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.  

Pinhoti 100: Adventures in pacing RR

It wasn't my race. I was simply pacing. When the idea came about a few weeks ago, I was still deep in recovery mode from my own 100+ miles. But I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get in some miles on a race that has been on my radar for a couple of years. The timing doesn't allow me to do Hinson and Pinhoti, but I do hope that I can race it.

We had a crew meeting at Taco Mac 2 weeks ago where Dan & I promised to get him through the last 45 miles and Sam promised to drive us all around. I knew that the later miles would mean that I would be running in the dark and likely when he was hurting the most. So it was imperative that I be as positive as possible and forget any of my own woes.

After running the Greenville Marathon the weekend prior, I felt pretty good about running 20-25 miles with John - more if necessary. I slept in until close to 8:00 a.m. on Saturday morning and putzed around the house until picking up Dan close to 3:00 p.m. We made decent time and lost an hour on our way to Alabama going from EST to CST. Luckily, we found Sam pretty easily among the huge crowd at Bald Rock and waited for John at mile 40.

The atmosphere at Bald Rock was unreal. There were so many runners and crew members around that it reminded me of videos I've seen of Western States. People were decked out in racing shirts, wearing belt buckles, sporting trucker hats and tattoos, and everyone was craning their necks for their runner. It was definitely a warm day for the runners, but a perfect day to be crewing. We saw Lauren with pacer Keith right when we hopped out of the car! As we got closer to the aid station, I saw Andy & Deano. More runner friends!

John came in and we walked with him to the truck asking him how the race was going. He seemed to be in pretty good spirits with 40 miles already completed. He chugged an Ensure and a Yoo-hoo before setting off down the road. All of sudden, we heard yakking and saw him hunched over in the ditch. Crap. All those calories were on the side of the road now. Luckily, he picked himself up pretty easily and carried on. We told him we'd see him at the next aid station and gave each other nervous glances.

Dan & I had yet to determine which legs we were running. So we had Sam flip a coin for who would get to finish with him and be "Runner 2". I called heads, it was tails, so Dan would bring him in the final leg. That meant that I was up first and had to be mindful of what I was consuming myself in the next couple of hours.

We drove to the next aid station at 45 miles and he seemed to be in better spirits. The sun was starting to set and he reached us just in time to grab his headlamp. After heading off into the woods, we started hauling ass to drop my car at the finish line. It was nearly an hour drive, but really quite beautiful with a very long sunset. Dan & I threw our gear in Sam's truck and then we made the drive back to the mile 55 aid station.

The crowd at mile 55 was huge as well. There was a fire pit, music, and people camped out in chairs, in cars, and all over the road. Runners came into this station in various states. Some looked fresh and happy whereas some were in an incredibly bad place. I had to go back down the road a ways to find a place that I could get far enough away from people to pee!

John came out of the woods and wasn't in a happy place. He hadn't been able to keep anything down and struggled to sip some broth. He sat for a bit in a chair near the aid station and tried to get some liquids in him. We walked about 20 steps down the fire road and he lost everything he had just put in his stomach. However, like earlier, he wiped his mouth and we took off down the road.

The first few miles were very long because were walking almost exclusively. I was hoping that he was going to be able to settle his stomach a bit by walking, but it seemed to revolt even water. It was extremely humid out and though the temperature wasn't too bad by southern standards, the humidity made it seem worse.

I actually really enjoyed the sections that I paced. The first one was half fire road and half easy single track. I like running on fire roads because the footing is generally easier to navigate in the dark and the grades are typically not as steep in either direction. After another failed liquid attempt at the mile 60 aid station, I started to get concerned. From then on, I tried to remind him every half mile or so to sip on his handheld to at least try to get something to stick.

Once we turned off the fire road, he actually wanted to run a bit on the single track. It was much different than the trails I'm used to running. Covered in pine needles, the footing was pretty easy. There were rocks and roots in some sections, but it was more the exception than the norm. Plus, most of what we covered in miles 60-65 were downhill. The temperature started to drop and fortunately got a bit more pleasant as the evening wore on.

At mile 65, we came to the Chandler Springs aid station. I gave Dan an update and we got John to drink some broth and a bit of Red Bull. Dan & Sam seemed pretty peppy and they said they were able to get in a nap because of the lull between aid stations. Dan took over the pacing duties at this point and I climbed into the truck with Sam. We drove to Porters Gap pretty quickly and I changed into a dry sports bra and shirt. Aaaahhh!

They were in and out of Porters Gap pretty quick and we got back in the truck to find the next aid station. And got lost. We drove for quite awhile, including on a spooky, foggy fire road with an old cemetery and dilapidated farm houses. Eventually, we found the road we were supposed to be on and waited at the Pinnacle aid station. They had music, tiki torches, and a huge set up. It was fun just hanging out, but I could feel the sleepiness coming. I knew I needed at least a 15 minute nap to keep going.

Luckily, the next aid station was 4 miles down the same road and we were able to get there very quickly. We set our alarm clocks and passed out with our chairs leaned back. I slept hard for 45 minutes. Okay, 5 more minutes because I had to snooze. I climbed up a steep embankment to use nature's porta-potty and then came back to the truck to gather my gear for my next leg. I was hungry so I grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts and started eating one on the way to the aid station. We walked up right as Dan and John were coming in and I threw my remaining Pop-Tart to Sam.

The next section was just as pleasant as the first. A bit of fire road and nice single track. I think I lucked out on my pacer sections. The sun started to come up as we made our way and John was more apt to run a bit than when I was with him prior. We weren't as talkative in this section, but rather just doing steady work as we made our way from mile 79 to mile 85. I kept hearing music as we came into the final mile, but my GPS had gotten a bit ahead and I was expecting to see the aid station sooner than we did.

John really wanted his wife and kids to be at the finish line and so he asked me to text his wife while we were running to see if they were going to be able to meet him there. She was concerned about making it in time, but I reassured her that she would make it there so long as we stayed at the same pace we were going. When I told him that they were going to be able to make, it completely changed his tune. He looked relieved, happy, and had a new sense of determination.

A pile of runners came into Bulls Gap at the same time. I needed to refill my own water bottles and started looking around for Dan & Sam. They weren't anywhere to be found and John was ready to move on pretty quickly. I told Deano if he saw them to let them know we went on ahead. Luckily, I was pacing him through mile 93.

Our last section together was the hardest and the best. The hardest because I knew he was hurting and was struggling after not being able to really drink or eat much of anything for 50 miles. The best because we knew he was going to finish and our conversations got very silly. There were talks of magical unicorns carrying us to the finish and big life questions like, why are all beer cans/bottles tossed on the side of fire roads domestic cheapies?

Though I had covered far less distance than John, the fire road did seem to go on forever. I was actually getting really hungry and wanted real food instead of just the junk I had in my pack. But the funny thing about pacing is that I wasn't really as concerned about it had I been alone. It was almost as though John's pain masked any discomfort I had of my own.

A small group of runners & pacers bunched together at nearly the same time we came into view of the aid station. I was excited that John only had about 7 more miles to go and Dan would certainly bring him home. Selfishly, I was looking forward to a breakfast beer, a breakfast burrito, and a breakfast nap. In some sort of order.

Dan and Sam were ready to help with the pass off and got John what he needed. In the craziness of passing him off, Dan asked if I had 7 more miles in me. He looked fresh and ready to run so I was a bit confused at first. Then he explained that there was a female runner, Allison, chasing cutoffs who had been without a pacer all day. She had her parents and brother as crew and Dan & Sam struck up a conversation with them while everyone was waiting.

Dan & John took off and I went over to the parents to introduce myself and explain my offer to pace her. She came in not too long afterwards and was in major pain due to blisters covering half of her feet. At first, she was going to just tough it out and keep going with the blisters, but the aid station volunteers urged her to pop and bandage them. They had her needle them and once drained, someone found some medical gauze which was then covered in duct tape. Because, well, ultras.

I asked her if she wanted company on the last 7 miles and she was agreeable to the premise. I stuffed a few burritos in my mouth as the aid station began to break down. She had 14 minutes to get out of the aid station before the cutoff. 14 minutes!

When she was bandaged and ready to go, someone stuffed a few gels in my pack for her and then we were off. It was extremely slow moving at first. We were going at a 40:00 minute mile pace for about a quarter mile and I was really worried that she was going to have to DNF at mile 9X. But after we crossed a few hills, she wanted to run a bit and so we continued this pattern for about 2 miles.

The sweeper was on our tail and eventually we/I invited her to come and join our party. She was far more talkative than me at this point and walked behind or side-by-side Allison. I stayed ahead about 10-20 steps and would stop to help her over steep declines or water crossings. I could tell that she was in a lot of pain and every step was hurting her feet more and more.

The trail section in the last part was quite beautiful with the colorful leaves and nice downhills. I hated that she was so miserable that she couldn't enjoy any of it. We talked a little bit about running, work, etc., but then just let the sweeper fill the void of conversation.

Once we reached the fire road section, the sweeper's husband came running up from the other side and joined our pack. The fire road was full of loose gravel and each spiky rock was incredibly painful on Allison's feet. We were slow moving through this section as well even though it was reasonably flat and relatively easy footing.

At the pavement, I was hoping that she would feel ready to run, but it was still nearly 3 miles to the finish. We did pick up the pace for brief sections, but by the first mile, it was definitely tough again. I could see the pain on her face. Every step was like fire on her feet. And given that she had a nearly full handheld on a warm day, it was likely she was pretty dehydrated too.

I checked my phone at one point and the group text from Sam and Dan asked where I was. I responded and they said they were on their way. In my sleep-deprived state, I thought they were coming in the truck and I kept getting excited when I heard a car coming. Except it never was a white truck. Time keep ticking and I saw a text that told us we need to hurry up!

I was like, duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!

But then I saw 2 people on the other side of the road coming towards us and I was like, hey, I think those are my hooligans! They had run from the finish line to where we were!

So now it was Allison, me, the 2 sweepers, Dan, & Sam in our entourage. Dan & Sam had plenty of fresh cheerleading in them and urged her to run just a little bit. I had no idea how close we were to the finish because I really wasn't looking at the actual time. Plus, we lost an hour going into Central time and gained an hour because of daylight saving's so I was all turned around. Dan gave me an update and we were cutting it close. Really close.

Luckily, they were able to convince her to run a bit and then when we were less than a mile a way, she continued to shuffle along. They called out the landmarks along the way and explained exactly where she was going as we neared the stadium. When we saw the lights of the stadium, I asked Dan how much time she had left. 10 minutes! She was going to do this.

We crossed the railroad tracks and neared the entrance to the grassy field next to the stadium. I heard her parents screaming and saw them waving as they came into sight. I fell behind and let Dan & Sam show her the way. Once we hit the track, the entourage stopped and let her cover the final 200 meters on her own to the finish. I walked over to her mom and immediately started tearing up as I gave her a hug. As we all walked across the field towards the line, there wasn't a dry eye in the group.

Watching her cross with 6 minutes left on the clock was far better than finishing my own race. It was incredible. Her parents were beside themselves excited and her brother was jumping up and down. After a couple of photos in front on the finish line arch, she made a beeline to me (who was actually trying to just let her have her moment) and gave me hug. Y'all, I was in serious tears. Dammit.

I went to go find John to congratulate him and Kathy had picked up some slushies from Sonic. It was the best thing I have every slurped in my life. Seriously, I could barely listen to John's finish because I was so enamored with my slushy. Kidding....kind of..... We laid against the cool wall of the football stadium for a bit, talking nonsense, and enjoying the sweet feeling of being finished. It was the best kind of adventure and I cannot wait to do it again!

An ode to my runner widower

Being married to a runner is often thankless. I leave for work at 7:20 a.m. and often don't return home until 8:30 p.m. during peak training weekdays. Dinner is often whatever the quickest thing I can put together - half the time while still wearing my sweaty running clothes. I spend a good chunk of the weekend racking up miles in the woods and then fail miserably at adulting when the nap monster takes over.

I use up all the ice for ice baths and filling my beer Gatorade cooler. My sports bras hang from the laundry rooms for days. I ate both bags of your chips and I'm not even the least bit sorry. I spent approximately $700 on shoes last year. Running shoes. If you know me, you can vouch for the reason why we never take my car anywhere.

75% of our travel expenses over the past 5 years have been to travel to a race. I talk to you about tempos, rabbits, PRs, fartleks, sub-3s, and BQs and you know exactly what I'm saying. I pop blisters on the kitchen floor and haven't had 10 toenails since 2014.

But I'm one of the lucky ones.

You always say you're crazy, I love you, be safe when I'm leaving for the woods at 5:00 a.m.

You brag to your customers about me and always let me know when you helped a runner.

You celebrate when I do well, you know to back off when I've had a tough race or training run.

You have woken up at 3:00 a.m. to see me run for 60 seconds.

You always ask me how far I'm running today and when I get home, you ask me how it went.

You never give me (real) grief about the time and money I spend on running.

You have made friends with my running friends all over the country.

You have volunteered at races and walked 5Ks even though you aren't a runner.

You give me bittersweet inspiration every day to appreciate every moment I get to do what I love.

I don't say it enough - thank you for not only letting me be me, but giving me a reason to be a better version of me.

Don't be afraid to fail. Be afraid not to try.

I blinked and it was September. The malaise of August securely behind me now, I was greeted to the first month of fall with crisp mornings and that thing in the air. At the end of the month, I am attempting to tackle my biggest challenge yet. The base has been built, the miles have been run, and (most) of the hard work is done. 

Last summer, I just raced and raced and raced and tried to learn as much as I could about night running and ultras. This year, I've just been running. Luckily, the new job has been pretty conducive to having a schedule of sorts and I am finally able to say yes to every weekend trail run. Funny thing is, I don't actually need any trail runs in my training. Hinson is basically flat and scores 0 on the technicality difficulty.

But the trails have been good for my heart and my head. Running in the summer in Hotlanta is defeating. I typically do all of my running after work and paces in 90°+ are ugly. I try hard not to compare too much to winter paces, but I am human. Sometimes, I get on the treadmill just so that I can run in 75° and nail some faster times.

I have felt especially tired in the last 2 weeks, but I think that is probably the point of ultra-training? A few times I have started a run and it has been so hard to not just throw in the towel in the first half mile. Taking it to the next level by adding a 6th day and hitting 60+ miles each week has taught me a lot about myself. Mostly that I am hungry all the time. But a little bit about gritting it out when the mind and the body are totally against me.

Truth be told, I feel my running has been subpar lately. I am going into these last few weeks feeling like it's been more of an exception for me to have a good day. Part of me wants to believe it is because I have been putting my legs through the ringer - 600+ miles in the last 2 months and nearly 30,000 feet of ascent. 

But there is always the self-doubt that it feels harder because I'm not as strong. I think that any runner or athlete that has any sort of competitive nature in their blood understands this notion. There is that feeling that you don't want to leave anything on the table to give it your best shot.

This is the last big(ger) week. I am ready to start winding down and see if a little freshness makes me feel better. Last year, I had the goal of hitting 100 miles in 24 hours. I really didn't have any idea what to expect. I had never run beyond 12 hours and my peak distance was 68 miles. Honestly, I don't have that much more perspective this year other than the knowledge that I am capable of running 100 miles in 24 hours - 109.866 miles if you want to get technical about it and yes, I do, thankyouverymuch.

When I learned about the 24 hours US National Team qualifying distance (125 miles) earlier in the year, this seemed like an outlying goal to aim for. Another 15ish miles is only .62 more miles each hour. Seems reasonable in theory, pretty tough in reality. I found out a couple of weeks ago that they raised the bar to 130 miles for women. Those 5 miles are big. This is a whole new kind of runner math. 

So I'm sticking with my original goals in ascending order because it is far easier to tick up, than tick down (mental trick #45082348): 1) finish upright 2) 100K 3) 100 miles 4) PR 109.866 5) Course Record 114.6 6) 125 7) Seriously?

The thing about having a plan for one of these races is that there needs to be not much structure to said plan. You cannot just plug numbers into a spreadsheet or calculator and expect it to happen despite all the history and training. The human element is far too great, especially in longer distances and there is no telling what sort of shit will hit the fan. I cannot control the heat or the rain, the nausea in my stomach, the soreness in my legs, the chafing everywhere, or anything else causing me physical anguish. But I can control how I react to it. 

And much as in life, there is very little I can even begin to feel sorry for myself about. To get to do what I get to do, I'm one of the lucky ones.