one or the other, but together it is tough for me. So, I do my best to plan but also just need to convince myself that I can adapt to anything.

I am mostly looking forward to the social part of the run. Yes, it's very social, kind of like a party or a family reunion. Many runners do Chuckanut, a 50k Saturday morning, and then drive to Longview (which is still going on through the 24 hours) to get in some extra miles. Why? Because it's fun, a bit crazy, but in a fun way. I look forward to seeing the Ellensburg runners, the ultra veterans from whom I have learned so much. It'll be great to run with Tim, David, Willie and Ethan. It'll be great to see Jeff Hagen, Michelle, Tim, tc, Rob, and sweet Olga. There will be new friends made including Ben Blessing and others I'm sure. ..Only I don't have an entrant list, so it will be a nice surprise on race morning who gets to share the loop through the day and night.

I don't really have a strategy. I think a strategy would work against me because I've only dabbled in training miles and have aches and pain that I am managing rather than curing. So, I'll be flexible. I'll run and walk, and try to stay steady as I can. I hope I don't wimp out in the rain and cold.

So, my last days in preparation will focus on rest and sleep and preparing my own fuel and fluids. Tim and I will head out Friday night and we'll be there to hear Fred say "Go" at about 9am Saturday. And we'll wrap things up at 9 am Sunday, make the 4-hour drive back home, and we'll call it another notch in our ultrarunning calendar. There is no fame or fortune or even recognition. But we runners know and we admire each other. And that's good enough! In fact, it's fabulous.

So, I'll work this week and try to rest and catch up on sleep so that I can run for 24 hours over the weekend. There. I like it. Sounds like a delightful plan. I'm satisfied already.

I'm looking forward to seeing you all out there. I know many of you that are running, but it would be fun to gather a make-shift entrant list here if you want.

#1 me
#2 Tim
...

Good luck and fun to all of us! See you Saturday.

Steely goes to college & other adventures

2009-02-22T11:06:00.000-08:00

We had a very nice 21-mile run on the John Wayne Trail. It was cold but warmed up to a nice 40 degrees by the time we finished.

Moose hunt on the mountain (with a camera, that is)

2009-02-15T09:20:00.000-08:00

I went up the mountain with Gunhild yesterday. We were looking for some meese that hang out up there. The last time Gunhild was snow-shoeing up there, a moose blocked her path just 20 feet in front of her. It didn't even move until it was ready. So, she had the exciting chance to watch it up close for a long time.

It's been awhile since I've been up on the mountain. Mostly because of my gimpy ankle. We climbed up, ran the ridges, and descended on the snowy, sometimes ice-packed trail. My weak ankles needed the rehabilitation training.

It was spectacular. We were dusted with glistening snow flakes and the snow was like a blanket of peace. Very nice.

Of course, Steely was in heaven too.

We'll go back soon to look for the moose again. I'll let you know if we see him.

Spokane Sports Award

2009-02-12T07:37:00.000-08:00

I was honored yesterday to receive an award for my 2007 Badwater race. It was a very nice banquet with athletes of all ages from the Spokane area who were recognized for their achievements. Coaches, teams, service and sportsmanship were also recognized. An awesome video that showed a compilation of some of the greatest moments in Spokane sports was shown, and I gotta admit, I was a bit overwhelmed watching it. I mentioned in my acceptance speech that this award could not have happened without other people believing in me or without the support and encouragement of my crew, family and friends. Dori Robertson, Larry Ham, Glenn Tachiyama, Dave Bursler, and Dave Heckman were fundamental to my race. I still think of this race as a team sport because a runner in this race is nothing without a crew. Thanks again, my friends!

February 12, 2009 in Sports

Quintet receives recognition for various achievements
Mike Vlahovich, Staff writer

Ultramarathon runner Lisa Bliss accepts her Certificate of Excellence award during Wednesday’s Youth Awards Luncheon.

The lure of a challenge and long years of dedication to their craft earned five people special recognition during Wednesday’s Youth Awards Luncheon.

Area coaches Don Fox, Ron Long and Cor van der Meer received Inland Northwest Sportswriters and Broadcasters 25-Year Awards for many years of contribution to high school and college sports.

Spokane doctor Lisa Bliss, who won the 2007 135-mile Kiehl’s Badwater Ultra Marathon, received the SWABS Dick Wright Certificate of Excellence for the endurance effort.

Spokane Chiefs general manager Tim Speltz received the organization’s Certificate of Achievement for the long-term success of the Memorial Cup junior hockey champions.

Fox spent nearly 40 years as a coach and administrator at Colville, Inchelium and Kettle Falls. He coached football, basketball, track and softball. His Kettle Falls Bulldogs went 412-184 in softball and won three state championships, two in slowpitch and one in fastpitch. He also was the high school athletic director and coached football most recently before retiring last spring.

Long spent 37 years as freshman football coach at Gonzaga Prep before announcing that last fall’s season would be his last. For the past 23 years he continued to coach despite being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.

Community Colleges of Spokane men’s and women’s soccer coach van der Meer won more than 300 matches during 20 years with the Sasquatch. He started the Five-A-Side tournament, which has grown to more than 300 teams entering its 25th year. It is part of a near 50-year involvement with youth soccer throughout Washington.

Speltz came to the Chiefs with owner Bobby Brett as general manager in 1991 when they won their first Memorial Cup. In the 18 seasons since, Spokane has failed to make the Western Hockey League playoffs just three times, winning two division championships and finishing second six times.

The Chiefs hosted the Memorial Cup in 1998 and won it for the second time last year with a 9-0 run through the playoffs.

Bliss, who has been medical director at Badwater for six years, was not fast enough to be a successful marathon runner, but turned instead to challenging her mental and physical toughness with endurance runs of 50 miles and longer.

She has the 10th-fastest United States women’s 100-mile time, 19 hours, 42 minutes.

Her crowning achievement was winning the women’s division of Badwater, which begins in 120 degree temperatures in Death Valley 280 feet below sea level and concludes at the 8,300-foot level of Mount Whitney.

Bliss had to battle through blisters and moments of self-doubt. She said the pain ultimately goes away, and ultra marathon runners continue on for the fun and the camaraderie with their crew members who help them through the race.

“There are periods when you tell yourself, ‘Why am I doing it?’ ” Bliss said. “Everyone wants to quit or questions themselves. The mind has to be strong to overcome it.”

She could have been speaking for all the award winners, who strove to enable those around to experience success.

http://www.spokesman.com/stories/2009/feb/12/special-attention/

(Note: my 2007 Badwater race was pre-Drymax!) :)

Drymax socks rock!

2009-02-08T23:28:00.000-08:00

I am so pleased to be sponsored by a company that I completely believe in. Their products are simply the best. I have tried and tested these socks and they work, they do what they claim to do: whisk moisture away from the foot and the inner sock to the outer sock. The foot stays dry.

I have run 100-mile races in the rain, I've slogged through 50 miles of slippery mud, I've run in Death Valley several times, both on payment and on the sandy trails. I have not had a single problem with these fabulous socks. They protect my feet completely, and I no longer ever worry about blisters getting in the way of my races.

Yes, I used to have blisters, lots of them. I'd even get them on 20-mile training runs. Now, it never even crosses my mind that I may get a blister...because I don't.

Cool weather socks, warm weather socks, different thicknesses, different lengths. They fit snug and are supportive, and hold up to multiple washings. The Trail Socks are my favorites.

I have tried every sock on the market, from Injinjis to Smart Wool to Double Layer Wright Socks and many more. I stopped trying other socks altogether. I don't even think about whether there may be a better one out there. That's because Drymax are the best. There is no better.

For that reason, I am proud to be sponsored by Drymax for 2009.

If you haven't tried them, you might want to... :)

Drymax Socks is true to its claim. It promises the best and it delivers.

Check out their WEBSITE.
Check out their BLOG.

Winter Weekend Getaway II

2009-02-02T23:08:00.001-08:00

Wanna see more pictures of Red Rock Canyon? You know you do!

Go HERE for more!

(pic: Drymax socks ROCK!)

Winter Weekend Getaway

2009-02-02T07:41:00.000-08:00

Enough of this cold and snow already! I decided to getaway for the weekend. Boy, did it ever turn out to be a great weekend!

Tim and I ran at Red Rock in Las Vegas, far away from the "cha-ching" of the slot machines, about as far away from that as you can get.

We ran Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and explored nearly all of Red Rock. It was warm and brilliantly sunny.

Here's a picture of the sky. I am solar-charged for awhile now.

More pictures to follow.

Happy Groundhog Day!

Weekend runs

2009-01-26T12:51:00.000-08:00

(Pic: This is the John Wayne Trail... in the SUMMER!)

Saturday, I ran with the Ellensburg group. It was a great run. We ran 21+ miles from Kittitas to Vantage on the John Wayne Trail. It's flat for a few miles, then a gentle down hill for the rest of the way. It was cold but not too cold. There was some wind but it wasn't bad. There were some icy spots under our feet and one person took a good spill on the ice, but for the most part, the snow cushioned the gravel surface, making it very nice to run on. I wore my ankle brace. I've decided I must get used to wearing it on all trails, even easy ones like this. I so miss running on the trails, and if a measly brace is all it takes to get me back on them, well this year I'm going to wear it!

We started with six runners. Once wanted to get in just a few miles so turned back early. The rest of us forged ahead. Tim drove to the end of our route and ran back toward us with the dogs, trying hard to restrain from running too much as he is easing back after a stress fracture. It was an absolutely joyous run! Hoar frost covered everything, making the high desert terrain look like a black-and-white Western movie. Our bright-colored running shirts, hats, and packs stood out vividly against it. I wished I had my camera.

(Pic: This is NOT from the JWT but it's an excellent picture of hoar frost and is similar to the conditions we ran in on Saturday.)

Overall, it was an easy run, a relaxing, high-spirited run filled with good stories and wit. Tim met us at 13 miles, so he ended up running 16, quite a big jump for a "gradual increase" in training mileage, but his hip felt good. And the dogs, they were in their glory! We finished some 4+ hours later, and spent the rest of the day relaxing in front of the TV. We watched two movies - "Breaking Away," a 70's movie about Cutters and a bike race, and "Kung Fu." I admit I was a bit surprised to enjoy both so much.

Sunday, we ran another 10, this time starting at the JWT Thorp trail head. The trail was washed out in several areas because of the severe flooding early this month.

(pic: Tim and Missy. Trail wash-out)

It was sunny but colder. We knew the wind was at our backs on the way out, but we didn't realize just how strong it was until we turned back into it. We thought it was just wind through the tunnel, but it wasn't.

The head wind remained for the 5-mile trek back to the trail head. It was bitterly cold. My face and hands froze. I wasn't very happy. But it was a short run and I needed the lesson in getting tough. The dogs, again, were in their glory!

(pic: Steely Dan)

(pic: Missy)

After the run, we stopped at the fruit stand, swung through the drive-through coffee stand, and looked at some local RVs for sale. Just curious of course.

It was a very nice weekend with some good winter running. Y'all know I really don't like the cold, right? So, this was pretty good for me. I kept telling myself: "I am an excellent winter-time runner!" "I am an excellent winter-time runner!" Over and over. Reality is, I don't think I'll ever even be a good winter-time runner. I'll take the sun and the heat any day. Maybe that's why I enjoyed these runs so much. There was so much winter beauty on the trail! I suppose it's always there, however, this time I saw it and it was indeed very beautiful and ... heart warming.

(Pic: icicles on the JWT)

And as always, a tired dog is a good dog!

Good luck to Badwater applicants!

2009-01-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

If you get accepted into the race, congratulations! If not, come and enjoy the exotic Death Valley anyway. Crew, pace, volunteer, get a tan (not!). Best of luck to you! I'll see you there.

(PS - You can get this poster from ZombieRunner.com. It looks beautiful in a rustic wood frame.)

Mom's are the best

2009-01-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

My mom is one of my best friends. She's an awesome lady.

Across the Years 48-hour race report

2009-01-03T10:22:00.000-08:00

I had a fabulous time at Across the Years again. I went back to bring in the New Year with friends who feel like family. I thank you all for sending me greetings and emails during and after the race. The support was like no other. Thank you all so very much! You certainly helped to fuel me along and kept me moving around the course.

I have so much to say but I'm not sure I will be able to put in words what is in my mind and heart. I'll try though.

So, as far as the race itself goes...

My training was very good. Again, I was running more than my usual measly mileage. I've had all sorts of little troubles with my right ankle since the sprain in Greece. It's just not a stable ankle. I got some achilles tendinitis and took some time off for that. It healed but not fully. I ran the Death Valley Marathon but nixed Vegas the next day because it was flared. I knew this was an injury I shouldn't "tough" through. So, I took another 2 weeks off from running, and then tested the achilles on the treadmill for 2 miles. It was a little sore afterwards. So, I swore off running completely until Across the Years. Better to lose my training and be a bit out of shape for the race than to run for 48 hours on a bad achilles. I chose my path and stuck to it. I'm glad I did as the achilles did not grumble during the race (at least not more than any other part of my body!)

So, after 3-1/2 weeks of not running, and a bout with frost nip on my feet due to Raynauds just 3 days prior to the race I started my 48-hour race at ATY. I could only hope I didn't lose too much of my training effect. I also knew that this race is much more about having a strong mind than body. I hoped my mind would hold up too.

I did not sleep too well in the days before the event. I'm not much of a good sleeper anyway and know the importance of rest before a race. But, it is what it is, and I didn't sleep too well. Oh well, we were all going to be exhausted by the second day on the track anyway!

Race morning was uneventful. I was only a bit nervous, actually felt more apathetic than anything. The feeling was not usual for me. I just kept thinking that I hadn't run for nearly a month and also this race really didn't "start" until the second night. That's when the battle with exhaustion begins. That's when you start the fight. That's when suffering can become part of your race. I was anticipating some suffering not only because of the inevitable exhaustion but also because of the bitter cold of the upcoming nights. I was also already anxious about the fact that I have not been able to sleep during these multiday events. Last year I was very frustrated about it. I'd lie down, knowing sleep was imperative, but I would not sleep, despite that I was falling asleep on my feet on the track. I laid down several times, but it proved only a waste of time and caused me to be anxious.

My plan this year was to run a bit slower than I wanted and to sleep only when tired but hopefully have some down time within the first 24 hours. This year I had Tim's help so I thought it would be easier to get on and off the track and in and out of the tent. I also planned on changing into warm dry clothes early in the evening BEFORE the cold dampness set in and to change clothes frequently in effort to stay warm. I knew how difficult it was to regulated body temperature when running is mixed with walking and rest breaks. Your body can go from toasty warm and sweaty to having shaking rigors in a matter of minutes. Well, at least, my body can. I knew this and so I did my best to prepare for it.

I ran and ran, and I felt great. No achilles trouble. A good sign. My hamstring flared early, which is usual, and then kind of went away for while. While I felt my pace was faster than last year, it obviously wasn't as my mileage around the track accumulated more slowly. The day was fine though but night came early. Fortunately, it was not as cold as last year. This was very helpful. Still, however, I suffer greatly in the cold. I had progressively warmer clothes to wear and I changed frequently as the cold night shrouded us. I had my "big ass gloves" which worked phenomenally, and I had my bomber hat and basically all the things I've been using to shovel snow with in Spokane. I did fairly well with the cold that first night until I laid down for a break..

In retrospect, I should have just kept going until I started falling asleep on my feet. I was so anxious that I wouldn't sleep that I set myself up once again for repeating last year's disaster. I laid down and started to get cold. Withing 15 minutes, I was shaking and angry. I changed clothes (obviously should have done that before laying down) and got back out on the track. Perhaps the attempt at rest helped a little, but really, I think it just made things worse. Still, despite feeling pretty crabby, I got back on the track. Things got better toward morning as they always do.

I ran with so many awesome people, many that I knew, some I met for the first time. It is always a pleasure to witness these incredibly tough people out on the track. They are not just tough runners, they are tough through and through to the bone, physically, mentally, emotionally. They are my heroes and my idols. My old and new friends.

It's always difficult to name names because there are so many awesome people in this event that I'm sure to leave out a name or two. But here are a few that come to mind this morning.

First and foremost, thank you Tim for all your support and encouragement. You made the race so much more enjoyable. I am looking forward to crewing you next year to return the favor.

Thank you to Rodger Wrublik and Paul Bonnet and the dedicated race staff and volunteers. I ate more "real" food this year from the wonderful aid station. I never passed up the homemade potato soup. I couldn't believe how perfect the pizza was! The quasedilla, the PB&J. Mmm! Great fuel. All served on a platter to be grabbed as you run by. What service!

To name a few runners...

John Geesler is one of the coolest elite runners out there. He was in my opinion, the toughest one out there. Always with a smile despite hurting his foot and not being able to run further. So, instead of leaving the track, he stayed out there and accumulated as many miles as he could at about a one-mile-per-hour pace! Dang! This is one tough guy! What a lesson in patience and acceptance this guy displayed.

Tracy Thomas and Alene Nitzky were back again this year. Jamie Huneycutt ran a spectacular race. It was a pleasure and an honor to share the fun with her and also to compete with her. Jamie deserved the 48-hour woman's win with the 160 miles that she racked up. Very impressive.

Perhaps even more impressive was 61-year-old Jeff Hagen's performance. His goal was 201 miles, but like most others he readjusted his goals as the race progressed. He moved nearly non-stopped, mostly running, and was tougher than nails out there on the course. His 180+ miles gave him the overall win in the 48-hour! What a lesson in perseverance he displayed!

Hans Bauer, last year's winner, struggled a bit the first day, and came back to gut out a whole additional day of running, holding on to second place overall.

Lynn Newton, Andy Lovy, Dave Combs, the effervesent Ray K, Rick Cheever, Summer Wesson, Flora Krivak-Tetley , Don Lundell, Gillian Robinson, Dan Jensen, Dan Baglione, Christian Griffith, Wendell Doman, John Price, John Radich, Martina Hausmann, Sue Norwood, and many many many other friends.

So....the second day of running went well. My 100-mile split was 2 hours slower than last year. I wasn't too dismayed. I knew there was still a long way to go. I was not overly optimistic about reaching my 160 mile goal, but as I said, many of us reevaluate at some point and change our goals so that we can, once again, meet them with success. :) After the second night with no sleep, I down-sized my goal to 150.

The second night, I tried sleeping in the car instead of the tent. Again, no luck with the sleep. But I did have lots of luck with eating a McDonald's hamburger! Tim asked me what I wanted, and I just thought about what my body needed and wanted, and it must've been the fat because the hamburger went down fairly easily (which is normally NOT the case), and it seemed to satisfy my hunger and fuel needs very well. Despite no sleeping, now for 40 hours straight, I was able to return to running and to the delayering of clothes as my body generated heat making loops around the track.

Of course, I tired soon and walked and ran and took more short breaks. Before midnight, I really wanted to lay down. This was my longest break, perhaps an hour, maybe more. I didn't sleep but the horizontal rest did me good. I celebrated the New Year at midnight with Tim and the rest of the runners and volunteers with our victory lap around the course. After that, the runners just started plodding on again. We still had 9 hours to go. It's a long time after nearly 40 hours of running.

I laid down one final time in the very early morning when the damp cold air was just too miserable for me. I think I actually slept for about 5 minutes, which is all I slept during the entire race. I struggled mightily to get back out onto the track, back into the cold cold air. It was still dark, just getting light. Tim reminded me the sun would renew my strength and desire. I knew that too, but self-motivation was lacking at that point mostly because of the cold. Tim said I had to go back out there, that I had promised I wouldn't stop early. He also bet me that I would be laughing and feeling good within 10 minutes. I got back on the course, and he won the bet. I lost $40 and was having the time of my life those last couple hours of the race.

The last laps nearing 9 am were done with gratitude and joy. I appreciated every one of those runners still out on that course. I knew their pain and, in some cases, their suffering. I knew their joy and their sense of satisfaction and glory. I knew exactly how they felt as they made their way around those last laps before the clock struck 9 am, completing 24, 48, or 72-hours of running. It was so interesting to watch some of these runners start running fast, and I mean really fast, not just a fast shuffle! Some runners wanted to squeeze in an extra mile or an extra loop or try to even out a final number of miles. What motivates us, I kept asking myself? Why do we do this? What do we care about? Is it the number of miles? Is it our placing, ranking among our friends? Is it a test to the self? Is it to see how far we can push our own limits? Is it to overcome pain and suffering?

Whatever the answer, then still, what is the value in that? Why do we do it? I asked myself a million times out there. I can't say I have THE answer though I have some answers. For me, I do this to test my limits. There is value in knowing I can do more than I think I can. I also do it because others are doing it. We do it together. I witnessed greatness out there on the track. Not greatness that changes the world in big way, but absolutely greatness that changes the world in small ways. These are incredibly inspiring people. They care, they motivate, they help, they reach out of themselves to touch you and love you. Yes, really. Our crews, the race staff and volunteers, our fellow competitors. It's something you don't experience in everyday life. There is an emotional and spiritual connection between runners, whether spoken or unspoken. I can close my eyes even now see Juli's inner strength as she circled for 3 days...Rick Cheever as he ran in his crocs because of his feet...Geesler, the champion of that race many times before, as he took his lot and smiled and stayed out there for 72 hours with the rest of us, just hobbling along when he could have and probably should have quit. Dan Jensen, my Badwater buddy with a lower limb prosthesis. I saw him get back out onto that track over and over and over again. Jeff Hagen and his wife who supported him. Tim, who gave everything of himself to help me. William Sichel... etc., etc., etc.

Events like these do not cause us to transcend our ordinary daily lives and accomplishments. Rather, they give meaning to them. They bring us back to life's basic tenets of survival, love, and reliance on one another.

I am good and weary. My body has carried me 150 miles around a track. My muscles are still aching from the repetitious pounding. I have learned that there is no one "why" and that there are many answers, mostly very personal. Joy and bonding. That is why I keep going back to races like these. That is why I wanted to ring in the New Year again at Across the Years. That is why I will go back again, if even as crew to give back what has been given to me.

These are photos of our final laps.
For more photos go HERE.

Happy New Year everybody, and thank you again and again for helping me in my journey at ATY! Much love to all!

Across the Years 2008-2009

2008-12-30T06:05:00.000-08:00

Across the Years is going on as I write. Day one will be over in 2 hours. Of course, most runners will just keep running.... and I'll be just starting.

Does anybody ever sleep well the night before a big race? Guess I was talking in my sleep. Hope I was mumbling about how much I just LOVE these events and how SANE I feel right now.

In reality, I'm feeling the usual pangs of:

"Gawd, why do I DO these things?!"
"How stupid that we just run around in circles for 2 days straight."
"I'm bored already."
"I feel like gerbil."
"I want to run with a watch, not a calendar!"

But, as I know, all that fades with the start (perhaps to return later in the race though) and life gets good on the track.

I checked the updates, and there are some impressive first day tallies. Tracy is tearing up the course. Geesler fell back a little, as did Hans, but it is WAY too early to make any predictions even for these phenomes. They'll be running stronger again in no time, I'm sure.

Go HERE to send greetings.
HERE for updates.

So, I'm off to the races.

Have a safe and very happy New Year's!

Be a part of the Across the Years race!

2008-12-28T00:15:00.000-08:00

Tim and I are heading to Phoenix tomorrow for the Across the Years 48-hour race again this year. He was planning to run as well, but unfortunately cannot because he has a hip stress fracture, so he'll be there to help with crewing.

The race has a fabulous web interface with REAL TIME UPDATES and an improved WEB CAM this year, so you can check in on the race and see how the runners are doing (and looking!) at any time during the duration of the race.

Check WHO'S RUNNING?

There is a 24-hour, a 48-hour, and a 72-hour race. I'm giving the 48 another shot after logging 150 miles last year. There will be great competition and lots of fun on the course this year. There are scattered starts for the different timed events. I'm starting at 9 am on Tuesday, December 30th, and will be running through till Thursday, January 1st at 9 am (which when all the timed events end).

Once again, there is an incredible almost real-time message center where you can send "greetings" to any runner on the course at any time via the race web site at www.acrosstheyears.com. It is simple to do. Just click "SEND A GREETING," click on the runner you want to send a message to, and hit send. When a few messages have accumulated, they are printed out by race staff and placed in our personal "mailboxes" which are right along the course. So, yes, I'll get them!

The race is on a 500 meter track. I know it's hard to imagine, but it does get boring (one of the toughest challenges of this type of venue). You pass the "start/finish" (and your warm car) every few minutes....leading one into temptation...

All runners LOVE getting email messages! I certainly thrive on them. Please check in online and take a look around this outstanding event and hang around a bit. Imagine you are a visitor at the the zoo or circus. :) Send mail. Tell me truths, tell me lies, jokes. Tell me I'm too friggin' slow to be called a "runner." Tell me about your day sledding in the snow or working at the office. Check in in the morning or in the evening or in the middle of the night during a cupboard raid. Tell me my hair looks good after 40 hours of running, sleeping a bit (hopefully), and numerous hat changes. And please tell me if when I smile into the web cam you see food in my teeth. I just hate when that happens! Tell me to get my butt moving and that you are waiting and watching for me to live up to all my braggart tales of ultramarathon running. Or just say "Keep moving!" because that's really the ultimate strategy to this kind of race. Whatever you want. It's all very very appreciated. You truly can make a real impact on a runner's race by sending vibes or by superpoking them. :)

There will be thousands of emails coming in for all the runners. It's not private - though mine up in my mailbox for me. But everyone online can read everyone else's greetings, so keep that in mind.

So, starting 9 am Tues. the 30th, my race starts. (The 72-hour runners will have already put in a day by then so they're likely going to be moving a little slower, and some 24-hour runners will also be starting at the same time, and some of them will be flying around the course just for the day.)

Top women in the 48-hour are Tracy Thomas (who holds many records here including over 250 miles in the 72-hour race). You will see that her public goal is 205 miles, the highest goal of anybody. Debbie Reichmeier wins a lot of the 48-hour races here. She won last year with 168 miles (I believe). Alene Nitzky is in top form this year and so are others.

Top men to watch are Hans Bauer who won lst year with 190 miles and Jeff Hagen, the highly experienced "turtle" of the competitors who is shooting for just over 200 miles. There are others with admirable goals too, but when it comes down to 2 full days of running, why, anything can happen out there. So, often the race results yield some nice surprises.

Just go here: http://www.acrosstheyears.com/
Click on "SEND A GREETING" (or whatever it will ultimately be constructed to say)
Find me by name or number #634
I am already looking forward to hearing from you!

All that said, I wish every one of you a very Happy New Year filled with joyous celebration or dreamy relaxation...whatever your pleasure.

Thank you thank you for spending some time with me this week at the race...even if just a minute or two. You can help me way more that you would ever imagine. :)

All the best to you and your loved ones,
Stay safe,
Be happy and be good to each other.

Are you running "Around the Clock" this year?

2008-12-20T15:49:00.000-08:00

That's what one of my colleagues asked me this week.

Around the CLOCK?

Ha! You mean Across the YEARS?
Yes! Now THAT'S more like it! :)
Pretty humorous. Guess it's an ultrarunner thing.

It's funny when you think about it ... our skewed frame of reference for what we ultrarunners call a "long" or "difficult" race.

It's also weird how natural it is for us to say, "Oh, yea, I'm running a 48-hour race over New Years in Phoenix." And, "Oh, yes, it's on a 500 meter loop, and we just go round and round and round. It's a logistically easy race to run, but tough mentally, yep. Good thing we change directions every 2 hours, fer sure. Otherwise, it'd be hard on the legs."

Gawd! When you think of it...I mean REALLY think about it, it's just NUTS what we do! When she asked, "Are you running 'Around the Clock' this year?" it really made me thing about how much I take this very long distance ultrarunning stuff for granted.

I mean, when I go for a run...

I'm gone for hours,
it takes me 2 hours to "warm up,"
I sometimes have to stash food and water because I can't carry enough,
my ears pop when there is enough elevation change,
there almost isn't enough daylight for a long run in the winter,
I carry a hand-drawn map with me when I venture into new territory.

Last month, I ran a 25-mile loop near my home and somehow somewhere along that loop I dropped my car keys. I realized it only when I got back to my car which was parked 3 miles from my home. It was cold and getting dark by then, but what else could I do but run home. So, while I was happy to log 28 miles for the day, I did NOT want to have to run BACK to my car 3 miles away with the spare keys. So, I bundled up and went to my neighbor's. I'm sure I was a sorry sight. My muscles were so stiff and I was walking like I had just gotten off a horse. I explained my situation and my very cool neighbor said, "Sure, no problem, I'll drive you to your car. Let's go. And let's look for your keys on the side of the road."

"No, you see, I lost them somewhere on a 25-mile loop."
"Oh, but maybe we'll find them."
"But even driving it at 10 mph would take 2-1/2 hours. I'll just look for them later."
"Are you sure? We could just drive and look? Or maybe you'll find them tomorrow."

Gawd, I felt silly! My run took me over 25 miles of road! That's a lot of hiding places for keys! I wasn't going to find my keys. (Note: I DID go back the next day and covered 10 miles with no hint of luck.)

It's just perspective though, and sometimes it's worth looking at what we do for a hobby.

So, Across the Years it is. Just another run in the park. A beautiful made-for-runners 500 meter loop that we will trample over several days, from 2008 into 2009. I will feel normal among my fellow ultrarunners. Some of my friends are running the 72-hour race there. You see, I am the wimp among them.

Still, 48-hours has been my toughest distance/timed race. I can race through a night. I can race 36 hours without real breaks. I can hit 100 miles in 20 hours. But if I do that in a 48 hour race, then what? I've wasted myself and I'm only 1/2 way through. If I push too hard that first day, other more patient and paced runners will turtle right on past me as I lay moaning in my tent that second day. There's a balance somewhere between racing and conserving with a 48 that I've yet to learn. Last year at ATY, I set a goal for 150 miles. I conserved well, I thought. I ran 100 in just over 24 hours, and I tried to sleep for 30 minutes but couldn't. I mean, I don't get tired in a 24 hour race, so how could I force myself to sleep? So, I didn't. The first night was bitter cold. Mid 20's. I had 6 layers on yet couldn't get warm. I slowed on my calories, I started falling asleep on the course. I was miserable.

The morning, however, brought renewed energy, but never as much as I had hoped. That second night was a killer because I hadn't slept. And the worst part was not being able to generate any heat within my body that second night. I shivered and trembled and mumbled and cussed, and finally, after 150 miles, I stopped and turned in my number. There were 8 hours left on the clock.

(pic: This is Don Lundell of ZombieRunner.com running the 24-hour race)

With the timed races, the goal is to accumulate the most miles within the time limit. In reality, you can stop any time you want (and restart again if you don't turn in your number) before the time limit. Last year, at 40 hours I was toast. But could I have kept on going? Of course! Yes, definitely! But sometimes the mind is weak.

So, this year, you'd think I'd have a plan. But I just can't come up with one. I don't have a strategy. Heck, I'm not even sure if my achilles is going to hold up. I haven't run since the Death Valley Marathon, and I don't plan on running one step until the race on December 30. I've done this before. Better to go in with mush for muscles and undertrained than with a sore achilles tendon.

So, if my achilles is ok, I need a plan. Do I sleep for an hour, two hours? Before 100 miles? At a certain time? Do I plan on 80 miles the first 24 hours or 100? Do I take one long break to ensure rest or do I take multiple short breaks? Honestly, I have no friggin' clue.

In any case, I do know with certainly that I LOVE this race. I love the warm sun during the day and I love the race staff and I love my crazy fellow ultrarunners, my friends. We will be together for 24 to 48 hours on that track (depending on what race they are doing), and we will talk and chat and tell jokes and talk serious and sing and calculate and shuffle and compete and encourage each other.

Also, in any case, no matter how many miles I cover, I always have a great time and am grateful for being able to participate in the sometimes crazy sport of ultrarunning.

(If you're interested in a few pictures from the 2007 race, go HERE.)

Snow storm closes the city but the dogs love it!

2008-12-18T16:18:00.000-08:00

Death Valley Borax Marathon - Dec. 6, 2008

2008-12-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

Christmas in Death Valley!

Early in the year, Tim and I planned the back-to-back marathons in Death Valley and Las Vegas this weekend as our final high(er) mileage week in preparation for Across the Years. We didn't plan then on having some grumbling injuries, but those are par for the course and we had to roll with the little punches.

We arrived in Vegas and made the 2-1/2 hour drive to Death Valley, my favorite place in North America. I love the drive and the beautiful never-ending layered mountains. It's funny how you can see forever into the distance and how your are tricked into thinking you are driving slow, making no progress. Over and over again, Tim would check the speedometer and realize that we were driving 100 mph. DOH! He'd slow to 85 or 90 and it would feel like we were just crawling.

The Death Valley Borax Marathon started at "8-ish" in the morning. It's one of the things I just love about Dave Horning's races. They are so laid-back and for the "Type E" personality, as his slogan goes. It was warm and brilliantly sunny. After singing "American the Beautiful," he said "Go" and we were off, 13.1 miles from Furnace Creek toward Stovepipe Wells, and then back. There was a 10k and a 1/2 marathon too. You would think it would have been too crowded on the road, but given the expanse of the desert, it never felt at all crowded.

As this was a training run, our only goals were to not flare our nagging injuries and to have fun. If all went ok, we'd shoot for a 3:40 or so.

Well, all went well. How could it not? There we were in one of the most exotic places on earth running with the sun on our faces, filled with joy. It was fabulous. We kept a fairly steady pace until I slowed down a bit on the last 3 mile climb to mile 24. That's where Chris Kostman and Elizabeth found us, and that was a big boost. They were on their bikes and it was their last day of 8 touring around Death Valley.

We finished in 3:40 as planned.

We quickly showered at the pool and made the long and relaxing drive back to Vegas....well until we hit the city.

We assessed our bodies and decided to give the next thon a whirl too, so we picked up our packets. Later in the evening, however, after walking around through the casino and hotel, my achilles started to get a creakiness in it. You could even hear it. Knowing that was not something to mess with, we decided to nix the Vegas Marathon. It was the right decision. We've got Across the Years to look out for.

So, we're headed to Red Rock and I think the BodyWorks exhibit is at the Luxor. So, we've got plenty to do.

What a fabulous weekend, not yet over.

Full Death Valley Borax Marathon results are HERE.

New home?

2008-11-30T21:30:00.001-08:00

Wouldn't it be sweet to live here??

Tim and I spent Thanksgiving doing fun holiday stuff like decorating the tree, hanging stockings and making a gingerbread house. We are both nursing injuries so instead of running long every day for this past 4-day weekend, there was lots of time for fun.

Have you seen "Bolt"? I really liked the movie, especially when Rhino was giving the speech to Mittens about always being there for your friends, even when they don't ask it of you. Great movie. Oh, and it's for kids, animated. Go see it, you'll like it.

S.A.D.

2008-11-18T21:44:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year ... when I wonder what is wrong with me. Why do I feel so... off, unsettled, unsatisfied, blah, unmotivated, tired? It happens every Fall, and every Fall I wonder why it is happening.

And then I remember.

I have SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder.

I get it every year. Too bad I always forget that I have it, that I'm going to get it. If I'd just remember I could prepare and not get caught up in the Why's, and I would just start treating myself and feeling better. But I always forget.

I feel great in the Spring, in the Summer, and in the early Fall. But when the sun doesn't shine for days and Daylight Savings causes day after day of driving to and from work in the dark, I get, well, the blahs, depressed. My body is so in tune with the sun. I wake up at the first hint of dawn no matter how late I go to sleep, and conversely, my body does not wake up UNTIL the sun comes up. Unfortunatley, the world does not care about how my body works. Like most of you, I have to be at work when work starts, so I drag my protesting body out of bed, saturate it with caffeine, and I go to work - in the dark. And 12 hours later I come home - in the dark. The lack of sunlight drags me down and the cycle starts and continues.

And then, as if I figure it out anew all over again each year, I suddenly remember my SAD and "Ahhh!" I say with hope, "THAT'S why...of course!" "I must get out my light box."

And so yesterday I got my light box out of the garage and set it up on my desk. The "Monolith" I call it. It's big, 24 inches tall, and 10,000 lux, and it is like a nuclear explosion of light in the morning. I absolutely LOVE it! I sit 18 to 24 inches from it and get on my computer or read for 15 to 20 minutes and I passively absorb all its warmth and goodness into my body. And my body responds very well. I am lucky. It works. It's all I need (well, it still wouldn't hurt to have a couple southern mini vacations in the Winter!).

This year I also bought a dawn simulator, which is really just a timer that turns my night stand light on 15 minutes before I have to wake up. I tell you, I am so sensitive to light (and lack of) that I wake up in a minute or two every time my light goes on in the morning, no matter how early. I don't even have to listen to the beep-beep-beep of my alarm clock....or the second one that echoes the first 10 minutes later.

Again, I am lucky because I respond very well to bright light therapy. I have used my monolith for many years now, always with good results. I of course still long for Spring and the opportunity to spend some time in the daylight, but at least I can make it through the season like a normal SAD-free person.

...and then as Spring trickles in, the SAD just fades away and does not return until I again wonder what the heck is wrong....in the shortened days of Fall. And with Spring and its sunlight, I am renewed and re-energized and excited and I completely forget I ever had the Winter blahs.

New Badwater Movie - The Distance of Truth

2008-11-16T09:28:00.000-08:00

It's worth the wait!

The new Badwater movie "The Distance of Truth" by Pageturner Productions, Inc. has been released and is ready for you! See Ferg Hawke, Scott Jurek, David Goggins, Monica Scholz, Dean Karnazes and others in action at the world's toughest foot race. Hear what they have to say about training and competition. These are some of the toughest in ultrarunning. But don't just take my word for it. Watch the trailer and decide for yourself.

Here is a film synopsis from the website:

Under a desert sky, an unlikely challenger fights to stave off one of the greatest ultra runners on the planet. 'The distance of Truth' is a human-interest story, a celebration of nature, and of philosophical examination of motivation that explores the unyielding determination of Canadian runner Ferg Hawke as he competes against the world's best in the harsh but beautiful Death Valley while attempting to master the toughest footrrace on earth, the 135-mile Badwater Ultramarathon. Follow in the footsteps of those who have wandered into the valley of death to tempt its inhospitable nature - never to return. Journey from the Badwater Basin, lowest point in North America, to Mt. Whitney, highest point in the contiguous United States. Share in the emotional highs and lows of Hawke's four-year-pilgrimage, a quest that ultimately questions the tendency to accept limitation over its alternative...the full realization of human potential.

You run long enough... something's bound to happen.

To order what promises to be the best in ultraendurance films GO HERE.

2009 Tribute to the Trails Calendar

2008-11-12T20:52:00.000-08:00

Glenn Tachiyama is back again with the new 2009 Tribute to the Trails calendar. He and Wendy Wheeler-Jacobs have done such a beautiful job! Everything a trail runner needs to know about when and where to run is in this calendar.

Each year I buy 5 of these calendars - one for my home, one for the office, and 3 to give as gifts for the holidays to my running friends or family. They're perfect gifts; everybody needs a calendar! And there's nothing better than seeing familiar gorgeous trails and people we know up on our walls! (I bet there's at least one person you "know" in the calendar!)

This calendar makes race planning easy. All the race dates are listed. No more searching and penciling in on the calendar. It's already done for you!

The sponsors of the calendar are helping to support the WTA (Washington Trails Association) and they are the best in the business of endurance sports. These are people with products and services made with ME and YOU in mind.

The sponsors are:

Coyote Two Moon Ultras
Dirty Girl Gaiters
Drymax Socks
Pacific Coast Trail Runs
UltraRunning Magazine
ZombieRunner

More running stores and races have contributed additional money to support the production of this 2009 edition of Tribute to the Trails.

Want one??

Of course you do!

Heck, buy two or three. Like I said, these make perfect gifts. All proceeds go to support WTA, which is a non-profit organization that creates, maintains and repairs the trails we love to play on.

They're $18 and may be purchased beginning in December from:

ZombieRunner.com
Pacific Coast Trail Runs
Seattle Running Company
The Balanced Athlete
Fleet Feet - Bend
Rogue Valley Runners
Everyday Athlete

Thank you Glenn & Wendy!!

Ain't no stopping Marshall Ulrich!

2008-11-03T18:02:00.000-08:00

Nope. There's no stopping this guy!

On September 13, Marshall Ulrich and Charlie Engle set out from San Francisco and headed East toward New York...on foot.

Unfortunately, Charlie had some injuries that were insurmountable and had to stop running. BUT that didn't stop him from going the distance across America....on a bike. Only true champions hurdle the obstacles set before them with such grace. I'm not saying it was easy for him. He speaks of how hard it was and, I'm sure, still is. But Charlie showed his true colors when the rubber hit the road.

Marshall continued running. He had his own share of hurdles to leap, and with the constant support of his wife Heather and his family and friends, he was able to keep going...and going...and going.

Marsh is now just a few miles from finishing his Run Across America! He will finish in New York tomorrow. So, how many miles is "a few miles?" Well, ONLY about 40 miles. THAT has got to feel so surreal to him at this final leg of his 3000 mile journey. How I wish so much I could be there!

How fitting too that he has completed this Run Across America on Election Day. Very moving. Very appropriate.

PLEASE check out Running America '08 to read about this spectacular accomplishment and to be a virtual witness to Marshall's phenomenal accomplishment.

Here's a picture of Art Webb, me and Marsh at the start of the 2004 Badwater Ultramarathon. It's one of my all-time favorite pictures. I am in the presence of giant gentle-souled heroes. Look how happy we are to be there in Badwater, knowing in just minutes we will set off on our way by foot across Death Valley. What an honor and privelege it is for me to know such extraordinary people! I still have this picture in a frame in my office.

Congratulations, Marsh & Heather!

Congratulations, Charlie!