How Deep Is Your Love?

This year started off better than ever. January I put in one of the best training blocks I had ever thought to accomplish. Running splits in workouts faster than I even thought I could, surprising myself continuously every Tuesday. Followed up with back to back epic long runs. Then in February I was sidelined with an awful back injury. It came out of nowhere and quickly turned all my plans and goals for the year on their head. Black Canyon 100k ended at mile 20 with my second DNF (2nd in a row, too, to add insult to the previous six months of injury & rebuilding). But that story was already told...

Bishop's Peak. My new favorite workout arena.

I hit PT hard. Pilates, weights, squats, one day off mandatory per week... I came back gradually. So gradual, it felt unbearable. I checked all the boxes and crossed all my t's. I was becoming really strong from the cross training and had a good base. Soon, I was crushing some of my runs. It felt really, really good. So I got comfortable. Cruising up the coastal mountains and gliding over technical trails, I had grins bigger than a Cheshire cat pasted on my face. Things started to look up and I dreamt up some big ideas.

I'd follow Loren Fisher anywhere in the world.

Three weeks ago I started to feel very tired. My runs seemed to be dragging and I accounted that to lack of sleep. Then when I took a 3 hour nap after class inadvertently (after sleeping 10 hours the night before), I knew something was up. Of course my mind went immediately to Lyme Disease. It presents like mono and I have had it before. Some days that week I couldn't run. I was sleeping a lot and missing out on daily activities. I got a blood test and that came back negative for Lyme (thank god). but I had low ferritin. Stephanie told me that anemia only occurs when low ferritin is in combination with low RBCs. But I was still SO tired. Biking two miles to school I felt like I was going to pass out from exertion. I started taking iron anyways.


The anguish and frustration set in. I wasn't myself and I was stressed. I hated how the act of standing up from my desk caused fatigue and light headedness. I didn't even want to go to class most days, as waking up seemed almost impossible. I was an endurance athlete! We push our bodies for HOURS... DAYS even!

I have a journal I write messages to myself of various sorts.

I went to visit my best friend Loren and her boyfriend, Chad, up in Bishop over the weekend. She was car camping, skiing, running, climbing, and adventuring for the entire month of April. We had made plans to run up White Mountain, a 14er that we had both yet to check off The List. I took my boyfriend Zach with me. We climbed in Owen's River Gorge, he got to mountain bike, we hiked at Convict Lake, he learn to glissade on Esha Peak, camp, soaked in hot springs, and we did a light jog (read: 15 min max for me). It was a perfect weekend. However, being at 9000' made me feel like I was at 18,000'. I accidentally took a parking lot nap while they played on Esha. I was thoroughly disappointed I couldn't play in the mountains as hard as I wanted to. I felt bad because I was probably holding him and the group back, too.

Hiking in the Gorge

So this week, I planned to start running. I wanted desperately to be back on the damn horse. I decided I had been sucking for far too long and that was that. Of course I then get a kidney infection. Super fun. Hit again with more fatigue and an aching back, I was sidelined for a couple more days. As my roommate Ashley says, Nerts. I got on antibiotics and that helped a ton (I have more to say on the subject of antibiotics vs nothing, aka stupidity). I immediately started to feel human by Thursday. I even went on a 20 minute run! (with about 3 stop breaks) So, progress. I was determined and regained some hope. I was excited to run and get back on the trails. I even went to the gym Saturday! I have energy and a smile has started to creep back on my face.

Froyo solves all the world's problems

Wednesday was a different story, though. At around 3 pm I totally lost it. The anxiety, frustration, depression, and general crapiness had been slowly rolling inside; turning over and over. I felt royally of crap and people treated me like crap that day. The pot boiled over; I hit my breaking point. It seemed like every part of my body was failing me. I was sad and anguished over the mess of it all. I had already wiped my 2016 drawing board clean and rebuilt ground-up several times since last July. I didn't want to go through that again, especially this soon. It seemed like I couldn't catch a break. Face down on the floor, I hated myself. I hated everything about what I was doing at the moment. The people at my school, the small town with no forests, my boring intro classes, but mostly I hated my body... I have such big dreams and aspirations, but seem to be failing every time I set my sights on something with one health issue after another. I was doing everything right in my eyes. The feeling of helplessness and ineptitude took hold. I didn't want to text Stephanie because I knew exactly what she would say. I just wanted to wallow in it all.

No caption needed.

Thursday morning I biked to school and was listening to my tunes. I was gripping the handlebars a little tighter than usual and had a grimace on my face ("resting bitch glare"). If looks could kill... On shuffle, my ipod came up with the Calvin Harris song, How Deep Is Your Love. To preface this, every song on my running playlist has a purpose: they are upbeat, funny, joyful, and have a mantra of sorts. The line "Hit me harder, again. How deep is your love?"... well... it hit me hard. I thought about how you have to dig deep and really battle yourself more than anything in this sport. The mind is the most dangerous opponent. Physical obstacles are just roadblocks that sideline us. But the questioning, doubting, and fear they instil is incomparable. In the psyche, this has two outcomes: either takes you down into a irrevocable spiral or makes you stronger for it while lighting a fire. Listening to the techno beat, I decided for the latter.

I still feel wildly out of shape (I know fitness is there, it's just hiding). I'm trying really hard not to lose it again and be smart. It's hard and the mental Olympics are even harder. I have some goals and I will make them happen. It's still, after all, only May. I know my body is a fierce fighter through all these issues and I have been incredibly lucky. So I'm going to keep fighting. I guess I should start playing the Grateful Game again, huh Steph?

"So tell me how deep is your love, can you go deeper?"

Black Canyon 100k. #QuittersNeverWin

So much Happy

Three weeks ago I had the best training week after one of the best buildup I've ever had. Starting soon after TNF Chile 100 mile attempt, I intended on earning a golden ticket to Western States 100. Over winter break, I had a couple awesome training runs on the course, which lit the fire even brighter. Running 35 miles for Camille Herrons birthday with the Queen was the best. Putting in long solo miles in slo was mentally tough, but instilled a confidence in myself that was unprecedented. Three weeks ago, Meghan gave me a workout that scared me. The mile repeats were set at a pace way faster than I had ever done and the doubt was high. I crushed it though. I didn't know that I could do that and still feel so fresh, despite being in the midst of a 92 mile week. It got me really excited for Black Canyon 100k- the race for the golden ticket. 

That Friday, I was gliding through SLO's neon green hills and imagining the best possible scenario at BC. I was giddy with the possibilities that could unfold and not a trace of doubt was in my mind. The next day I did my medium long run out in Santa Margarita. I greatly underestimated the climbing in those 18 miles but knew it's a route I always get dehydrated on. I wanted race prep to be flawless. However, halfway through the run I felt a little something tweaking in my low back/ butt area. I thought maybe it was a bruise from some dance move pulled downtown at my roommates 21st birthday celebration. So I ignored it and pressed on.

That night the little pain never went away. I woke up the next morning for my 32 miler and tried to stretch it out. I met my professor Nicole Kulikov (3x OTQ marathoner speed demon and newfound trail buddy) for the first part of the run. We were moving super well on the rocky trails but the pain never went away. Gradually it got worse and worse, slowing me down. Running back down the road with her it was agonizing pain. I had to stop and go home. Nothing I did, short of sleeping, alleviated the awful pain. 

The dream

She told me it was my SI joint. She had gone through similar injury after the 2008 Olympic trials. For the next two weeks everything I did was painful. I only sought relief biking and sleeping. I didn't want to wake up in the morning and go to class or do anything. It was very depressing and I felt trapped. I could see all my hard work and dreams unraveling and that filled my heart with anguish. Since I was severely handicapped and couldn't run, I sought to ease my frustration with baking. Inspired by Steph Howe, I made almond croissants and biscotti among other things. Meanwhile, I tried everything. I saw a chiropractor, sports massage, and went to physical therapy. The week before BC I all of a sudden had the pain diminish in my daily activities. The PT was helping and making me stronger. She diagnosed my injury as a nonfunctional glute. Instead of firing and doing work, my hip flexor took over and pulled on my low back.

She was confident that I could run black canyon and excitedly I regained hope. Wednesday, at the last possible second, Meghan and I decided to go for it. I packed my bags and hopped on my flight. I met up with Keely Henninger and we hung out in Tempe with her friend Hillary. Keely was running the 60k and Hillary volunteered to pace me the last 11 miles. 

Pre race hip thrusts are all the rage

Day of the race, I diligently did my glute exercises in the gym and mingled with running friends. We meandered out to the start line and off we went into the desert. The sunrise was spectacular. The gorgeous mountains were illuminated with purple hues and the pink-orange Sky cast a golden light onto the trail. The cactus were in full force too. The course started with a fast downhill 50k and then started rolling in the hills. We went out fast, but surprisingly the 8 min or faster pace felt like a breeze despite not running for three weeks. I cruised through the first two aid stations, intensely focused on pushing hard and squeezing my butt so it fired properly. I could feel a niggle in my back but mostly ignored it. I could handle that. For some reason, there weren't any gu at the aid stations so I stuffed my pockets with gummy worms and chomped on those. My stomach felt great and so did my legs. I was actually on PR marathon pace and felt great. I tried not to get too excited that early. 

Around mile 16, the jarring little dips in the trail got to me. My back started to really hurt and it greatly slowed me down. I had to stop several times cause the pain was too much. I tried to do my PT exercises but to no avail. I pressed on to see if it would dissipate. I knew that when the pain was giving me chills (it was probs 75-80F at that point), it was time to quit. I dropped at the 20mile aid station. Taylor swift sang "Should've Said No. Should've gone home. Should've thought twice before you let it all go" as I walked it in. That girl knows me too well. 

These rockstars went 1-2. boom!

Going into this weekend, I knew it would take a miracle to finish. The dreams and confidence I had built over this training cycle were so large that my hope burned too brightly to be easily extinguished. In my pre race freak out texting Stephanie, I knew that I had to pull the plug if it got bad; I didn't want to be out longer than I should or regret not trying.

Sitting at the aid station talking to the medic, I was oddly calm. I knew a drop was unavoidable and I am completely fine with it. The grief and anguish I had experienced the previous Sunday thinking that I wouldn't even go to Arizona, was insurmountable. But I did. I made it there. I was on the start line and ran 20 miles better than I have in a race feeling better than ever. I knew my fitness was great, but this injury held me back. I gave it my all and I tried my best. I couldn't ask for anything more and I'm extremely grateful to have had the opportunity to try. 

Now I need to start the healing process and make my body stronger than before. I'm so lucky to have amazing friends surround me and help me through the depressing reality of injuries. I have a couple ideas for this year and I'm really excited for what's to come. 

Shenanigans

Huge congrats to Keely for almost stealing the overall W in the 60k and the winners of the golden tickets in the 100k. It was a brutally hot day and tough course, and I have so much respect for every starter and finisher. Kudos to Aravaipa Running and Jamil Coury for putting on a fab event. Post race was fantastic, Keely, Hillary and I hit up the downtown Tempe scene and drank/danced until I had to make my flight to SFO. The tequila induced clubbing had some great laughs. Now to make up my homework and eat half priced chocolate...

Big thanks to all the support and encouragement I've gotten along the way up to and through this. I really, really appreciate it. Major props to TNF & Victory Sportsdesign (too bad I didn't get to use my drop bag) & Julbo USA, as well as the love from Sisugirls & Stance.

West is Best

TNF Chile. My First 100 Miler. My First DNF.

"The first cut is the deepest, baby, I know..."-- Sheryl Crow.

Friday, October 16, 11:13 pm. No, no, we couldn't possibly be going up there. We should have turned downhill by now. Oh cool, look at this blue rock...

25 minutes later... I stood knee deep in snow and the cool, wind whistled around me, blowing my braids in my mouth. Spitting out a wad of hair, I looked up. The white cinta, or markers, had been swallowed by the mountain, along with my willpower. I only knew that I had to continue trudging up by the fluorescent orange jacket and click-clack of poles making their way up, up up into the thinning air.

What seemed like eons away, in some other life, was the bustling of anxious nerves, strong and leathered legs, and flashing headlamps gathered around a rope. Looking out at the twinkling lights of Santiago, I made a concerted effort to focus on my breathing. I stood picking at my sparkling nailpolish, simultaneously fully expectant and completely oblivious to what lay ahead. Soon, the small, intimate group of men and women around me started counting down in Spanish. People with flashing cameras crowded in around us. I wondered if they were going to move, we would stampede them, or we simply would not start. Zeroooooo! The tape went up, the cameras moved aside, and we took off. Very quickly, I found myself bent over with my hands on my quads moving upwards into the unknown. This was the position I would be in most of the day...


September 6, 8:20pm. To Meghan Arbogast: "I have confidence that I can finish 100 miles in October. It'll be tough and I won't run as much as I should if I was 100%. But I had May and June and most of July. And those were great months. And I'm getting to be a good hiker. I thought about it all day. I can do what I can until I can't. Then I can hike"

From the get go, I was hiking. Through the darkness, I tried avoiding sharp, low-hanging branches, and cautiously used my hands to scramble over rocks. I tried making small talk with the men grunting around me, but nobody was listening. Perhaps they were listening to Taylor Swift. I made a mental note to ask Stephanie if she had my headphones, as I had seemingly forgotten them. Drat. Oh well, maybe this would be good for personal development, or I can study for physiology...

The ridgeline kept moving upwards, I wondered when it would end. Mira! A man shouted behind me. I stopped, turned around, and stood gazing at the most incredible sunrise I had seen. The lights of Santiago, were still twinkling through the hazy fog. Green waves of ridges rose from the depths of the fog until they disappeared into the snow-capped peaks of the Andes. The sky, bluer by the minute, cast orange & pink-mixed rays of light onto the mountains. They looked warm, inviting, and sparked a love in my heart. I smiled, then continued upwards, still stealing glances of wonderous joy at those far, far away mountains.

Fresh as Daisies!

The trail, after 5 miles, finally topped out onto a grassy field. The sky was still getting brighter when I switched off my headlamp. I followed the leader down through cow fields. Weaving through trees, we mashed our feet into thick, globby mud. Mis pies estan pesados! I laughed, but nobody else joined me. Sigh.

I could hear the shouting before I could see them. Happily, I ran into the first AS where my energetic crew awaited me. Mario & Rocko from TNF South America, my mother & Stephanie Howe greeted me. Stephanie forced a Snickers bar into my hand, as she helped me load up on gels. It would be a while until I saw them again... Mario filled up my water bottles and told me the three women leaders were 13 minutes ahead. I didn't really care since we were 12k into a 160k race; I'll do my own thing and just focus on finishing.

Locked & loaded, I left. I started with gels every 20 minutes, just as Steph had instructed me to do, but they were not settling well. it took considerable effort to get one down. Hopefully the Snickers would be better...

The next mile or so, we ran through beautiful, green fields (again, not on an actual trail). Some sections, we were surrounded by tall, yellow mustard flowers and trees. My heart was so happy to see so much green, flowers, and trees! It took the edge off the discomfort of forcing down a Snickers bar... Soon, my stomach started really hurting. I took this as a sign that I should back off the pace and maybe walk for a bit. A woman came up behind me and asked me how I was doing and what was wrong. I said my stomach hurt and she offered me food, but I politely declined as I had a pack full of goop. She encouraged me to run with her and told me about herself. The language barrier was a bit steep, but I got to practice my Spanish. I told her she was the first person to talk to me all day, and she laughed. We got to a muddy hill surrounded by long-horned cows. I pointed and asked how to say what they were in Spanish. Vaca, she replied, and again, laughed at me. She and another Argentinian scooted up the hill past me, and I was left to myself.

Soon after PC1

Here is where things started to fall apart. Rolling, punchy climbs and steep, slippery descents, caused me to freak out. I was tired already and only 12 miles in. I started crying when it was time to eat another gel. F this. Where the hell am I. This is hard. How can I possibly do this?

Crying & stumbling, I made my way along the trail. Stupidly, I had forgotten to ask Stephanie for my headphones, so I was left with my thoughts- my own worst enemy. I sobbed as I sucked down a Gu and meandered down a trail-less, angry cow-filled grass hill. I sloshed through a stream of cold, ice melt and dragged myself up the hill. I saw a photographer in the distance and knew I would approach the second AS soon. I wiped my tears and put on a good face running in. The RD, Nick, and several new friends from the SA team were there and helped me refill my bottles with coke. (Yes, straight coke). They asked me how I was doing and I replied that I felt awful. Nick gave me some words of wisdom and told me to keep fighting. They cheered as I left and I felt renewed.

At AS2. The coca cola begins. PC Matias Bull

Bubbling with energy, I started running up the gradual slope. As the slope got steeper, the AS fading into memory, and the mud more slick, my energy gradually drained. I resumed a quiet cry and my hands-on-knees mountain-climbing pose. A man passed me and asked what was wrong. Again, I pointed to my stomach and he asked if he could help. No, I'm fine. And he disappeared above. Already, it was time to eat again and I groaned inwardly. I reached into my pack and found a Peanut Butter packet. At 200 kcal/packet, I only had to sip half of it per time chunk. Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad and I could get it down without gagging. The combination of fizzy coke and hearty peanut butter must have done the trick because I made that next hour my b*tch.

I power hiked the shit out of that hill. I passed the man and he was shocked. Estas mejor?! Siiiiii was my reply as I began running the now-flatter part. I thought we were at the top. We had been climbing for four miles, so it must have been time...

The crew & Vero Bravo

But the white cinta kept leading me forward and up. A giant peak with snow towered in front of me. There was no way they would make us go up and over that thing. When I was close enough to make out brightly colored jackets against the snow, I gulped. The slope turned drastically steep and I assumed the "mountain-climbing position". There was no time for tears as it was very cold, and I was intensely focused on finding blue rocks under the snow. I found a couple and put them into my pack (Don't ask...). Soon, the snow got deep enough where I was hopping into other, previous runners' footprints as it was mid calf-knee deep. Soon, the summit came and I found two brave souls at the 3rd AS ready to help. I refilled with coke and took off downhill (finally).

Sucking the energy from flowers

The first two miles of the fire road downhill, was more like skate skiing through the snow. This was maybe the most fun I had all day, despite the fact that my hands were really cold and I had stupidly given my gloves to Stephanie at the first AS because it was not (required gear). Then the snow disappeared and we weaved our way down. I fell into pace with Pablo from Peru. His English was fantastic and we shared the entire downhill, talking and laughing. This was incredible. At Mile 12 I wanted to quit, but he kept me going and distracting me from those negative thoughts. His stories were awesome and I will definitely cherish those miles for a long time. The 20k downhill was actually more like 13.5m, but who's counting... I grabbed a golden poppy I saw on the side of the trail and put it in my braid. It made me think of all my friends in CA and how they would want me to keep going with a smile.


At about 52km into the race, I arrived at the 4th AS to see my amazing crew. I gave my rocks to Stephanie in exchange for those awful gels and refilled my bottles with more coke. They shooed me out and up before I had time to drop, which had been my plan. They said they'd be at the next AS, "just 10km away", and by the time I remembered how much I wanted to drop, I was too far up the hill and they had taken off.

Yup...

I began crying heading up the steep, technical, loose-dirt, cactus-filled, hateful hill. At some parts, it was so awful that I had to stop so I could cry a bit harder. Pablo soon passed me and told me to keep going and see him again. My mantra for this section was it was just 10km...

More false summits, some snow, and steep, narrow ridgelines later, I was at 11km and the AS was nowhere in sight. Pablo was ahead and I was sobbing uncontrollably as I stumbled down the hill. Tears clouded my eyes and I could not focus on where the steep, loose trail was going. Snowy Andes mountains and the ridges I was traversing, cut through the fog sharply all around me. I tried to fill my heart with the joy from those mountains I had felt so, so much earlier. It didn't work.

I thought about what I had told Meghan. I was so excited about my first 100 miler, this opportunity to see Chile, and to gain points for UTMB- an ultimate dream I have held intensely for the last five years. I believed so much in myself, it was incredible. I was confident and excited. At that point, high above Santiago, I was so supremely sucked of everything within me. I had been feeling so empty for so long, too. I had no will, no hope, no joy, no drive, no energy... nothing but tears and extreme disappointment. I knew it was over. I knew it was too much for me. Everything in my body ached and I was broken.

Pablo from Peru & some of the others before PC5 (Not my Pic)

Finally, I made it to the Aid Station. But my crew was not there. When I didn't see Stephanie's silver puffy jacket, a weight inside me dropped. I didn't think I could feel more low, but then I didn't underestimate how wrong I could be. I immediately sat down on the aid station and cried harder. With my face on the ground, I created mud with my tears. Pablo was there and sat to rub my back, comforting me. He told me it's just 10 more kilometers and the hill was just like the first we had come down together. Seeing as there was no way down other than to run, I slowly got up and ate a banana and filled my bottles, again, with coke (we're at 5L now consumed). I had run out of food about an hour and half previous to that AS. I made my way down the hill, which took a lot longer than promised and I half cried every time I wondered when I would see my mom and Stephanie.

The downhill ensued and I came to a highway. Police escorts led me across it and directed me to go up. I made my way from the highway through a couple neighborhoods. Without the course guides and white tape, I would have been completely lost. Soon, I was directed towards a small bridge and back to where the trail seems to have resumed. I craned my neck upwards to stare up at the rock before me. White tape waved in the wind, high, high up and I had my right hand holding the chain that had been bolted into the rock so I could make my way up. I let go of the chain, sat down next to the rock, and cried. Hard. A man soon came up behind me and urged me on. In Spanish, that I could barely understand, he told me just 1 km more after the short hill. He continued on ahead and I hauled my ass up that rock. With so many false corners, a continuous uphill, and more than 1 kilometer, I cried as I slowly walked. Out of nowhere, Rocko came bounding up the trail. He scooped me up into a giant embrace and I hugged him as if my life depended on it. After I had wiped snot and tears all across his shirt, he encouraged me to walk with him.

I love this girl more than chocolate.

We talked for a bit and he told me about his climbing. He was so encouraging and it lifted my spirits as much as it could. I told him we needed to run (as it wasn't that far away now) because I didn't want to get caught in the dark. The sun was beginning to set and cast a pink glow on the mountains behind me. I arrived into the AS and immediately fell into Stephanie's arms and told her, at halfway, I couldn't go on. I was absolutely petrified at the prospect of going farther, let alone into the night. I knew how long it would take, how much my body already hurt, and the idea of having zero distractions in the dark. Plus, the obstacles presented by the trail would be just that much more magnified at night. I sat down and cried. Since I hadn't eaten in around 2.5-3 hours, I downed as many pringles as I could. Shivering and crying, I knew it was done. My journey ended there. My mom encouraged me to get into Rocko's truck, where it was warmer out of the wind. That was the nail in the coffin for my DNF. At this point, I had stopped crying. There was nothing left.


Driving back to our hotel, I gazed out the window at the fiery, burning orange sunset sparking the tops of the snowy peaks. Soon, the peaks faded and skyscrapers replaced them. Several things led me to this failure: a giant buildup of caloric deficit and inability to consume anything, not being ready physically with little training after a comeback from injury. These multiplied and grew out of proportion as I emotionally and mentally lost it. With all of this, for my first hundred, given the course, it was way too hard. There was simply no way. I was not physically injured, but simply broken.


After, Stephanie and I got to tour Santiago through wine, Pisco, food, subway, chocolate, and a quest for wifi to study. We had a blast. She taught me what the Grateful Game is, and that's definitely helped put my bitter, disappointment over not finishing, into perspective. So I'm going to play:

-I'm grateful for amazing sponsors that would invite me to explore such a unique area and experience a completely different side of the world. The crew at TNF South America have been so hospitable and helped immensely to get me as far as I did.
-I have amazing people in my life encouraging me always- friends, family, professors... I am especially grateful for Meghan. She coaches me and helps me strive, to the best of my ability, for those far-out dreams I conjure late at night. She is more of a friend than a coach, at times, but always positively pushing me forward. Stephanie Howe has been an infinite source of last minute advice, tips, and companionship. I am so lucky to have had her with me and as a friend. My family is always infallible, bottom line.
-The people I met were so, so lovely. They went out of their way to help me, despite running 100 miles themselves. The camaraderie and love I experienced was unlike anything else; I will hold onto those precious moments.
-I got to the starting line healthy and I finished half of the course without serious injury. I am grateful for a working, healthy, strong body.

HERE is the Pre Race Preview provided by Matias Bull of TrailChile.
HERE is the course review by TrailChile
HERE is the post run write up by Kit Fox & Red Bull.
HERE is my Strava data (I had missed a couple miles due to stopping my watch & time includes sitting at the end)
HERE is the race website- I HIGHLY recommend this race. It is beautiful, well put on, and awesomely hard for those wanting a challenge.

Congrats to all those who had finished the race! Bravo!

LD50- "Leona Divide 50m" or "Lethal Dose 50%." Take Your Pick.

Disclaimer: Some content and language is not suitable for children under the age of 18.

Leona Divide 50m came and went on Saturday. I was super excited for this race. Other than track 5ks, I've never raced southern California. I was especially excited to get on the PCT trail- the pictures I furiously google image & race report stalked were gorgeous.

Drawing course maps > Studying

The weekend before the race, as if I wasn't nervous enough, I got sick. I was congested, super tired, and felt overall very very crappy. For me, when I get sick, I still regain a high level of functionality and can go about daily activities (work, school) fine, but running sucks and I feel terrible. I took sunday off and tried blasting my system with every immune-boosting thing I could think of. I chugged EmergenC like it was coffee- my life depended on it. Tuesday I attempted a very light track workout but was so slow, heavy and wrecked. I took pretty much the rest of the week off & laid low after advice from Stephanie Howe and other friends.

Friday I shook out for 20 minutes and drove down with my (much more sick) roommate to her house in Simi Valley. I stayed the night there then woke very, very early after a fitful, nervous, not very sound sleep to drive the rest of the way to Santa Clarita.

I was pumped. I was excited, feeling a bit better and ready to go. I was so thrilled to test my limits in a 50 miler (I ran TNF50 for "fun" and just cruised comfortably & casually). I had so much confidence in myself and really, really trusted in my training. Meghan's advice was to challenge myself. Who knew that that would take on a whole new meaning....

Obviously too optimistic Pre-race

Seeing friends Billy Yang and Gina Lucrezi at the start was so welcome as I didn't know anybody else. Gina and I started out together, we were in the lead, and I tried my hardest to take it casual in the beginning. We were running up 2.75m to the PCT trail and then would go out and back in both directions. (See course map for reference so you know what the heck I'm talking about if you are not familiar with this course). I stopped to pee and she kept going, so I was just content on keeping her in my sights. I ran a couple miles with Billy, which was super fun, and I loved talking to someone. Though, he turned at the first aid station for the 50k and I had to keep going. At this point, I was feeling "alright". I assumed it was just a matter of shaking off the cobwebs from not running at all in the past week, and that soon I would be warmed up. (Again, would take on a different meaning once the sun came fully out).

Going up the hill from that AS, the woman who would go on to win, passed me. I was kind of struggling to get a rhythm and tried talking to her to bring myself to a better place, but she just replied, "sorry but I'm breathing out of my ass!" I let her go and figured I could definitely catch her on the downhill, my specialty. We had a 6 mile downhill to the second AS, at mi 17.5, which was also the first turnaround. On the downhill, my legs were not responsive. I stumbled over rocks and was cursing myself. On the previous climb I was wishing I hadn't even started, as a DNF idea was being entertained. Multiple guys passed me on the downhill and I could barely pick my feet up. Everything was so forced! By this point, I had tucked my skirt into the liner shorts (Real attractive look. Seriously, holla at me boys) because I was just so frustrated with life and hot and not having a good time. Misery at it's "finest." I saw Gina close to the AS on her return as well as the blue-skirt lady and exchanged high fives and words of mumbled encouragement (It was already BLAZING balls hot out.) Gina was 12 minutes in front of me at that point. I don't know why I didn't think to drop there, maybe I told myself I'd keep going, to at least get SOME mileage out of a taper week and training. But then I also had to go up that god-forsaken 6 mi hill. FML.

Cause sparkles make you faster, duh.

At first, I struggled. But then I just set my sights low on pace and chugged. Surprisingly, I managed and got up it in around 70mins. I was definitely off my suspected 8 hr pace, but the guy I strava stalked made it up in the same time, so I gave myself a little pat on the back for that. At this point, a woman, Ms. Neon shirt, came up and was topping out the hill with me. We ran for a stretch along the top but she gapped me towards the middle of the downhill back to the aid station. At this point in time, I had already written a DNF race report in my head, played out my phone conversation with Meghan, and accepted deep in my heart that I would DNF for the first time and not finish my 9th ultra. I reasoned that several runners have DNFed on a not-so great day and that it was fine; I'd live to fight another day, another race... I stumbled down the hill, not so much from my heavy legs, but from the tears building up in my eyes. I was crushed in every aspect of the word.

I came upon the aid station, mi 26, in the midst of cheers and horns and cowbells. What should have been a spirit booster and ragin' good time. They asked me what they could do and I just started sobbing, repeating "I don't want to finish". They sat me down in a chair and put ice on my back, while I cried my heart out. I can't remember the last time I cried that hard. Usually, when it is hot and dry, my nose bleeds. (My nose was a bloody boogery mess the whole day- right from the start). So, I was spewing blood, boogers, snot and tears all over this poor volunteer. She was force feeding me coke and otter pops (holy good lord those were effing amazing). Back up on the hill, when I knew I wouldn't continue, I stopped eating and drinking. Big time No No. (By the time I reached the AS I hadn't consumed calories in 1.5hrs). I sat there crying for 20 mins while this saint talked to me about all things- her grad studies, where I studied, where we were from, a story about a cute guy, everything. The tears subsided as I had nothing left. She kept asking me every 5 mins or so if I was ready to get back out there, and I kept responding "No, I'm done. I suck. I don't want to go. I want to go home". She never said okay, she just said well lets wait some more. At one point I stopped my watch, knowing it was final and resolute that I would drop.

This was probably the lowest point I've ever, ever reached in my career as an athlete. (Aside from season-ending injuries). I've never spent more than 10 minutes at an AS and I spent at least 45 there. She kept asking me if I was ready to go and my resolve was getting weaker and weaker. She said, "hey, so I've been dying to get out for a run, you can run out with me for three miles and can turn around and come back at any point, but I will go out three miles. Come with me." I got so fed up with sucking and being miserable and I have no idea why the hell, but I obliged and we set off. I took an otter pop to go and we started booking up the trail. I felt great. Not super fresh, but way better. We had a great conversation, but then three miles flew by. She told me go catch that guy and then she would turn around. (We were passing people like they stood still). I caught him and she bid me farewell with the best hug. I was so grateful. I knew then that I would finish. My time goals and competition goals were completely thrown out of the 87th floor window, but I knew I would get through it. I was happy.

But that doesn't mean that the last 22 were smooth sailing on an otter pop high.... I ran the rest of the way up to that T junction and the AS. I filled my water, grabbed Gu and two cokes. Unfortunately, they did not have otter pops at any other station. I continued on to the last turn around. Go ahead, look at the elevation profile the course website boasts. No. False. That is not an accurate representation of what we suffer through. What seems like small rollies with a short climb, for good measure, to the finish was actually long climbs wrapping exposed mountains. For instance, I'd come around a turn and my initial thoughts would be, "wow! what gorgeous mountains! god, I need to make a mental note of exploring SoCal more!" Low, and behold, we would be waddling our sorry, broken asses up and over those far and distant mountains... I would see a stripe of trail weaving up, of course, one hill and I'd say "nahhhhhh we couldn't *POSSIBLY* be going up there! that's too far..." Then I'd see small dots moving up it. Bloody hell. I was pretty slow heading out to that turn around, I'd walk on some of the uphill, but at least I was generally moving and passing all the 50k-ers. I kept waiting to see the first 50 milers (Cause then I knew I was at least somewhat close to the oasis, I mean Aid station...) Sure enough, after what seemed like eternities, the 50 milers began passing me on their return. I saw the first and second woman. I talked with Neon Shirt for a bit, and encouraged her to chase down the blue skirt lady (They were 20 mins apart).

Oh HELL yeah!

I got to the AS 10 mins later and saw F3 leave. So I thought I was 4th. I quickly filled my bottles and headed out. (Of course after dumping ice down my sports bra and down my "shorts". (Real interesting while running...)) I walked up that short little climb to recoop and process mentally that I only had 10 miles to go. (Good god I was so excited to be done). Then I started running and didn't really stop... That last part went by a lot quickly than before. So, I'll just give you the highlights: after the ice melted a guy thought I peed my pants, I got stung by a bee on my boob, I found out I could jump at mi 44 when I stumbled upon a rattlesnake, and some woman told me "wow you're doing the 50 miler? You look like a goddess!" (It was definitely due to my glorious sun burn radiating from my bloody, sweaty and salty skin). I quickly found out that I was actually 6th female, as I passed two other 50mi runners that I hadn't seen previously. The last woman I passed was walking up a short incline less than two miles from the finish. I had no idea what her legs were like so I was scared that she would catch me. I ran those last two miles like a herd (?) of snakes were chasing me, licking my heels. Once I hit the pavement, with 1.25 mi of pure downhill to go, I let loose. I could smell the barn, as Tera Dube said of her sprint finish at LS50 last weekend. I could taste my blood-booger encrusted lips as I couldn't help but grin ear to ear like a doped out dweeb. I rounded the corner and finished. I had actually freaking finished. Unfortunately, I did not have my mom or dad with me, and was caught in an embrace by RD Keira Henninger and a medic. I kept saying "I finished! I finished!" like some lunatic as they dragged me to a chair. She gave me my medal and 4th overall Female mug, which were beautifully crafted. I congratulated her on an amazing event with an ass-kicking-ly brutal course.

Thanks Keira Henninger for a great event!

I finished 4th female, and something like 9:37 hours. I won my age group (20-29) and beat enough guys to be 25th overall. I am so, so proud to have been able to finish that thing and come out alive. I didn't feel right all day, but still developed a deeper, richer mental strength to use in my impending 100 mile race. I have such an overwhelming amount of love, gratitude and respect to the tireless, energetic & saintly volunteers who really made this day happen for me. Whelp. I challenged myself. I feel I did not run to my potential or ability, which is a bit upsetting and disappointing. I know I can run a lot faster and be more a more aggressive competitor, but given the conditions and my health/mental state, I am just glad to have finished. I don't feel as completely wrecked (save a few blisters and sore feet), so I'm excited to get back out there and try, try again for the next adventure. (Cause, if at first you don't succeed...)

I have an appetite to be my absolute best and push my boundaries, and it's only gotten stronger. Now I really am determined for retribution at the 50 mile distance!

Tiger wearing my lucky T Shirt

HUGE thank you to everyone who supports and encourages me. I really thought about a lot of you and it definitely helped pull me through the rough patches. I am so, so thankful to have so many friends and people in my life that are so inspirational and encouraging- I don't know what I do to deserve it, but I love, love having you all in my life.

Strava data found HERE.

Gear Used:
Stance mid crew socks
TNF Better than naked skirt, singlet, Stow N Go bra
TNF Ultra Cardiac shoes
Julbo Sunglasses
Salomon pack & Soft flasks
1 smooth caffeinator Picky Bar
1 Clif gel every 30 mins
1 salt S!Cap every 30-40 mins
Too many to count Cups of Coke
4 green otter pops, 1 orange. (Pink is my favorite)