Long Haul 100: Squeezing Out Sub 20

PRERACE

Long Haul 100 wasn't even on my radar under until 12 weeks ago. After DNFing at Javelina in late October, I was anxious to use my training towards another 100 mile race. Because I had put 50+ miles on my legs at Javelina and wanted to BQ at Rehoboth in early December, it made the most sense to look at the January/February for another 100.

There were two major considerations for choosing one - I wanted a Western States qualifier and I needed it to be relatively inexpensive travel-wise. Rocky Raccoon 100 in Texas has been on my short list for awhile, but once I found out that Long Haul was a Western States qualifier, it seemed like a no-brainer to just drive down to the Tampa area. I knew people who had raced it, who lived close by, and I had a couple of friends doing it in 2020!

I opted work a half day on Thursday so I could drive to Florida that afternoon/evening and have all of Friday to relax. Angie graciously let me stay with her in Sarasota and we went out for pizza and beer when I rolled in after 8pm.

Knowing I could sleep in and rest as much as I needed to on Friday was perfect. I hung out a bit with her pup and then following her advice, drove out to Siesta Key for a morning on the beach. She recommended a local coffee shop a block from the beach and I took my cold brew and cinnamon roll straight to the ocean. It was a beautiful January morning on the gulf and I waded in the water, people-watched, and dug my toes in the soft white sand. 

As it approached noon, I met Angie on her lunch break from work at a tuna bowl place in downtown Sarasota and then made my way north to meet Jen and Dan at packet pickup. Dan and Dan's parents had offered to let me stay with them on Friday night and it couldn't have been any better! They were super close to the race and chatting with them all afternoon was the perfect distraction from the task at hand the following day. That evening, we piled in the car (after removing the Mahjong game from the backseat) to pick up John for dinner who was staying in a nearby hotel and met Jen at an Italian restaurant. 

Back at the house, I laid out my clothes for race morning and got everything squared away so all I had to do when I woke up was get dressed, fill my hydration bottle, and eat breakfast.

I don't think I have EVER slept so soundly before a race. I didn't wake up once and in fact, was sleeping so hard when my alarm went off that I was confused as to where I was! We left exactly when we needed to and because Dan was driving, I didn't have any worries about navigating or getting there in enough time. 

As with most ultras, the scene at the start was pretty relaxed. People were piling their drop bags onto the shuttle trailer, waiting in line for the porta-potties, and catching up with friends.

I jumped in the porta-potty line right when we got there and then sat in the car until there was about 5 minutes to start, staying off my feet as long as I could. 

THE RACE

I don't recall a countdown or any fanfare about the start except that when it was time to go, I remember thinking how underwhelming it was to begin. With a long day and night ahead, I didn't worry too much about the first mile. I just let the pack spread out a bit as we ran down the paved road to the start of the first spur. I stayed behind John and Patrick for a bit while they chatted and just listened as the day awoke. 

The course was a mile on pavement to a main intersection where 3 spurs came together. Each spur was an out-and-back so you could see runners coming and going all day long, no matter where you were in the field. It was like running the petals of a flower and coming back to the center. For all but about a half mile there was plenty of space and I actually really, really liked the short out-and-backs because you were never alone for even more than a few minutes. It was mostly double-track or wider and that meant that passing or getting passed was never some awkward moment. 

Spur 1 was about 3 miles total, spur 2 was about 5 miles, and spur 3 was about 2 miles. We ran all of the spurs 10 times except the very last lap, you got to skip spur 3 and just run into the finish. 

The first 2 laps or 20ish miles were pretty uneventful save for a couple of trips to the porta-potty. The weather was perfect and the sun was still hiding way beyond the treeline. The Florida forest offered a good amount of shade and I don't recall it feeling particularly warm until about 11am. I shed my tank after the first lap, but it felt cool enough that I really didn't want ice until I got past the marathon mark. 

I was trying to stay between 10:00 - 11:00 minute miles as much as possible. I knew if I was feeling good I would slip under 10s in the beginning, but I was also being very mindful that I needed to take a little more time at aid stations and that I would inevitably get slower after 100k. The main goal was just to finish the race and feel confident again about 100s after Javelina. But of course I wanted to do the best I could and I was hoping to finish in a time that was reasonably close to my PR. I didn't really feel like I was necessarily in PR shape, but I knew that I was motivated by my DNF and I was running more comfortably than I had in over a year. My body just finally felt like me again. 

After the first marathon, I hit a bit of a rough patch and knew the heat of the day was starting to get to me. At Javelina, I was so worried about getting in and out of aid fast that I failed to take care of myself properly. I was determined to make sure that I took a few extra minutes this time. 

So at mile 30, I took a few chances and it paid off. My feet felt tired and with groomed trails, I decided to change from my Hoka Torrent trail shoe) to the Hoka Carbon X (road shoe). I got a frosty mini Coke from Dan and chugged on it while I changed my shoes, restocked my gels, and decided to hit the music early. I train with music for road and treadmill runs, but never had listened to it during a 100 before. Instead of saving it for later, I opted to let it help me with this rough patch. There was a minor snafu when I realized my Mighty music player was completely dead, but my old iPod Nano came through. I didn't even have something to carry it in so I just shoved it in my sports bra and hoped it wouldn't annoy the shit out of me. 

At the aid station, I had the volunteer scoop ice into my buff and with calories, caffeine, a cooled neck, fresh shoes, and tunes, I bopped down the road like I was just starting. I felt GOOD. And it was weird because it lasted about 15 miles that I felt super happy and super strong. I smiled widely at fellow runners, chatted with the volunteers at the aid stations, and things were great.

Around mile 45, which happened to be nearly the exact same mileage as when the shitshow began at Javelina, I was running along the asphalt section and puked. Just one puke though. And I walked for a minute or so, trying to not worry too much about how this seemed way too familiar. As the nausea subsided a bit, I jogged slowly, testing the waters. Thankfully, that was the only puke all race!

When I came into mile 50, I remember that I was definitely not as chipper as I was before, but I was still moving well enough and hitting 50 miles just under 9 hours or so which is exactly where I wanted to be. The darkness and tired legs would catch up with me, but I was hoping I could run the second half in about 10-11 hours. The iPod battery died, but I put it back on the charger so I could run with it later in case I didn't have pacers the whole time. 

This is where I decided to take off my ice buff, put on a dry sports bra, and put on a shirt. Though I had liberally lubed with Squirrel's Nut Butter all my usual chafe spots, the ice melting down my back from my buff had created a chafe situation in my butt crack so I applied copious amounts more to try to keep it from getting worse. Behind the 10x10 tent, but still pretty much in plain view, I changed my tops and shoved goopy lube in my shorts. 

I told Dan to get my headlamp and black hat ready so I could just grab those at the last possible minute. I definitely knew I'd need it by the time I got to 60 miles. It was getting tougher to eat and gels just sounded gross. In the middle of the day, I had switched to more water and less Tailwind in my hydration bottle. But I knew I was fading fast without many calories so I forced myself to try to eat a little something at each aid station and drink a cup of soda. Thankfully, I did have pee again which meant that at least I was hydrating okay (not great, but enough to pee!). John had been sick for hours and not peeing and ultimately decided to drop which I heard about right around this time. Having been there recently myself, I knew exactly all the emotions he was going through right then. 

At mile 60, I was able to have a pacer. I was so excited to run with someone and keep me motivated to move even when my head got funky. Dan paced me a full 10ish mile loop and I felt pretty good actually in miles 65-68. I really don't remember what order I got cold broth, warm broth, warm soup in over the last 30 miles, but I do know that I was STARVING and got a cup at each of the main aid stations. 

I ran the spur 3 and 1 by myself and then Dan ran spur 2 with me again. 

When we got back to the main aid station, I was at mile 80ish and still had to do the shortest spur to complete the loop. My Garmin was dying so I got my charging cable and charger and my iPod which appeared to be half-charged. I was kind of delirious at this point and just putting one foot in front of the other so I wasn't really sure if and when I'd have my pacers. It took a bit of time to figure out how I was going to wear my charger, charging cable, and Garmin with my belt. I was walking on the shortest spur, stuffing everything into the belt at first, but then it was too heavy and bounced so I just left the charger in the pocket, put my watch on my wrist with the cable, and let the cord dangle about. I'm honestly not sure how this didn't annoy me, but I suppose there were too many other annoyances clouding this one.

Angie was ready to pace me for spur 1 at mile 82ish. She noticed a sign near the start/finish that said runners did not need to do spur 3 on their final loop! This made me so happy. We walked a bit while I digested soup and then ran to the timing mat, walked a bit, and ran back to the road. She went back to the tent and because I was still running (and not walking), Dan had to catch up to me on the road. I wanted to run to the sign that said something about the hall of pines and then I took a walk break. I had my little sections broken up to try to run and try to walk, the walk sections getting longer with each loop. 

I think this was the section that he nearly karate chopped an armadillo rustling in the woods. I'm not sure there would have been much to jolt me out of my ultra-fog at that point. I just kind of turned my head when sprang into action, but kept moving along as though nothing had happened. I needed to pee again (yay!) and decided I'd use the porta-potty on the way back from the spur 2 aid station. When I came back, there was someone in it and after waiting 30 seconds, I decided I didn't need to go that bad. 

Back at the main aid station, I went out on spur 3 for the final time. About 100 feet past the timing mat, Angie caught up to me and we trounced out of the woods together. I was definitely doing a lot more walking at this point, but trying to run when I could. I don't really remember what we talked about or the music that was still playing in one my ears, but I was moving forward, making progress.

Dan met me at the trail intersection on the final spur. I didn't want to waste too much time at the aid station knowing that I was going to be done in less than an hour so I just filled my bottle halfway and tried to keep moving. There was considerably more walking at this point because I was thinking that a few minutes here or there really wasn't going to make a difference. I was going to be finishing around 20 hours or so. We walked a bit on the road and I had told Dan earlier in the loop that I was just going to run again once I saw the tents. 

But then I looked down and saw 19:52:XX on my watch and knowing in the back of my head he'd force me to run, I said I had less than 8 minutes to make it to the finish line to get under 20 hours. He rallied me to get my legs moving and while cursing him, I found that last gear to push for the final minutes. I knew the pain would be over soon and as I saw the first lights of the tents and then the timing clock, the sub-20 hours was happening. 19:58:05, 3rd female, 10th overall. 

The race director handed me my buckle and I posed for a few photos at the finish line.

POST-RACE

Back at the tent, I sat in a chair for the first time in 20 hours and felt the cloud of exhaustion grip me. I knew it wouldn't change much, but I did sip slowly on a Tailwind recovery drink, trying to rehydrate and get in some calories. Dan's brother-in-law graciously fired up a few bratwurst for us and I mindlessly chewed slowly, eating 3/4 over what seemed like an eternity. My wet clothes soon felt cold, but I really didn't want to move so I sat until the 3 of them packed up. As soon as they were gone (Dan helping, but coming back), I changed into dry clothes and crawled halfway into my sleeping bag. By the time Dan came back, I was asleep.

At first light, I started to stir, legs throbbing, a layer of dew coating me and the sleeping bag. I sat in the chair for awhile, just watching the morning unfold.

Eventually, after Dan awoke, we decided to start to break down camp, find some breakfast, take showers, and come back to watch Jen finish. Rain was starting to try to come down when we came back, but fortunately never too hard. As the clock crept near 30 hours, we peered down the asphalt, watching for Jen and Angie to come around the bend. Soon, even in the distance, I could spot them and knew she was going to make it easily under the 30 mark. I desperately wanted to run in with her, but my legs were so tight that I just had to hobble down to the finish line, hoping I had enough time to stay ahead of her for a finish photo. Mission complete.

It wasn't my fastest 100, it wasn't my first time running 100 miles, but it was the first outright 100 mile race I've done. There were plenty of things that went wrong, but there was a lot that went right and I'm happy that I ran a pretty consistently paced race (for that distance) and stayed pretty positive. 

My short list of what worked: broth, music, all the portable chargers, handheld hydration instead of a pack, Hoka Carbon X, ice buff (but I really need to figure out how to keep my shorts dry if that's even possible), mini Cokes, smaller doses of caffeine, properly taking time at aid stations, dry clothes, and alternating pacers.

Link to splits on Strava here.  

Javelina Jundred DNF: Failure is not fatal ....and other cliche things

I always prided myself on not having any DNFs. Like, I thought was too strong mentally to just throw in the towel. But here I am, a few days removed from the first time I willingly pulled out of a race. It wasn’t because I missed the cutoff and couldn’t go on or had some acute injury that forced me to stop. The short story is that I stopped having fun around mile 30, felt increasingly nauseated, puked my guts up and then some, and wandered for about an hour and a half at a snail’s pace trying to keep sips of water down. And when I finally reached the aid station at mile 50ish, I didn’t want to rally. Honestly, I think if I had been given a pep talk, forced to sit for 30 minutes to get down some fluids and food, and waited for the sun to dip down a bit more, I would have finished. But since that time machine hasn’t been made, I just have to live with those self-loathing pangs of not finishing something.

I feel stupid now that the race is over because I’m playing all the “what if” scenarios in my head as though I can go back in time and change anything I did. I had SO MUCH TIME. Seriously. I had almost 19 hours to finish 50 miles with the 100 mile cutoff being 30 hours. Runner math tells me I just had to complete two 9.5 hour marathons. If I just walked at a reasonable pace, I could have finished. But by the time I had sat down on the cot in the medical tent, I had already called Adam twice, preparing him that I was on the verge of DNFing because I didn’t want him to worry about expecting me. He said all the right things, both supportive of me if I had to stop and encouraging me to keep at it.

I was most mad because here was the first ultra I had hauled not just Adam out for across the country, but I had Roger and Chantal flying in from Denver and Atlanta to pace. The guilt I felt was extraordinary and everything seemed (very dramatically at the time) like a huge waste. As I wavered back and forth in the very appropriately named “Jackass Junction” aid station, I knew the disappointment of letting my team down was going to feel just as bad as letting myself down. I braced myself for the pitying epithets.

The reality of the DNF is about as I expected. A little like the grieving process, but in a narcissistic, party-of-one style. No one cares about it in the way that I do, nor would I expect them to. And I’m sure anyone in my position has had a similar response. It hurts really, really bad at first. Especially when you are by yourself, stuck in your own thoughts. And then, like with anything, time begins to help you realize this is just one thing in your life (and good God, mine is pretty great so I really should shutthefuckup) and everything will be okay.

The longer version is that I’ve spent the last 20 weeks training for this race. I only took Mondays off of running. I ran workouts I never thought I’d hit. I woke up early Saturday and Sunday to get my long runs in during the summer. I felt ready, confident, fit. I had a crew and pacers. I knew other people that would be running that I would be able to see throughout the day. I trained in the heat. I was EXCITED.

When I woke up just before 5am on race morning and crawled outside my tent, I was thrilled to be toeing the line. There were no real race nerves, just ready to get the show on the road. Chantal was clutch and dropped my bags for me, filled my pack, and found Roger and Adam for me before the start. My body felt good, I got plenty of rest, and the weather on race morning felt perfect.

Photo cred: Chantal Elmore 

The gun went off for wave 1 and I was in the mid-pack of the group. Hoping to have some people help me stay at a conservative pace, but not too far behind to lose time while the temps were nice. I felt great as the sun started to rise and though my first couple of miles were a little slower than I preferred, I was also cognizant that I had a long way to go.

Photo cred: Roger Beutler 

I breezed through the first aid station without grabbing anything as both my bottles were full at the start and I had extra water in my hydration bladder. I was staying on top of eating something every 30 minutes from the beginning and sipping on GU Roctane.

As we climbed to the top of the loop at Jackass Junction, I was in good spirits and feeling happy about the day ahead. The crowd started to thin out at that point and I ran alone for a few miles until I got to Rattlesnake. It was starting to warm up a bit, but I still super comfortable and the downhill miles were super easy. I took a pit stop at Rattlesnake to pee, topped off my hydration, got some sunscreen sprayed on me, and carried on towards finishing the first loop.

I started talking to a fellow runner named William and later, Rick and we cruised for a few miles filling the miles with conversation. It really made the time fly by and I was in high spirits. I spotted Jamie and encouraged him to keep going as our chatty train rolled by - he was 2 weeks out from a killer race at Kona and understandably a bit unrecovered? I was hoping he’d rally by the time he got back to the start/finish.

I wasn’t expecting to see my crew/pacers at Jeadquarters and it was such a happy surprise. I wasn’t really sure if they were just planning to stay all day and was hoping I’d see them again and again (even though I thought I’d be okay without them) because it really boosted my spirits.

Photo creds: Roger Beutler, Chantal Elmore, Adam Liebowitz 

I refilled my pack with nutrition, got my bottles refilled, tied my shoe, and headed back out for loop 2. I was cruising really well until I got to Rattlesnake and caught up with Laura who was in a bit of a rough patch. The heat started to get to me and she smartly doused me with an icy sponge. I filled my Buff and sports bra with ice and then set out to reach the top of the loop again. I don’t really remember too much from Jackass the second time.

My spirits started to drop a bit as I headed back to Jeadquarters and I started to slow down a bit even though I was going downhill. The last 2 miles seemed to take forever and I was feeling very mopey when I grabbed my mile 41.2 bag. I tried to get in some calories and walk a bit to let everything settle. A girl passed by me running steadily and she asked if I had done the race before, if I’d done other 100s, etc. I was in such a funky mood that I really didn’t want to talk, but I stayed behind her about 30 feet when she pulled away and let her pace me for a mile or two.

Back at Cowboy, I was feeling really blah, but still running a bit and dipped a couple of pieces of watermelon in salt hoping for a revival. It was maybe about a mile down the trail that I instantly felt sick. I stepped off to the side of the trail and projectile vomited. Hoping I had just hit the reset button, I actually was happy at first. I thought it might help me feel better. But I took a few steps and did it again, and again, and when there was nothing else left, I was just dry heaving. Runners were stopping, asking if I was okay, if they could help, if they could give me anything. I just shook my head.

I tried to just walk slowly for a few minutes and even gave running a try briefly, but everything was hurting at that point. I wanted to stop and rest for a moment, but the sun was still powerful and the ice in my Buff was quickly melting. As I crept down the trail, my power walk turned into just a regular walk and later, I started wandering side to side. I was aware of it, but I also felt like I was out of control of it. A runner tried to encourage me to go with him and after I told him I had been throwing up, he said he would let the aid station know I was coming in.

The only cool thing about this was that I was moving slow enough that I plenty of time to pull out my phone to take a photo of eventual race winner and one of my favs, Kaci Lickteig.

The time seemed to stretch on forever. People would tell me how far they thought the aid station was in miles or minutes, but I was so out of it that I couldn’t really compute how much longer I had to go. I called Adam twice and was likely being incoherent. I didn’t want him to worry if I wasn’t showing up on the tracker as expected and I wanted to prepare him for my very imminent feeling of DNF. He showed me compassion, but also encouraged me to just keep going and see how I felt when I got back to Jeadquarters. At the time, I could barely handle going another quarter mile.

When I finally got to Jackass after what felt like an eternity of walking, I was greeted by a girl who led me into the medical tent. I explained my symptoms to the medic and they took my blood pressure and pulse. As time crept on, I couldn’t contemplate going back out and the nausea was not subsiding. I tried to sip some ginger ale and immediately felt horrible. The medic told me he could give me nausea medication and while I know he must of explained it meant that I had to drop after taking it, I was not lucid at the time.

They tested my blood sugar and gave me the nausea medication and shortly thereafter, Laura showed up. She sat in the chair next to my cot and encouraged me to join her in the next section. Unfortunately, it was too late as I had taken the medication. I was 50% disappointed because I was actually feeling a bit better at that point, but 50% relieved that now the decision was out of my hands.

Once I confirmed I couldn’t go back out, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m not sure why I thought I could renege on my pulling out after I said I would drop. Clearly, there was a bit of delirium. I laid on the cot trying to get my stomach feeling okay and managed to get down a cup of broth and finally some water. One of the medics grabbed me a slice of cheese pizza and I ate two bites before curling up with it and my pack underneath a sleeping bag, waiting for what I later dubbed the “loser van” (allow me a little bit of self-deprecating humor).

The “loser van”, aka the shuttle back to Jeadquarters, was running really behind and so I watched people coming through Jackass still in good spirits. Later, I realized I was happy it took so long for the van to come because I had run the gamut of emotions by the time I reach my crew. I posted on FB because I knew people were tracking me and talked to my mom because that’s what mom’s do. And tried to give myself a little grace that I wasn’t the worst friend/wife in the world for hauling people out in the desert to watch me DNF.

The silver lining to it all? I got to go back to these amazing people who cheered me up and then helped Tom get his buckle. In a transformation of events, my pacers were now free for him to use and I was able to experience a bit of the other side of the race. Roger went out with him on loop 4 and Chantal brought him to the finish line on loop 5. Of course I was insanely jealous that he was basically on pace for what I intended and was using my rockstars. Dammit, I’m human after all. But I was also seriously so moved that they stepped in, no questions asked, to run 20 miles each in the dark desert with a stranger. And that Tom had such an incredible first 100 miler - his gratitude for what had just happened when he finished was genuine. There was lots of hugging, big smiles, and though we were all exhausted, everyone seemed to be briefly full of life as we made our way back to the parking lot.

On Saturday, I definitely never wanted to run the race again. On Sunday, I was thinking that I would consider it again, but I was going to have to think about it. By Monday, I was busy plotting my revenge. And by that timeline, I’m hoping that the disappointment, the feelings of guilt and what ifs slowly fade away and that what I remember more about the weekend is the laughter, the friendships, the support of those I know and love dearly, the support of the incredible running community, and how lucky I really am that my “disappointing” day is running 50 miles in the desert.

Georgia Death Race 2019: Spoiler Alert, I Survived!

Preamble

I got chosen for the GDR lottery last July while still wearing a boot for my second stress fracture of 2018. I had 9 months to heal, build a base, and train for a race completely out of my wheel house. Sure, I've run longer distances and done a few gnarly trail runs/races, but nothing of this magnitude. It would likely be one of the hardest races I'd run to date and I was excited about doing something really, really tough.

I ran a couple of marathons over the fall (NYC, Rehoboth) and decided to team up with a coach to get me ready for the triplicate of GDR, Boston, & Everest. I did track speed sessions during the week to keep my marathon legs intact (and build fitness) and spent many hours on the trails on the weekend. In January, I ran Mountain Mist 50k and felt I executed a strong, patient race. Things were looking great!

Then, in late February, my left foot (the one in the boot) started aching again and I sprinkled in a bunch of cross-training so as to not aggravate it. Back to the pool, back on the bike, and back to feeling the giant cloud of doom hanging over my head constantly. In reality, I only took off about 10 running days total in the whole cycle, but I was frustrated that I dealing with this potential nagging injury.

I ran the Uwharrie Trail Marathon on March 9th as a last long run and my foot seemed no worse for the wear. My coach eased me back into workouts after I recovered from the race and I was nervously happy that I was going to get to the start in one piece. Then, a freak accident at my first company softball game had me land with my leg hyper-extended and angered my right knee. It was so sore the next day that I was hobbling around the office with an ice pack.

But, it seemed to just be tweaked and I was fortunately feeling better within a couple of days. There was still a little lingering soreness when I twisted it a bit, but the acute pain was gone. I jokingly said to my colleagues at work that I would have rather been smacked in the head with a softball then have anything happen to my legs/feet. Lo and behold, I got smacked in the head while warming up for the following week's game. I can't make this shit up.

Anyway, I didn't have quite the build up I imagined going into the race. But, I did have the will to finish and the experience of running for long periods of time. Both of which would serve me well in the race.

Friday

I opted to take Friday off work to sleep in and allow myself plenty of time to pack. I checked and rechecked all my lists and made a game plan of crewing myself on the point-to-point race. I'd start with approximately 12 bars/gels/nut butters, water, Tailwind, and all the required gear (rain jacket, warm head covering, space blanket, whistle, and headlamp with extra batteries). Then, I'd put extra nutrition in my drop bags to pick up at miles 27 and mile 50. I also included a few key items in my mile 50 bag - my Garmin charger and a charging brick and a long-sleeve shirt in case it got cooler as the sun went down (spoiler alert: never needed the shirt).

After loading up my car, I made my way to Amicalola Fall State Park for packet pickup and the prerace meeting. While walking up to the lodge, I immediately spotted Keith who gave me the 411 on what to do since I was a newbie to the race. I got my gear inspected, received my race wristband, and then went into the lodge to get my big and other race swag.

I went outside on the back patio of the lodge and immediately spotted Chantal. She finished up her dinner and then we took photos with the grim reaper for ultrarunningmemes before the prerace meeting.

Photo cred: Keith Gates

It was an insanely beautiful night overlooking the mountains and I was feeling really, really grateful to be getting started on this race I had been thinking about for the better part of a year.

After the meeting, I dropped my car near the finishing line at the base of the fall and then Chantal graciously drove me to the start line at Vogel State Park where her super amazing parents allowed me to stay with them in their RV. I ate my giant container of pasta on the way and we made it to the park just at sunset. Knowing we were getting up just before 4am, we all turned in early and tried to get some sleep. My super power once again came in handy and I slept for over 6 hours!

Saturday

Chantal and I got dressed, grabbed breakfast and coffee, and her dad drove us the 1/4 mile or so to the start (conserve the legs!). We said our goodbyes and good lucks and headed to the lodge for our final check-in.

Part of the dumbassery of this race is that you have to carry a rusty railroad spike with you the entire race and when you finish, you toss it in a coffin and receive a "clean" spike engraved "Georgia Death Race". At the final check-in, the race director, Sean, gives you a spike, shakes your hand, and wishes you good luck. I wrapped my mandatory rain jacket around my spike and stuffed it in my pack.

We headed out to the start line soon thereafter, listened to the prerace speech, and all sang "happy birthday" to Sean. Then, at 5am, it was go time!

For just over a half mile or so, the race is on pavement which allows runners to spread out just a little bit before getting on the trail. I ran next to Chantal for a minute or two and then we got separated and she went on ahead of me. I settled into the middle of the pack, telling myself to just be patient in the early miles.

The bladder of my hydration pack must have not been sealed and for the first mile a slow trickle of water spread across my pack and then onto my shorts. By the time I was about 2 miles in, my shorts were completely soaking wet. Thankful the weather was nice and I run hot anyway, I was trying to not be completely frustrated by this early-race annoyance.

Having run most of the course, I knew what to expect, fortunately or unfortunately. I knew the first few miles would be nice and runnable and then the climb to Coosa would begin. I am a pretty good climber, but with all the vertical throughout the rest of the course, I decided to hang back and just relax. It was a little frustrating to be stuck in the conga line because I was full of race adrenaline, but I knew it would pay off later if I just chilled out.

By the time we hit the top of Coosa, the sun was beginning to rise and we were able to turn off our headlamps shortly thereafter. I started talking with a guy from Ohio and gave him a bit of info about what to expect in the following miles. People were already stepping over to the side of the trail to catch their breath on climbs and we weren't even 10 miles into the race.

At the first aid station at mile 8.1 (White Oak), I had my water topped off and then quickly got back onto the trail. I was in a good place mentally and running happy with fresh feeling legs and not working too hard. Every 45 minutes, I was diligently eating a gel or a bar and things seemed to be going really well.

I came into Mulky Gap (aid station mile 13.5) still feeling good and noticed that Chantal was refilling her bottles! Yay, a friend! Also, Andy was right there with us and our little pack headed off to climb the nastiness of the DRT together. We got to about the third to last climb of the DRT and Chantal urged me to go on. I was still feeling fresh so I decided to take the opportunity to power up the climbs.

As I headed down into Skeenah (aid station mile 21.4), I was feeling amazing. My spirits were high and I was surprised at how good I felt considering how dead I felt doing the same run 5 weeks prior, over an hour slower. I gave Shannon a high five and enjoyed seeing all the runners coming back out of Skeenah, everyone shouting "good job" and "good work" as we passed each other. Unexpectedly, Jessica was at Skeenah and I was so excited to see another familiar face!

Photo cred: Jessica Brundige

The aid station was bit of a cluster and I had to wait to get my bottles refilled. I grabbed a few pickles, a couple of quesadilla slices, and an orange slice. I headed up and out and spent the next few minutes trying to eat and get myself organized again as I walked up out of the gap.

I got behind 2 girls in the next section and both of them slowly started to pull away as my spirits waned. I wasn't feeling good mentally any more and found myself in a bit of a rough patch as I covered the next 5.6 miles to Point Bravo. The trail section was really pretty in this part, but I was having a hard time appreciating it because of my crappy mental state.

At Point Bravo (aid station mile 27), I had my bottles refilled and then grabbed my drop bag to refill my nutrition supplies. I acted quickly and got out ahead of the girls who were still lingering at the aid station. I ran with a couple of guys in the next section up and out of Point Bravo and then down across the Toccoa Swinging Bridge. I thought the aid station would be at the forest service road just beyond the bridge, but we had to make the climb out of the gap which was a steady up for a few miles.

Photo cred: LDaily Photos

Once I reached Sapling Gap (aid station mile 31.5), I was thrilled to find out they had ice! It had warmed up and I was getting uncomfortably hot. I stuck a handful of ice down my sports bra and then upon a suggestion by the volunteer, stuck my head inside a 5 gallon bucket full of ice water. It was blissful! They also had sponges and buffs soaking in ice water and I grabbed a cold buff to cool off my neck for the next few miles.

After Sapling Gap, there was a fair amount of runnable trail at this point. I was really inclined to just do a bunch of walking, but forced myself to shuffle along and I played leapfrog with a girl for a few miles. I passed her tying her shoe and then she passed me back when I stepped off the side of the trail to pee. Later, I'd pass her back when she stepped off the trail herself. After than, it got particularly lonely until I caught up with a guy coming into the Long Creek aid station (mile 37.1).

At Long Creek, I drank a bunch of water and chugged a bit of Coke. I dumped water over my head and then trotted down the next section of forest service road. I actually started to perk up again at this point and found myself on some runnable terrain. The field was pretty spread out at this point, but I used people in my sight to try to either keep up with or catch. It was about 50/50.

The forest service road went into Winding Stair Gap and then another big climb awaited. Luckily, I was feeling good again and though I wasn't able to run the climb, I was hard hiking up and managed to pass a few guys on the way to the aid station.

At the Winding Stair aid station (43.1), I drank a cup of veggie broth, ate a few bacon pieces, and grabbed a handful of potato chips. Heading down the forest service road, I felt great! My legs were definitely feeling the beating of the long, steep descent, but I was happy to open up and do a bit of running again. Even as I cruised onto the trail section of Jake/Bull, I was still in good spirits. I hadn't seen anyone in miles, but the pink flags along the course let me know that I was still good to go.

However, the last mile or so going into Jake/Bull, I was feeling down again and finding my legs in the runnable parts was getting harder and harder. I was looking forward to getting to the aid station and knowing that I was that much closer to the finish. I could hear the PA system from miles away and it was messing with my mind knowing that it was so close, yet so far away. Again, because I run the trails in that area, I knew exactly how far it really was!

Sean had set up all kinds of signs in this section and the one that stuck out the most to me was "the word of the day is DNF". I laughed and threw my middle finger at it. I contemplated taking a picture, but then I didn't want to jinx myself! Luckily, someone else did and posted it to FB!

Photo cred: Nicole Fleming

The volunteers at Jake/Bull (aid station mile 50.1) were amazing. They refilled my bottles, gave me a baggie of bacon and grilled cheese to go, and helped me get my watch on my charger. Plus, since I hadn't seen any humans for miles, I was really happy to see smiling, happy faces. They made sure I topped off my bottles as the next section was over 10 miles without aid. As I headed out of Jake/Bull, I tried to get some of the food down and did a bit of running through the trail section.

A trio of guys caught up with me towards the end of the trail and I kept pace with them for a while on the pavement and then they took off running. I popped in an earbud and knew I planned my music crutch perfectly for the next section. I caught back up to the trio of guys and stayed with them through the pavement and then onto the forest service road. However, they had a bit more energy in their legs and left me in their literal dust.

I was still rocking the hard hiking though and though I was tired and heavy-legged, I still felt reasonably good pushing myself up towards Nimblewill. There was a sign along the climb that said "1 mile to go to the aid station" and then a half mile later "1/2 mile to go". I was thinking, wow, that always seemed to be much, much longer when I've run this section, but maybe I was actually covering it faster than I thought? However a half mile later, there was another sign that said "haha, it's actually 3 more miles". I couldn't help but laugh because I really should have known better.

At some point in the climb, I was thinking it was weird that I hadn't heard my watch beep for a mile marker in awhile. And then I fished around in my pack to discover my watch must have slipped off the charger and was dead. Oops. I got everything working again and missed only about a mile or so.

Once I reached the Nimblewill intersection, a couple of volunteers were directing us down the forest service road. They also asked if I had enough water and I was able to get a few more ounces from them. One of my bottles had been a leaky mess all day. On top of my bladder having issues, I had been repeatedly soaked over and over. My legs were sticky with Gatorade and Tailwind and I was chafed a bit on my inner thighs.

On the stretch to Nimblewill, I pulled my hat and headlamp back out of my pack and tried to get a bit of running on the flat section into the aid station. It seemed to stretch way more than a mile, but finally, it came into sight.

At Nimblewill (aid station mile 61.2), I got some broth and a few more bacon pieces. I really wanted some Mountain Dew, but they didn't have any so I settled for Coke. I topped everything off again and then headed down the next section that connected to the Hike Inn. Luckily (or unluckily), I knew everything else that awaited me after that including 5 or so miles of reasonable single track, the stupid rock-garden-Eastern-Ridge-Trail down, the stupid stairs up, and the stupid Western Rim Trail.

I was really wanting to run the single track, but any time it was flat or down, I kept catching my shoes on rocks. And so I would run a few steps and walk. Run a few steps and walk. It was better than just walking, but I was growing more and more frustrated that I couldn't pick my feet up over the rocks. Even in the nice, wide section towards the bottom of the Approach Trail, I couldn't open up. In fact, I stumbled over a rock next to a wooden stair step, rolled my ankle, and toppled to the ground. After a bunch of F-bombs, I scooped myself back up and hobbled towards the Eastern Ridge Trail.

The top part of the Eastern Ridge Trail is not really runnable even under the best conditions. It's steep, full of medium-sized rocks (bigger than gravel, smaller than boulders) and in the dark, pretty darn dangerous. I slowly ambled down and decided whatever time I was losing at this point would be okay, because I was going to be finished within the hour. I could hear the cheers of the finish line from this part of the trail and despite feeling exhausted and in pain, I knew I was to do this damn thing!

I was feeling woozy and hungry once I got back on the single track and decided to take one last gel. Bad move. It was okay for a few minutes, but then I felt the oh-so-familiar-ultra-vomit rising in my throat. I bent over the side of the trail and dry heaved four times with no results, but felt surprisingly better afterwards?

I expected to be scanned at the Visitor's Center, but there was just a table with a couple of coolers. I topped off my water again and then hiked up the path to the falls. There was a volunteer that walked the runners across the parking lot, ensuring we went the right direction. I was dreading the stairs, but also happy that I was so close to being done.

Actually, the stairs were not bad. Sure, it was not easy with nearly 70 miles on my legs to climb the 600 steps up to the top of the falls, but I grabbed onto the side rail and used my arms to pull myself up. I didn't even stop to take a breather! It wasn't fast, but I was moving the whole time.

At the top of the steps, I caught up with two more runners and we cringed as we hit the steep pavement going down. It was so painful to experience those eccentric contractions in my quadriceps. I walked as quickly as I could and then tried a bit of running once I reached the trail portion. One of the two runners went on ahead of me, seemingly bombing the descents. I watched as his headlamp bobbed down lower and lower and then started to listen for the cheers of him finishing.

As I hobbled down the last steep descent, I could hear Sean yell "into the water". I hopped into the creek (next to a perfectly good bridge) and threw my hands in the air as I finally stopped moving. Sean gave me a high five, handed me a pint glass, and explained how I was to exchange my dirty railroad spike for the engraved one. I turned to see Deano hanging out at the finish and he started helping me with my gear.

Then, Adam and Jeff popped out from the crowd and I was so excited to see him. Dirty, exhausted, and probably reeking of every gross thing, Adam hugged me hard. I had mentioned in passing that it would awesome to have him at the finish, but I wasn't sure if he would make it. I was so elated he did!

After exchanging my spike, getting a finish line photo, we wandered over to where I could get my drop bags and food. It. was. done.

As we were sitting outside, Chantal's parents walked up and like everything else that just came together, I was able to have Jeff go with her dad to get my gear that they graciously held onto while I ran. We chatted for a bit and then thankfully, Jeff drove my car home while I rode with Adam.

Like Mountain Mist, I'm proud of running a patient race. When I checked in at Mulkey Gap, I was the 83rd runner. From then on, I went to 68, 60, 54, 43, 40, 35, and finished 37th overall, 13th female. My final finish time for 71.2 - 74ish miles and 16,000 - 18,000' feet of elevation gain (no one really knows and GPS isn't super accurate) was 18:19:11. Of the 289 people that started the race, only 158 finished!

Link to (most of) my splits on Strava here and link to my race checkpoints/final standings here.  (Search bib #188).

Like a stupid Oscar acceptance speech, I have many, many people to thank to make this race happen. First, my buddy Chantal who also finished the race (!!!), for the many, many training miles, laughs, and methinks the start of lots of future shenanigans. Freaking rockstar way to go over 50 miles and earn your first WS qualifier! Also, her parents deserve major kudos for letting me stay in their RV at Vogel, allowing me extra sleeping time and shuffling my gear from park to park. Chantal didn't lie when she said she had awesome parents! Huge thanks to John for all the weekend miles and adventures on the trails. Sorry for all the mud in your car and bringing the rain every time we ran together. All my friends I've shared miles with over this training cycle (Steve, Roger, Deano, Christy, Stephen, Sarah, Sean, Claire, Chris, Sam, Jeff, the Greenville crew and anyone else!). Extra special thanks to Steve who came from Michigan and Roger who came from Colorado to run some miles with me Georgia! Megan, thank you for your amazing nail art as always. I'm lucky to have you as my talented BFF! Thanks Matt for our daily random texts about nothing and everything - sorry you missed out on dying this year, but I hope you have your own chance to experience the misery in the future. Thanks to my work peeps who don't understand my craziness, but ask about it anyway. Thank you to my coach for believing in me and giving me pep talks throughout this training block. It truly helped me get to the right place mentally when I started the race. Thank you Jeff for coming out to support me at the end of the race and drive my car back home - you're always my favorite asshole. And to my #1 supporter and better half, Adam, thank you for putting up with all of my ridiculous running adventures. You didn't know what you were getting into 15 years ago, but I'm lucky that you are always encouraging of me to continue to push my boundaries. You never let me feel guilty for the many hours away training or racing and I'm forever grateful for you letting me be me.

QC Returns to the Trails: Mountain Mist 50K Race Report

Pre-race After conferring with my coach weeks ago, we decided that the Mountain Mist 50k would be the best option for me to meet the required qualification for the Georgia Death Race - a 50k trail race in the last calendar year. The elevation and technicality would be a great tune-up and a chance for me to test gear and nutrition.

Though I could have driven the 3.5 hour drive, gaining an hour crossing into Central Time, I opted to camp overnight at Monte Sano State Park. I left work at 2pm Friday to make it in time before sunset and was treated to a very beautiful drive through the tiny mountain towns of northwest Georgia/northeast Alabama. At the park, I went straight to the camp host to check in and got both a dinner recommendation and directions to the race start (more on that later).

I blindly picked the camp site online and chose a spot that was nearest to the restrooms. My good fortune meant I was treated to a beautiful view of Huntsville and I arrived just at sunset. I made a quick call to Adam and then changed into running gear for a 2 mile shakeout run around the campground. I watched the big orange thing dip below the horizon and then headed out to packet pickup (at the lodge) and to grab dinner.

I was a little worried about the camp host's recommendation at first. I had asked for a place that served pizza and beer and he asked if Italian would be okay. He explained they didn't really have many items with red sauce and yeah, they have some beer. I was picturing loads of fettuccine alfredo with goopy white cream sauce and reminded of when Michael Scott carbo-loads before the "Michael Scott's Dunder Mifflin Scranton Meredith Palmer Memorial Celebrity Rabies Awareness Pro-Am Fun Run Race for the Cure"5K and promptly vomits.

But, the pizza was seriously some of the best I have ever had and the beer selection, while not vast, was a nicely culled collection of local favorites (re: Huntsville IPAs) and national specialties (Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Stout). I always like to err on the side of being really full before a race, especially an ultra, so I loaded up on a donut hole-esque dessert. Also, I just like donuts.

I stopped at a gas station on the way back to fill up my tank, get some cold brew coffee, and a back-up muffin in case there was some tragedy with my overnight oats. Back at camp, I settled into my 0° rated sleeping bag (Everest testing), read a little of David Goggins "Can't Hurt Me", and fell asleep before 10pm. The sleeping bag was beyond warm enough in the 20°-ish degree weather. I actually woke up at one point and had to crawl out of it because I was too warm.

The alarm went off at 6:20am and while I was cozy, I was also ready to get the show going. I changed in the warm bathroom and ate my oats. Just after 7am, I headed to the race start. I double-checked the map and walked about 5 minutes before I realized the trail was not terribly discernible in the winter and panicked that I might be late to the race. I turned around and decided to take my chances to drive up to the lodge. Again, I totally lucked out and parked just outside the entrance on the side of the road with just enough time to stand around and get cold before the start.

Race morning I lined up in the first third of the pack behind the start line. In reading race reports and talking to runners who had raced it, I knew the first 20 miles were pretty runnable and the last 11 or so were tough. This was supposed to be a training run of sorts (though we all know I'm competitive so it's not like I wasn't going to give it my best effort) and I really wanted to just stay relaxed as much as possible.

The first mile was pavement and I was far from warmed up. Everything felt stiff and stagnant and I was annoyed that despite taking it relatively easy, it felt awkward. We hit the fire road and things started to get a little better with softer footing and I tried to just stay with the little packs around me, only passing if necessary in this point. I didn't want to get stuck too far behind once we got to the single track.

People were not really talking much around me at this point, which in retrospect, I guess I was closer to the front of the pack than I thought initially. By the time we reached the single track section and through the first aid station at mile 6.7, I just tried to stay as comfortable as possible. Any time I thought I wanted to pass someone, I gave it an extra minute or two. It's so easy to push in the beginning, but I didn't want to feel like garbage at the end. The course in this section was moderately muddy - bad in some sections, but there was definitely very runnable spots and I did feel like we did a lot of downhill running.

There was some switching around of people at the aid stations as some people stopped for a bit longer. I grabbed a cup of Gatorade, a single pretzel, and kept right on moving. At this point, I was behind 3 females who were bombing the downhills pretty efficiently and I decided to stay in tow.  Once we got into the section I would dub the "Power Line Field", I was relaxed and just enjoying listening to their chatter back and forth about various things.

Once we reached the first climb, dubbed "K2", one of the girls jetted up ahead and while I was tempted to pursue her, I knew it was too early to get caught up in competition. I knew my skills lied in power hiking ups and I'd wait until the final 2 climbs to put on the afterburners. We still had 20+ miles to go.

At the 11.9 mile aid station, I grabbed a cup of Mello Yello and filled up my water flask. I went trotting off down the trail and a few minutes past the aid station, full on Supermanned going up a tiny hill. Apparently I hit the ground with enough impact that runners in both directions asked if I was okay. Yes, yes, just a little blood mixed with hurt pride. My bib completely ripped off and I had to take a few extra seconds to pin it back on. But, once I was back on the trail, I started to feel great! It was like the fall had woken me up.

The next section had a short little climb that led up to a section called "Stone Cuts". Giant slabs of stone with a trail that meanders through them. Runners had to squeeze through narrow cuts and limbo underneath low cave-like areas. It was really, really cool and despite the slowdown, it was pretty awesome to be "running" through natural wonders.

From prior race reports, I learned that if you doubled your time at he mile 17 aid station, that would be the approximate time you could expect for the race. I came in just shy of 3 hours and was then just hoping to hold onto 6 hours. I was feeling a bit peppier in the next section and happy that there was finally a break to run without being so bunched up for a bit. There was a swift little descent full of rocks and then a bunch of muddy trail at the bottom before reaching the aid station just past mile 20. I was tempted to take a shot of Fireball at this aid station, but nothing was going inherently good or bad so I decided to stay with the status quo of Mello Yellow.

The next section was the infamous Railroad Trail, a rocky nightmare of a trail. The only saving grace is that it was relatively flat for a couple of miles, but it seems as though I couldn't get much more speed because the footing was terrible. I got behind a group of guys who were talking like it was the first few miles of the race and let them lead the pack up the Bluffline Trail and the ridiculousness of the Waterline Trail. It is in this section that you use all 4 points of contact to hoist yourself over slippery rocks along a waterfall. Fortunately, I was still feeling spry at this point and my flexibility is fairly decent so I had no trouble with this section. I was laughing at how crazy it was, but I was actually having fun bouldering over rocks. Check out the runners in the top right of the photo below!

Photo credit: Andy Highsmith

At the top of the climb (sweet relief!), I took off down the Bluffline Trail and started to try to make up some time. I wasn't moving super fast, but I was passing a bunch of runners who had gassed out near the 24-25 mile mark. Once we reached the next descent, I started running with John and he nicely explained the final sections and what to expect. The mud was incredibly thick in the flattish section near the water and my tired legs were exhausted by the repeated pull of the muck. I was actually grateful for the climb as it was drier and I could actually gain footing.

We didn't even stop at the last aid station and I noted there was 1.6 miles to go. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was about 5:40:XX. If the aid station sign was correct, I could still slip under 6 hours. Luckily, the trail was pretty flat and runnable at this point and while I didn't have a sense of how far we were, I started to see more hikers out walking their dogs - a sure sign we were closer to the trailhead. John was dealing with a side stitch and urged me to go on when stopped to walk. I stayed with him the first time and we started running again, but then I heeded his advice when stopped again and pushed for the finish solo.

I heard the music of the finish line first and then I spotted the arch as I came around the final bend. I crossed in 5:55:42 according to Garmin. I stepped off to the side and waited to see John finish, giving him a huge high five as he also made it under 6 hours. Eventually, I headed indoors for the warmth and to grab my finisher's slate and age group award, a backpack.

 

Takeaways:

Food/Hydration: B Throughout the race, I ate 2 RX bars, 2 Spring energy gels, and a GU that I picked up from an aid station. I had 1 pretzel rod, 1 Oreo, and an orange slice. My hydration was mostly water, but I also took 1 cup of Gatorade and 2 cups of Mello Yello. The cooler weather made hydration a bit trickier and I think I should carry something with a bit of electrolytes like Nuun or Tailwind for GDR. I was definitely cramping post-race and it took a couple of cups of Sprite and food for it to stop. Also, I could have done a better job hydrating the day before. I avoided it because of the road trip and I think I started the day a bit dehydrated.

Gear: C My bladder in my Camelpack was not secured in some sort of way so I was slowly leaking water for the first couple of miles in the beginning of the race. I think I didn't have the cap seal on flush and it sloshed out from the top. I still was able to drink from it through about 10-12 miles, but then it was just extra weight. I think I'd prefer to just rely on flasks as they are easier to fill. Plus, for some reason, the hose across my chest was SO ANNOYING. To be fair, I kept thinking it was good that my hose was annoying me and not physical pain. But I am going to have to mitigate those minor annoyances.

Half capris were a good choice, probably should have just done a t-shirt and arm warmers. I really only needed gloves for the first couple of miles.

Hoka Torrents proved successful on the mud, rocks, and gnarly trail. I have zero blisters and my Swiftwick socks were a great choice - despite me blowing a hole through the toe of one of them.

Physical Training: A I'm officially in week 5 of my coached training and because this was a training race, I didn't have a true taper. In fact, I just came off my biggest true mileage week in over a year and ran 5 days leading up to the race, including a speed session on Tuesday. So while I am bit disappointed in my time for the race (I was hoping for 5:30 or so), I have to keep in perspective that I was not running on fresh legs and this was not the goal race. I ran a really patient race and fortunately felt the best at the end.

Mental Training: A+ I never hit really high highs or really low lows in this race. The points that I wasn't feeling great really were just when I wasn't pushing on the gas pedal. And while I do love the endorphin rush of the high highs, I think it's actually better that things were just really steady-eddy. The course and the conditions of the trail could have beat me up, but I kept telling myself when it got tough that I like doing hard things.