The Long Awaited Ultra Recap

Well, here goes nothing. I have spent the last week trying to figure out how to talk about my first ultra marathon experience. I've felt overly conflicted about the entire thing. I didn't have the experience I was hoping to have, but I learned so much more than I could have ever imagined.

It's been so difficult to process because crossing that finish line was the single greatest thing I have ever accomplished while simultaneously being a crushing, embarrassing failure. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

I felt ready and excited as we packed the car and headed out on our epic trek to Montana. The day was beautiful and cool. A storm had rolled through, bringing with it the promise of cooler temperatures for race day. The drive went smoothly and we had entered Big Sky Country without incident. The western Montana landscape is gorgeous. I knew I had chosen the perfect place to tackle my first ultra.

Pretty darn gorgeous. 

We arrived in Montana on Thursday; I knew I would need all day Friday to recover from the long drive. This was a lesson I learned from the Rock n' Roll Denver back in 2012. Getting in a day early allowed us to rest, relax, and explore the area. We even found a little dirt track that I could do a little shake out run on to loosen up my legs after the drive. The weather was still pleasantly cool when we arrived, and stayed pretty nice through Friday. But of course, it wouldn't stay that way for race day.

Thanks for being there, little dirt track.

I didn't even get nervous when I picked up my packet on Friday. That's usually where the panic starts to set it. But I was just excited and looking forward to the next day's adventure. We had checked out the surrounding areas for a place that had something besides diner food and I was able to have some pasta as my pre-race meal. As much as I dig a big juicy burger and a shake, it's not the best pre-race meal.

My hotel was right next to where the bus would be picking us up, so I was able to just walk over without having to wake anyone up to drive me. I was ready to go sooner than expected, so I was about 10 minutes early for the bus. I wasn't the only one though, and that gave me a chance to get to chat with some of the other runners. I met a very nice man named Jeff who was running this race as his 199th ultra. Sheesh. Everyone (all 17 of them) were  very kind people. Ultra runners are a different breed. It's not like people are mean to me at other races, but this was a different feel all together. They treated everyone there as if we were all friends and had been for some time. There was no air of competition, just camaraderie. Another thing I noticed is that most of the people there were quite a bit older than I was. That helped me feel optimistic about my future as an ultra runner. My best years are still ahead. I've got time. (Those are some of the things that were said to me at the start. And they're right.)

I have to go how far?!

I finally got butterflies in my stomach when they announced that it was 5 minutes to the start time. The reality of what I was about to attempt finally hit me. I still felt ready, however. Silly me.

When the gun went off and we started on our way, there was a marked difference in the pace at this race versus all the other races I have been in. No one took off like a jack rabbit. Everyone was content to cruise along and enjoy the scenery. Within the first three miles, we came to my favorite places on the course. The Dominion Tressel and the railroad tunnel.

Seriously, this was my favorite. 

And running through a cool tunnel, second favorite.

 The weather was staying nice and cool, the trail was shady because of the time of day. I enjoyed it while it lasted because it didn't stay that way for long. The high for the day was supposed to be 86 degrees. And it delivered.

If it would have been like this the whole day, things might have gone a little better for me.

The trail was pretty smooth for the first 13 miles or so. No huge rocks to dodge or obstacles to deal with. So I cruised along really well for that portion. I was still feeling really good about being out there, enjoying the day. But when mile 14 rolled around, the trail conditions changed. For over 2 miles, the trail was covered with what looked like river rocks. Rocks that big are very difficult to run on. So I spent those two miles picking my way through to find the best sections to run on. These conditions continued to pop up later on as well. It was unfortunate. Also, the sun had gotten high enough and the trees had thinned out enough that the sun was starting to be a factor.

That's still a lot of miles...

With the aid stations being about 5-6 miles apart, I wasn't able to get the relief of dumping cold water on my head at regular, life saving intervals, like I do when I get hot in other races. I was carrying water with me in my Camelbak, but it was starting to get warm from the heat too.

At this point, the struggle really started. 

At each of the aid stations, I lingered too long, just trying to cool down. They didn't have any ice that I could put in my water to cool it down. That made me very sad. But the water they had was cool enough that I could drench myself and have some relief from the heat for the next two miles. But that's about as long as it lasted. After each stop and drench, I felt much better and would proceed down the trail at a good clip. But as the miles wore on and the water evaporated, the heat would creep in and sink me. I kept trying to follow intervals of walking and running to keep moving forward, but eventually, the heat would reduce me to a walk without fail.

By the time I reached mile 22 (Only 11 more miles to go! Hooray?) all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be at the finish line. The heat was taking a toll and I was beginning to hallucinate. My brain decided that it wanted to hallucinate a cow. So it did. That was unsettling.

Here are some actual, non-hallucinated cows. This was at mile 32.5 and I was using every excuse to stop and take pictures. 

I could tell I had stopped sweating and I was going to be in big trouble if I didn't get cooled off. I ended up finding a shady spot and just sitting. And drinking. And trying to get a gel to go down. One thing I learned during this race is that I actually want real food. In all my previous races, I haven't wanted to eat real food. Gels and shot blocks have always been fine and the thought of trying to eat something more substantial always made me nauseous. So now I know how to fuel differently during these types of events. Learning is good.

I kept hoping the aid stations would have something to sate my growing hunger. Sadly, I was spoiled when I went to the Umstead 100 and I had unrealistic expectations of aid station fare during an ultra. There was everything and anything you could possibly want at Umstead. Here, there wasn't much choice. I did enjoy the dried apricots and ate copious amounts of them, but what I really wanted was salty, crunchy things. I would have loved to have some potato chips. Or salted potato chunks. A hard boiled egg with salt. I was taking electrolyte tablets, but the salt craving was intense. Another thing I really wanted was some flat soda, like Coke. I felt an intense need for that sugar and caffeine. These are all things I could have carried with me, if I had known how badly I was going to want them. And now I know. Knowing is half the battle. LEARNING.

I could tell by mile 24 that my seven and a half hour time goal (goal A) wasn't going to happen. So I settled for my B goal (sub 8 hour). When it became apparent that was not happening, the C goal filled my brain (8.5 hours, because there was no way in hell I was going to finish in 9 hours. That was unacceptable.) When I had a total breakdown and cried for all of mile 31, the D goal of just finishing was all that was left.

I knew I was the last 50K person out there, the 50 milers had started passing me some time before.

The breakdown at mile 31 was interesting because it followed a strange surge of speed and awesomeness that happened when I hit mile 30. When my Garmin told me I had gone 30 miles, I was filled with overwhelming excitement. It was a milestone I had never hit before in my life. And it just so happened that that mile of the trail was shaded. I took off running and I ran that mile in about 10.5 minutes. Which is a fast mile for me on any regular day; it was a bonafide miracle after having already logged so many miles on my poor legs. And then the breakdown. It was a dizzying high, followed by the soul crushing low. Ah, running. You do know how to toy with my emotions. LEARNING.

By mile 32, I had stopped crying. Now my effort had devolved into a death march. I just kept trudging along, not even bothering to try running anymore. There was nothing left to give. It seemed that everything I had in me had been sucked out by the heat, distance, and time on my swollen feet that for some reason wouldn't just go numb already! People running the 50 miler had been passing me since about 16 miles in. And they continued to pass me in that last mile. But at least many of them were also death marching at this point. We were all miserable, together. That helps, it really does.

32.5 miles. I hurt most everywhere. LEARNING.

I slowly wound my way down the streets of St. Regis. I was to the point where I could see the turn into the park where I would get to stop moving and end my suffering. And yet, I still couldn't run. The death march continued until I rounded the final corner and initiated Zombie Shuffle Mode. ZSM is not much faster than a walk, but it looks a little more like running.

I AM moving. Just very, very slowly.

When I crossed that finish line, I was thrilled. 33.25 miles and I was still alive. But my Garmin also told me that it took me 9:09:48 to manage that distance. And that hurt. It embarrassed me and shamed me, even though no one else was mocking me or shaming me, just good old me, my own worst enemy. Jeff, the 199th ultra guy, was there at the finish line and gave me a hug. Everyone was happy that I made it. My mom was proud of me and took a ton of pictures (thanks, Mom!).

Something I need to remember here. 

As I sat there and tried to process everything that had happened, one of the race officials brought me over an envelope. The envelope contained a certificate for getting third in my age group. That has never happened to me before. There have always been more than 3 people in my age group. And this time, there wasn't. This added to my excitement and my shame. Please enjoy this dialogue excerpt from my brain: "I placed in my age group! Hooray!"  "But you only placed because there were only 3 people in your age group. Boo."  "But a certificate is cool! Hooray! And look at this sweet railroad spike! It means I didn't quit!" "Yeah, you only didn't quit because they'd never find your body out there until it was too late."  It was a tough, confusing day, to put it mildly.

I somehow managed a real smile!

Even though this experience wasn't the one I wanted. I think it was the one I needed. I've not been deterred from the ultra distance. Instead, I have been filled with the desire to take what I have learned and do better next time. Because there is going to be a next time. I am going back next year and I am going to show this distance that I can conquer it in a way that won't confuse and upset me. I'm still sorting through the emotions and disappointment but I'm already stronger for it. There's been a shift in my thinking, a shift in my plans. But this is good. This is exciting. And I'm ready to continue to push forward and out of this comfort zone. Nothing neat happens there anyway.

And this is pretty neat.

In the end, one quote has kept coming back into my mind. I'll leave you with that.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly." -Theodore Roosevelt

I dared greatly.

Happy running.

Tri time with the fam

Two weeks ago, my brothers and I competed in our first ever triathlon. Now I know you all are very impressed with this information, since you never see me on a bike or in the pool. It turns our that one can triathlon (I just verbed that noun so hard) without owning a bike or being able to swim. The solution is a triathlon team. And that's what we did. My youngest brother loves biking and my other brother is a decent swimmer so I turned our little motley crew of athletes into a functioning tri team!

It was a perfect day down in Vernal for the Dino Tri. The weather had cooled just a little from the previous weekend, which made me nervous for the open water swim, but we made sure my brother had a wetsuit so that the cold wouldn't be as much of an issue. We also had a bit of a scare when my biking brother thought he would have to be out of town for work the weekend of our event. He managed to work out a win/win compromise with his boss though.

We arrived at the hotel for packet pick up and got our body markings. For those who don't know, in a triathlon, they mark your number, age, and in our case, an R for Relay, on our arms and legs. I still have a faint R on my leg and it's been two weeks. When it says "permanent" marker, it's not playing around. There was a man there giving mowhawks to the guys doing the race. I was unaware that the mowhawk thing was a tradition of this race and hadn't prepared my brothers for this. They both had a bit of a fit and refused to let shaver anywhere near their heads. They weren't the only ones who didn't get the hair style, so it wasn't too big of a deal to refuse.

Now if they could have pulled this off...

After packet pick up, we had to drop the bike off at the start. We ended up driving out on a beautiful road we had never been on before, heading out to Red Fleet Resevoir. The road had some very twisty sections so I knew the bike ride was going to be an adventure. The resevoir itself had sheer rock walls on one side, where lots of swallows had made their home. They were swooping over the water, grabbing up mosquitos in the late afternoon sun. It was a very pretty picture. The water looked calm and peaceful. My brothers, however, did not. My swim brother was staring at the water, wondering just what it was he had done by agreeing to do this while my bike brother had a tiny meltdown over the fact that there were so many super expensive bikes there. Where there are super expensive bikes, there are super competitive cyclists.

You all know the type. Competitive cycle-y types. Like this. 

We spent the rest of the drive back into town trying to build up our confidence for the next day. Everyone was a little high strung about it, me included. I was worried about how my brothers would do, even though I knew they would be just fine. It's one thing to race on your own and another completely to rely on the skills of others. Not that we were out there to win, we just wanted to live through it. We had dinner and went to bed, not that anyone slept all that much. My mother was so nervous about the alarm not being set correctly, that she was up at 4 a.m. to make sure. There were no mishaps and my brothers made it to the shuttle with no problems.

The swim start!

Run! Run to transition!

Now go! Go and bike!

His orange jacket leads the way!

For once, I got to stay in bed a little longer, since I couldn't ride up to the start. I had to meet them at transition 2, which was also the finish line. I got there pretty early, since I wanted to avoid the road closure that would happen later in the morning for the run. I was there early enough to see the first place guy come through. It was fun to be at the transition area and cheer for everyone. My bike brother came through sooner than I expected. He and my swim brother had both done better than they anticipated. We swapped the ankle timer and I took off on the run course. In the excitement, I ran my first mile in 9:58. Oops. That was WAY too fast. It was staring to warm up and I don't do well in the heat. I took a walk break to try and get my heart rate down and then started up again, finishing the second mile somewhere around an 11 min/mile pace. Oops. Still a little fast for me when the sun is beating down. That made my last mile really miserable. My heart rate was too high and I couldn't get my breathing to settle into a rhythm. But I finished with a pretty standard 5K time for me and there was much rejoicing!

I'm floating! Whoooooosh!

We hung around for the awards ceremony, which was nice. I usally finish so slow that I miss them... The race had provided a cooler full of Aggie Ice Cream and we made sure to partake while we waited for the awards. The guy who won the Olympic distance congratulated us when he saw us. My mom told me that he had been very kind to my bike brother at the start, helping to calm his nerves and giving him advice. It made me so happy to hear that. Things like that always restore my faith in humanity all the more. For the most part, endurance athletes seem to be kind and helpful. Sure, there's one or two that can make a bad impression, but mostly, we're nice people.

 My brothers were a little bummed that we didn't place in the team division, but it was our first time. My bike brother did have the second fastest bike time in the relay teams though. He took some comfort in that. We are now looking at doing some more of these in the future. Everyone had a really good time and suprised themselves with what they were able to accomplish. It's always nice to get that kind of confidence boost.

Team T-Rex! 

This last weekend, I ran my 43rd half marathon, the Utah Valley half marathon. The previous two years, I had run the full marathon. But with my ultra coming up this weekend, the full marathon just didn't seem prudent. And I have to say, I loved the half. The temperature had dropped significantly thanks to a cold front sweeping in. And I reveled in every cool, perfect moment of the race. I ran very well and felt great throughout. I didn't set a PR, but it was still a very tidy effort. It was fantastic to get to the finish line and there was still stuff there! Like spectators and chocolate milk and booths with food. When I run the marathon, most of that stuff is gone by the time I cross the line. I enjoyed the half so much, I may never run the full marathon at this race again. Time will tell.

After the race, my mom missed me at the finish.

Swag!

 And now it's almost ultra time. Just a few days and I'll be toeing the line at my first 50K. I feel ready. I was able to get in all my long runs during training, and with how good I felt after the Ogden Marathon, I know I can do this. I am still in the excited stage, which will turn to the terror stage once I get my bib on Friday. And that's okay. The terror stage is all part of the experience. You have to take those feelings in stride so you can enjoy the dizzying high of accomplishing a new feat. I am going to enjoy this, no matter what.

Until next time, happy running!