Lake Youngs Ultra

My last few marathons have left me with plenty of energy left at the end and an urge to go just a little bit farther. Stepping up to ultras seemed like the next logical step and gave me a new goal to focus on. There was a slight problem though: I didn’t have anyone to go on long trail runs with me. I have access to plenty of great trails, but several deaths and disappearances in our local forests in the past year or two was good reason to avoid training solo. What I needed was a fairly easy ultra I could run as an introduction to the sport. I was delighted when a fellow Maniac suggested the Lake Youngs Ultra, just an hour from my house and covering 29 miles in 3 loops. It sounded perfect. I could run 1 lap, 2 laps or if I felt really great, I could run all three. To make things even better, there was only 900 feet of elevation gain. With all that in mind, I sent in my entry.
Several weeks later, some friends started chatting about the North Olympic Discovery Marathon. The word on the street was that the NODM was flat, fast and incredibly scenic, run mostly on bike trails. OK, this one sounded like a must do, so I sent in my entry. This presented a challenge, however, because the NODM was the day following the Lake Youngs Ultra. I decided I was up for the challenge. I would probably run just one loop of Lake Youngs and I’d still get in a June marathon which was my primary focus. As the weeks went by, I started daydreaming about actually completing the full distance of both runs. It would be sweet to “do a double” and earn my 4 star Maniac status. Daydreams soon turned into goals and goals into training plans….

Saturday Morning: Lake Youngs Ultra

I woke at 4 a.m. to the sound of light rainfall. I dressed in a butter yellow coolmax t-shirt, black running skirt, black hat, Brooks Adrenaline 6GTS road shoes and double diamond studs. I decided to go no-tech (no watch or GPS) and run by feel. I arrived at Lake Youngs and immediately noticed a calmer, more laid back crowd than I’ve seen at marathons. 5 minutes before the start people started gathering around a white chalk line in the grass, kind of in a huddle. A few announcements were made and then the race director said “doesn’t anyone want to line up in front? No? Ok, then, I guess you can go now” and off we went, up a slight rise then plunging down a steep gravel hill. I did a little side step to avoid a pile of fur where some poor animal met its demise the night before. I kept my pace slow and my heart rate down as we made our way up and down the undulating course. At that moment I realized there was a 900 foot elevation gain PER LAP, 2,700 feet overall, oh well, I’d manage. The runners started spreading out and soon I was all alone. I lost track of time and distance, but it didn’t matter because I felt like I was ten again, racing through the woods looking at plants and searching for animals. There was a light drizzle, just enough to make everything smell so fresh and alive. Before long I found myself back at the start (now the aid station) and was surprised to see fellow runners milling about, eating cookies and fruit, talking on cell phones, and making clothing changes. Eventually one of these runners would get a determined look on their face and off they would go, down the trail for another lap. I wanted to fit in so I milled about awkwardly. The race director filled my water bottle, I grabbed a few cookies, did my best to don that determined look and shot off down the trail. Lap two was a bit slower as I added more walk breaks in an effort to conserve energy for Sunday. When I hit the aid station the second time around, I was a pro. I milled with the best of them, made a phone call, ordered up my bottle refill, made that determined face, and took off down the trail just in time for a heavy down pour. For a brief minute I thought about turning around, going back to the aid station and grabbing my rain jacket. I’m a true PNWer though, and decided to embrace the rain on my skin, letting it trickle down my back and drip into my eyes. The sound of the rain falling on leaves was like a metronome that set the cadence of my footfalls the last 10 miles. I crossed over the chalk-line in the grass in 5:45. I couldn’t believe I had been out there that long. I changed into dry clothes, gave Barefoot Jon a big hug and headed off for the marathon expo in Port Angeles.

Next: Sunday Morning, North Olympic Discovery Marathon