I first met Laura Mildon at a race expo a few years ago, right after she had created and begun to market Island Boost. I was immediately sold. In case you're unfamiliar with it, Island Boost is a different way to fuel during your runs or any other type of activity or workout. I have never liked using traditional gels or gus or hydration fluids. For one thing, I think they usually taste icky (fluids) or are thick and hard to get down. Then there's the fact that gus and gels do bad things to my insides, especially during a race. Especially if that race is at any kind of elevation where my stomach is already iffy. In fact, it was the fact that she couldn't stomach (literally!) gus and gels that caused Laura to formulate Island Boost in the first place.
Island Boost is an all natural product, made up of high quality incredients such as glucose, fructose, baby coconut water, and fruit juices. It's liquid, rather than a gel or a gu, and you don't have to chase it down with a certain amount of water to make it work. It absorbs into your system and you get the initial benefit of the glucose within 5 minutes or so. The fructose helps prevent any kind of sugar spike and then fall, the coconut water hydrates and helps balance electrolytes, and the fruit juices means it doesn't taste like coconut water, an added benefit for those of use who hate that taste. What does it taste like? Well, it's sweet. Really sweet, especially if you're trying it at an expo. Somehow, though, in the middle of a race, it doesn't taste nearly as sweet because your body is craving that glucose and fructose for fuel. What I love about it is that there are no stomach or intestinal issues with it. Ever. Guaranteed!
In response to lots of requests, Laura has worked hard and formulated a new CHOCOLATE flavor of Island Boosts (you might guess that there won't be any fruit juice in that one!) I'm so excited to taste test this new product (and rest assured, I'll be letting you all know how it is when it gets here next week!) that I can hardly stand it. Unfortunately, the costs of producing the chocolate flavor are more than 70 times what any of the other flavors cost. This is due to in large part to the high cost involved in manufacturing any chocolate product in the state of California. It's insane.
I was thrilled when Laura told me that she was going to go with crowd funding through Indigogo to help fund getting the Chocolate Island Boost off the ground and into production for general sale. I am such a huge fan of this product that I'm thrilled with the chance to jump in and help fund this fantastic product. Take a look at the campaign and consider putting some of your $$ towards this fantastic endeavor. You WON'T regret it. I promise!
Indigogo Chocolate Island Boost campaign
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Fundraising
Everyone knows that Africa, especially Kenya, produces some of the fastest runners in the world. Sadly, it also produces a great number of children and adults with HIV+/AIDS and other critical illnesses. A good friend of ours has been a missionary in Africa, working with these adults and children, for a number of years. Now married to a Kenyan, she makes her home in a small village there. My husband and I have long supported her and her work in Africa.
Originally working with Empowering Lives International (ELI), she was part of Tumaini na Afya (Swahili for hope & health), focused on mobilizing people in rural villages for HIV testing and treatment, training on HIV prevention, home-based care for people living with HIV/AIDS, and orphans. In response to the need for a treatment center and home for two HIV+ orphans, her friend and fellow missionary was moved to establish Living Room and Kimbilio Hospice. Our friend joined her in this new endeavor. Today, Kimbilio Hospice is a 24 bed, inpatient hospice that provides quality palliative care services to adults and children living with life-threatening illnesses. These services are provided free of charge to those who need care.
To honor World Hospice Day on October 13, 2013, Living Room is hosting the first ever Kimbilio Hospice Marathon to raise money to help reduce suffering and bring hope to adults and children in Kimbilio Hospice. On this day, many of the fastest runners in the world will gather in the rural village of Kipkaren to run a marathon, beginning and ending at Kimbilio Hospice.
"As we have prayed, dreamed and planned Kenya's marathon, we have imagined friends from around the world, joining us in this meaningful occasion. In Swahili, the word harambee means 'let's come together.' We want to do just that."
Although we can't quite make it to Kenya for the marathon, Rob and I jumped on the opportunity to be part of this event and help with the fundraising. We are participating in the Silverton 1000 race over Labor Day weekend and are dedicating our miles in support of Kimbilio. Rob and Matt (our 14-year-old son) are doing the 48-hour race and I'll be doing the 24-hour. This race takes place in Silverton, CO at an elevation of 9318 feet. The course is a 1-mile trail loop with a total of 500 feet in elevation change per loop (250 up and back down). The goal is to rack up as many miles as you can during the time you are running.
Rob is hoping to get in close to 200 miles, Matt is hoping to make it to 100, and my goals are a much more modest 26!
Please consider making a donation to Kimbilio through my fundraising page or by using the link on the right of this page.
Any amount you can donate is appreciated. Every dollar helps. For example:
Kongoi (thank you) in advance!
Originally working with Empowering Lives International (ELI), she was part of Tumaini na Afya (Swahili for hope & health), focused on mobilizing people in rural villages for HIV testing and treatment, training on HIV prevention, home-based care for people living with HIV/AIDS, and orphans. In response to the need for a treatment center and home for two HIV+ orphans, her friend and fellow missionary was moved to establish Living Room and Kimbilio Hospice. Our friend joined her in this new endeavor. Today, Kimbilio Hospice is a 24 bed, inpatient hospice that provides quality palliative care services to adults and children living with life-threatening illnesses. These services are provided free of charge to those who need care.
To honor World Hospice Day on October 13, 2013, Living Room is hosting the first ever Kimbilio Hospice Marathon to raise money to help reduce suffering and bring hope to adults and children in Kimbilio Hospice. On this day, many of the fastest runners in the world will gather in the rural village of Kipkaren to run a marathon, beginning and ending at Kimbilio Hospice.
"As we have prayed, dreamed and planned Kenya's marathon, we have imagined friends from around the world, joining us in this meaningful occasion. In Swahili, the word harambee means 'let's come together.' We want to do just that."
Although we can't quite make it to Kenya for the marathon, Rob and I jumped on the opportunity to be part of this event and help with the fundraising. We are participating in the Silverton 1000 race over Labor Day weekend and are dedicating our miles in support of Kimbilio. Rob and Matt (our 14-year-old son) are doing the 48-hour race and I'll be doing the 24-hour. This race takes place in Silverton, CO at an elevation of 9318 feet. The course is a 1-mile trail loop with a total of 500 feet in elevation change per loop (250 up and back down). The goal is to rack up as many miles as you can during the time you are running.
Rob is hoping to get in close to 200 miles, Matt is hoping to make it to 100, and my goals are a much more modest 26!
Please consider making a donation to Kimbilio through my fundraising page or by using the link on the right of this page.
Any amount you can donate is appreciated. Every dollar helps. For example:
- $20 provides a day of complete care for a patient at Kimbilio Hospice
- $40 monthly provides a uniform, room, board and medical care for an orphan to attend school
- $140 provides a cancer patient with food, medical treatment, and 24-hour palliative care for a full week
- $200 covers funeral costs and bereavement services
- $500 provides a full month of care for a malnourished orphan.
Kongoi (thank you) in advance!
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
San Diego 100: View from the Crew
Earlier this month, my husband and a variety of friends set out to run SD 100. They were quite excited to be going out there to challenge themselves with this rugged trail 100 mile race. I was excited for a different reason. This was going to be my first real experience acting as crew for an endurance race like this one, fulfilling that role for my husband and our friends, Shawna and Brady. Their 12-year-old son, Colby (an accomplished endurance runner himself), and our 13-year-old son, Matt, were going to be out there with me as well. Since we were taking our RV, I would use Shawna and Brady's car as crew vehicle, going from aid station to aid station and making sure they had what they needed at each stage of the race. At least, that was the plan.
As we were getting ready to leave home for the race headquarters, Al Bahr Shrine campground in the Mount Laguna National Recreational Area, I was hit by an unexpected case of nerves. I was unaccountably stressed out and the only thing I can think is that I was feeling a huge sense of responsibility, knowing that I was going to be crewing for the first time. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely looking forward to the experience. But the sense of the unknown suddenly seemed overwhelming and I found myself hoping I could live up to the responsibility I had taken on.
In spite of leaving a few hours after we had hoped, we arrived at the campground in plenty of time to get the RV set up before the pre-race briefing. The race director went over a lot of information for the runners and encouraged everyone to practice good race management so that they could hopefully have less than the typical 30% DNF rate for an event of this type. The weather was predicted to be somewhat hotter than normal and the course provides almost no cover for the runners. Naturally, there was a lot of discussion on making sure that each runner had adequate hydration with them and other tips on how to have a successful race.
Following the briefing for the participants, there was a crew briefing. I'd never experienced one of these so I was quite interested, expecting advice on how best to crew our runners, maybe information on the different aid stations and accessibility, that sort of things. Instead, it was more a recounting of what *not* to do. Stay out of the way of aid station volunteers. Don't go to the aid station to get stuff for your runner(s). That's what the volunteers are for. The food and drink at the aid station is for the runners and pacers only. Make sure that you don't go to any of the non-crew accessible aid stations or your runner could be disqualified. While I get that this was all important stuff, it was not what I expected and kind of made me feel like they didn't really want crew there. That's probably not the case but it threw me for a loop.
Shawna and Brady live close enough to the race venue that they went back home to spend the night. We made plans to meet up in the morning before the race start and Rob and I headed back to the RV for the night. Rob got his stuff all prepped for the morning and put together a night drop bag for the next night. I don't think either of us slept particularly well but eventually morning arrived. We headed out to pick up Rob's race bib and he decided that he was going to do the drop bag even though I was planning on going to all of the accessible aid stations. He dropped it off and I met up with Shawna and Brady, with Shawna giving me a "tour" of their suppplies in the back of the car and when they'd likely need what throughout the race.
The race started and I got my first taste of what being crew involves, namely a lot of waiting. I was with my friend Martha, who was crewing for her husband Ed, The Jester. Although the first aid station was crew accessible, it was only 7.4 miles in so it was unlikely that anyone would need anything that wasn't available at the aid station so we had planned that our first stop would be aid station 2, Red Tail Roost, at mile 13.8. Although I was following our runners via the "live" update page, the aid stations had spotty connections so it was difficult to track where anyone was at any point. We made sure we were there in plenty of time and tried to anticipate what our runners might need at this point. It was still early and most likely we'd just need to make sure that we had new hydration bottles ready to go and that they took the time to have something to eat.
When we saw our runners approaching, we ran up to see to their needs. Colby had already filled his parents' replacement bottles with electrolyte fluids and I made sure that Rob's were taken care of (they were, by one of the volunteers who kept telling us we needed to stay behind a certain line.) Shawna was having difficulty with her breathing, which we attributed to the altitude. Colby ran to the car and got her her inhaler, which she used and then gave back to me. The three of them headed out and we packed our stuff up and headed back to base camp to wait some more. Because the next crew accessible aid station was not until mile 44.1 and we knew we had some time to kill until then.
We went back and hung out, with napping and reading on the agenda for the adults while the boys hung out in the air-conditioned RV playing computer and iPad games. There was a nice breeze and as long as we stayed in the shade, we found we were quite comfortable out in the great outdoors. The view from where we were was really quite lovely:
We kept up with the online tracking, trying to figure out when we needed to head to Pioneer Mail, the next crew accessible aid station. At this point, it appeared that The Jester was running about an hour ahead of Rob, Shawna, and Brady, who had planned to all stick together through the race. So we projected based on Ed's pace and packed up our stuff and headed out. As we were driving to the location, I received a few text notifications which I couldn't do anything about since I was driving. We had made the decision to go ahead and take two vehicles to this station, in case Martha needed to leave to head to the next one before my runner's came through. So we had our car with myself and the two boys and Martha's, with Martha and our friends Terri and Louie. Once I got out of the car, I took a look at the messages I'd received while driving.
At first, they made no sense, because I was reading them in reverse order. However, it soon became apparent that things were no longer going as planned. Shawna had had to drop from the race and seek medical attention at the mile 36 aid station, due to chest pains. Brady dropped at the same time in order to stay with her. By the time they stopped, Rob was about 10 minutes ahead of them and didn't know there were any issues. We broke the news to Colby that his mom was being evaluated by the paramedics and that it looked like her race was over. He held it together really well and commented that she was going to be pissed about not finishing. :)
As we waited for Brady to update us on Shawna and what was going on, we waited for Ed to come through and cheered on runners as they hit the aid station. Before long, I got a call from Brady, wanting to know where we were set up. Shawna was going to be on her way to the hospital via ambulance and Brady asked if I could come and pick him up at the aid station they took Shawna from. He would drop me back at the Pioneer Mail aid station and head to the hospital with Colby. I told him I was sure it wouldn't be a problem and gathered up the boys and headed to the car.
And that's when things got interesting. You see, the crew directions only directed you from crew accessible aid station to crew accessible aid station. Problem was, the aid station Brady was at was *not* crew accessible. Meaning I had no directions to it. "How hard can it be?" I thought to myself as we headed down the Sunrise Highway. I remembered seeing what looked like an aid station off in the distance that we had passed coming in. We got there and quickly realized that that was Penny Pines and not Pine Creek, which was the one we needed. The volunteer crew from Penny Pines was packing up and we asked them if they knew where the Pine Creek aid station was but they had no clue. It appears that volunteers knew where their own aid stations were and that was it. They didn't have a course map or anything.
I have to admit, this was a little frustrating. I was anxious about my friend and knew her husband was waiting for me. Between the aid station that we had left and the aid station we were currently at were 3 - 5 miles, maximum. Somewhere in between there had to be a way to get to the aid station Brady was at. I thought back to how the runners were approaching the mile 44 aid station and recalled that there was a road that went off in that direction between the two aid stations right on Sunrise Highway. So we took a chance and turned off, hoping for the best.
That turn began an hour of adventures in driving. Although there were no signs, at one point a car passed us going the opposite direction with what looked like volunteer aid station crew in it. The road was a single lane rutted track, full of twists and turns. There was one section where you prayed you didn't encounter a vehicle coming the opposite direction because one of you would have had to back up. There literally was a cliff on one side and a rock wall on the other, leaving you no where to pull over and the road was much too narrow to accommodate more than a single car. After what seemed like forever, Brady called, wondering where we were. Just as we were about to tell him that we had no idea, we saw a truck off to the side, packing up chairs and such. I pulled over and asked them if they knew where the aid station was.
Luckily, we were only two miles away from it at that point and were able to finish and pick up Brady. Poor guy. It was obvious he was worried about his wife and then he had to contend with my driving back up that rutted dirt road. If he'd had hair, I'm sure it would have turned white! At one point, he asked if we were almost there and I had to tell him that I had no idea. Although I think that road was only about 8 miles long, it seemed to take forever to drive it. By the time we got out and back to the Pioneer Mail aid station, where he dropped off Matt and I, we had been driving for over an hour. To cover about 22 miles, total. That should give you an idea of what that road was like.
Matt and I made it back to our chairs and found out that Rob had not been through yet. I had been afraid that we would have missed him while we were out driving. The other issue was how we were going to get five of us plus all of our stuff into Martha's car. Fortunately, Martha had driven Louie back to the campground to pick up his truck. She went on to the next aid station to be ready for when Ed came through and Louie came back to wait for Rob and then take us back to the RV. The cut-off time for that aid station was 8:00 pm, which was getting close so I was a little nervous.
However, when we finally saw Rob approaching, he looked great. It had cooled off considerably by that point and I was worried that he'd be getting cold. It was also starting to get dark. Luckily, I had the long-sleeved tech shirt that he'd started the day out in with me so I was able to give that to him. Unluckily, his headlamp was in his night-time drop bag which was at an aid station 20 miles away. Oops. Bad planning on our part. Next year, we'll know better. I also had to break the news to him that Shawna and Brady were out of the race due to Shawna's medical condition. Our friend Ryan, who had been planning on pacing Shawna and Brady throughout the night, was there and told Rob that he'd be at the next aid station (mile 51), ready to go, since that was the point at which runners could pick up pacers. Our friend Louie happened to have a headlamp in his truck and graciously loaned it to Rob so that he wasn't running in the dark.
After seeing Rob on his way out of the aid station, we headed back to the RV. Terri and Louie dropped Matt and I and all of our stuff off and we went inside to wait for word on Shawna. The eventual diagnosis was pericarditis, which is essentially an inflammation of the sac around the heart, generally caused by an infection. It was in no way caused by running and the infection was there before she set out to run 100 miles. They were keeping her overnight for observation and gave her some antibiotics and started her on a course of steroids. The good news was that there was no permanent damage and she should be back to running in no time at all.
Sadly, I had no way to get to any of the remaining aid stations. However, that became a moot point when Rob called me from the mile 51 aid station to ask where I was. He missed the 10:00 cut-off for that aid station by 15 minutes and his race was now over as well. Ryan was there and agreed to bring him back to base camp and our RV, for which I am extremely grateful! Poor Ryan came all that way, prepared to run through the night, only to find that everyone he had planned on pacing was out of the race by the halfway point. Shawna's friend Tanya had been planning on coming up in the morning, to pace the last 20 miles of the race for them. I was able to contact her and let her know that there was no one left to pace.
So my first time crewing a big race for hubby and friends went belly-up. The sad part is that Rob was feeling great when he timed out. That was 15 hours into a 32 hour event. As it cooled off (temperatures had reached over 100 that day and something like 60% of the runners ended up either dropping or timing out), he had picked up speed and would have most likely ended up with a negative split, especially with Ryan pacing him through the night. Likewise, Brady had been having a fantastic race up until he dropped to stay with Shawna. In true selfless fashion, she tried to convince him to just leave her and continue on. In typical Brady fashion, he refused. Which is probably a good thing because I know she appreciated having him with her once he got to the hospital.
I've already agreed to crew for all of them again next year. Hopefully I'll have some additional crew experience under my belt by then and have a better idea of what I'm doing!
As we were getting ready to leave home for the race headquarters, Al Bahr Shrine campground in the Mount Laguna National Recreational Area, I was hit by an unexpected case of nerves. I was unaccountably stressed out and the only thing I can think is that I was feeling a huge sense of responsibility, knowing that I was going to be crewing for the first time. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely looking forward to the experience. But the sense of the unknown suddenly seemed overwhelming and I found myself hoping I could live up to the responsibility I had taken on.
In spite of leaving a few hours after we had hoped, we arrived at the campground in plenty of time to get the RV set up before the pre-race briefing. The race director went over a lot of information for the runners and encouraged everyone to practice good race management so that they could hopefully have less than the typical 30% DNF rate for an event of this type. The weather was predicted to be somewhat hotter than normal and the course provides almost no cover for the runners. Naturally, there was a lot of discussion on making sure that each runner had adequate hydration with them and other tips on how to have a successful race.
Following the briefing for the participants, there was a crew briefing. I'd never experienced one of these so I was quite interested, expecting advice on how best to crew our runners, maybe information on the different aid stations and accessibility, that sort of things. Instead, it was more a recounting of what *not* to do. Stay out of the way of aid station volunteers. Don't go to the aid station to get stuff for your runner(s). That's what the volunteers are for. The food and drink at the aid station is for the runners and pacers only. Make sure that you don't go to any of the non-crew accessible aid stations or your runner could be disqualified. While I get that this was all important stuff, it was not what I expected and kind of made me feel like they didn't really want crew there. That's probably not the case but it threw me for a loop.
Shawna and Brady live close enough to the race venue that they went back home to spend the night. We made plans to meet up in the morning before the race start and Rob and I headed back to the RV for the night. Rob got his stuff all prepped for the morning and put together a night drop bag for the next night. I don't think either of us slept particularly well but eventually morning arrived. We headed out to pick up Rob's race bib and he decided that he was going to do the drop bag even though I was planning on going to all of the accessible aid stations. He dropped it off and I met up with Shawna and Brady, with Shawna giving me a "tour" of their suppplies in the back of the car and when they'd likely need what throughout the race.
The race started and I got my first taste of what being crew involves, namely a lot of waiting. I was with my friend Martha, who was crewing for her husband Ed, The Jester. Although the first aid station was crew accessible, it was only 7.4 miles in so it was unlikely that anyone would need anything that wasn't available at the aid station so we had planned that our first stop would be aid station 2, Red Tail Roost, at mile 13.8. Although I was following our runners via the "live" update page, the aid stations had spotty connections so it was difficult to track where anyone was at any point. We made sure we were there in plenty of time and tried to anticipate what our runners might need at this point. It was still early and most likely we'd just need to make sure that we had new hydration bottles ready to go and that they took the time to have something to eat.
When we saw our runners approaching, we ran up to see to their needs. Colby had already filled his parents' replacement bottles with electrolyte fluids and I made sure that Rob's were taken care of (they were, by one of the volunteers who kept telling us we needed to stay behind a certain line.) Shawna was having difficulty with her breathing, which we attributed to the altitude. Colby ran to the car and got her her inhaler, which she used and then gave back to me. The three of them headed out and we packed our stuff up and headed back to base camp to wait some more. Because the next crew accessible aid station was not until mile 44.1 and we knew we had some time to kill until then.
We went back and hung out, with napping and reading on the agenda for the adults while the boys hung out in the air-conditioned RV playing computer and iPad games. There was a nice breeze and as long as we stayed in the shade, we found we were quite comfortable out in the great outdoors. The view from where we were was really quite lovely:
We kept up with the online tracking, trying to figure out when we needed to head to Pioneer Mail, the next crew accessible aid station. At this point, it appeared that The Jester was running about an hour ahead of Rob, Shawna, and Brady, who had planned to all stick together through the race. So we projected based on Ed's pace and packed up our stuff and headed out. As we were driving to the location, I received a few text notifications which I couldn't do anything about since I was driving. We had made the decision to go ahead and take two vehicles to this station, in case Martha needed to leave to head to the next one before my runner's came through. So we had our car with myself and the two boys and Martha's, with Martha and our friends Terri and Louie. Once I got out of the car, I took a look at the messages I'd received while driving.
At first, they made no sense, because I was reading them in reverse order. However, it soon became apparent that things were no longer going as planned. Shawna had had to drop from the race and seek medical attention at the mile 36 aid station, due to chest pains. Brady dropped at the same time in order to stay with her. By the time they stopped, Rob was about 10 minutes ahead of them and didn't know there were any issues. We broke the news to Colby that his mom was being evaluated by the paramedics and that it looked like her race was over. He held it together really well and commented that she was going to be pissed about not finishing. :)
As we waited for Brady to update us on Shawna and what was going on, we waited for Ed to come through and cheered on runners as they hit the aid station. Before long, I got a call from Brady, wanting to know where we were set up. Shawna was going to be on her way to the hospital via ambulance and Brady asked if I could come and pick him up at the aid station they took Shawna from. He would drop me back at the Pioneer Mail aid station and head to the hospital with Colby. I told him I was sure it wouldn't be a problem and gathered up the boys and headed to the car.
And that's when things got interesting. You see, the crew directions only directed you from crew accessible aid station to crew accessible aid station. Problem was, the aid station Brady was at was *not* crew accessible. Meaning I had no directions to it. "How hard can it be?" I thought to myself as we headed down the Sunrise Highway. I remembered seeing what looked like an aid station off in the distance that we had passed coming in. We got there and quickly realized that that was Penny Pines and not Pine Creek, which was the one we needed. The volunteer crew from Penny Pines was packing up and we asked them if they knew where the Pine Creek aid station was but they had no clue. It appears that volunteers knew where their own aid stations were and that was it. They didn't have a course map or anything.
I have to admit, this was a little frustrating. I was anxious about my friend and knew her husband was waiting for me. Between the aid station that we had left and the aid station we were currently at were 3 - 5 miles, maximum. Somewhere in between there had to be a way to get to the aid station Brady was at. I thought back to how the runners were approaching the mile 44 aid station and recalled that there was a road that went off in that direction between the two aid stations right on Sunrise Highway. So we took a chance and turned off, hoping for the best.
That turn began an hour of adventures in driving. Although there were no signs, at one point a car passed us going the opposite direction with what looked like volunteer aid station crew in it. The road was a single lane rutted track, full of twists and turns. There was one section where you prayed you didn't encounter a vehicle coming the opposite direction because one of you would have had to back up. There literally was a cliff on one side and a rock wall on the other, leaving you no where to pull over and the road was much too narrow to accommodate more than a single car. After what seemed like forever, Brady called, wondering where we were. Just as we were about to tell him that we had no idea, we saw a truck off to the side, packing up chairs and such. I pulled over and asked them if they knew where the aid station was.
Luckily, we were only two miles away from it at that point and were able to finish and pick up Brady. Poor guy. It was obvious he was worried about his wife and then he had to contend with my driving back up that rutted dirt road. If he'd had hair, I'm sure it would have turned white! At one point, he asked if we were almost there and I had to tell him that I had no idea. Although I think that road was only about 8 miles long, it seemed to take forever to drive it. By the time we got out and back to the Pioneer Mail aid station, where he dropped off Matt and I, we had been driving for over an hour. To cover about 22 miles, total. That should give you an idea of what that road was like.
Matt and I made it back to our chairs and found out that Rob had not been through yet. I had been afraid that we would have missed him while we were out driving. The other issue was how we were going to get five of us plus all of our stuff into Martha's car. Fortunately, Martha had driven Louie back to the campground to pick up his truck. She went on to the next aid station to be ready for when Ed came through and Louie came back to wait for Rob and then take us back to the RV. The cut-off time for that aid station was 8:00 pm, which was getting close so I was a little nervous.
However, when we finally saw Rob approaching, he looked great. It had cooled off considerably by that point and I was worried that he'd be getting cold. It was also starting to get dark. Luckily, I had the long-sleeved tech shirt that he'd started the day out in with me so I was able to give that to him. Unluckily, his headlamp was in his night-time drop bag which was at an aid station 20 miles away. Oops. Bad planning on our part. Next year, we'll know better. I also had to break the news to him that Shawna and Brady were out of the race due to Shawna's medical condition. Our friend Ryan, who had been planning on pacing Shawna and Brady throughout the night, was there and told Rob that he'd be at the next aid station (mile 51), ready to go, since that was the point at which runners could pick up pacers. Our friend Louie happened to have a headlamp in his truck and graciously loaned it to Rob so that he wasn't running in the dark.
After seeing Rob on his way out of the aid station, we headed back to the RV. Terri and Louie dropped Matt and I and all of our stuff off and we went inside to wait for word on Shawna. The eventual diagnosis was pericarditis, which is essentially an inflammation of the sac around the heart, generally caused by an infection. It was in no way caused by running and the infection was there before she set out to run 100 miles. They were keeping her overnight for observation and gave her some antibiotics and started her on a course of steroids. The good news was that there was no permanent damage and she should be back to running in no time at all.
Sadly, I had no way to get to any of the remaining aid stations. However, that became a moot point when Rob called me from the mile 51 aid station to ask where I was. He missed the 10:00 cut-off for that aid station by 15 minutes and his race was now over as well. Ryan was there and agreed to bring him back to base camp and our RV, for which I am extremely grateful! Poor Ryan came all that way, prepared to run through the night, only to find that everyone he had planned on pacing was out of the race by the halfway point. Shawna's friend Tanya had been planning on coming up in the morning, to pace the last 20 miles of the race for them. I was able to contact her and let her know that there was no one left to pace.
So my first time crewing a big race for hubby and friends went belly-up. The sad part is that Rob was feeling great when he timed out. That was 15 hours into a 32 hour event. As it cooled off (temperatures had reached over 100 that day and something like 60% of the runners ended up either dropping or timing out), he had picked up speed and would have most likely ended up with a negative split, especially with Ryan pacing him through the night. Likewise, Brady had been having a fantastic race up until he dropped to stay with Shawna. In true selfless fashion, she tried to convince him to just leave her and continue on. In typical Brady fashion, he refused. Which is probably a good thing because I know she appreciated having him with her once he got to the hospital.
I've already agreed to crew for all of them again next year. Hopefully I'll have some additional crew experience under my belt by then and have a better idea of what I'm doing!
Saturday, June 1, 2013
What a Difference a Year Makes!
A year ago, I was registered for the 57th Annual Fontana Days Run 5k RaceWalk. It was a horrible experience. It was my first race after I started having massive breathing issues the weekend we got back from a vacation in March. Suffice it to say, it was *not* a good race. I had serious breathing and pain issues. I know I stopped at least once to sit during the race. I'd never been so glad to see anything as I was the finish line at that race. I was at a solid 8 on the pain scale by that time and just wanted it to be over. This race has loomed as so bad in my memory that I was a little surprised when I looked up my race results this morning before the race to see what my time had actually been. Because they weren't as bad as I was expecting them to be, based on my memories. Not good but not as bad as things got by the end of last year. Last year, I finished the race 45th out of 48 (the RaceWalk is a separate "event" from the 5k run and the 5k fitness walk, evidently) with a time of 1:09:02 and an average pace of 22:16 per minute.
Fast forward to today, one year later and 70 pounds lighter. What a difference a year makes! If you're unfamiliar with this race, it's known to be *fast* because it's all downhill. Many PRs are set on this course (my husband will typically call them "asterisk PRs" due to the downhill nature of the course. Today, though, he said the asterisk would be the other way because of the heat.) Essentially, the race buses you from the start/finish line up Sierra Ave. in Fontana. The half marathoners get bused up 13.1 miles and the 5k (all events) get bused up the 3.1 miles. Once the race begins, you run or walk downhill to the finish line. My goal for this race seemed reasonable: I wanted to maintain under a 20 minute mile for the whole thing. I thought that seemed realistic and achievable and I'm all about setting goals I can make! I was also hoping to break one hour for this one, something I've never done on a 5k (I told you, I'm slow!)
This race represented a number of firsts for me. The first one came when I realized, as we were approaching the race, that not only had I not thought to take any pain medication before we left home, I also had thought to bring any along with me. I've never done a race without pain medication (I have lumbar arthritis, which was the reason for the big pain issues last year). Given the fact that my knees have been driving me nuts lately (as in hurting all the time) and I could feel my back this morning, I was a little nervous about this. So I decided the best thing I could do, right before the start, was to take an Island Boost. I downed it right before the start horn went off and got started.
Island Boost did what it does and in less than 5 minutes, I could actually feel it working. Believe it or not, even my knees felt better as I started out! Maybe this was all mental on my part because I'm sure that that is arthritis related as well but whatever it was, I'll take it! I felt great at the start, really strong, and set off at a good pace. I'm used to being passed at the start. Since I'm a walker, all of the runners zip by me at some point, typically early on. Then the walkers usually over take me. And here's where a second first occurred for me. *I* was passing people at this race. Fairly consistently for the first half to three quarters of a mile and then periodically, even up through mile 2. Wow. Unbelievable.
Early in the race, I heard someone from the side of the road call my name and realized that two friends from our running club, Irene and Fernando De La Merced were there with their daughters, cheering on the runners. Both of them ran out and gave me a hug and told me I looked great. This was a great thing to have happen, especially early, because it really powered me on and made me feel really strong. It was so good to see them and get that encouragement from people who know me. I know I passed a couple of walkers right after that.
I couldn't help contrasting this race to the last one I'd done, the Ride the Wind 10k trail race outside of Vegas. Talk about two totally different experiences. While that one was held on very technical, rugged, trail terrain, this one was all paved. That one had elevation gain and loss while this one was all downhill. Ride the Wind was a real challenge because it presented me with a completely different race than any I'd ever done. Finishing it brought a huge sense of accomplishment just for prevailing. This race was technically *much* easier so I wanted to challenge myself in a different way. When I realized, early on, that I *was* passing people I made it a goal. I would pick someone out ahead of me that it seemed like I could "catch". And I'd push myself to go just a little bit faster until I'd caught up with them and passed them. Then I'd pick someone else out to aim for.
The times I glanced at my Garmin, I was happy because it seemed like I was definitely maintaining that sub-20 minute pace I'd set for myself. That's really all I looked at. As the finish line approached, I had no idea how long I'd been out there and only a rough idea of how far I'd come. And I was good with that. As I approached the finish line, the clock was showing the half marathon time so I still didn't really know what my time was going to end up being. For a change, I actually remembered to stop my Garmin once I crossed the finish line. Once I took the time to check it, it gave me a finish time of just over 55 minutes.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic! Another first - I'd broken the one hour mark for a race! My official finish time was 55:38, with an average pace of 17:57 per mile. Definitely sub-20 and over 4 minutes faster per mile than last year. This year, I came in 38th out of 51 race walkers and was 3rd out of 7 in my age group. I will definitely take that! But the best part? I still felt good - and strong - at the end. Yes, I pushed myself but none of the issues I had last year were there. In spite of the heat of this year, I felt good. I also felt a huge sense of accomplishment because I finished before the first of the half marathoners came in. Again, another first for me!
I found a spot near the finish line and proceeded to wait for my hubby to finish, cheering him and other friends in. We got to see a number of people from our old running group that we hadn't seen in months and had a great time catching up with them, post-race. Thanks, Fontana, for a great race event!
Fast forward to today, one year later and 70 pounds lighter. What a difference a year makes! If you're unfamiliar with this race, it's known to be *fast* because it's all downhill. Many PRs are set on this course (my husband will typically call them "asterisk PRs" due to the downhill nature of the course. Today, though, he said the asterisk would be the other way because of the heat.) Essentially, the race buses you from the start/finish line up Sierra Ave. in Fontana. The half marathoners get bused up 13.1 miles and the 5k (all events) get bused up the 3.1 miles. Once the race begins, you run or walk downhill to the finish line. My goal for this race seemed reasonable: I wanted to maintain under a 20 minute mile for the whole thing. I thought that seemed realistic and achievable and I'm all about setting goals I can make! I was also hoping to break one hour for this one, something I've never done on a 5k (I told you, I'm slow!)
This race represented a number of firsts for me. The first one came when I realized, as we were approaching the race, that not only had I not thought to take any pain medication before we left home, I also had thought to bring any along with me. I've never done a race without pain medication (I have lumbar arthritis, which was the reason for the big pain issues last year). Given the fact that my knees have been driving me nuts lately (as in hurting all the time) and I could feel my back this morning, I was a little nervous about this. So I decided the best thing I could do, right before the start, was to take an Island Boost. I downed it right before the start horn went off and got started.
Island Boost did what it does and in less than 5 minutes, I could actually feel it working. Believe it or not, even my knees felt better as I started out! Maybe this was all mental on my part because I'm sure that that is arthritis related as well but whatever it was, I'll take it! I felt great at the start, really strong, and set off at a good pace. I'm used to being passed at the start. Since I'm a walker, all of the runners zip by me at some point, typically early on. Then the walkers usually over take me. And here's where a second first occurred for me. *I* was passing people at this race. Fairly consistently for the first half to three quarters of a mile and then periodically, even up through mile 2. Wow. Unbelievable.
Early in the race, I heard someone from the side of the road call my name and realized that two friends from our running club, Irene and Fernando De La Merced were there with their daughters, cheering on the runners. Both of them ran out and gave me a hug and told me I looked great. This was a great thing to have happen, especially early, because it really powered me on and made me feel really strong. It was so good to see them and get that encouragement from people who know me. I know I passed a couple of walkers right after that.
I couldn't help contrasting this race to the last one I'd done, the Ride the Wind 10k trail race outside of Vegas. Talk about two totally different experiences. While that one was held on very technical, rugged, trail terrain, this one was all paved. That one had elevation gain and loss while this one was all downhill. Ride the Wind was a real challenge because it presented me with a completely different race than any I'd ever done. Finishing it brought a huge sense of accomplishment just for prevailing. This race was technically *much* easier so I wanted to challenge myself in a different way. When I realized, early on, that I *was* passing people I made it a goal. I would pick someone out ahead of me that it seemed like I could "catch". And I'd push myself to go just a little bit faster until I'd caught up with them and passed them. Then I'd pick someone else out to aim for.
The times I glanced at my Garmin, I was happy because it seemed like I was definitely maintaining that sub-20 minute pace I'd set for myself. That's really all I looked at. As the finish line approached, I had no idea how long I'd been out there and only a rough idea of how far I'd come. And I was good with that. As I approached the finish line, the clock was showing the half marathon time so I still didn't really know what my time was going to end up being. For a change, I actually remembered to stop my Garmin once I crossed the finish line. Once I took the time to check it, it gave me a finish time of just over 55 minutes.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic! Another first - I'd broken the one hour mark for a race! My official finish time was 55:38, with an average pace of 17:57 per mile. Definitely sub-20 and over 4 minutes faster per mile than last year. This year, I came in 38th out of 51 race walkers and was 3rd out of 7 in my age group. I will definitely take that! But the best part? I still felt good - and strong - at the end. Yes, I pushed myself but none of the issues I had last year were there. In spite of the heat of this year, I felt good. I also felt a huge sense of accomplishment because I finished before the first of the half marathoners came in. Again, another first for me!
I found a spot near the finish line and proceeded to wait for my hubby to finish, cheering him and other friends in. We got to see a number of people from our old running group that we hadn't seen in months and had a great time catching up with them, post-race. Thanks, Fontana, for a great race event!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Ride the Wind 10k Race Report
A month or so ago, I got a Facebook message from my friend, Shawna. Since we were all going to be in Vegas anyway, for the wedding of some good friends, they were thinking of doing this race called Ride the Wind, if we were interested. I pondered it and realized that I didn't have anything on my race schedule for the entire month of May. After doing 3 races in 10 days in April, that just felt wrong somehow. So I discussed the idea with my husband, along with what distance he might be interested in doing, and we decided we might as well go for it. I was happy settling for the 10k distance and although he debated doing the 50k or 100k, he decided that he would be prudent and just run the half marathon with our son that day since he has a big 100 mile race coming up in a couple of weeks. I went online and got us all registered and proceeded to not give the race a whole lot of thought between then and race morning.
When I did think of it, my primary thought was about the weather. I mean, we're talking Vegas in May. I was anticipating (and not in a good way) it being hot. But other than that, I was confident. I mean, it was a 10k. I've been doing pretty good and I had totally killed it a Big Sur, doing a 9-miler, at the end of April. This should be a piece of cake. So other than being a little concerned about it being hot, since I don't do well in the heat, I figured it would be fine. After all, it was pretty close to where I did the back to back 10ks at Labor of Love the month before and I set a new 10k PR at one of those.
We got to the race start at about 6:30 Saturday morning, to pick up our race bibs and goodies and I still felt awesome. Our friend Shawna, who was running the 100k) and her son Colby (who's 12 and had signed up to run his first 100 mile race that weekend) had headed out on their race at 6 that morning, so we missed seeing them but her husband Brady and 6-year-old daughter, Mimi, were also signed up for the 10k and we got to see them before the race started. I had a great moment because Brady, whom I hadn't seen since BLU in March, didn't even recognize me at first! I loved that. :)
A few minutes before the start, the race director gathered all of the half marathon and 10k runners together to go over instructions for the race. At one point, she said, "It's harder than you think." And this is where the Universe really started laughing at me because I still didn't get it. 7:00 am came and with it the official race start. We all headed off down the road to where the trail actually began. It didn't take long to realize that this was a lot more technical of a trail than I'd been on before. Before Saturday, "technical" was a term I'd heard but I didn't really have a grasp of what it meant. So let me tell you what a "technical trail" or "technical terrain" means. It means that it's loose, uneven, and rocky as all get out. It means that you have to keep your eyes on the trail and your feet so that you can stay on those feet. It means that it's a real challenge. In many cases, it means that you're better off maintaining a fast walking pace because there are times when it's just not safe to run.
It wasn't long before the trail started to climb. The 10k loop has a 660 foot elevation gain, mostly during the first two miles. At just before the two mile mark, you top out at just shy of 5000 feet. To be honest, I thought those first two miles were going to kill me. As I was mentally composing this race report during that part of the race, I was considering the factors that were contributing to what even then I realized was going to be a less than stellar finish time. It was at this point that I realized that while I'd considered the heat factor, I hadn't given a single thought to the elevation or the difficulty of the trail. There was a lot of climbing involved in that first 2 miles of trail. None of it exceptionally steep, really, just a fairly steady journey up. The elevation was making me queasy and I was hoping it wasn't going to be a repeat of last year's ET 10k, where I ended up puking my guts out a little over 5 miles in. I was drinking sparingly of my water, not really to ration it but because more than a sip at a time increased the queasiness factor 10 fold. I was also definitely aware of my breathing during this stretch.
When I finally made it to the top and it was obvious it was as high as I was going to have to go, I was happy to see this trail marker.
Those little specks of white that you see about two thirds of the way up from the bottom on the left is the start/finish line area. From this angle, it doesn't look like there was that much climbing involved to get where I was but the trail we came up was off to the left and you can't see it here. Believe me, there was climbing involved! I definitely was not setting any speed records at that point, averaging 30-40 minute miles, which is extremely slow even for me.
From this point, the trail headed downhill. Which I typically love. I've been known to say that I wish everything was downhill. After Saturday, I might have to revise my opinion on this. There were portions of downhill here that were extremely steep. Combined with the loose dirt and rocks, you really had to watch how you were stepping on those sections. That being said, I *loved* miles 3 and 4 of this race. As hot as I'd gotten during that first two mile climb, there was a nice breeze going at this point and it wasn't too terribly hot. At this point of the race, my mental race report was focusing on what I really liked about this race. I loved being out there on the trail. I was enjoying the challenge that the technical terrain represented. My pace picked up even though any time I tried to kick it into high gear, I'd end up tripping on a rock. I tripped probably at least 7 or 8 times during the race and feel extremely lucky that I managed not to fall any of those times.
I think it was sometime during miles 3-5 that I realized that I'm happy doing my own race. I don't feel the need to "run" anyone else's race. Yes, I *love* getting PRs - who doesn't? But I'm not trying to impress anyone else with my race time or performance. I realized that I didn't care what anyone else thought about me or how slow or fast I went. I was out there to run *my* race, in my own way, however that meant I got it done. And that realization made me happy. I was pretty much out there by myself at this point. The other 10k walkers were finally far enough ahead of me that I couldn't see them in the distance. Somewhere between mile 3.5 and mile 4, the first half marathoner passed by me. I was pretty happy that I'd made it as far as I had before that happened. I was enjoying being out there by myself, just taking in the rugged desert glory.
Between miles 4 and 5 I was passed by some cyclists. I totally blame them for the turn I missed around that point. I did kind of wonder if I should really be stepping over that fallen branch, thinking it might have been put across the trail to keep us from going that way but, to be honest, it didn't look like the trail went anywhere but straight ahead. Probably because I wasn't paying attention to the trail markings but rather to the trail itself. And the cyclists had gone straight so I did, too. I followed the trail, starting to get worried that I wasn't seeing any of the polka-dotted pink ribbons that marked the trail. I decided that when I got to the top of the hill I could see ahead of me, if I still couldn't see any, I would turn around. It hadn't really seemed like I'd come that far but when I got to the top and turned around because there were still no trail markers in sight, it took me a lot longer to get back to that fallen branch than I thought it would.
Once I got back down and crossed back over the branch, I could see that the trail did, indeed, branch off to the left and if I'd paid attention, I wouldn't have missed the turn because it really was plainly marked. Still, a little extra bonus mileage never hurt anyone. I was just glad to be back on the marked trail, heading in the direction I needed to go. At this point, I kept expecting that I'd hit the aid station that I knew was out there. It seemed reasonable that it would be somewhere around the halfway point or around mile 4 (which was now about mile 5 with the bonus mileage). As I continued following the marked trail, which occasionally seemed to be taking me the opposite direction of where I thought I needed to be going, I began to wonder if I'd somehow missed the aid station. I decided that it was good that I'd been somewhat sparing with my water, in case I had missed it and needed to make it to the end with what I had in my water bottle.
Physically, I had been feeling pretty good up through at least mile 5. My legs felt strong and I was a little surprised that the difficult terrain wasn't bothering my back and knees (both of which had been bothering me the couple of weeks before the race, most likely due to a flare-up of my arthritis). Somewhere between mile 5 and 6, I could feel my legs starting to get a little tired. Normally, I would've had at least one Island Boost in by then but I'd been reluctant to take anything due to the queasiness from the altitude. Island Boost doesn't generally bother my stomach - that's one of the reasons I use it as fuel since I can take it with no stomach or intestinal issues - but I figured that if even water was making me queasy, I'd be better off waiting to take anything until I really needed it. Since I hadn't hit the aid station yet, I decided it was time to go ahead and down one and hope for the best.
For about 10 seconds after I downed it, I wondered if it was a mistake as the queasiness kicked up. But one of the wonderful things about Island Boost is that it gets absorbed into your system and goes to work so fast. This meant that almost before I even had time to realize it had made me slightly queasy, that queasiness had gone away. In less than 5 minutes, my legs were feeling much better and I knew I'd made the right decision. The trail continued and so did I. Eventually, I made it to the aid station where I refilled my bottle with fresh, cold water. I also took the time to re-wet my cooling cloth and put it back on my head, under my hat. It's probably a good thing that I can't actually see myself when I'm out there during a race! By this time, I was ready for the race to be done. I was hot and it felt like I'd been out there on the rocky trails forever.
The remainder of the course was pretty much flat and slightly easier to traverse. When I finally came around to where I could see the finish line, I was happy. During the last couple of miles, I struggled with trying to keep my mental race report positive. This is the point where I realized that one of the things I really liked about this race was the real sense of accomplishment I was going to have for having finished it. It is definitely the toughest 10k course I have encountered and stepping up to that challenge and finishing brings a sense of accomplishment that finishing a flat, easy, and fast 10k course just doesn't have.
I'm pretty sure this race is officially my slowest 10k time ever. I don't know what my official finishing time was but my Garmin tells me it took me something like 3:35 to finish. And you know what? I will gladly take that. Because I finished. I went out there and challenged myself with a course that was tougher than anything I've encountered before. And I conquered it. In spite of the heat. In spite of the elevation. In spite of the technical terrain. The very things that made this race so challenging are the things that I appreciate the most about it. Would I do this race again, now that I know what it's like and what's involved? That's an unequivacable yes. I definitely would. But next time I'd have a better idea of what I was getting into and be better prepared for it.
This was actually one of the wider, more level and easier sections of trail. Somehow, on the narrower, more difficult sections, I must have been too focused on staying on my feet to bother taking a picture. :)
When I did think of it, my primary thought was about the weather. I mean, we're talking Vegas in May. I was anticipating (and not in a good way) it being hot. But other than that, I was confident. I mean, it was a 10k. I've been doing pretty good and I had totally killed it a Big Sur, doing a 9-miler, at the end of April. This should be a piece of cake. So other than being a little concerned about it being hot, since I don't do well in the heat, I figured it would be fine. After all, it was pretty close to where I did the back to back 10ks at Labor of Love the month before and I set a new 10k PR at one of those.
We got to the race start at about 6:30 Saturday morning, to pick up our race bibs and goodies and I still felt awesome. Our friend Shawna, who was running the 100k) and her son Colby (who's 12 and had signed up to run his first 100 mile race that weekend) had headed out on their race at 6 that morning, so we missed seeing them but her husband Brady and 6-year-old daughter, Mimi, were also signed up for the 10k and we got to see them before the race started. I had a great moment because Brady, whom I hadn't seen since BLU in March, didn't even recognize me at first! I loved that. :)
A few minutes before the start, the race director gathered all of the half marathon and 10k runners together to go over instructions for the race. At one point, she said, "It's harder than you think." And this is where the Universe really started laughing at me because I still didn't get it. 7:00 am came and with it the official race start. We all headed off down the road to where the trail actually began. It didn't take long to realize that this was a lot more technical of a trail than I'd been on before. Before Saturday, "technical" was a term I'd heard but I didn't really have a grasp of what it meant. So let me tell you what a "technical trail" or "technical terrain" means. It means that it's loose, uneven, and rocky as all get out. It means that you have to keep your eyes on the trail and your feet so that you can stay on those feet. It means that it's a real challenge. In many cases, it means that you're better off maintaining a fast walking pace because there are times when it's just not safe to run.
It wasn't long before the trail started to climb. The 10k loop has a 660 foot elevation gain, mostly during the first two miles. At just before the two mile mark, you top out at just shy of 5000 feet. To be honest, I thought those first two miles were going to kill me. As I was mentally composing this race report during that part of the race, I was considering the factors that were contributing to what even then I realized was going to be a less than stellar finish time. It was at this point that I realized that while I'd considered the heat factor, I hadn't given a single thought to the elevation or the difficulty of the trail. There was a lot of climbing involved in that first 2 miles of trail. None of it exceptionally steep, really, just a fairly steady journey up. The elevation was making me queasy and I was hoping it wasn't going to be a repeat of last year's ET 10k, where I ended up puking my guts out a little over 5 miles in. I was drinking sparingly of my water, not really to ration it but because more than a sip at a time increased the queasiness factor 10 fold. I was also definitely aware of my breathing during this stretch.
When I finally made it to the top and it was obvious it was as high as I was going to have to go, I was happy to see this trail marker.
I will admit that it cracked me up that it was called Dead Horse Loop. I kind of felt like a dead horse at that point. As you can see, it was at just shy of 5000 feet elevation. I stopped and looked back towards the start, just to see if I could get an idea of how far I'd come.
From this point, the trail headed downhill. Which I typically love. I've been known to say that I wish everything was downhill. After Saturday, I might have to revise my opinion on this. There were portions of downhill here that were extremely steep. Combined with the loose dirt and rocks, you really had to watch how you were stepping on those sections. That being said, I *loved* miles 3 and 4 of this race. As hot as I'd gotten during that first two mile climb, there was a nice breeze going at this point and it wasn't too terribly hot. At this point of the race, my mental race report was focusing on what I really liked about this race. I loved being out there on the trail. I was enjoying the challenge that the technical terrain represented. My pace picked up even though any time I tried to kick it into high gear, I'd end up tripping on a rock. I tripped probably at least 7 or 8 times during the race and feel extremely lucky that I managed not to fall any of those times.
I think it was sometime during miles 3-5 that I realized that I'm happy doing my own race. I don't feel the need to "run" anyone else's race. Yes, I *love* getting PRs - who doesn't? But I'm not trying to impress anyone else with my race time or performance. I realized that I didn't care what anyone else thought about me or how slow or fast I went. I was out there to run *my* race, in my own way, however that meant I got it done. And that realization made me happy. I was pretty much out there by myself at this point. The other 10k walkers were finally far enough ahead of me that I couldn't see them in the distance. Somewhere between mile 3.5 and mile 4, the first half marathoner passed by me. I was pretty happy that I'd made it as far as I had before that happened. I was enjoying being out there by myself, just taking in the rugged desert glory.
Once I got back down and crossed back over the branch, I could see that the trail did, indeed, branch off to the left and if I'd paid attention, I wouldn't have missed the turn because it really was plainly marked. Still, a little extra bonus mileage never hurt anyone. I was just glad to be back on the marked trail, heading in the direction I needed to go. At this point, I kept expecting that I'd hit the aid station that I knew was out there. It seemed reasonable that it would be somewhere around the halfway point or around mile 4 (which was now about mile 5 with the bonus mileage). As I continued following the marked trail, which occasionally seemed to be taking me the opposite direction of where I thought I needed to be going, I began to wonder if I'd somehow missed the aid station. I decided that it was good that I'd been somewhat sparing with my water, in case I had missed it and needed to make it to the end with what I had in my water bottle.
Physically, I had been feeling pretty good up through at least mile 5. My legs felt strong and I was a little surprised that the difficult terrain wasn't bothering my back and knees (both of which had been bothering me the couple of weeks before the race, most likely due to a flare-up of my arthritis). Somewhere between mile 5 and 6, I could feel my legs starting to get a little tired. Normally, I would've had at least one Island Boost in by then but I'd been reluctant to take anything due to the queasiness from the altitude. Island Boost doesn't generally bother my stomach - that's one of the reasons I use it as fuel since I can take it with no stomach or intestinal issues - but I figured that if even water was making me queasy, I'd be better off waiting to take anything until I really needed it. Since I hadn't hit the aid station yet, I decided it was time to go ahead and down one and hope for the best.
For about 10 seconds after I downed it, I wondered if it was a mistake as the queasiness kicked up. But one of the wonderful things about Island Boost is that it gets absorbed into your system and goes to work so fast. This meant that almost before I even had time to realize it had made me slightly queasy, that queasiness had gone away. In less than 5 minutes, my legs were feeling much better and I knew I'd made the right decision. The trail continued and so did I. Eventually, I made it to the aid station where I refilled my bottle with fresh, cold water. I also took the time to re-wet my cooling cloth and put it back on my head, under my hat. It's probably a good thing that I can't actually see myself when I'm out there during a race! By this time, I was ready for the race to be done. I was hot and it felt like I'd been out there on the rocky trails forever.
The remainder of the course was pretty much flat and slightly easier to traverse. When I finally came around to where I could see the finish line, I was happy. During the last couple of miles, I struggled with trying to keep my mental race report positive. This is the point where I realized that one of the things I really liked about this race was the real sense of accomplishment I was going to have for having finished it. It is definitely the toughest 10k course I have encountered and stepping up to that challenge and finishing brings a sense of accomplishment that finishing a flat, easy, and fast 10k course just doesn't have.
I'm pretty sure this race is officially my slowest 10k time ever. I don't know what my official finishing time was but my Garmin tells me it took me something like 3:35 to finish. And you know what? I will gladly take that. Because I finished. I went out there and challenged myself with a course that was tougher than anything I've encountered before. And I conquered it. In spite of the heat. In spite of the elevation. In spite of the technical terrain. The very things that made this race so challenging are the things that I appreciate the most about it. Would I do this race again, now that I know what it's like and what's involved? That's an unequivacable yes. I definitely would. But next time I'd have a better idea of what I was getting into and be better prepared for it.
This was actually one of the wider, more level and easier sections of trail. Somehow, on the narrower, more difficult sections, I must have been too focused on staying on my feet to bother taking a picture. :)
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