"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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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...
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| 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).
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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!
Coming down from these peaks, from 75km to 100km, I felt devoid of everything inside. I had the will and motivation to finish, and no real physical detriment to my legs. But it was as if everything else inside had been sucked out. I simply could not run. It was all I could do to keep moving forward, at my glacial snail pace. My ipod and watch died, so time continued to deceive me and it felt as if the world slowed it's spinning. I didn't feel sorry for myself because I was giving it everything I had, and at that moment, it just happened to be power walking. I plastered a smile on my face and reminded myself how incredibly lucky I am as I put one foot in front of the other.
