Races, meltdowns, injuries, and freak outs.

I shouldn't wait so long to do my race write-ups. Writing has never been an easy thing for me, and when I let too much time pass from the events to the blogging, it's even worse. Let's just jump in and see if any of this comes across in a coherent fashion.

A month ago, I ran my 68th half marathon, the Top of Utah half. I ran this race last year, and was smitten with its moosey goodness. Everything associated with the race has a moose on it. I can't not run this race. 

Also, they have the most colorful porta-potties, of all time, ever.

One of the perks of living in Utah, is that there's a multitude of races that run down lovely canyons. Top of Utah is one of those. The buses take the runners up the canyon about 7 miles. I had the great fortune of riding up on the bus that was staying to take the drop bags back down. I got to stay on the bus, all warm and cozy until right before the start. I managed to take a nap and everything. WHAT.

Heading to the start line.

It was a perfect morning to be out running. The temperatures stayed down; there was no rain to contend with. I waded through the large group of runners to position myself at the back of the pack, my natural habitat. 

The race started, and the typical dance of leapfrogging began. In every race, there are always those people that pass you, then you pass them, then they pass you, and this continues until one person finally decides that he/she can't take it anymore and they widen the gap. On this day, there was a man, close to my age, who played this game with me. Except this time, there was a difference. He was more concerned with me passing him than anyone I've ever seen. I get it, no one wants to get beat by the chubby girl. But they don't know that this chubby girl does this type of thing nearly every single weekend. Every time he would get in front of me, he would keep nervously looking back over his shoulder. I decided to take advantage of this at around mile 6. I could see the fear in his eyes, so I started hunting him. I began to push the pace, making him have to run faster, all the while, looking over his shoulder. It was so funny to me. Probably because I'm a horrible person. I finally decided to leave him alone around mile 9. Three miles of purposeful torment was enough. It was starting to affect my enjoyment of the course. Finish times aren't why I run races, getting to experience new scenery is. 

A lovely, tree lined section of the race course. 

I'm done hunting, it's selfie time.

I felt good throughout the race, and was able to finish right about the same time as I did last year. I like consistency. 

I love the pictures my mom takes. I guess I should have run faster to get more into the middle of the shot.

Moose! Moose everywhere!

I had a week break after Top of Utah and then it was time for the Little Grand Canyon marathon. I had seen shirts from this race on other runners and it had always intrigued me. I decided that this year was the time to make it happen. The race takes place a mere hour and a half from where I live. I'm sorry that I hadn't been running it sooner. 

Packet pick up alone was worth signing up for this race. 

If you know me at all, you know that I have an affinity for dinosaurs. This race course goes past actual dinosaur tracks, and Native American petroglyphs, How cool is that?! These things are what convinced my mother to participate in their 10K option. She can't say no to dinosaurs and petroglyphs either.  

I know you're all starting to wonder where the meltdown mentioned in the title comes in. Well, here it is. It didn't have anything to do with the race I was about to run. I wasn't worried or nervous. I didn't doubt my abilities. But the night before this race, as I got undressed in the hotel bathroom and stared at my naked body in the mirror, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights, I lost it. What I saw when I saw myself wasn't a hard core ultrarunner. I was just an overweight, pasty white girl. Weird tan lines, stretch marks, love handles, a poochy stomach, multiple chafe mark scars from my sports bra lining my rib cage, arms that jiggle, thighs that wiggle. How could this body that I'm staring at have done any of the things that it had? This body ran 50 miles?! Yeah, sure it did. This body looks more like it sat through 50 weekends of pizza-bender-Netflix-marathoning. I broke down. And I have to say, I've been in a funk about it ever since. These past few weeks have been full of self loathing. I'm a smart girl, I know that this attitude isn't going to help anything. That doesn't make it any easier to just snap out of it. My boyfriend has been putting up with my body image issues like a champ though. I just hate that it's something that he even needs to deal with. I should be able to be comfortable in my own skin. I should be proud of my body, no matter what it looks like. I have a feeling that this will be a long road...

Now that I've had my meltdown, it was time to get some sleep and run a marathon. My mom and I got up and dressed and headed out to the town of Huntington to catch the buses that would take us to our race starts. The marathon had only one bus load of people in it. Oh great. I'm going to be last. That's the thought that crosses my mind at every small event. Somebody has to be last, so I've made my peace with it. I hung out in the back again, chatting with some other runners. It was really going to be a nice race, so it was tough to be too down about it. I was dressed in a crazy colorful outfit and the older gentleman I was talking to cracked a joke about me needing to wear something a little more visible. I told him I was dressed that way so that they could find my body in the desert. At least this got a chuckle from the people around me. 

Running through the San Rafael Swell is beautiful.

At mile 2, a small jack rabbit ran right in front of me. It scared me, I scared it. It was a fun little adrenaline boost. The sunrise was so lovely as we headed into the San Rafael Swell area. There were a few hills in the first 9 miles that I was content to just hike up. For the most part though, it was a fairly flat course. 

Running off into the desert.

I spent at least 20 minutes taking pictures. I threw my finish time out the window and just focused on enjoying being out there. I felt decent for the first half of the race, but then fatigue started to set in and I walked a lot more of the second half. 

This race tells you how far you have left to go, which was kind of depressing when the sign said 25 more miles.

But as the race went on, the scenery got better and better, so I didn't mind that I was going slower. People continued to pass me and I continued to take pictures. And all was right with the world for that bit of time. 

Such a pretty place to run.

Covered in salt and sweat, but enjoying the journey.

How could you not love this?

They had begun busing down the runners that had finished the half marathon, 10K, and the faster marathoners. The runners on the bus would wave and cheer as they passed the rest of us still on the course. The last bus that passed on by had my mom on it, so I knew she had made it. Her first 10K was a success! 

The petroglyphs were right off of the road. It was incredible. 

My mom chose her distance wisely. The last 10K of this race was the most scenic part of the course. I am considering just doing the half next year to skip the hills and soak up the scenery. When I finished the race, I was certain that I was last but it turns out that there were still 4 other people behind me. We waited there at the finish for the last runners, which was fun. Plus, there was plenty of good food there to eat while we waited. It turns out that there was no bus coming back to take us back to our cars so I got to ride back down to my car in an ambulance. It was a fun way to get back down and they didn't even send me a bill!

Such great swag!

Now you're all wondering where the injury part mentioned in the title comes in. Here it is! As my mom and I were having lunch after the race, something in my right hip started to feel funny. It got to the point that I could barely walk by the end of the night. I have spent the last two weeks trying to recover from whatever it is that happened. I didn't feel anything during the race. The best I can figure is that it was some sort of muscle strain. I was able to run 8 miles yesterday, but it wasn't pretty. Jamie had to prod me through every step of it. But that's what running friends are for, right? I'm just hoping that I'll be recovered enough to get through the Huntsville Marathon next weekend. 

I was starting to have a major freak out about being ready for the Javelina Jundred next month. The anxiety over being ready, plus the body image funk I'm in, makes for more mental anguish than I need. So I tackled my anxiety about Javelina. The time limit for that race is so generous, I can walk most of it if I have to. Reminding myself of that has made things a little better. I can finish the race. I might not be in love with every minute of it. But honestly, what ultra have I loved every minute of? That's not the nature of the ultra marathon. I keep going back because each one teaches me more about myself. And since I'm a stubborn gal, it takes me a lot of time to learn from my mistakes. (Insert winky face here.)

I'll try to be more timely with the next blog, that way Javelina can have its own entry. 100k will give me a lot to recap, so brace yourselves for that. In the meantime, I need to survive running and writing about two more marathons.

Until next time, happy running!

Another Three Race Report

I've been Little Miss Lazy Blogger, gallivanting around, having a life, hanging out with a boy. But I've still been running, racing, and cross training. I even spent some time volunteering at the Speedgoat Ultra weekend. If anyone needs countless bottles of Ultragen mixed up, lickety split, I'm your gal.

A shot of the finish line at Speedgoat. 

Half marathon #66 was the Timp Half. This was my third time running this race, and honestly, it was probably my last. This year, like last year, they didn't get a permit to keep the canyon open longer than an hour and a half. That meant that if you weren't out of the canyon by 7:30, you would get picked up by the bus and driven to the bottom, then they would let you continue. This really bothers me. They're just robbing the slower people of the accomplishment of completing the distance. Sure, they offered an early start. But a bus that was full of people also broke down on the way up and that bus had people who didn't get to take advantage of that early start because of the delay. 

I can run 7.5 miles in an hour and a half. If nothing goes wrong, if I'm not having any issues, aches, or pains. This race has stressed me out of my mind the last two times because of this deadline. I spent the entire morning waffling back and forth between taking the early start or not. Trying to assess how I felt; can I do this? I decided to just go with the regular start and run like hell.

Burrrrrrnt ouuuuuuttttt.

And that's what I did. I ran my guts out for about 7 miles. And then everything hurt so much that I just stopped caring. I had just enough of a time cushion to shuffle through the last half mile out of the canyon. As soon as I got out and onto the bike path, I walked. So there. I was just burnt out. I don't do fast. I do distance at a relaxed pace. I spent the rest of the race just plodding along, praying for the finish. At least the medal was nice and heavy. 

Smiling, like it doesn't hurt or something.

Some not terrible swag.

After my race, my mom, brother, and I, headed over to watch my bike brother finish his first 60 mile race. It was a nice change of pace to sit back and watch the finishers come in. We cheered him in and got some nice finish line pictures. 

60 miles! Whoosh!

The sweet taste of victory (medals).

The family that races together gets a bunch of cool medals together.

The second race of this report is the Park City Trail Series 15k. I've never done a 15k before, so it was an interesting change. This race was on the Round Valley trail system. I knew with it being a trail run, at elevation, I was going to be very realistic about my finish time. Trails are tricky beasts. 

Heading up into the hills. 

The trail started out as a fairly wide, double track trail. We chugged our way up, and up, and up. None of it was ridiculously steep, thank goodness. When we got up to the top of that particular section of climbing, we were rewarded with some decently technical single track. I think this may be my favorite type of trail. I like just enough roots, rocks, and obstacles to make my brain work a bit. The fourth and fifth miles of this race were really great. 

I see you, single track. Shaking your thing.

It was a perfect day out. There had been a big storm the night before, and it kept the temperature down. It also made for some extremely muddy sections on the trail. Mud keeps things interesting. It wasn't too terrible, just another trail challenge. 

Trail running montage! 

I was supposed to do some extra mileage after this race, but honestly, it took more out of me than I thought it would. Trail running is so much more difficult than road running. It took me 2 hours and 25 minutes to get those 9.5 miles. So I called it a day and just added bonus miles to my run the next day. Besides, I had a date to go on (you're all completely shocked, I know). My weekly mileage didn't suffer, and I felt better doing it that way. Flexibility is key in training, you guys. Trust me.

The last race to report on (at least for another week) is the Porter's Half Marathon. There were some great things about this race. Starting with the option to pick up my race packet on the morning of the race, saving me a drive through rush hour traffic the night before the race. Huge bonus points there. The race started at the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon, also a nice thing. But the course started to lose its charm as we continued through random neighborhoods and along busy roads with no shoulder. There were a few times that we got to run on a bike path with no traffic and that was alright. I have to call the course a downside to this race, sorry Porter's people. 

The biggest issue of the day for me was the heat. When I woke up Saturday morning, the temperature was 77 degrees. That was at 4 a.m. guys. By the time the race started at 7 a.m., the temperature reached 82 degrees. Yikes. I was doing alright for the first 9 miles. Then, it was just too much. The heat had become oppressive. It took me nearly an hour to get through the last 4 miles. I was reduced to running for about 30 seconds, then walking, then trying to run again. It was one of those days that I started to question everything about my running life. 

I got to the finish, albeit 10 minutes slower than I had anticipated. I was rewarded with a giant medal (bonus) and Jamie's commiseration about how awful it was out there (bonus because misery loves company). We were both just happy to have made it through yet another tough race. 2015 has been a year of extremes for us and race day weather.

Bullet holes in my medal/belt buckle? Hells yes.

I finished up last weekend's running adventures with a 28 mile treadmill run, because I was NOT suffering through that kind of heat for that long. Flexibility, kids. For real. And with that 28 miler, I logged my first ever 70 mile week. I've been doing my best to stick to the training plan for Javelina. October 31 is going to be here before I know it, and those 62 miles aren't going to run themselves. 

I'll have a whole new slew of races to report on in the next few weeks, so stay tuned! And until then, happy running!

Capitol Reef 50K: Adventures in DNF

It started out innocently enough. It was a gorgeous day down in Capitol Reef. We arrived to a scene of lovely red rock cliffs and puffy clouds.

The back drop for the finish line. Not too shabby.

I got my sweet race swag and settled in for the pre-race briefing. As the briefing went on, I became more and more concerned about getting lost. It turns out that was a valid concern.

Sweet swag! I have no problem wearing it, even if I DNFd.

After the race briefing, we went out for dinner. We ordered quite a bit of pizza, because we wanted to have leftovers for the rest of the weekend. There was some other runners there having dinner and when the second large pizza was brought out, we heard one of them say "Wow. Trail runners sure love their pizza,". Yes. Yes we do.

I slept fairly well, having only one pre-race dream about what was to come. I arrived at the Red River Ranch to await the shuttle and lo and behold, I met someone who reads this very blog! Hi Adriana! It was pretty neat to meet someone that reads my ramblings! (Besides my mom, best friends Krista and Geof, and kick-ass running buddy Jamie, that is. You guys are great!) We swapped stories and shared our anxieties about what we were about to do. All of the runners waiting with the shuttle were friendly and easy to talk to. I find this is more common with trail races than road races... I'm still trying to figure out why that is.

The shuttle was late but when it arrived, it was a pretty neat old school bus. It slowly climbed up the mountain, gears grinding as we lurched towards our fate. I talked the ride away with the gentleman next to me and before we knew it, we were at the start line. We only had a few minutes to compose ourselves before the starting shout was issued (it really was a shout, from the race director's cute little girl).

We were off like a shot! Well, we were off like we were about to climb to 11,000 feet. I knew the first 5 miles were going to be incredibly difficult. And I was right.

There we go, winding our way up the Aquarius Plateau.

Getting steeper.

At least this part still looked kind of like a trail. That would change.

We climbed and climbed. And then we climbed some more. It was utterly relentless. I just did my best to keep moving forward. It really was gorgeous, which is why this blog is going to be jam packed with pictures.

This is where I am! Thank you, signs. 

This may have been my favorite view from the course. 

It was a bit rocky where we were...

I finally made it to the top of the biggest chunk of the climbing we would do and I had to just stop and stare for a moment. The view was stunning. The air was thin. It was the perfect excuse to stand still for a bit and take it all in.

The pictures don't do it justice.

I lived through the hardest part! Which is why I have no problem wearing that shirt and hat.

The sweeping expanse of the American West. 

After gathering myself and a snapping more than a few pictures, I continued along the plateau, enjoying the little bit of runnable trail I would encounter that day.

This part was heavenly. Soft dirt and pine needles. Glorious.

It was pretty great...

It didn't stay runnable for long though. I finally made it to the first aid station and was greeted by Kelly Agnew, local ultra runner extraordinaire (I read his blog, he does crazy stuff. Like win the Jackpot 24 hour race with 140 miles). He got me some Coke and provided some words of encouragement as I headed back out onto the course.

The first of many lakes I would see. 

Another excuse to stop and catch my breath.

Dun dun dun! I'm just happy I didn't end up this way.

After the aid station the trail turned into a meadow.  A meadow with no visible trail. Also, lots of mounds and holes to watch out for, hidden by the tall grass. I tried to keep up a quick hiking pace because running just wasn't working. Plus, the markers were tricky to see in the grass. The cairns they had put up were a bit better. Then all of the sudden, the meadow left and I found myself scrambling down rocks and trying not to lose my balance and topple into the stream below.

There's a trail here somewhere...

Whatever you do, don't trip and fall!

So pretty though.

This is the part of the race where the trail started going through this pretty little stream. The flags marking the course were planted in little piles of rocks in the middle of the water. Fun! And it really was fun. I was starting to get nervous about making the cutoff at mile 19 though. I was moving along the best that I could, given the conditions. Then the intense downhill reared its head. The trail got so steep and scary. Every step I took had me slipping down the mountain, slightly out of control.

I finally arrived at the second aid station and filled up my hydration pack. It's a good thing I did, because I would get lost shortly thereafter. Anyway, the aid station was manned by a great older gentleman who was whipping up flapjacks and quesadillas. Delicious! I ate some fruit and had some ginger-ale too. As I was leaving the aid station, two guys were coming in. One of them asked if there was a nurse at the aid station while his friend was carrying a deer antler rack with part of the skull attached. Being the comedic genius that I am, I told them that it was probably too late for a nurse to save that deer. I AM SO FUNNY. And they just kind of glared at me. Fine, dudes. Sure, you're running the 50 miler and you're at mile 31 and your sense of humor is lying dead on the trail somewhere, fine.

I made my way out of the aid station and around the shore of another lovely lake. Then the climbing started again, It was starting to really wear on me. I was only a little over 12 miles in at this point and I was feeling pretty beat up. I had to keep stopping and resting on the way up. I finally made it past the brutal section of trail and got to start going down again. This time, the down hill was pretty runnable. And thus began my downfall.

While the grade was very conducive to making up time, it was still a minefield of rocks and roots. I was so busy watching my feet and running a decent pace, I stopped watching for the trail markers. I just zoned out and followed the trail that was in front of me. I have no idea how far I had gone before I finally noticed that I hadn't seen a marker in awhile.

Now, at the race briefing, they stressed the fact that if you didn't make a cutoff, the aid stations wouldn't be there when you got there. I was flirting with the cutoff time as it was, and since I had no idea how many miles I had gone off course, trying to back track seemed like a very bad idea. The trail I was on was fairly wide and looked to be well used. My gut told me to stay on that trail instead of trying to fight my way back on course. Sometimes, you just need to listen to your instincts.

I kept heading down the trail and eventually it widened out to a road, I even found a trail head with a "you are here" map. That damn map didn't help me at all. This is the point where I started crying. But I knew that I had to keep moving. Roads are where people are, plus, it was leading me down the mountain, towards town. I kept my pace the best that I could and when I had hit 19.23 miles, a savior in a red truck appeared. It was Turd'l, one of the race staff, He had the funniest look on his face when he rolled down the window.

"What are you doing out here?!" 

"I GOT LOST!"

"I can see that. Get in the truck."

"THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU."

It turns out that he was headed up to pick up the 50 milers who didn't make the cutoff time for the Fish Creek aid station. By the time we were headed back down the mountain, the truck was full of weary runners. The DNF rate for all the race distances was very high. We all agreed that this course was the most brutal any of us had encountered. Slow clap to you, Ultra Adventures. A few of the people were pretty darn upset that they weren't allowed to finish the race. Me? I was just so happy to not be lost anymore. It took most of the sting out of getting my first DNF(did not finish, for those who don't know).

When I got back to the finish line, my mom was waiting for me. I ate my finish line pizza and shared my harrowing experience with her. One of the other runners, a successful finisher, brought his chair over to chat with me about the race. Seriously, trail runners are the nicest people. Nothing but smiles and kind words were there for me through the day (excluding the humorless deer head people). My mom thought that I knew the guy who came over to talk to me, since we were able to just fall easily into a conversation. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Runners are some of the nicest people on this earth. I was wearing my hat from the race the next day as we were going around town and through the park and other people who had run made sure to come over and talk to me about it.

I handled the non-finish pretty well, until Sunday night. When I tried to get some sleep, I just tossed and turned. My mind was starting to rebel. And when I did manage to nod off, I would have awful dreams about it. I was in a pretty bad mood about the whole thing all through Monday. Things are feeling better now, and I am bound and determined to get that finish next year.

August is going to be a busy racing month, and that always help to lift my spirits. So stay tuned for many more race reports, and of course, pictures. Until then, happy running!

I ran 50 miles and didn't die.

I have survived that which I was not sure I would survive. My first 50 mile run was a success. Because I did not die. The amount of fear and anxiety I had leading up to the race was not an insignificant amount.

I had to keep reminding myself that I needed to acknowledge the fear, let myself really feel it. (Much like this cat with the vacuum.) Repressing the fear won't make it go away, so I had to take time to understand where it was coming from. I was able to come to terms with what I was about to do in time to begin to be excited about the challenge that lay before me.

We arrived in Montana without incident, checked into the hotel, then made our way to packet pick up. I handed over my two drop bags so that they would be waiting for me at miles 20 and 34. My brother was registered for the 12K, so we both got sweet swag bags. The Trail Rail Run people know how to put together a nice goody bag. There was huckleberry fudge, beef jerky, aluminum water bottles, discount coupons to local restaurants and gift shops, and the all important FREE huckleberry shake voucher.

On my way back into the hotel after dinner, I noticed an Idiots Running Club shirt hanging in a window of one of the rooms. I knew there would be 4 other Idiots running the race, so I was happy to have found one of them. I knocked on the door and met Coral, her husband, and their sweet dog. I would see quite a bit of the dog and husband through the race.

I made it though my morning without any trouble or panic attacks and headed across the street to get on the bus. All of the other runners were friendly and chatty while we waited to take off. Once the bus got going though, it was pretty loud and difficult to talk over. So most of us settled in for the ride and watched the pine trees whip by the windows.

The bus made a few wrong turns once we got off the freeway and I was starting to wonder if the race was meant to be. But we found the start line and gathered around the fire that was happily crackling along. I met another Idiot, Kathy, then we tried to joke about what we were about to do. (It was the first 50 miler for Kathy, Coral, and I. So there was quite a bit of trepidation there.) Before I knew it, the pre-race briefing was over and we were lining up.

THAT'S A LOT OF MILES.

The gun went off and our small band of crazies headed out onto the trail. It's a gradual uphill grind for the first 8 miles. Since I've been focusing on my climbing, and I always use the incline on the treadmill, I hadn't been too worried about that part. Too bad that part almost made me quit the race. Right from the beginning, I just didn't feel very good.

I just felt really tired. I couldn't seem to find my rhythm, my breathing was off. The incline felt steeper than I thought it would. I watched as all my competitors passed on by me, leaving me in the dust.

Look at those tiny specks. Those are people. Running much faster than I am.

I was the last runner before I'd gone two miles. Oh great. But really, I had figured that this would happen. I was feeling so awful at that point I didn't much mind though. It took me 2 hours to reach the top of that 8 mile climb. At multiple points in those two hours, I seriously considered dropping from the race. I knew that if I didn't get feeling better, there was no way I could make it through the full 50 miles. But I couldn't drop out of the race before I got to the aid station. So I had to keep going, at least until that point. Not wanting to have to pay for the search and rescue team they would have sent for me was the only thing that kept me going to that point.

I feel terrible. I should stop and take a picture. That'll help.

I finally made it to the aid station, they checked me in, and I headed to the port-a-potty. I often find myself in port-a-potties when I'm trying to pull myself together. It's like I need that closed off space and privacy to think about what I am going to do next. I had made it though the worst part of the race, I told myself. Get something to eat. See how you feel. I shambled over to the aid station and decided on a single serving sized bag of potato chips, a fun sized Snickers bar, and a cup of Coca-Cola. Once I had taken in the calories, I felt 100% better. I think I was already off on my salt ratio because the potato chips were like manna from heaven.

After the aid station, the course turned into a great stretch of downhill. Where I had been logging 15 minute miles on the way up, I was logging 12 minute and under miles for the next 4 miles. I was feeling like a whole new person and I started to think that I could actually make it through this crazy ordeal.

Tunnel! I had to use the flashlight on my phone to get through it. It was neat!

My "Ooh! A tunnel!"face. 

I was really beginning to enjoy the race, but by the time I reached 13 miles, I was pondering where that next darned aid station was. I was starting to think that somehow I had taken a wrong turn or something (which is really tough to do on this course). It turns out the aid station was just farther down that I had been told and I hit it at 14.5 miles. I enjoyed another Snickers bar and some watermelon. On my way out, I grabbed another handful of potato chips and ate as I walked. I am not one of those people who can run and eat at the same time. My stomach takes exception to that.

I was pleased to see that I was moving along well ahead of the cut off time for the 20 mile check in. I just had to be there by noon and I had about 30 minutes of cushion. I just kept motoring along and was still feeling so much better than I had earlier that day. The first two hand cyclists passed me between 16 and 17 miles in. That's tough stuff, right there. I was wholly impressed with the 5 of them that were there.

The Dominion Trestle! My favorite part of the course. 

It's a heck of a climb to get up to this point though. That's what power hiking is for, right?

I was so happy to have made it to the aid station before the cutoff, and extra happy because my first drop bag was there waiting for me with a 20 oz. bottle of Coke, some Slim Jims, and sunscreen. I ate up a bunch of orange slices, grabbed the Coke, transferred it to the bottle on my hydration pack, snapped into a Slim Jim, and headed back out from the aid station, after going through the second tunnel, of course.

It was at this point that I caught up to Coral. She was having some stomach issues that were slowing her down. I tried to lift her spirits as I passed, and it wouldn't be the last that we saw of each other that day. The miles to the next aid station passed by easily enough and as I checked in at mile 26, Coral's husband and dog were there. It was nice to see some friendly faces and chat for a bit. The man at the aid station was also very nice and helpful. He asked if my feet were doing alright, and at that point, they were. I told him I was on track for around a 13 hour finish and I was feeling great! It didn't take long for that all to change.

Around mile 30, I could feel a blister rising up on my right heel. No big deal, right? I have a drop bag with fresh socks and shoes at mile 34. The day was starting to take its toll on me though. We had gotten out of the shade since the sun was now straight up in the sky. And it got hot. So very hot. I slowed down so much in those 4 miles, the blister was really starting to scream at me, and I struggled through mile 33 so much more than I thought I would.

When I finally made it to the aid station, I found a chair and started to work on getting my feet to be happier. The blister was only about the size of a dime, but it was tight and angry. I took a pin from my bib to pop it (I hardly ever blister, so I didn't have a proper blister kit with me) but it wouldn't go down. So I coated it in Trail Toes, put on clean socks and a change of shoes, and hoped for the best. I spent far too long at this aid station. I was just trying to psych myself up to keep going for another 16 miles. I was still ahead of the cutoff, so that was good. I drank the rest of the pickle juice that I had packed with me, it works wonders on cramps, FYI, got more Coke in my bottle, ate some potatoes, and headed back out after my 15 minute intermission. This is where Coral caught me again. We stayed together for about a mile after the aid station. I had started feeling better again after getting my shoes changed so I ended up going at a slightly faster pace that Coral. So we said our goodbyes and good lucks.

At this point, I was implementing a run/walk ratio of .15 miles of walking with .10 miles of running. It really worked out well. I was able to keep that going reliably though about mile 47. When I rolled into the second to last aid station (7.5 miles to go), I knew that I was going to be cutting it close to the 14 hour time limit. I was on track to come in under, but just barely. And with 7.5 miles to go, anything could happen. So I asked the aid station volunteers if I would still get my finisher spike and jacket if I crossed the line just a few minutes late. They radioed the finish line and found out that would be fine. I didn't want to come in after the time limit if I could help it, but I was getting so freaked out about it that I needed some reassurance that a finish line would be there when I got there.

By now, I was tired, but at the same time, I was starting to feel exhilarated because I knew I was going to make it. My feet hurt, sure, but my legs were okay. The muscles were trained well enough to take me through to the end. When I reached the last aid station, I heard them radioing in that I had just checked in. I yelled to the radio operator "You tell them that I'm going to make it!". I ate more watermelon and headed out. I was within cell service range so I pulled out my phone to let my mom know that I was only 4 miles out. When I turned my phone on, it was flooded with text messages from my friends, cheering me on. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the supportive people I have in my life. I wouldn't let myself open all of them and read the messages while I still had 4 more miles to go. That would be my finish line treat.

I pushed through those last 4 miles, feeling so amazed that I was really doing it. I thought back through the day, about how I had wanted to drop out in the first 2 hours. The ups and downs of the day, floating around in my head. I was going to make it. Through it all, I had set out to do this and I hadn't given up. When I hit the junction where the trail turns to road, there was a man standing outside of his truck. I thought he was a volunteer, so I yelled to him "I'M GOING TO MAKE IT!!!" He looked a little confused, and that's when I realized he was just a random citizen, out enjoying the evening. But he was nice and our conversation was as follows: "That's great! How far?" "50 miles!!!" "Seriously?!" "Yes! And I'm going to make it!".

I saw Coral's husband again, running up the road to go meet her. And I yelled the same to him."I'M GOING TO MAKE IT!!!" This quickly became my mantra, as you can see. He cheered me on and I pushed through to the finish stretch. I started to get goosebumps when I hit the dirt path that would wind through the trees to the finish arch on the park's grass. They could see me coming and I heard them announce that I was going to beat the time limit! I gave it all I could, which felt fast, but in retrospect really wasn't.

I made it!!!

And then I cried like a baby.

2 seconds to spare, ladies and gentlemen. 2 seconds. 

I had done it. Over 50 miles in one day. I am honestly still trying to comprehend it over a week later. I was so thrilled to just sit down and take my shoes off. My mom was there to help remove my shoes, and when she did, oh boy. That little blister that I had had turned into a gigantic blister. And it had gained a twin on my other heel.

Yeouch!

I think the blisters came from all the grit that got into my shoes on the trail. Gaiters can only keep out so much... While I sat there, people brought me food and chocolate milk, congratulated me, and I was able to meet the other two Idiots who had done the 50K, Crystal and Kathy. We were all waiting to welcome Coral to the finish, because, she too, was going to make it. We saw here coming to the end so we all gathered to make a human arch for her to run through. It was a most epic finish.

We are one badass group of ladies. 

I am so proud of everyone who competed out there today. My brother took first in his age group for the 12K; all of the Idiots finished what they set out to do. As I mentioned before, processing this feat has been a bit surreal. It's not always easy to find the words to express how it feels to make through something that I wasn't sure that I could.

I learned that first hand that day.

I am feeling so much more confident now about the things that I have planned for this year and next. I can do anything I set my mind to. And so can you. So can anyone. The thing that gets in our way the most, is ourselves. And now it's time for the swag shots!

The shirt is so cozy. You need cozy after 50 miles. 

The coveted finisher's jacket and railroad spike. 

So there you have it. I didn't die. And I even enjoyed myself for the majority of those 14 hours! I'm hoping I enjoy my 100K, 24 hour, and 48 hour races for the majority as well. The next race on the schedule is the Capitol Reef 50K, on July 11. That one is going to be gorgeous. Stay tuned for the next report, hopefully stating that I didn't die, yet again. Until then, happy running!