I forget that I have a blog...

I have been so busy the last little bit, that I completely forgot that I have a blog that I should be writing in. I'm working too much, and not running or writing enough. I also got engaged three weeks ago, (WHAT. That's so crazy, I know.) so there has been a lot of wedding stuff thrown in to the mix.

I've got 5 new races to report on, but I'll just tackle two in this post and the others next week (hopefully). I ran the Zion Half Marathon again this year. I tried something novel this time. I tried running the whole thing without walking. Okay, I did stop and walk for a moment to take my jacket off and one moment to refill my water bottle at mile 5. But other than those two tiny moments, I ran the whole thing!  And guess what. My time was SLOWER than last year's where I let myself take walk breaks. Lesson learned.

Photo courtesy of Jamie Eckles. 

The week after Zion, I ran the Monument Valley 50K. I was nervous at first about this race. The race Director is Matt Gun, and he doesn't do easy races. I wasn't sure that I was recovered enough from Jackpot and that my training might have been less than ideal for this race. But once we got down to Monument Valley, I knew I wouldn't be dropping to the half. I needed to run the 50K, just to see all of the incredible scenery up close and personal.

Mitten Butte, right outside my cabin door.

Packet pick up was held in a hogan, the pre-race briefing included a Navajo sunset prayer ceremony and some traditional songs.

White corn flour being used for the ceremony. Photo courtesy of Scott M. Stringham.

We wrapped up the evening by eating Navajo tacos and watching the stars come out over the gorgeous desert landscape.

Race morning dawned and we headed to the start line for the sunrise prayer ceremony and the start of the 50K. Scott was running in the half marathon that started an hour later, but he came with me to the start of my race to see me off. After getting me on my way, he was able to wait for his race start in a hogan to stay warm.

Sunrise with the Mitten Buttes, just before the start.

The first couple of miles of the race are on a hard packed dirt road that leads past the main formations of the park. As the sun kept coming up, the red rocks began to glow in the morning light.

A view of the Three Sisters formation.

The firs few miles went along pleasantly. The surroundings were breathtaking and it made it so easy to forget that I was running. After the first aid station stop, we headed out on a single track trail called the red loop. Every turn of a corner on this loop brought another amazing sight,

The single track was not too technical, and it made for some very enjoyable running. Towards the end of the loop, the sand started, But it wasn't too bad just yet. Another stop into the aid station and I was out on the white loop. The white loop was my favorite loop, except for the sheer amount of sand that we had to run through, This loop had all of the arches and windows of the race.

By mile 15, we'd been running through deep sand for hours. I had to stop and dump the sand out of my shoes. So much had gotten in that it felt like I had sand orthotics in my shoes. I thought dumping out the sand would have made more of a difference but by mile 18, there was just as much sand in them. I didn't feel like stopping and dumping them out again so I finished the race with piles of sand in my shoes.

I should have put more water in my pack at the second aid stop, because I ran out of water around mile 17 and had to go another 30 minutes without anything to drink. By the time I made it back to the aid station, it felt like my tongue was how it is in the cartoons where the character sticks out their tongue and there's a cow skull and cactus on it.

I spent quite a bit of time at the aid station, getting rehydrated and fueling up. I think I overdid it a bit because my stomach was a little unhappy for a couple of miles as I headed out on the last loop, the blue loop. The blue loop started with a hard packed dirt road that turned off into a sandy single track trail. MORE SAND. I was starting to develop Post Traumatic Sand Disorder.

Oh sure, it looks innocent. But try running 20 or so miles in it and then decide.

This is the only part of the race where I hit a slump. I was feeling gross because of overdoing at the aid station, the sand was slowing me down, and I knew that the giant 1500 foot climb up the mesa was still to come. So from about mile 20 to 22, I was pretty grumpy. But then, the sand ended and we got to go back to packed dirt road until the climb started. I started feeling better and got some good running in on the road.

The climb up the mesa was a very narrow trail, strewn with big rocks that liked to move around when you stepped on them. There were runners coming up and going down, so it made for a lot of stopping and stepping off to the side to let people pass.

A view from the climb up.

This is the only part of the race that I had specifically trained for. I knew that this climb was going to come after I was already starting to feel fatigued, so I had been doing an hour on the stair climber at the gym after my session with my trainer. I taught my body to climb even when it was tired, and it paid off. I kept a steady hike going up the mesa and ended up passing quite a few people.

When I got to the top, the views were breathtaking. It was totally worth it. Also at the top, the trail was incredibly runnable. Nice soft single track, not sand.

There's the finish line! Somewhere in that speck of civilization.

I hit the turn around, punched my bib with the hole punch to prove that I'd made it, and turned around to head back down. I was feeling great at this point, since the hardest part was over and it would be less than 10 miles to the end. I cruised along the top of the mesa to start my descent. There were still a good number of runners coming up the mesa, some 50K runners, some 50 milers.

Coming back down was actually just as difficult as going up, due to the steepness and all of the giant rocks. You couldn't just bomb down the trail because too many of the rocks would slide out from under you. Plus with the other runners coming up, it was just too dangerous to go crazy on the way down. I made it down without too many scary slips of the feet and made some good time back on the dirt road. The only problem with the white loop is that is wasn't really a loop, it was an out and back, so I had to go through that damn sandy single track again. I had hit the end of my sand tolerance and just trudged through it until I hit the road back to the aid station.

I just grabbed a cup of Coke with ice on my way through and asked how far it was to the finish. I couldn't remember if the race was a long 50K or closer to the standard distance. I was ecstatic to hear that there were only 3 more miles to go until the finish. I knew I was going to come in well under the cut off time, and it was all dirt road back to the finish line.

I took off down the road at a decent pace and was able to hold it pretty steady until some of the steeper bits. I hiked up the steep parts, ran the downs and flats, and was in pretty good spirits for that last chunk of the race. Scott and my mom were waiting at the finish line. He had a great race in the half, finishing in the top 10%.

Scott finishing his race, looking strong!

Excited to have finished a tough race!

I finished! It was tough and beautiful and can we come back next year?!

I relaxed at the finish line for awhile with my Scott and my mom. We chatted with some other finishers and took some great photos. If this race isn't on your list, I think you should add it. It's a challenge, but the cut off times are generous. It took me 10 hour and 14 minutes to complete this race, but that was 46 minutes ahead of the cut off. The Ultra Adventures crew puts on an amazing event. They take great care of you at the aid stations (bacon quesadillas, anyone?). The location couldn't be beat. And we wrapped up our trip by participating in a sweat lodge ceremony.

Hanging out by the hogans.

I love the ceramic mug!

I can honestly say that this race is my favorite that I have ever done. I hope that I am able to go back again next year. Scott says that he would love to run the 50K next year so that he can see more of the park. The half marathon runs the red loop and the Wildcat Trail but misses the climb and all the arches, But in those 14 miles, he had his favorite running experience to date as well.

I promise to try and write about the other 3 races very shortly and get back on track with regular reports. But until then, happy running!

The Jackpot Report

This one time, last year, I ran the 12 hour event at the Jackpot Ultra Running Festival. I had trained phenomenally well and had the time of my life. This led me to sign up for their New-for-2016 48 hour race. Because the leap from 12 hours to 48 is completely sane and logical.

Fast forward one year. As some of you know, my training through the end of last year and the beginning of this year has been greatly interrupted. It turns out that having a couple of injuries and a debilitating chest cold can really throw things off.

I was happy to head to Henderson, Nevada, in spite of my ill-preparedness for the task at hand, Mostly because it was 17 degrees here in Utah and 77 degrees there. There was a tiny part of my brain that thought that I could magically wing my way through the event.

Look how nice and sunny. Thanks to Scott M. Stringham for taking all of the pictures contained in this post. 

I like the venue for the event. Cornerstone Park provides a mix of every kind of terrain. You get crushed gravel and dirt paths, pavement, concrete bridges, and a little stretch of single track trail. It has just enough up and down to give your muscles a break.

The day started out with a gathering of Idiots. (Idiots Running Club, for those who don't know.) A gaggle of them had gotten to the park before me, so I received a warm welcome. Most were there to support Kristie Cranford while she rocked her 100 mile effort. But they were just as happy to see me, and also ended up adopting three other runners. "No Man Left Uncrewed" was the motto of the day.

The 28 brave souls, waiting to get this party started 

At 10 a.m. the gun sounded and we were off. Very slowly. That's one of the things I love about a timed event. No one is in that much of a hurry. You can't get to the end of 48 hours faster than anyone else, so you take it easy. Being a back of the pack runner doesn't matter much in these types of events.

Scott came down with me to crew and also to volunteer at the aid station. He was also my race photographer, which was pretty handy.

See? Handy documentation of race goodness.

The first 12 hours or so were actually pretty uneventful. I was moving, not particularly well or quickly, but I was getting those loops in. I was chatting with other runners and sharing stories and laughter. I was staying on top of my hydration and nutrition. When the sun was fully down, I took the time to change completely so that no wet clothes were on my body. I learned my lesson from the Hypothermia Incident at Across the Years. It was completely worth the time it took to do.

Sitting sure feels nice... Too bad this is only about 11.5 hours in.

I can't recall exactly when my feet started to rebel. It was sometime during the first night. I wasn't blistering, bleeding, or anything else terribly untoward. But the pressure of being on my feet for that long was starting to take its toll. Now, I had done two previous events that totaled 24 hours and my feet didn't seem to have that problem. This is where I think my interrupted training reared its ugly head.

50 miles in and trying to pretend that it doesn't hurt like hell

If my training had gone as planned, I would have spent much more time on my feet in preparation for this. But it was what it was. I decided that it was time to lie down and get the pressure off of my feet. I didn't dare take my shoes off, though, because I was fairly certain I wouldn't be able to get them back on due to the swelling.

At first, these little lie downs were helpful in relieving the pain that my feet were experiencing. I managed to grab a bit of sleep each time, too. The fatigue accumulates rather quickly as the hours tick by. I never slept more than an hour and a half at a time, most naps were less than an hour. There are only a couple of people that I've heard of that can keep going for 48 hours straight. I am not one of those people, just FYI.

Feeling a bit sassy after a nap and a sunrise.

Day two began with me waking up just as the sun was starting to rise. I had only slept for just over an hour, but it made a big difference, at least for a little while. At this point, I had given in to the pain and taken my shoes off. I ended up doing a couple of hours in socks and sandals. I was looking sharp, cats and kittens.

Unfortunately, the sandals weren't a perfect solution and I ended up having to put shoes back on. One of the nice Idiots propped my feet up and brought me a bag of ice for them, which helped get the swelling down enough to re-shoe.

So I had reached 60 miles right around the 24 hour mark. The next 24 hours would only bring me another 28 miles, and incredible amounts of pain. I was reduced to trudging. The pain in my feet was so intense that I would stop at each bench I passed to sit for a moment. At one point, I had my shoes off and was trying to massage some happiness back into my Pillsbury Dough Feet, a fellow runner stopped and did the foot rub for me. It was one of the nicest things anyone has even done for me. I got a good solid hour of faster movement thanks to that foot rub.

Scott was also incredible in his role as support crew. About mid-day on the second day, maybe 70ish miles or so in, I broke down. It was becoming painfully (literally) clear that I wouldn't hit the 100 mile goal that I had set out to accomplish. So what's a girl to do? This girl fell into a heap on the cot and started sobbing. Big blubbery sobs of infinite sadness. Scott gently removed my shoes, got me wrapped up in the sleeping bag, and went to the store for some Icy Hot and Tums. He didn't yell at me or try to make me keep going, he just helped me get through it, which was exactly what I needed.

He let me rest and when I was ready to sit up and get ready to head back out, he rubbed my feet down with the Icy Hot, put fresh socks on my feet, and somehow managed to get shoes back on me. He packed up a bunch of food and made me eat while we made our way slowly around the loop. He ended up walking about 14 miles with me that second day.

Sunset on the second day.

I knew that the second night was going to be the worst part of the whole 48 hours. And I was right. I was having a difficult time regulating my body temperature. I spent a lot of time at the aid station through the night, trying to get warm food in my body.

Feet up, food going in, expression: loopy.

In the wee hours of that second night, I knew I needed to take a longer break than I had been taking. Mentally, I just couldn't take the pain anymore. My muscles were actually holding up pretty well, but my feet would have hurt less if someone had taken a hatchet and chopped them right off my body.

Right before choosing to take that long break. My face says it all.

I went into the warming tent and took my shoes off. Scott had 45 minutes left on his volunteer shift that ended at 3 a.m. The race director was letting people leave the park to recuperate in their hotels and return to the race later. I knew that was something I needed to do or I would probably walk down into the lake that we'd been running around for 40 hours and drown myself. The guy in charge of timing was doing everything he could to try and get me back out onto the course. But I had made up my mind and I wasn't budging until Scott could take me back to the hotel.

Sleeping outside on the cot had worked out alright for awhile, but the cold was an issue. Even in a good quality sleeping bag, I was getting so cold while I slept that I would shiver myself awake. Just getting out of the elements and into a real bed for a couple of hours changed my whole attitude. After the sun rose on the third day, we made our way back to the park and I knocked out two more loops before the time was up. I was even smiling through those two loops. I managed a bit of running, even. I was completely astounded that I could run after 80 + miles.

I did it. I survived somehow. 

I ended up with a total of 88.06 miles. Somehow I was 6th place out of the women, and 23rd place out of the 28 total participants. I had expected to be dead last, but in 48 hours, all kinds of things happen to even the most well prepared people (which I totally wasn't).

I learned so much from the experience, so even though I didn't get my 100 miles, I got life lessons instead. Those are valuable, too. Lesson 1: you can't be under trained for an event of this magnitude and expect your sheer stubbornness to carry you through to your goal. Lesson 2: invest in a pair of shoes half a size larger than normal for when your feet swell. Lesson 3: ultra runners are the nicest people on the planet. Lesson 4: coming to terms with what you're capable of at that moment won't kill you. There is time to get better, to get ready to try again.

Failure isn't always a bad thing. It's a teacher. You learn more from a failure than a success. I have a renewed sense of purpose and drive for this year now. I will train smarter. I will be more focused on getting my body ready to meet the challenges that I have set up for it. I have already chosen the venue for my next attempt at the 100 mile distance. Next March, I'll try again. And mark my words, I will be ready this time.  I'll leave you with this quote from Theodore Roosevelt, which I often think of when attempting these crazy things.

"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 errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; 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, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

Until next time, happy running!

Starting the year off with a whimper.

I always get so jazzed about a new year, guys. But so far, this new year hasn't been so hot. We lost David Bowie and Alan Rickman, I didn't get anywhere near the mileage that I wanted to at Across the Years, and I've been sick for two solid weeks. Things can only go up from here, right?!

I was feeling okay about the Across the Years race. That should have been my first clue that things wouldn't be the greatest. We had a pleasant trip down to Phoenix, stopping off at the Hoover Dam to snap some pictures of some Seraphs.

Totally worth the detour and crowds. 

It was later in the evening by the time we got to the hotel, and had dinner. I knew I needed to go check out the venue before I'd be able to get any sleep though. I also knew that the 6 day runners had started 3 days before, so the course would be open and I could check it out. Upon arrival, a smattering of zombie shuffling runners crossed our path. "So that's what you look like when you've been running for nearly three days,", I thought. The thought did not comfort me.

I did like the set up that they had there, though. The aid station appeared to be well stocked, and the warming tent was fairly large. The course even looked pleasant enough, from what I could tell in the dark, anyway. So I was slightly comforted, and maybe even a little excited for what was coming in the morning.

Silly girl, doesn't know what's coming. Photo credit: Scott M. Stringham.

I lined up with my fellow crazies, and at 9 a.m., we were off on our 24 hour adventure. My training leading up to this event had been pretty craptastic, so it was easy for me to start off real slow. At least I didn't go out too fast, right? After the first couple of laps, I fell into a nice enough rhythm, thinking that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. I was still feeling pretty peachy around the 5 hour mark when Scott joined me for a couple of laps.

Rocking his guest bib like a pro pacer. Scott took this picture, too. But I think y'all can tell...

Scott did two laps with me to get a feel for the course before night fell. The loop is just over 1 mile in length, so it doesn't take terribly long to get around to the beginning again, but having someone with you makes those miles fly on by. After that, he went back to the hotel to rest up for the night of supporting that loomed on the horizon.

The course had some lovely sections.

I didn't hit my first slump until around 6 hours in. So I took a moment to sit down, change my socks, and grab the iPod. So far, so good. The music was a nice pick-me-up, and the fresh socks were refreshing. The course was really dusty and that dust was finding its way into my shoes in copious amounts. The gaiters were only doing so much. There was a burly biker dude who was working the halfway point water stop who gave me a hug every time I passed by. That helped to give me a boost every half mile as well. I regret that I didn't take a picture with him.

But I did take a picture of my favorite sign. Note: these things were not an issue. That would have added an extra element of excitement, though.

I kept a super slow but mostly steady pace for the next bit, occasionally chatting with the other runners. Scott came back just as the sun had set and donned the guest bib for some dark miles. I only had about 32 miles under my belt by then. It wasn't where I wanted to be, but at least I was still moving.

Artsy sunset silhouette shot. Photo credit: Scott M. Stringham.

Once the sun went down, the air temperature dropped dramatically. The daytime had been downright pleasant. Much fun was had by all. The nighttime was a different story entirely. I noticed the 6 dayers bundling up like they were going skiing. Puffy coats, snow pants, ski gloves. I had none of these things. Being the Utah girl that I am, I didn't realize that Phoenix gets just as cold as Utah does when that sun goes down. I just had it in my head that Phoenix is a hot place, like all the time, and stuff. Oops. I mean, I had layers and whatnot. But they weren't the right layers.

Okay, so it was a little chilly. As long as I keep moving, I'll be fine. I was fine when the sun went down during Javelina, right? This is the same area! Scott paced me through 15 more laps, then we hung out at the aid station for the New Years countdown. After our New Year's kiss (Eeeeewwwww gross! Just kidding, it was super great, you guys.) Scott headed back to the hotel for another round of rest before coming back in the early morning hours to get me through to the end.

Frigid. Cold. Horribleness.

I managed to get through another hour, feeling cold, but not like I was dying. The next hour brought that part. It had gotten to the point that I couldn't keep moving fast enough to keep warm. I had started to shake and shiver like crazy. So by 3 a.m., I was in the warming tent. I planted myself in a chair near the heater and tried to get warm. I was so tired, but every time I let myself fall asleep, I would shake myself awake with violent shivering. I couldn't make myself get up to move around. I was hungry. I needed to go to the bathroom. None of that mattered. I couldn't get up. I manged to send Scott a text so that he would know where to find my body when he came back.

Scott did find me, and I was still alive at 5 a.m. He could tell I was in bad shape. Probably because I couldn't even raise my head to look at him, and I only used single word sentences in our communication. He ran to the car and grabbed a giant blanket. After wrapping me up, he went and got me something warm to eat. Unfortunately, the something he found was vegan French toast. I didn't know this at the time. Even in my weakened and hypothermic state, I knew what I was eating was disgusting. I choked down 6 bites before handing the plate back. I'm fairly certain that vegan French toast is made with a heaping helping of sadness.

Then he came back with a steaming bowl of oatmeal. That was infinitely better. Once I had eaten most of the oatmeal, I finally felt like I could stand up and make it to the porta-potty. Once I was out of the warming tent, though, the violent shivering returned, but now it was accompanied by an even more violent cough. Whee.

I returned to the warming tent, and Scott was determined to get me moving again. So he warmed the blanket with the heater in the tent, and wrapped me up like a burrito. We headed out into the frigid early morning hours, his arms wrapped tightly around me to help keep the blanket on, and to keep me upright. He guided me around the course 5 more times that morning, with another stop in the warming tent after 3 laps so I could eat some more warm food. As Scott was walking his frozen burrito girlfriend around the course, a fellow runner commented that we were the perfect picture of love and support. Awwwwwwww!

No, it was just sadness.Vegan French toast sadness. 

But seriously, it takes a special kind of love to support someone in their crazy goals. Scott's not an ultra runner (yet!) but he was out there with me, logging 23 miles total (the most he's even done, by 10 miles), being patient, kind, and a literal life saver.

Anywho, I called it quits at 23:37. I didn't want to try for another lap in the condition I was in. Even though the sun had come up and things were starting to feel slightly warmer. I ended up with 57.04 miles. I wanted to get 70. I guess I could have, if I hadn't spent hours slipping into hypothermic coma. Live and learn, cats and kittens, live and learn. I was surprised to see that I actually finished pretty well in the standings. I was 32nd out of the 70 women, and 64th out of 172 overall in the 23 hour race. I honestly couldn't believe it. Maybe I should actually try properly preparing for one of these things. Who knows how high I could go in the ranks!

I love the bib belt. I've been wanting one for ages. And the stein is huge!

I survived the hypothermia, but got hit by a nasty sinus infection a day after getting home from Phoenix. That sinus infection just wouldn't go away. After 8 days, it had moved down into my lungs and my throat was burning. So I finally caved and went to the doctor. I had a race coming up, and I wasn't going to not run the darn thing. I don't know if you're supposed to run while you're right in the middle of a course of antibiotics, but I did anyway, because America.

AMERICA. Or something.

I was not optimistic about how the St. George half marathon was going to go. I was having breathing issues when just standing around. How was running going to go?! I knew I could just walk the whole thing if I needed to, so I just went for it. I focused on taking it easy and it worked! I hit a bit of a wall at just before mile 6, but it passed, as it usually does if you can just keep going.

 I had saved my caffeinated gel for mile 9 and was feeling quite rejuvenated by mile 10. Right around this point is also where I could see a lot of the course out in front of me, because the path is on the side of a hill. I could see the man who had leap frogged me through the first four miles and then kept me behind him. I could tell he wanted to beat me. But there he was, slowing down at mile 10. Something kicked in, and I went into full-on hunt mode. By mile 11, I had overtaken him. I stayed in hunt mode for the last few miles and managed to pass about 20 people before crossing the finish line. I guess my body knows how to run half marathons, and stuff, since that was number 76...

Some nice swag this year.

It's not like I finished fast, or anything. My time was 3:02:06. I only beat 37 people. But I finished feeling decent enough. And I didn't start coughing my lungs up until I was in the shower, so that was exciting. Scott ran the 5K, and came in first in his age group. He got a sweet sandstone slab with a plaque on it. I survived, he placed. We ate queso and burritos in celebration. Running is fun, you guys.

The sickness is still lingering in my lungs a bit, but I think I'm going to be fine in a few more days. Then I really need to get serious about training again. My 48 hour race is 4 weeks away. Eep. I know I can't get where I need to be before it happens, but I can at least do my best to prep for survival.

Stay tuned for more fun and frivolity. Until then, happy running!

Year end dealy.

Here we are, cats and kittens, on the brink of a new year. I don't do much in the way of New Year's resolutions, since I'm always struggling with day to day resolutions, but I still have quite an affinity for this time of year. I like the feeling of a fresh start, even if it's only in my mind.

Cats and kittens, ready to party into the new year.

As you may or may not remember, 2015 was the "Year of the Ultra". And it really was. I had set out to run at least one ultra distance per month. At my last count, I think I only missed the mark a couple of months. I ran 5 official ultra races, from 50K to 100K, and DNFd a sixth one. I managed to bang out hours and hours on the treadmill, binge watching Agents of Shield Once Upon a Time, and Supernatural, repeatedly logging 30+ miles in a single go. I avoiding injury all the way up to September, when I somehow pulled a hip muscle at the Little Grand Canyon marathon. I healed up in time to injure myself of the course at the Javelina Jundred. An injury which has healed enough to allow me to run in the Across the Years 24 hour race over New Year's Eve.

Nuff said.

I was pleased to be able to finish off the 2015 racing season with a fantastic event called the Baker's Dozen. This incredibly fun race is put on by ultra runner extraordinaire, Cory Reese. The point of the Baker's Dozen is to eat as many treats/pastries/doughnuts as you possibly can. Oh, and there's some running involved too, I guess.

An accurate representation.

I've run this race twice now, each time signing up thinking of the warmer weather that Southern Utah is known for. Except that both years that I've run this race, the weather has not been so cooperative... Last year, it was cold and rainy, this year was cold and windy. And not a gentle breeze either. Serious wind. It was fitting that the race was held in a town named Hurricane.

Pretending that we're not cold, like at all. Also, that arch in the background wouldn't be up for long. Because wind.

As you can see, I recruited some crazies to join in the fun. Jamie, Desaray, and I were in for the half marathon, Scott was in for the 5K (this will be important to remember later). As we lined up to start the race, Weird Al's "Eat It" was playing. So appropriate.

It's also important to remember that this race isn't officially timed. That's a good thing, because it takes quite a while to stuff your face at the Sugar Shack every 3.whatever miles, a task some took much more seriously than others. The person who ate the most treats ate over 60. Scott ate 10. I ate a whopping 4 treats. Yeah, I'm hard core.

Sugar shack, baby sugar shack. Tin roof. Rusted.

Scott decided he was going to stick with me through his 5K loop. It's always nice to have someone to share the miles with. We knew to look for the photographer to get our race jump picture taken. There's a contest for the best jump, so everyone was giving it their all.

I'm getting hit in the face by my braids. Most epic.

As we were getting through that first loop, I mentioned to Scott that since it wasn't timed, he could always get a little more mileage in and run the second loop with me. He was game. He runs the 10K distance fairly regularly now, so no big deal, right?

They had dirty Dr. Pepper, too. DELICIOUS.

I had lots of time to stand around and drink that Dr. Pepper while Scott ate even more tasty treats. He was so hopped up on sugar, he thought he'd go ahead and run the third lap with me as well. Why not?! On that lap, he ran the farthest he had ever run before. Another stop at the Sugar Shack and he was chomping at the bit to go the last lap with me.

So, I don't know anyone who accidentally runs a half marathon. Well, I mean, now I do. But I didn't before... Since I don't run a blistering pace, it was easy enough for him to keep going along with me. The wind was relentless, adding another element of difficulty to his accidental half. But when you get swept up in the running mania, wind means nothing.

We came in to the finish, where a most epic medal awaited us. We were fortunate enough to talk with Cory afterwards and upgrade Scott to the half so that he could get a medal too. He ran the distance, he deserved the medal! Cory is the nicest guy, and let quite a few people pay the difference and collect the sweet, sweet swag.

Half marathon finishers are so hot. Just look at that attractive group.

There were actually a lot of people that I knew at this race. So many friendly faces added to the party atmosphere. We're planning on an even bigger group for next year (Jill, Wade, we're planning on you being there). With great swag like this, how could you resist?!

That's good stuff, right there.

I can't think of a better race to have had as my 75th half. I highly recommend this party, errrr, I mean, race to anyone who likes a good time. Which I figure is all of you reading this. I don't think that fun haters read this blog... However, if you are a fun hater, feel free to comment and let me know you're out there!

I really need to gather up all of the medals I've earned so far and take one epic swag shot. It would be interesting to find out if I can stay standing under the sheer weight of that many medals... It's amazing what you can accomplish in just over 4 years of running. I've made some fantastic friends, been to some incredible places, and survived things I never thought possible.

I'm going to wrap up this little blogging adventure with a comic from Zen Pencils. It's too epic to try and paraphrase so click that link and enjoy it's awesomeness. No matter what your passion is, take a little bit of time and actually pursue it. You won't be sorry.

I spared you all the super mushy stuff for this year's wrap up. But know it was a good one, one I am incredibly grateful to have had. Here's to a new year of adventuring. Until next year, happy running!

Making bloggity blog efforts left and right.

All of the sudden there are people other than my mom and boyfriend reading this blog. Welcome, guy and gals! I'm happy to see all the wonderful comments and support. Iztok, come back to Daily Mile, man. We miss you.

Any who, it's been requested that I blog a little more often. That's probably not a bad idea, since I run enough races to do so.

Don't worry, people. I'm already signed up for a zillion races for next year.

I've got three more exciting race tales to tell in this blog, so buckle up. I gave myself three whole weeks to heal up from Javelina before jumping back into the race scene. I decided to ease back into it with a 5K. No biggie, right? Oh, I suppose I should mention that the 5K was the day before my next half marathon. But I'm jumping ahead.

My running friend, Geof, had talked me into running the Route 66 races in Tulsa, OK this year. Then he bailed on me. (For totally valid reasons and there's no hard feelings, I swear. For real, Geof. Stop making that face. You know the face I mean.) So anyway, I find myself in an annoying rental car, navigating my way around the vast, flat state of Oklahoma. I make my way to packet pick up without incident, only to be confronted with the longest line of people I have ever seen. I was starting to wonder if there was going to be sweet roller coaster or Star Wars movie premier at the end of the line.

Totally worth the wait. If it would have been there. But noooooooo.

No such luck on the roller coaster/Star Wars front, however. BUT I did finally get my race numbers. Hooray! You can't run without those babies. I was happy to see that I only had to wait behind one other person to pick up the shirt and jacket that were included with my race registration.

By the time I made it back to my hotel, I was completely knackered and promised myself that I would go nowhere else until race morning. Thank goodness there's such a thing as pizza delivery.

Hello, Heather. I am your pizza angel, here to save you from further commuting and/or starving to death alone in the Super 8.

I ordered myself the most giantest pizza they had, since there was a fridge in the hotel. This saved me from having to venture out and spend money on eating alone for most of the weekend. (Geof, seriously, it's fine. Stop with the face already!)

Artist's rendition of Geof reading this blog. I am not the artist... Thank you, random internet drawer for your image. If I find out who you are, you get all the kudos and credit. Because you totally nailed it.

I survive the night, which seemed to be a miracle to me, since the wind shook my hotel door the ENTIRE night, sounding like someone was trying to break in.

My thoughts, ALL night.

I was much relieved to see that I hadn't been murdered in the night and was looking forward to getting to run. I made sure to dress warm, since the temperatures were basically arctic. I had this silly notion that I would get too warm in my jacket after about a half a mile in, like normally happens. NOPE. Big ol' cup of nope.

You're reading this in a British accent.

I did get asked if I was running my first 5K while I was walking to the start line. I was surprised that I could hear the woman over the howl of the gale force winds, I just told her that I was also running the half the next day as well and left it at that. I figured she didn't need to hear about what I had survived three weeks earlier.

I had learned my lesson from last year that I shouldn't start in the back. I put myself in the first third of the crowd. This was ideal placement, meaning I didn't have to spend ages trying to pass the walkers. I could have finished faster than last year because of this smarty pants move, except that the wind was trying to push us all over.

At least we were badass rockstars as we got blown all over the roads.

I made it to the finish line and was hoping to stick around and watch the last finishers. I was able to make it about 10 minutes before I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. I shambled my way back to the rental car, cranked up the seat heater, Googled the nearest Starbucks, drove to the nearest Starbucks, and ordered the biggest cup of peppermint hot chocolate that they had. Once I was able to warm up a bit, I made my way back to the hotel for some sweet, sweet angel pizza.

I have to say, the swag was pretty worth the frigid temperatures. 

I spent most of the day in the hotel room, working on a crafty project that will be a Christmas gift. (You guys had no idea I did anything other than run races all the time. Your whole perception of me has been blown out of the water! But really, I mostly just run races...)

I was able to go out that evening and meet some internet running friends in real life, Chuck and Kim. It was nice to have dinner with some friendly faces after my nearly two days of isolation and hermitude. (Geof, the face again. Like I don't know you're making it.)  Then it was off to bed to rest up for what would be half marathon number 73.

Thankfully, the night was not as windy as the previous and I was able to sleep soundly. I managed to find a parking space in the crowded streets of downtown Tulsa and headed for the corrals. There were so many people. I was in corral C, the second to last corral. I have to say, corrals are a nice system, Again, I didn't have to spend much time trying to pass people, because we were all going about the same pace.

Waiting for the starting gun!

When the countdown hit zero, two giant confetti cannons went off, which is pretty fun, in case you've never had the pleasure. I started off feeling pretty good. I was bundled up in my jacket and gloves, even though the day was warmer than the previous. I started to worry again that I was going to get to warm, but then a gust of chilly wind would remind me that I wanted very much to keep those things on.

We run past this lovely art museum. They made me feel pretty.

I really enjoy being in a race this big. When there are 15,000 other runners, you're never by yourself. That's a big deal to a gal who finds herself alone for the majority of smaller races. Also, with that many people, even having a bad race means I won't finish last. Yay!

So I was cruising along with all my fellow corral C-ers, doing my best to avoid the cracks that are ever present on the Tulsa roads. That's really my only complaint about this race. The roads need some serious repair. I took my eyes off the ground for a moment around mile 6 and was rewarded with an ankle tweak. Of course it was the ankle that I injured during Javelina. I managed to tweak it again just after mile 7. That when things really started to be unpleasant. My pace slowed quite a bit as I could feel my ankle starting to swell. I was on track for a decent finish time until then.

I was walking a lot at this point, so I might as well take a picture of this cool sign. Plus, there was a wizard.

I struggled my way along to the finish, stopping once more to take a picture of my favorite Tulsa thing: the penguin statue. There are quite a few penguin statues scattered throughout the city. Make sure to look for them when you go.

Isn't it neat?!

I finished in barely over three hours; I had wanted a sub three, but considering the ankle, I was okay with it. I made my way through the finish area to Maniac Corner. Let me tell y'all about Maniac Corner. It's a magical place where members of the Marathon Maniacs and Half Fanatics can go to hang out, post race. They give you a special finisher's medal, delicious food, and a front row seat to the finish line. I picked up that special medal, and a delightful pulled pork sandwich, and made my way over to the fence to watch the finishers. I ended up spending nearly two hours watching runners come in. I bawled like a baby off and on while watching the finishers. I had my sunglasses on, so I don't think anyone noticed.

There is something so amazing about watching people finish a race. You'll see some people that are struggling, every step is agony. Some people have the biggest grins on their faces. You see all shapes and sizes. Old and young. People helping each other along. sometimes being the only thing keeping each other standing up and moving forward. They are all accomplishing something incredible. Running is not an easy thing, and running for hours upon hours is certainly no small feat. So I cry. I dare you not to cry when you witness this for yourself.

Me, at the finish line. NOT an exaggeration. 

I was thankful that the weather was much nicer, the sun was out, the wind had died down. I wouldn't have missed watching those finishers for anything. I'm telling you, hang out at finish lines once in a while. Your faith in humanity will grow three sizes.

Not a bad haul, if I do say so myself.

I made it home safely, obviously, since I'm writing this... And it's a good thing, because I had another race to run on Thanksgiving day. It was an especially exciting race because Scott, the boyfriend, would be running the 5K!

So, you know how I said that it was cold in Tulsa? It was MUCH colder here. Whee! Race morning greeted us with subzero temperatures (if we're using Celcius, and we should because subzero sounds way better than sub 32 degrees).

We're trying not to look like we're freezing to death. 

We had matching sweaters, thanks to a mix up in shipping from the lovely folks at Ink n' Burn. I didn't mind, the sweaters are pretty amazing. Too bad it was so cold that we had to wear jackets over the sweaters for the entirety of our races.

Scott, rocking the 5K, freezing his booty off.

It turns out that Scott is actually one hell of a runner and took 4th place in his age group (out of 47 people!) and finished with his best time for the distance, ever. Not bad for a first race. I was only about 5 miles into the half when I received a text with the good news. I was so sad that I wasn't at the finish to see him, but half number 74 wasn't going to run itself...

Hey, look! I'm smiling while running. I guess that means I still like it.

My ankle did start to protest somewhat at mile 10, but that's not too bad, considering it had only been three full days between Route 66 and the Thankful 13. The swelling went down very quickly after the race and my training runs since have been pretty uneventful, so it seems like it won't be too much of a problem in the future.

The shirt has thumb holes. Best shirt ever.

With half marathon 74 successfully completed, I just have a couple more races to finish out the year. I'll be running half number 75 this weekend at the Baker's Dozen. It promises to be most epic. I'll finish off the year with my third timed event, the Across the Years 24 hour race. Which I feel woefully unprepared for, just so you know. Seriously. Since Javelina, there have been no runs longer than half marathon distance. At least with timed events, there's not too much pressure. I do have a mileage goal of 75 miles. We'll see how long it takes for me to throw that goal right out the window... And hey, it's only 9 weeks until my 48 hour race at the Jackpot Ultrarunning Festival. Like that won't kill me with how little I've been training these days. Yeah. Okay.

I'll leave you with that for now, and until next time, happy running!