Madeira Island Ultra Trail of #NeverStopSmiling

This. Is. Paradise.

"Why are you here?"
I was asked this by new friends I met while travelling in Lisbon, the Madeira police at 2am, and myself in the cold, dark, wet hours of my training.

All packed in my VSD pack!

The one time I wore a bikini

After a year of battling injuries and the MCAT study crazies, I signed up for an epic vacation, WS qualifier, and totally rad adventure: the Madeira Island Ultra Trail. The 116km was farther than I had ever run and was on the most beautiful island (thanks google images). Though, the distance and 8000m vert were no joke and I had to spend the winter months training hard. Battling the snow, rain, frigid temps, and darkness, I had the help of awesome lady tiger jungle cats. These hardcore crazies kicked my butt up and over Section line repeats and kept my ab muscles strong from literally laughing out loud.

Marhabaan!

Since this was a long ways to go for a race, I wanted to make it into an adventure. I planned a 4 day layover in Lisbon. I swam in the ocean, made new friends of various nationalities listening to Fado music & drinking sangria, rock climbed under Moorish castles in Sintra, and just generally wandered around everywhere. After the race, I spent 3 days in Marrakesh riding camels, getting swindled in souks, and eating all the tajin. It was an awesome vacation.

My rock climbing routes!

Sangria > Water for hydration

Scooter of death

Side story: In googling this tropical island paradise, I envisioned myself basically in a bikini and riding a Vespa scooter I rented to get around (I have never driven these before). Unfortunately, when I landed at 10pm, a storm was raging across the island with cold rains and strong winds. I got the scooter and had to drive it 90km across the island to my AirBNB by Porto Moniz. White knuckling the handlebars, I gritted my teeth through 35 soaking km and managed to get myself lost. Around midnight I said F it and asked for directions to the nearest hotel. No room at the inn. Double F it, I sat outside the hotel and decided to leave the scooter to call a taxi. When the taxi arrived in the tiny town, I asked to be let out and reached for my purse. Only I didn't have it. F. The driver, not speaking much English, became frustrated and took me to the police. After questioning me until 2 am, they deduced through my sobs and fragmented Spanglish that my purse was at that hotel. (Pro tip: keep PDF pictures of your passport on your phone and memorize your credit card number). Their colleagues in Funchal were able to miraculously find my purse and we met in the middle to grab it (read: I sat in the back of a police car). I finally paid the taxi driver at 3:45am and the police kindly offered to take me to my Air BNB as it was still pouring out (rather than calling the embassy and deporting me as I thought they were). However, the street signs were recently changed and they could not locate the residence. At 4:30am they told me that I might as well just sleep on the bench in the police station and in the morning, the saint of a woman hosting me came to pick me up. After the fact, it is freaking hilarious but I got extremely lucky. The Madeiran people are generous, patient, and willing to lend a helping hand.

Lost in Lisbon

Starting the smiles early

The week before the race, I spent eating pastries, hanging out on the farm with Maria, my host, and resting up (the continued rain and my fear of the scooter didn't allow much room to explore the island). Before I knew it, I was receiving race instructions at the press conference, making a mess to organize my race gear, and nervously picking at my bib number on a bus to the start. I made some good friends that helped ease the nerves: Matt Schaar repping SFRC from the Bay, Claire a badass ER doc/PhD that also runs 100+ mi races, Australians Kellie & Tegyn, and some Brazilians. Thanks to my ITRA ranking (really, I think it's just the fact that I'm "young"), I was able to start with the elites in a flurry of cameras; I made sure to bust a few moves to embarrass everyone around me.

This guy got such a good view of my butt for some hours

Then, at midnight, we were off. We climbed and climbed, then steeply descended. This pattern is basically what was on repeat all day. At around 18k, we ran through a small town that was wide awake cheering us on with high fives and Forza! I was offered a Super Bock beer by one spectator, and to their excited (likely drunken) cheers, I stopped to drink it. I had hoped it would give me Super powers.

Even at 65km, you can still make a silly face

Coming into the first aid station, like a rookie, I almost left my poles behind. I had to double back and grab my magic sticks and proceed downhill in the pouring rain. I settled into a good groove and broke the silence by singing out loud to my ipod (Destiny's Child, Drake, etc). I ran a couple km with a fellow American living in Switzerland for her PhD and we traded funny jokes in the darkness weaving through farms, levadas, root-y forests, and tunnels. Soon the sun rose, but the thick fog and rain kept the mood somber as we trudged on. Soaked through, I grimaced as the wind whipped the cold deep into my bones. I wanted to stop at the refuge aid station and just drink the hot tea all day. But I forced myself out that door and on the heels of a Portugese woman. We didn't have a common language, so we climbed and descended in silence. Positions were shuffled in our group and puddles splashed. I was starting to feel light headed and tired. I kept my feet moving, but focused on eating as many calories as I could stomach right then. That did the trick and eventually I got to the 60km Aid station, where I found Matt and my drop bag. My expectations of warm sunny weather, did not leave me with extra clothes to change into, so I simply stuffed my pack with Clif blocks and stopped at the food table to eat as much as I could. We had the longest and hardest climb ahead of us, with almost all of the climbing already behind us.

I bring the discoteca to the euro party

Matt and I started the suffering climb up to Pico Ruivio together. The fog was burning off and I leaned into my poles on the endless staircase up. I was surrounded by terrain my wildest imagination couldn't create and ran paths carved into the mountainside. I took my time with the metal ladders and gripped the ropes tightly on narrow ledges. Going through several tunnels, they were just long enough that I didn't feel the need to dig for my headlamp, but dark enough that the dim light at the end created hallucinatory moving, dripping walls. I would exit into the light stumbling with vertigo to the left, overcorrecting, and twice banged my right hand against the steel poles barricading the cliff. I thought I had broken my hand for a solid hour, rendering it useless (fortunately just bruised and cut up).


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.

#GirlPower

I arrived at the 107km aid station as the sun was setting. I knew my goal of finishing before the second darkness wouldn't be met. But I knew I was going to finish, and that was enough. I'm grateful I was able to run this section at sunset. Purple painted the sky as a full moon rose. I meandered around a singletrack carved out of a cliff. The ocean waves crashed hundreds of feet below with the lights of fishing boats out in the distance. Volunteers had strung lights along the trail and I felt full of happiness. I ran. My legs carried me around to the levada descending into the finish at Machico. I pushed hard and ran as fast as I could. I beamed down the finish line stretch, high fiving the many people cheering. I was greeted with hugs and kisses by two Frenchies that had shared kms earlier. Despite the pain settling into my legs, I could not stop smiling. I had done it. Best of all, there was no doubt in all 22:23 hours that I would not.

A little help can go a long-a** way

Gear Used:
-Salomon sparkle pack
-Garmin Fenix 2 watch
-TNF Ultra Vertical shoes
-TNF Spanx & BTN Tee (bib stapled on as euros don't believe in pins)
-Tumbler cup & 1.5L bladder
-So many Clif bars
-Safety blanket with a lucky 1euro penny
-TNF Hyperair goretex jacket
-gloves & rainbow arm sleeves
-pole magic sticks
-Petzl Tikka & Ledlenser MH10 headlamp
-Drymax mid calf pink (duh) socks
-Victory Sportsdesign buff




Big thank you to all those family & friends cheering me on, MIUT for an incredible race and experience, sponsors that keep me from running naked (almost), and the lovely people I met along the way. I highly recommend this race (read sufferfest) and beautiful island to anyone. Strava of what I got before my watch died HERE.

Now that it's over, I opened my medical school applications. Recovery with ice cream and writing never felt so good. Next up: Broken Arrow 55k in June!

"Oh hey"- awkward American tourist 

Never Stop Eating Pastries 

White (Out) River 50 Mile; Race Report.

My last long race at Leona Divide 50m was less than ideal. I had worked very hard focused a lot of energy on that being my A race. Long story short, it was a shit show and I stopped at an aid station halfway wanting to quit for 45 minutes. Now that I am training for a 100 miles, which is more of a mental marathon than physical, I wanted to have a race in between Leona Divide and Pine to Palm 100. I wanted a good memory and something positive to fall back on in moments of self doubt and negativity, as I would be dumb to say those won’t happen.

Bend... Just stop.

Running with Steph, Riley & Jack

This summer I have been kept super busy working in the lab and running a lot with friends over the weekends. So, I hadn’t thought much about my impending, redeeming, 50 mile race: White River. Last weekend I went on some really quality training runs near Bend, OR. Every time I go, I fall more in love with that area. On Saturday, I ran around Green Lakes and Soda Creek trails on a gorgeous day; I felt like I was floating. Sunday I ran with Stephanie (Howe) & Zach Violett and their super in shape dog, Riley. Seriously, Riley can definitely kick my butt any day. We ran this awesome loop around 3 Finger Jack. It was gorgeous but I bonked so hard as it was 100% exposed and very hot.

The day before the race, I got off work early and drove to Crystal Mountain Resort in Mt Rainier Natl Park, WA. The drive through gorgeous mountains alone had me drooling and wishing for a 48 hour adventure run rather than a race. I got to the resort in time to hear a course briefing from Scott McCoubrey, RD, and get checked in. I ate my Tupperware dinner and crawled into my sleeping bag in the back of my car.

Off & Running! PC Glenn Tachiyama

Love this girl!

6 am the race was off. For some odd reason, I led the women’s pack at mile 1. I did not intend to go out any faster than I felt was good for me. I got passed by a LOT of people in the first couple miles. Whatever, I thought, I’ll catch back up, they’ll fade back, we still have 46 more miles to go… After 5k, the course started winding up, up, up. For ten miles, I had my hands on my knees and huffed around switchbacks on the first climb. It was cold, wet, windy, and I felt like I was sucking supremely. Not again, I thought, why can’t I nail the 50 mile distance? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed running along huge cliffs, by waterfalls, up steep stairs, and through the mud. The forest in the rain and fog is one of my favorite spots to be. However, for that climb, I was not having a good day. I felt so tired, heavy and slow. It was very frustrating. I didn’t let the thought of quitting enter my mind, but by the time we started heading back on the OAB section, I had decided today would be good 100 mile practice: long time on my feet, not feeling good, and just getting it done. Sigh.

Scott's Course Map

Fortunately, at that point, I had started running with two other women, Monica Ochs & Sarah Parker. We commiserated that we weren’t having the days we had hoped for, but filled that whole downhill with great conversation. Both women were nurses and so I had a lot of questions for them as well. By the time we hit mile 27 Aid station, my outlook had become a lot more positive. Unfortunately, I had become happy and fine with just running to finish the darn thing, but then a volunteer had to go and tell me I was 12^th woman. Drat. Now that the possibility of making top ten entered my mind, I dropped my complacent attitude and started running a little faster.

We had another long climb and I surprised myself by running most of the way up it. I knew we had a downhill then 10km to the finish, both things I estimated I could coast on, so I had to really put in the work on the hill. On the way up, I passed a lot of people to the tune of David Guetta and Spanish flamenco. Near the top of the hill, I came upon a woman in blue. I hiked/ran behind her for quite some time. Neither of us giving an inch. We went on like this for a long while until we came to a little bit of a downhill (a major fakeout before a steep pitch to Suntop- the last bit of the climb). I burst around her and sprinted as hard as I could down the trail. The mud made it a bit of an extreme slip n slide, but I made it upright, with grace and poise. I also gapped her a little. However, she very persistently followed me on that steep part to the aid station. We arrived at the same time and she opened her pack to have her bladder filled. Seizing this opportunity, I grabbed one gel and took off.

Course profile. I clocked it at 9500' gain.

This is where I put on the hurt. From Suntop, the course winds down a fire road for several miles to the last aid station. I hurled myself as fast as I could down the road. I kept looking over my shoulder and would see a blue figure emerging from the white mist. I hugged the turns as best I could to try to put physical objects like trees, in between us. Usually, when one loses sight of a competitor they are chasing, they start to give up. This downhill was painful, I was running as fast as I could and already had 37-44 miles on my legs. A bit of the way down, I really had to go to the bathroom. I weighed my options: A. I could quickly put on the brakes and pull over. Ouch. B. I could pull over, but then the girls I had just passed would catch up. Or C, my most appealing option, just pee my pants. I mean, it was raining after all, and I thought it would only be just a tinkle… Well. At least I was hydrating!

 

What we should have seen at Suntop. PC Seattle Running Club

I was pretty happy to be done with that first climb...

The road started to flatten out and I caught sight of another woman. I don’t know why, but I had kept telling myself that each time I caught someone, I had just gotten 10^th place; I would need to seriously work hard to not let top ten slip… In reality, I had no idea what place I was in. This mindset kept me edging closer to her. We came into the final AS together, and once again, I took off. However, she stayed right behind me. We managed a couple sentences here and there before she gapped me a bit. I switched my ipod until it came to Taylor Swift and put my head down. I had made a goal for myself that I needed to break 9 hours. Suddenly, my head was filled with Swiftian boy rage and calculating exactly what my maximum pace had to be in order to break 9. I caught up to the woman in yellow and passed her. Soon, another woman. Taylor Swift kept lamenting about how she knows places as I wound my way alone through the woods. This last 10km really was a kick in the balls with wet rock, logs, roots, and constant up and down. I had no idea where I was directionally, geographically, and if I was near the finish. The rushing of the White River (it really is white) and the soft crunching of moss and leaves underfoot and the swirling wind and rain in the canopy was peaceful. It was like a metronome consistently pulling me through the never-ending forest.

All business

As the clock ticked on, I grew more and more agitated that I wouldn’t make the cutoff I had set for myself. I made little promises to myself- okay, you can hike ten steps here, you can have oreos when you are done, you can accomplish one of your goals for the day… (Because apparently I was still thinking I wasn’t top ten). Just before the trail emptied out onto the familiar road leading into the campground, I saw another woman. FML. Now I was gonna have to sprint for it. I let it out. I put everything I had into that last half mile, and not an ounce less. I crossed the line at 8:56 in 5^th place (33^rd overall and 3^rd in my 20-29 age group). I was so happy to be done.

The more I think about this race, the more proud I am over how hard I pushed and raced the second half. I passed at least 7 women in the last 20 miles and didn’t let up. I am so fortunate to have met some awesome people at the race- I love new friends! And experience a super tough course with amazing volunteers and atmosphere. Once again, the people in this community make every experience a happy, positive, and humble one! Super grateful for my coach, Meghan, giving me a ton of last minute words of wisdom and getting me to the start AND finish line. I would be still lost in the fog without her (literally and figuratively).

Strava data HERE.

Gear used:

-TNF Stow N Go Bra, BTN shorts/ singlet, visor, arm sleeves

-Stance socks & Pearl Izumi Trail N2

-Garmin 910XT

-Salomon Sense vest

-1 Gu gel every thirty minutes, including on the start line, 3 S! caps, & approx. 10 dixie cups of coke

Gear I wish I used:

-gloves & buff