Montrail Ultra Cup

After such a spectacularly fun weekend at Western States, I’m finding it difficult to pull myself from my current state of recovery-bliss long enough to put together a race report. Of course, eventually I’ll collect my thoughts (and my photos) enough to share all the details. But in the meantime, I thought I’d share one of the many moments from the weekend that stand out for me.

It’s this moment right here:

After the top ten men and women finishers are honored at the Western States awards ceremony, Montrail presents awards to the top five men and women in the Montrail Ultra Cup. I was lucky enough to take 4^th female.

For me, entering the Ultra Cup just made sense because I’d planned to run all these races anyway, and entry into the series was free. (Special thanks to Craig Thornley for emailing Where’s Waldo participants after the race and reminding us to sign up!)

Points series are fun because they comprise a slightly different set of elements than the individual races themselves. They can allow someone like me an opportunity to stand shoulder to shoulder with the elite women. In no way am I trying to be self-deprecating here, but if you look at my race finishes compared with those of the other 4 women, they are all much faster than me. It’s a simple fact.

Only the first three places get cash prizes (although 4^th and 5^th do get some sort of prize package), but I got all the award I needed just getting to stand up there with Meghan, Amy, Pam and Helen. I was totally honored to be included among such amazing and talented women, and in such a prestigious setting.

Thanks, Montrail, for sponsoring the series, and congratulations to all the participants!

Pam and Amy congratulate me. What awesome women!

Western States: Before the Big Day

My first week of summer has brought with it beautiful trail running, roaring waterfalls, soothing time with family, and no small amount of pre-race jitters. Unless you happen to have your head in the ultrarunning sand, you know that this weekend is Western States. Waaaahooo! It would be no understatement to say that I am excited, and that I have little else on the brain right now. 

Before all that pre-race talk though, a few pictures from my first week of summer:

A perfect start to things, wouldn't you say?

~

I’ve had plenty of time to consider goals for Western States. Practically a lifetime. As far as a predicted finish time, the numbers have bounced around all over the place in my head. What I’ve finally settled on is this: Running Western States is a journey.

In other words, in a somewhat similar fashion to last year at TRT, my goals are centered less around a specific finish time, and more on how I want to handle things during the day. On the physical side, I want to run smart, take care of myself, and deal with every problem as it arises. On the mental side, I want to enjoy it as much as I can, appreciate the entire experience no matter how it’s going, and accept my best effort whatever it may be. I really think if I take care of myself physically, the outcome will take care of itself.

Check-in at Squaw this morning was nothing but smiles and friends and excitement on a beautiful mountain day. If tomorrow is anything at all like that, it is sure to be a good experience.

If you’re one of the few people (it seems) who won’t be at the race, you can follow the whole thing on their awesome webcast. If you want to check in on me specifically, I’m runner #119.

I also have to offer a huge advance thank you to all the volunteers, the RD, and WS Board. I’ve seen what happens at this race from the spectator/volunteer/crew perspective and it is phenomenal. I can’t wait to see it from the participant side of things.

And to all the other runners, pacers and crew getting ready for a big day tomorrow – good luck, and have fun!

We are ready to run!

Glorious Food

Anyone who has ever trained for a hundred mile race can tell you: It takes a lot of fuel to feed that fire. It's been a constant struggle this spring to get enough healthy calories when I want them. 


In other words: I'm hungry all the time!





Food in our culture has many associations. The two biggest that come to mind for me are pleasure and (consequently) guilt. The beauty of burning so many calories is that food becomes what it is actually meant to be: fuel. And while I used to subscribe to the Quentin Cassidy school of thought - if the fire is hot enough, anything will burn - I have fallen more towards healthier foods and away from my standard cravings for junk.


Why? Simple: better fuel.


I have a horrible sweet tooth, and admittedly I still consume my share of chocolate, but in general the carbs just don't cut it right now. I used to eat a bagel for breakfast every day. For probably the last 15 years, in fact. Now I eat a two-egg sandwich and a banana. (The bagel didn't get me past 7 AM before I needed second breakfast.) I've managed to avoid alcohol, and I go through an extra large bag of apples in a week. 


No bagels? No beer? Who have I become?


On long runs it's challenging to carry enough food. Jamie, my training partner and mentor in all things Western States, assures me that this will not be a problem on race day. After tapering, my metabolism will drop down a notch, just like my dress size. Let's hope so.


The last time I really viewed food this way was when I was hiking the PCT. I carefully examined the nutrition information on packages to see what food had the most calories for the least weight. One of my favorite items was a chocolate espresso Clif Bar slathered in peanut butter.  About 500 calories.


These days I can't get enough of two things: eggs and Greek yogurt. Strange, I know. I'm loving 'em though. They fill me up and keep me going.

What's your favorite fuel between training runs?

Perspectives from the Auburn Trails 34 Miler

It was late afternoon, and the sound of the rain on the roof kept increasing in volume. I stretched out on my yoga mat, my back to the floor and legs straight up the wall. After six and a half hours of running that day, it was exactly where I wanted to be.

“I want to start with this pose today so that we can all think about turning things upside down a little,” the instructor explained in a voice like a soothing blanket.

Immediately, that Jack Johnson song, “Upside Down,” popped into my head. (I’m good at finding stillness in my body during yoga, but stillness in the mind still eludes me.)

The teacher asked us to try accepting things as they were. “Don’t fight adversity,” he said, “instead try to look at things from a different perspective. Sometimes that’s the only part of a situation you can control.”

I think he was referring to the endless winter, which has caused no shortage of grumbling around here recently. I’m not entirely sure though, since while he was talking, I was still singing in my head and trying to remember what came after the line “Who’s to say, I can’t do everything? Well I can try.”

Anyhow, both the song and the advice to accept difficult things rather than fight them summed up my day rather well. Circumstances weren’t exactly ideal, but the Auburn Trails 34 Miler had been absolutely brilliant!

Friday morning before race day, I awoke with a sore throat. With Western States just three weeks away, I met the situation with a heavy sense of doom. However, three weeks could be plenty of time to recover from something minor. Suddenly the prospect of running for 34 miles in the rain didn’t sound like such a wise idea. What if I gave myself pneumonia? Then again, what if I was just suffering from drama-queen-taper-paranoia? The whole dilemma just depressed me. I put the option of skipping the race on the table, and headed to bed early and undecided.

The sore throat was still with me in the morning, but no other nasty symptoms had manifested. In fact, mentally I felt great and couldn’t imagine going back to bed and not running that day. The idea didn’t sound like any fun at all. (Know what did sound like fun? Running. In the rain.)

At the start in Auburn, I had some clothing decisions to make. I had recently received a sweet little blue Power Peak Jacket from Columbia – a waterproof breathable number that I’d yet to really put to the test. It was a little much for running I thought: No matter how breathable a jacket is, if it’s waterproof, it never seems to keep up with the sweat rate of a high-octane run. However, I knew I wouldn’t be running too hard that day, (This was merely a last long training run before beginning my taper.) and I was really tired of being cold and wet in my non-waterproof windbreakers on my runs. (Remember that endless winter thing?) Plus, if I was going to protect myself from a full blown illness, it wouldn’t do well to be cold and shivering all day. So I went with the jacket. It was the first of a couple of smart moves that ensured I had a great day.

The race started at the Overlook Park in Auburn, headed down to No Hands Bridge, and then did two laps on a modified Olmstead Loop before returning across the bridge and finishing back at the park. The rain came down steadily as Robert implored us to depart the shelter of a large oak and gather at the starting line. I said hi to a few friends before finding Donald, and we headed down the hill together with a small group of intrepid runners.

I had figured Donald and I might be a good match for running together that day since we would both be taking it easy, so when I lost him a few miles into the first downhill, I was disappointed. We cruised down from Robie Point along the Western States Trail, and I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to run this trail in the opposite direction, the last few miles of Western States,  in just a few weeks time. Or, um, hike it, as the case may be. It was pretty fun to let myself get excited.

After crossing No Hands, the course headed steeply up the training hill, also known as K2. It was a good steady hike – the kind where I usually feel strong and pass people. So it was a pleasant surprise when a familiar voice from behind asked if I knew the joke about the clownfish and the sea anemone. (Well, of course I did.) Donald had caught up!

Now I had my running partner with me, and I figured we may as well stick together. That was my second smart move of the day.

As it became apparent that the rain did not intend to let up, I became more and more grateful for that jacket. My favorite feature turned out to be a little snap at the sternum that allows you to run with the entire thing unzipped for ventilation but prevents it from flapping all around like Superman’s cape. With that and the pit zips opened, I had great breathability! Later in the day I got a little colder and zipped everything back up, which worked out to be excellent temperature regulation.

The little blue jacket that could.

The Olmstead Loop looked pretty green for this time of year, and wild flowers were still out in subtle waves of color. It was also awfully wet and more than a little muddy. We splashed along across meadows and past broad oaks. We went for long periods without seeing anything but grass and flowers and trees. Mostly, it didn’t feel like a race at all, and that was just fine with me. I couldn’t help smiling. Is there much better than a long, rainy day of stomping through mud puddles with a friend?

We talked about training and time commitments, reading and writing books, family, past and future adventures, Catcher in the Rye, shoes, and rabbits that poop jelly beans. 

You know – the important things.

On our second lap, the puddles and streams were clearly wider and deeper, the mud more plentiful. I didn’t worry about hurrying through the pond-sized puddles; I splashed joyously. I turned to swing my leg, aiming a spray of muddy water at Donald. Hey! Where was he? Undoubtedly he'd been held up by some photography mission, craftily escaping my ambush. I just kept splashing along, confident he would catch up eventually.

The return hike up to Robie Point was a breeze. I barely felt like I had even run. I suppose that’s an appropriate situation for someone who will be running 100 miles pretty soon here.

The finish area was quiet when we strolled in, the rain not being very conducive to socializing I suppose. I was ready to get into some dry clothes, while my running partner still had business to take care of. What do you call it when an ultrarunner doesn’t find an untramarathon to be long enough and needs to keep running? Ultra-ultrarunning? I know what some people would call it, but I’d say tenacity is the best word. Donald still needed 16 miles to complete his planned 50 for the day. A few minutes after we crossed the line he was strapping on his hydration pack and heading back out on the trail. Damn, that man has heart. (He’s also a glutton for punishment, but I think that’s probably a good thing since he’s training for the TRT 100 this summer.)

This whole day can be described in one word for me: Fun. Circumstances which could have made for a very bad day turned out not to be challenges at all. I was very lucky to have a friend to share the miles with, and some of my fun surely came from turning the world upside down.

“I wanna turn the whole thing upside down. I'll find the things they say just can't be found. I'll share this love I find with everyone. We’ll sing and dance to Mother Nature’s songs.” 

Oftentimes, finding the fun in a situation is all about perspective.

I am incredibly grateful to Robert, Linda and their team for braving the rain all day to put this event on for us. It got me out on a solid run which surely would have been much shorter without all the support. Thank you!!  

For the Love of Reno

Trails near Peavine Mountain, just West of Reno.

A year and a half ago, my husband and I both began commuting to Reno from our home in Truckee for work. I was beginning a new job teaching 5th and 6th grades at a private school; he was attending paramedic school and eventually working on an ambulance in the city. On our drive home, we would share our days, and marvel at what opposite worlds we experienced in the same city.


The world of a paramedic is less than glamorous, as I'm sure you can imagine. While I was awash in loving, well-off families, bright, happy children, and a world that values education, he existed in the seediest of underbellies for such a small city, describing scenes straight out of the movie Seven. His work is beyond admirable, but I have to say, I prefer the view from the teacher's desk. 


After spending so much time there by this point, I've developed an ardent fondness for Reno, and in fact, I owe it a lot. Let me explain what I mean.


Aside from being home to a job that I love, and of course, Trader Joe's, Reno has an awesome community of people. Being a runner, I'm primarily speaking of the running community. I have yet to meet a runner from Reno that wasn't friendly and enthusiastic. There are my favorite Team Library Dorks, and all the folks who are involved with events like Silver State, Escape from Prison Hill, and Tahoe Rim Trail. There is a vibrant running community!


I also have great affection for both the trails and climate of Reno. Running through a winter in Truckee means pounding a lot of pavement, frequent whiteout conditions, icy roads - adversity in all forms. It builds character but tends to kill the weekly mileage.


Remember March? We had over 200 inches of snow that month. My house looked like this:

Reno typically looked like this:

This is Flat Stanley hanging out with me at the top of the hill at Bartley Ranch Park, where I do my weekly hill repeats.

Only 30 minutes away, but Reno exists in this wonderful little thing called the rain shadow. It's magic, really. Storms come in off the coast and slam into the wall of the Sierra Nevada. The mountains effectively act as a giant umbrella over the East side, sheltering it from the rain and snow. Storms rage in the mountains, while the sun shines peacefully in Reno.


Not only am I running in better weather, but there are nearly always some snow-free trails to be found. I run more miles and almost no pavement now because I get to run after school in Reno.


I like to hit up trails at Peavine, or in the hills above the Patagonia store. Turi did a great write-up of one of my weekly destinations for speedwork, the Steamboat Ditch Trail. There are trails east of Reno, south in Galena or down in the Virginia Highlands where the wild Mustang roam and surely more than one cowboy movie was filmed. 

I give Reno full credit for my strong Winter and Spring training this year. Did I mention the weather? This was my house on June 2:

Um, yeah. And here it was this morning, June 6th by the way, after the morning dog walk:

And by comparison, here was the sky in Reno today:

Enough said.


Thank you, Reno!

Western States: Why Run 100 Miles? (With Russ McGarry)

Back in my glory days as a middle school track runner, my mom used to come to all my races. I remember at one race in particular, she remarked in dismay, "I forgot my sunglasses!"

I stared in confusion. It had been overcast all day.

"What's so important about your sunglasses?"

"Oh," she hesitated, "so no one will see me cry."

"Oh God, Mom!" I rolled my eyes at this. My 11-year-old self simply could not fathom why anyone would cry at a track meet.

Turns out, I am my mother's daughter. 

There's little I love more than a heartwarming tale of personal victory, and running is the perfect venue for such stories. My husband will gladly tell you that my favorite movies fall into what he calls the "feel good sports movie" genre. He never fails to giggle while I sit watching, captivated, with tears streaming down my face. And I've ceased to be embarrassed by it. I adore these sporting triumphs.

It didn't surprise me, then, to find myself captivated by a radio program that attempts to answer the question of why we run 100 miles. It's the perfect question, if you ask me, and one with no shortage of interesting answers. It was the question that compelled Russ McGarry to follow Hal Koerner and Kate Merrill on their Western States 100 journeys in 2010.

This piece captures many of the things I love about ultrarunning - the journey, the camaraderie, the searching out of physical and mental limits. Mostly it captures the love of the sport.

With my first Western States right around the corner, it speaks to me in a way that most of the other internet chatter really doesn't right now. This piece gets me excited to take part in something special, whether it's Western States or any other 100 miler. I love ultrarunning.

And yes, I did sit listening, captivated, with tears streaming down my face at times. If you're listening in public, don't forget your sunglasses.

You can listen to the podcast of "Western States with Russ McGarry" here. Or, you can download it straight from iTunes here.

Thanks for putting this together, Russ. I love it.

Silver State 50K - 2011

The Silver State 50/50 races always seem to find their way into the perfect high-volume training time in my spring schedule. It doesn't hurt that the starting line is only a 30 minute drive from my home in Truckee, but the real reasons to hit these races are the beautiful trails, high-desert scenery, and running friends.

With Sarah at the start.

I opted for the 50K version this year, instead of the 50 mile race. Given my lack of any sort of taper and the underlying fatigue still remaining from Miwok, I am thankful that I made this choice. I was thankful at many points during the race, too!

I planned to take it fairly easy since it was only to be a training run, and things went fairly well in that department. I met up with Sarah at the start, and my only concern for the day was what to wear. I've had incredible luck with weather at the races so far this year, but this day's forecast called for rain. Since I'd be running at a casual pace, I was a little concerned about being cold. I'd also been up on the mountain a few days earlier and it had been frigid and insanely windy. I decided to forgo my usual race-day tank and opted instead for the Waldo shirt and a pair of lavender arm warmers. Paranoia induced clothing - yes - but it worked out for me. Plus, Gordy said he liked my outfit, so I may have to keep this one around.

Before the start, I ran into Jennifer Benna, whom I had met at Miwok a few weeks prior. Let's pause in the race report for a moment to talk about Jennifer.

This woman blows me away. She has a 7-month-old, just finished Miwok in 11 hours, and then two weeks later put down Silver State in 5:20. That impresses me beyond explanation. I know there are a lot of great performances out there, but to see someone so strong right after pregnancy is a beautiful thing. She'll be toeing the line at TRT 100 later this summer, and I can't wait to see what she does!

I enjoyed the first climb, while reminding myself that I needed to take it easy. I watched Jennifer pull ahead of me up the hill and felt no need to try and keep contact. The pace felt right.

The biggest thing I noticed this year was that the 50K is a lot shorter than the 50 miler. I know, right? Crazy. I just came up to Micheline's Ranch Creek Aid Station so darn fast, I was almost disappointed that I hadn't entered the 50 mile race. But by the time I hit mile 20 and the Summit Aid Station at Peavine, I had changed my mind about that. I could feel the fatigue from all the training, and I was thankful that A) I had taken it easy, and B) I only had 11 miles to go.

I tried to simply stay relaxed on the long downhill to the finish. After a few light sprinkles in the morning, the day had cleared beautifully and I found myself simply enjoying my surroundings. Yes, I was tired, but the birds were singing, the trails were good, and my legs were strong.

I had figured 6 hours would be an appropriate time for a relaxed run on a course like this, so I was perfectly happy to cross the line in 5:44. Sarah came trotting in right behind me in 6 hours, totally glowing from her first 50K. Yeah, Sarah! You're an ultrarunner now, girl!

I stretched out happily in the sunshine, coke in hand, and cheered finishers across the line. Peter Fain had won the 50K in 4:15, with Jen Pfeifer taking the women's win in 4:52. Tim Olson looked relaxed as he crossed the line in the 50 Mile race for the win in 7:16, while Joelle Vaught was first woman in 7:54. (Complete Results) Also, Joelle and the Idaho contingent definitely took the carpool award this year. Nice job, ladies!

Thanks to the Silver State Striders and everyone involved in putting this event together. It has really become an excellent race, and I think that's reflected in the high level of competition that it's attracting. Great job, everyone!

Miwok 100K 2011

The Miwok 100K in the Marin Headlands of California is considered by many to be the most prestigious 100K trail race in the country. This could be because of the elite field of athletes it attracts, or it could be because of the equally elite scenery along every mile of the course. It could also be a result of the incredibly runnable trails, or the incredibly efficient aid stations. I suspect most would agree that it has something to do with all of these factors. Even with such high expectations, my first Miwok did not disappoint. It was awesome!

Driving out to the coast on Friday, I felt many of the same things that I felt before Way Too Cool. I’d been looking forward to this race all season, but now that it was here I didn’t feel excited about running it. This time though, I knew what the real issue was: nerves. Although I was somewhat familiar with the area, I’d never raced here before, and last year at Waldo was my only previous experience with the 100K distance. I was nervous about my abilities and irritated with myself for not feeling happier about running. As with Cool, I kept trying to remind myself that this was going to be fun, but I just wasn’t having any of it. I’d been exhausted all week, barely getting enough sleep, and a little stressed-out at work. I just felt crabby.

When I arrived to check-in at the hostel, I saw a lot of familiar, smiling faces, and I immediately felt better. Yes, no matter how I ran, this would be fun. Ultrarunning is fun! I had the same feelings seeing friends before the start the following morning. I stood on the beach, took deep, calming breaths, and smiled. It is such a pleasure to be in a beautiful place, doing what you love, surrounded by like-minded individuals. Thank goodness my mindset had improved. Whew!

We set off across the beach into a slightly foggy sunrise – runners, competitors, friends – out for a day of adventure on the California coast.

Climbing up Conzelman Road, I settled into a steady hike along with a pack of talented women, including Jennifer Benna, Carly Koerner and Larissa Polischuk. I had never met any of these gals before, and the friendly and fun conversation really set the right tone for my day. I continued relaxing, let go of my last remaining race anxieties, and enjoyed every step. I let my body dictate the pace and simply followed its wishes.

Climbing into the sunrise behind Jennifer and Carly

After the first aid station at Rodeo Beach, runners climb the Coastal Trail, and I found myself playing leap frog with Paul Sweeny. It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t know anything about the aid stations or mileage on this course. I confessed to Paul that I hadn’t done my homework, and he told me we had about 3 more miles until Tennessee Valley. Paul has kindly consented to crew for me at Western States, and I was hoping he didn’t think I would forget my homework for that race! I have found though, from past experience, that not having split goals for the aid stations seems to work out best for me. That turned out to be the case at Miwok as well.

After passing through Tennessee Valley, I felt like I had a solid rhythm going. Sometimes I ran alone, sometimes with a few men around. We ran through dense, redwood forests that had a very mystical quality about them. We ran across open hillsides of grass above beautiful ocean views. I came up behind a small group of runners on one of these grassy sections where the singletrack was narrow, slanted and overgrown.

“Do you need to pass?” the first runner immediately offered.

“You know,” I hesitated, “I’m kind of struggling with the footing right now, so I think I’ll hang here.” Avoiding an ankle twist topped my “to-do” list for the day, and we were travelling through prime ankle-twisting territory. “It feels like all we’ve been doing is running downhill,” I added.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I find the first few miles out of Bolinas on the return trip to be some of the toughest miles of the course.” (We were currently on our way into Bolinas for the first visit.)

I filed that information away for future use. When someone gives you course knowledge like that, you can do one of two things with it – say: ugh, that section’s going to suck and then it does, or say: okay, I’ll have to gear myself up for that section so I can punch through it. Lucky for me, I chose option number two. But that part comes later.

Coming through Bolinas, I saw many of the same cheering friends I had been seeing all day, including Rick, Sean and Nico. It’s so great to have people out there supporting, especially when they’re cheering you by name!

The run along the Bolinas Ridge was quiet and pleasantly shady. Eventually, I saw Dave and Hal on their way back to the finish, bringing along a pack of at least 5 men. I was surprised to see the men’s race still so tight with only a little more than 20 miles to go, and I knew it would be a great one to watch unfold. The women’s race looked a little more settled to me, with Pam, Meghan and Krissy already spread out with at least 3 minutes between each of them.

I knew I was nearing the turnaround at Randall when I suddenly realized I still hadn’t seen any other women after Amy and Helen (4^th and 5^th). Oh God, I thought, if I’m in 6^th place right now I think I might throw up. That would make me way, way too nervous. Fortunately I remembered that Darla had to be somewhere ahead of me, and soon enough I saw her, along with a number of other women. I was tenth woman at the turnaround.

Hiking the mile-and-a-half back up to the ridge felt great, but I also got to see what was going on in the race behind me. Not only were Jennifer, Larissa and Carly still right there, but they were accompanied by Betsy Nye and Clare Abram. I figured with only ten minutes on her, there was no way I could hold off Clare. That woman is what you call a closer. I mentally kissed a top-ten finish goodbye the moment I saw her.

Climbing back up to the Bolinas Ridge after the turnaround

But back up on Bolinas Ridge a funny thing happened – I passed the 9^th woman. Now if Clare passed me, I could still finish in the top ten and I felt a little bit hopeful. When I took a mental assessment of my status, another funny thing happened – I realized that I felt great! When I got back to Bolinas aid station there would only be 20 miles to go, and that really didn’t sound far at all.

Cruising along Bolinas Ridge

More friends and cheering awaited at the aid station, and, I have to say, excellent volunteers. Someone always filled my bottles quickly, and I never wasted any time at aid stations. I filled up on PBnJ’s, a few potatoes, and took a few GU’s to go at every station. It all flowed with beautiful precision.

Leaving Bolinas, runners emerge from the forest back into the open, grassy hillsides. This was where that runner had warned me of the tough miles, and I could see what he meant. The trail was deceptively uphill with tricky footing, but not what you’d call a real climb. It definitely required running, not walking, especially when I heard the sounds of a female voice in the distance behind me. I knew it could have just been someone’s pacer, but why take the chance? I felt good, so I just kept running hard.

After passing through Pan Toll, I started trying to figure out what kind of time I could run. My goal for the race had been to run sub-12, and I arrived at this number through comparisons of the Waldo and Miwok courses. Based on times of runners who had completed both courses, Miwok looked to be about 60-90 minutes faster. I also knew that I was in better shape than I had been at Waldo, so I figured a 90 minute improvement would put me at exactly 12 hours.  May as well try to dip under, right? But with 15 miles to go, I still wasn’t sure I would make it because I really didn’t know how many hills were left. If heading out on the course had felt like it was all downhill, the return trip was feeling much the same way. There had to be some big climbs coming up, didn’t there?

Running down to Muir Beach, past the Pelican Inn, a volunteer told me that I looked like I had it in cruise control. I smiled and thanked him; that was exactly how it felt. As I wound past Pirate’s Cove, I found myself intentionally scanning the sides of the trail. This was the section of trail where I lost my wedding ring back in February. I knew I was an idiot for thinking I might see it while flying by in a race, but I couldn’t keep myself from looking. It just would have been so perfect. As I started climbing the steps up out of the cove, I gave the ring one final wish farewell and sighed.

Again, I headed down a big hill, noticing that my quads still felt just fine. The downhills felt good, but I still couldn’t figure out how there were so many of them. If anyone ever tries to tell you that Miwok has something like 10,000 feet of elevation gain, they’re totally wrong. I’m pretty sure it’s almost all downhill.

Coming down into Tennessee Valley, I was surprised to pass Darla. Even more surprising was seeing Suzanna Bon in the distance and noticing that I was gaining on her. Both of these things made me more than a little nervous because I respect both of these women as strong, fast runners. Normally, I would have questioned my stupidity in passing them, but with only 5 miles to go and feeling strong, I couldn’t find any reason to slow down.

The last five miles to the finish were nothing but joy for me. I finally realized that not only was I going to break 12 hours, but I was 7^th woman and would actually be pretty close to 11 hours. I was stoked. It wasn’t until I was within 200 yards of the finish that I realized I was comfortably under 11 hours. I spotted a beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge framed by my favorite trees and I stopped to take a picture. So, I lost a few seconds to photography. So what? I wanted to enjoy every last second of that race. I crossed the line in 10:43, all smiles, and could not have been happier.

After a hot shower and some freshly grilled sausage and chicken, I stretched out on the grass next to Paul who finished in a strong 10:06. We sat there wrapped in down jackets, me giddy as a little girl, cheering our friends across the line. And that is what I call a perfect day.

I’m incredibly grateful to Tia and everyone else involved in putting on this event. It’s clear why this race is held in such high regard. From the support to the scenery to the company, it was top notch in every way. The trails were well-marked, the food was delicious, and the weather was perfect. (Nice job on the weather!)

Recovery from Miwok has gone surprisingly well and I’ve been enjoying my running this past week. Even though it’s time to look ahead and stay focused on my training, I’ll be looking back at this race for the answers every time I question just why I do this crazy thing.

Escape from Prison Hill Half Marathon 2011

Author's note: If you're looking for my Miwok 100K report, this clearly isn't it. I have to confess that between end-of-the-school-year-craziness at work and training, I'm just exhausted. Sleep has moved up my priority list, and blogging has fallen off the bottom of it. Miwok was epic, and there WILL be a report on it. I'm just playing a little catch-up here. Look for it early next week!

Tahoe view on the drive to the start.

Saturday morning dawned clear and cold in Carson City, Nevada, as it typically does for the Escape from Prison Hill Half Marathon. I’ve run this race on three previous occasions, (in 2006, 2007, and 2009) so I know a thing or two about the course – mostly, that I LOVE it. What I didn’t know this year was that it had changed.

“Backwards?” I gawked at Abbey after she delivered the news, 15 minutes before the start.

“Yeah,” she nodded serenely. Clearly I had not looked too closely at the website this year.

Gathering at the start.

My initial thought was disappointment because I love this course so much. It’s hilly, sandy, technical and beautiful. How would the reverse in direction change things? Where were the hills now? I had no idea. I also had no time to really think about it as, soon enough, we were off the start and headed down the dirt for 13 miles.

One thing was clear to me right away: I was running much more aggressively that I had in previous years at this race. It wasn’t intentional, since I had no game plan for the day. It was just what felt right.

At about mile three we found ourselves running up a long, steep hill. My breathing came fast and desperate, and my heart hammered in my chest like it was trying to find a way out. I was a little concerned. Why was I running this hard? Sure, it’s only 13 miles, but it’s hardly a 5K! Oh well, I told myself as I passed another woman to move into second place.

I recovered almost instantly as soon as I reached the top of the hill and was in fine form to fly down the other side. I could no longer see the first place woman even though I’d used the climb to close in on her. It turned out that she dropped somewhere near the top, but I didn’t figure that out until later. The downhill was technical and it took all of my focus to maintain speed while remaining upright. Although a number of men passed me, I didn't fall and felt my downhill efforts were successful!

By the time I passed the relay exchange at the halfway point I realized I was in the lead. (People kept telling me, and I finally started believing them.) It didn’t matter too much though; I knew I was going to stay aggressive and run hard the whole way regardless of competition. Why? Because it was So! Much! Fun! I was truly having a blast at this race.

During the second major climb I passed most of the men who’d passed me on the downhill. Not only were they very gracious in moving aside for me, but I exchanged compliments with all of them. It was a very supportive group out there! We weaved our way through sagebrush encroaching on narrow desert singletrack and squinted into bright blue skies behind the snow covered Sierra. It could hardly have been a more perfect day.

By the time I hit the last 4 miles, running the technical single track at the top of the hill, I found myself moving along all alone. I kept wondering to myself why I’d skipped this race last year. I can’t remember, but I do know that I don’t plan on skipping it next year!

The final downhill into the finish was wonderful. It wasn’t too steep, and it had enough sand to absorb impact and allow some confidence in speed. I absolutely loved the speed! When I crossed the line I was all grins and giggles to see my time of 1:58. (I hadn’t worn a watch, so I had no clue as to my pace until then.) It was a 12 minute PR for the course, and I was thrilled to have broken two hours on this beast!

The final mile. If you can't tell, I'm having fun! (Photo by George Ruiz)

To be honest, I was a bit surprised with my performance. After really going for it in ’09 and coming up short, I didn’t think I would run sub-2 here. It led me to wonder a couple of things, like:

1. Has my training been geared more towards a shorter distance race than towards an ultra? That thought makes me nervous. I have no doubt that my weekly hill-repeat sessions were good training for this race, but will they still serve me well in an ultra distance race? Perhaps my hills are too short?  
2. Why am I running ultras again? I forget. Because this race was just so much fun, so much less painful than an ultra, and so fast to recover from. Mmm, something to consider here.

After the race I indulged in what I’m certain is the best post-race eats going: fresh, homemade breakfast burritos. Excellent! I stuffed my face while friends Peter and Bill chatted about the only two topics anyone seems to find of interest lately: minimalist footwear and how much snow will still be on the Western States course at the end of June. Tom Wion handed me a certificate for a pair of Montrails while we sipped sodas in the sunshine. I was a happy girl.

Extra special thanks to Steve, Tom and all the Stompers and Milers out there to help. I still love the course no matter which direction we run it!

~

The following day, Sunday, Jamie and I went for a long run in the canyons. I debated the wisdom of such a full weekend of running just one week before Miwok, but I just couldn’t give up a day in the canyons. Besides, the weather turned out to be perfect. Sunny and mild – quite a contrast to the previous weekend’s 7+ hours of running in a downpour.

I also mention this run because I need to give a huge shout out to the work crew who was there the day before us. There had been some mighty large piles of downed trees littering the trail in El Dorado, but clearly many of you put chainsaws and strong backs to work out there. THANK YOU!! That stretch of trail looks pretty shiny at this point, and I’ll appreciate every mile of it every day I’m out there!

El Dorado Creek

Trees cleared from the trail. Sweet!

Happy runners on the swinging bridge.