Seattle Marathon

After Boston last year, I made the tough decision to focus on running lots of marathons this year instead of running just one or two at maximum effort. As I expected, more frequent marathons meant my pace slowed considerably and I found myself firmly in the 4:20-4:30 finish times by mid-summer. I felt frustrated (even though I knew this would happen) so I turned to 50ks and adopted the more laid-back attitude of trail runners. I really enjoyed my new running world and found that even with slower times, I was making respectable placements in my age group. I approached Seattle (my first road marathon since July) with one goal: HAVE FUN. I also had two “it would be nice if it happened” goals: get my 2009 BQ and a PR. I really didn’t think the last two were much of a possibility since all of my training has consisted of a slow marathon or 50k every 2-4 weeks with lots of easy runs in between.
It turned out to be a great weekend in Seattle. One that I’m sure will become one of those “Boomer Legends”. I’ve attended enough Boomer gatherings to know it’s best not report on them, and everyone else has given their version anyway, so I’ll skip directly to my marathon report….

Race morning was cool and clear. I wore a black Brooks long sleeve tech top, yellow Maniac singlet, black skirt, Brooks Adrenaline 6’s in copper and blue Smartwool socks (I decided to wear the dorky ankle-length version to protect my ankles from chip-strap chafing). I left my hair loose and finished off the look with diamond studs and white gold hoops.

As usual, when the starting horn sounded, everyone went off way too fast. I got caught up in the momentum, but I was feeling good so I decided it was best to go with the flow and not risk getting trampled. The first hill was hard since I didn’t feel adequately warmed-up. The tunnel was horrible: all the walkers were crowded around the aid station and it was impossible to grab a cup, plus the smell of old car exhaust made me sprint towards open air. Once out of the tunnel, the cool breeze of the lake swept over me and I felt great. I hit the half way point around 1:52: much faster than I expected. I was starting to sweat so I reached into my pocket to retrieve an electrolyte tablet only to discover I had left them in the hotel room. Eek! I knew this meant trouble down the road. Sure enough, after topping Galer hill I felt the first twinge of a cramp in my quads. I cursed my legs and told them “we’re finishing this race and running the whole way, so buck up.” I forced myself to keep turning my legs over even though the pain was getting worse. Then it started to migrate: left quad, right calf, left hamstring, right arch, left toes etc….Something would seize, then let up as I kept forcing a quick cadence through the Arboretum. I looked at my watch, but couldn’t think clearly through the pain and couldn’t tell if I was on track for a BQ. I thought briefly about stopping, then decide a little cramping never killed anyone so I forged ahead. I flew down the last hill towards the stadium and suddenly all the pain went away. I crossed the finish line in 3:59:10. I got my 2009 BQ out of the way but missed a PR by a few seconds (my PR is 3:58:46). I finished 21 out of 402 in my age group. And, in spite of the horrible cramping, I had FUN!

Autumn Leaves 50k

I entered this 50k at the last minute as a result of a DNF at a 50k in October. That DNF was haunting me AND I wanted Seattle (Nov 25) to be my 20th race of marathon or greater distance, so I needed a redemption race.

The race morning weather was perfect: 30 degrees and pitch-black at the start, requiring me to wear a headlamp for the first time ever. By mile 9 the sun was trying to come up but we were blanketed in the fog, mile 20 saw the sun in all it's glory and made for a relaxing and joyful final 12 miles.

I intended to run this race slow... as a last long run before Seattle. Unfortunately, my legs didn't get the memo and started out much too fast. The whole group I was running with went off course at mile 7 due to darkness and did a nice little extra loop through mud and roots. Same thing happened at mile 12. (This was a 5 mile course that we ran 6 times plus a 1 mile out and back at the start of the race). By mile 17 the sun was up enough that we actual stayed on course and it was much easier! I lapped my first group of runners at mile 20, then lapped several others during the last 12 miles. Lapping people gave me an energy burst, but I managed to slow myself down by remembering this was a training run to prepare for my goal race in 3 weeks. I started the last lap and decided to take it really easy and slowed down considerably, walking every mile
for several minutes.

I crossed the finish line in 5:40:00, picked up my finishers medal (nice, handmade piece) and headed home. Last night I received an email for the Race Director with the draft results: I was 3rd woman and 17th overall out of 103 runners. I'm ready to start tapering for Seattle.

Fashion report: Black Triks Marathon Girl running skirt, black Brooks long sleeve tech T, Nathan hydration pack, Smartwool socks, Brooks Adrenaline 7 shoes, Black Brooks hat, gold hoops and diamond studs.

Northface Endurance Challenge 50k

Brutal...humbling...dnf. Biggest lesson learned: NEVER forget to respect the distance.

Very little was published about the course for the Northface 50K. The website described the 32 mile journey from Cougar Mountain to the top of Sauk Mountain and back in very poetic terms, talking about things like trolls living under bridges and owls stealing hats off runners heads. There were no elevation profiles published either. I had hiked a bit in that area and thought the trails were nicely maintained and very runnable, even the long uphill switchbacks could be walked at a good pace. I had already run 2 trail races of marathon distance or greater, so this race looked like the perfect 1st 50k. I couldn't have been more wrong...

The week leading up to the race had been stormy. Autumn had arrived a month early to the pacific northwest. I was prepared, though. I had a great packable rain jacket, wool running socks, wool gloves and nice, new winter tech gear from Brooks. I stocked my hydration pack with extra gels and sports beans in case the rain and cold sapped more than the usual amount of energy out of me. I even tapered for this race, something I rarely do.

Race morning I was up at 3:30 to make the 2 hour drive to Cougar Mountain. I arrived to find the starting area shrouded in darkness and veiled in a heavy mist, sometimes turning to rain. After a quick briefing by the race director (“it's slippery out there, you'll be jumping lots of logs, watch the descents!”), we were off. the course rolled gently until we hit the first aid station at mile 4, then it was a screaming downhill just as the sun was rising. Mile 7 start ed the first ascent of Suak Mountain. It didn't seem too bad at first. The trail was wide, steep and long. We climbed and climbed and climbed. Some of the leading 50 miler's flew past us on their way back down Suak and I got my first view of what real ultra marathoners look like when they descend: downhill lean, arms out like chicken-wings, legs wide and feet splayed in duck fashion. I made a mental note to hike a bit more before my next trail ultra and to practice downhill technique. I was getting tired, but still marching on, then suddenly the course veered off the main trail and straight up the mountain side. What started as a run, then turned to a hike suddenly became an all out scramble. I found myself using my hands to hold onto roots and branches as I climbed upwards. I finally understood the quote on the race shirt “run when you can, walk you need to, crawl if you must.” We reached the summit then quickly descended down the backside.... and on my backside too. The trail was so steep and muddy that I found myself sitting on my heels as I weaved through the trees. Two miles later we were on the valley floor, finally able to run again. I've never been happier to run. The small group I was traveling with were all rejoicing in the glory of actually running a segment of this ultra. Our joy was short lived, however, as we faced climbing Suak Mountain again..... first a hike, then back to scrambling up deer trails. The second ascent fried my quads. They became weak and wobbly, but I still managed to reach the top. Once again, we headed back down, this time toward Cougar Mountain. Our small group had scattered and I was running all alone. I liked it that way. I knew people were all around me, but at the same time could enjoy the solitude of the forest. I reached the 17 mile check point and for the first time looked at my watch. It was 11:00... 4 hours into the race and I was only half way! I had estimated a 6 hour race for myself based on past trail races. That wasn't going to happen, so I called my family and gave them an update so they wouldn't worry. I had one problem though, I had to be done by 2:00 to make it home in time for evening obligations. That gave me 3 hours to cover 15 miles. Very doable as long as we didn't continue to scramble up sides of mountains. Right after I left the aid station we started to climb again. Within 20 minutes my stomach started to act up, then around mile 20 I jumped over a log and when I came down my legs seized up in one gigantic cramp. I was completely immobile. I fished around for an electrolyte tablet hidden in my vest, downed it with a big swig of water and forced myself to continue hobbling down the trail. It seemed like hours passed, but in reality it was only minutes before my legs loosened up again and I was able to resume running. The cold rain had tricked me into thinking I wasn't sweating and therefore didn't need electrolytes. I decided to start popping succeed tablets every 30 minutes and try to restore some balance in my system to fight off future cramps. I passed what I thought was aid station 22... an unmanned water station...an hour after I left the station at mile 17. I looked at my watch. An hour had passed so that meant I had picked up my pace. Finishing by 2:00 seemed a real possibility and my spirits lifted. I ran on, and on and on. 30 minutes later I rolled into the next aid station. Great this must be mile 25! The aid station volunteers were all huddled around a few runners that were dropping out but I managed to get their attention and asked if I was indeed at mile 25. Nope, mile 22! It had taken me over and 1 ½ hours to cover 5 miles. My heart sunk. There was no way I was going to be able to run another 10 miles over this terrain, especially if I wanted to get home by 4:00. I decided to continue on and drop at mile 25 which should put me back at the start line. I struggled through the next 3 miles questioning my decision to stop my run. When I rolled into aid station 25, I gave up my chip and announced my decision to withdraw. Everyone tried to convince me to keep going, including some of the people I had run with earlier in the day. It was hard but I stuck to my decision to quit and headed back to my car.

Later that week, some of the marathon maniacs went out and remeasured the main loop since many of the experienced 50 milers were questioning the distance. The loop that was supposed to be 25 miles actually came in at 28 miles which explained the tremendously long time between mile 17 and mile 25. Somehow knowing I had actually ran 28 miles before dropping made me feel much better about everything.

I've been analyzing my performance and some of the lessons I learned may help others:

You can not predict your ultra time based on past performance. My two previous trail races of 26.2 or greater indicated a 6 hour finish for me. I was not mentally prepared to run for 8+ hours.

Do not rely on race websites for info: talk to people who have actually run the course. This was a new race though, so it wouldn't have mattered.

Never make promises to be somewhere the evening of a long race. I had family obligations and promised to be home by 4:00. As I was struggling along the course I kept weighing the advantages of finishing (even at a walk) against the disappointment of my family if I didn't show.

Electrolytes are still necessary even when it's cold and rainy.

Never check the race results when you DNF. Once the decision is made to drop, don't look back and start playing "what if" games with yourself.

All in all, it worked out for the best. I'm not injured. I am hungry to race again. Also, as I was driving home a huge explosion happened in Tacoma right when I passed. The whole freeway shook and debris starting hitting the pavement. I managed to get through, but the freeway was closed for hours afterwards. If I had finished the race, I would have been stuck for hours on I-5.

Haulin' Aspen Trail Marathon

I haven't been posting much lately because work and family have been taking all of my time.I have been running though, and had the chance to run a great trail marathon with Karl last weekend. Here's my report:
My second venture into the world of distance trail running was a blast and enough to make me want to focus on trails instead of roads. The Haulin’ Aspen Trail Marathon starts just outside of Bend, Oregon (around 4,000 feet) and climbs 2,500 feet in the first 14 miles, followed by 12 miles of downhill technical single track. I was worried about the elevation at the start and the climb during the race since I suffered greatly from altitude during my road marathon in Bend last summer. I was also worried about the heat. It turns out I had no reason to worry.

Race morning started out cool and crisp as we loaded onto buses at 5:15 a.m. 45 minutes later we arrived at Shevlin Park and stepped out into the 40 degree morning. I was bundled up in a long sleeve tech shirt and Marathon Maniac jacket. We had an hour to kill at the start, but it went fast as Maniacs gathered in a big huddle and talked of races past, present and future. Minutes before 7:00 I stripped down to my race attire: black coolmax running skirt, Marathon Maniacs yellow singlet, black Brooks hat, gold hoops and diamond studs, tomato-red Brooks Cascadia trail shoes and Iron Butterfly Dirty Girl Gaiters in shocking pink. I decided to carry a Brooks handheld bottle of Gatorade because the aid stations were 3-4 miles apart.

Karl and I started the race together, covering the first 3-4 miles at a very conservative pace. I knew the first half would be hard and wanted to warm up properly before starting the climb. We started climbing at mile 2 and it didn’t let up. Karl began using walk breaks according to his pre-race plan and I slowly pulled away from him. I was feeling good, but continued my slow and conservative pace. I caught a glimpse of Karl again at the 6 mile aid station and was pleasantly surprised to see him so close behind me. At mile 10 things turned nasty. The course sent us up a very step forest service road, in full sun and so steep everyone was walking. I remembered the advice I was given on the Ultra Board: walk with purpose, don’t just amble along. I tried my best to walk “with purpose”. I think I did fairly well, but I need to really practice my hiking before my next trail race. My legs don’t do walking. The aid station at mile 12 was in full blazing sun (although temps were still on the cool side) . I thought it would be good to refill my bottle before continuing the climb and was surprised to find I had barely drank any of the contents. Oops, that was a bad sign and I had to make myself start drinking more. Mile 14 marked the end of the climb and we turned onto single track trail for the 12 mile descent to the finish.

The trail was great… fully engulfed by forest and out of the sun just in time to avoid the heat. The downhill felt good but I had to keep my focus sharp since rocks and roots were jumping out of nowhere and taking unsuspecting runners down. I was a little concerned that my legs would tire from so much downhill and I would be stumbling near the end. Fortunately all of my hill training the past 6 months paid off and I was able to stay upright the entire distance. Others were not as fortunate and I saw many bloody marathoners doing their best to keep putting one foot in front of another as they edged closer to the finish. I crossed the finish line in 5:05. Good enough for a 4th in age group.

I grabbed some food, looked for the beer (gone thanks to the half-marathoners) and made my way to the shuttle bus line. I felt incredibly good without the stiffness and aching joints that are trademarks of a road marathon finish. I think I’m ready to tackle the Northface 50k in October.

Seafair Marathon 2007

I found myself at the start line of the Seafair Marathon facing the possibility that I may end the day with my first DNF (Did Not Finish). I had hurt my back cleaning the barn the weekend before, so the week leading up to the marathon consisted of a lot of rest and two short “loosen-up-the-legs” type runs. My back was feeling good, but every once in a while a pain would shoot through my lower back and into my hip. Standing there at the start I could feel myself favoring my back and being very careful not to bend over too quickly or turn suddenly. On top of having back problems, I was also facing a very hilly course on a hot and sunny day. I knew there would be very few flat sections of road and even less shade, especially the last half. Even so, I had plenty of energy and was looking forward to the run.

At the start line I found the huddle of Marathon Maniacs and joined in. We were busy talking about up coming races when I glanced at my watch: 6:55… 5 minutes until the start. Then suddenly the starting gun fires and off we go, 5 minutes early! Not a big deal for me, because I was ready, but a lot people were caught off guard and had to run to the start line from various locations in the athletes village. The course immediately started up the first hill and I was warming up well. I worked hard at controlling my speed since I’ve learned from experience that running my intended race pace (9 minutes per mile) during opening miles spells a finish line disaster for me. I’m best off running the first 3 miles at 10 mpm and then slowly increasing my speed. This ends up being harder than I thought on this particular day because the rolling hills prevent even pacing. Still the miles ticked by and I felt good, strong and fast. Unfortunately, the time on my watch did not agree with the feeling in my legs: my watch indicated I was slow. At the half way point I meet the Marathon Maniacs newest inductee, MM#611. We chatted a little as we climbed up yet another hill. I asked him if the course felt slow and he responded that it is a very difficult course to pace and that the race director actually published a mile-per-mile pace chart specifically for Seafair to help runners determine if they are on track. Dang, I didn’t see that and it would have been helpful. At mile 15 I did an all systems check. This is about the point I had expected to drop out because of back problems, but amazingly everything was feeling great. At mile 20 another big hill loomed before us, it was long and in direct sun. I managed to crest that hill only to find a screaming downhill that reduced many runners to a funny shuffle-limp as their quads gave out. Thankfully I had been doing lots of hill training and many hilly marathons over the past 6 months, so my quads didn't even know they should be fatigued. I passed a lot of people on that downhill. By this time the sun was out in full force and the course continued to roll. Eventually we turned the corner at mile 25.5, and I expected to coast into the finish chute, but no… another hill, and a steep one! As I crested the hill, I see Mr. Dove standing on the corner, cheering me in. I crossed the line in a disappointing 4:22. I felt like I had run a 4:00 and couldn’t believe I was as slow as the clock indicated, but physically I felt good and was happy with my performance. I finished, that was more than I thought I was capable of for this race.

When I returned home that evening I checked the results. To my surprise I was 5th in my division. It seems everyone was slow because of the course and the heat. The best part, though, is the marathon cured my back problems… not even a hint of soreness since mile 12 or so of the marathon. I'm planning on running lightly the next week or two before ramping it up again for the Haulin'Aspen trail Marathon in August.

North Olympic Discovery Marathon

I barely slept Saturday night. A few things were haunting me: First was a comment several Maniacs made after the Ultra when I said I was going to run the NODM. The gist of the comments was that it was a tough course and would be a challenge following a short but hilly ultra. Yikes. The other thing keeping me awake was the fact I barely ate following Saturday’s run. I have a hard time eating after marathons and even though I made a huge effort, I just couldn’t get much down. A major bonk during the marathon would be disastrous. I ended up rolling out of bed at 5 even though the race started at 9. I tried to eat breakfast and managed a cup of coffee and half a cliff bar. When I looked out the window I saw enormous black clouds billowing up to the west, but stuck to my initial plan of wearing my red Brooks short sleeve tech shirt, black running skirt, black hat, double diamond studs, Brooks Adrenaline 6GTS in copper and my watch. My goal time was 6 hours and I was planning to run my opening miles with 5 minutes of running, 5 minutes of walking until the legs warmed up. I was surprised that my legs didn’t feel tight at all as I walked to the start line. In fact, they felt quite good and even had some spring in them. I saw Lydenruner just in time to give him a big hug and wish him well on his BQ quest. Then I caught sight of one of my favorite Maniacs, Little Leslie. The NODM was the last of a 7 marathons in 7 weeks streak for her so we decided to start off together, knowing we would both be slow. As soon as the race started, someone dropped a full bottle of red energy drink and both Leslie and I were drenched from the knees down in sticky liquid. Then some guy in the back started running up my heels and even clipped my Achilles a time or two before he bumped me and passed in a huff. With all the commotion at the start, I forgot to turn on my watch so decided to pretend it was a no-tech run. At mile two I did an all systems check. My legs were fine, heart rate low, energy high. We passed Mr. Dove at mile 8. He wanted to be there in case I decided the marathon was too much, but after seeing the ease in which I was running, he knew I’d make it to the finish. Leslie and I were running well, too well for significant walk breaks and limited them to walking through the aid stations. The half way point came quickly, and with it the rain and head wind. The sticky stuff was washed from our legs and replaced with mud as we splashed along. The course started climbing and descending, with some of the descents so steep and slippery I was afraid of falling. Mile 20 I was still feeling great although the fear of bonking was always on my mind. At mile 23 I decided to speed up and get out of the dang wind/rain combo as fast as I could, but Little Leslie started to drop off the back. Finishing together was more important than finishing a few minutes faster, so I dropped my pace back down and waited for her to catch up. We crossed the line in 4:50:02.

The double weekend ended up being much easier than I thought possible. The soft trails of the ultra left my legs undamaged and the marathon was challenging enough that I didn’t slip into boredom (my nemesis). I can’t wait for my next challenge, I just have to decided what that will be. One thing I do know, this distance stuff suits me.

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