RACE RECAP: Gorge Waterfalls 50K

Wyeth Trailhead aka the staring line!

If you want to know what a 50K on limited training and an injury is like, please feel free to read on.

Me and my new friends coming into Aid 1.

I started the race off just as planned: EASY. I made sure to position myself behind a group of people where if the pace felt too easy, then it was perfect. I felt really good with where I was running. I didn’t feel like I was straining and I made sure to check my breathing rate often to make sure I was never going anaerobic on any the hills. A group of four of us found each other around mile 6.5 and all started chatting. Two of us were nursing injuries, one had been sick all week and the other guy said nothing. I am sure he thought we were all psycho for even being out there! But then again, he is an ultra-runner, too. We’re all a little weird. :) We were having a blast keeping the pace lax, and chatting away about races we had run. When we came into the first aid station at mile 9 it was a bit chaotic and I could’t find any of them when I was ready to leave. Also, Coach Dad decided to tell me I was in 10th position. Considering I am not competitive at all (major sarcasm), shit got real. Since I couldn’t find any of my new buds, I set out solo. Thankfully, two of them were not far behind me and we regrouped. One of the guys, named Aaron (cool name, bro!) decided it was time for him to take off and left me and my new friend Summer to run. Her and I were clipping right along. We were passing people, chatting and really having a good time. I informed her that we were top 10 and we made a goal that we would finish this race that way.  She pulled ahead just before we came in to the second aid station and I never saw her again.  Good job opening your big mouth, Erin. (She ended up winning like a total badass!)

Coming into Aid 2. 

At aid station two Coach Dad told me I had moved from 10th to 5th. Shit was really real now! We started a section of the course that was a 2-mile stretch on the road, exposed to sun and my quads had already started pushing me into the pain cave. This was probably the one of the lower mental spots that I hit along the way. I knew a lot of people would take advantage of the flat and try to push their pace. I decided to chill because I knew we had one hell of a climb ahead of us and if my knee and lack of fitness was going to get me to 31 miles, I needed to play it smart. Now, that pain cave I mentioned, it came on QUICK. Every muscle below my hips decided to join in and collectively they shoved me in head first. My hips had really started to tighten up and I had to walk a lot of the steep sections of uphills. On top of that, I had gotten really sick to my stomach after drinking half a bottle of Nuun, taking a Honey Stinger Gel and some salt. I was trying to be proactive but think I may have over done it a little by taking it all at once. After about a mile I started to feel a lot better and was back to rolling along. I was running alone and decided to turn on my Ipod for a little extra motivation. I got some Ginger Ale at the next aid station and began the climb from hell. Literally, it was THE single hardest climb I have ever been on. Not only was it from mile 25-28, but it was STEEP. 1500ft steep to be exact. It was technical, some sections muddy (waterfalls!!) and switchback after switchback. Now, I know some more badass ultra-runners are probably laughing at this. But let me tell you: pain cave+ steep+long+ lack of fitness = a shitty 3 miles. I caught myself a few times whispering under my breath “F**k this!” I was legit angry at myself; and the hill. It seemed to go on forever. I have never been so happy to be at the top of a damn hill! 

You have to see it to believe it.

Then started the decent. Equally as long and equally as steep - I had to pop my ears twice! I think if my quads could talk they would have said “YA, F**K THIS!”. I was hurting bad. I couldn’t think of anything else except the finish line. I was running in 5th and was doing everything I physically could to stay there. I may or may not have even made some loud grunting noises at times. You will never know. At mile 30.5 another girl came dive bombing passed me. SHIT. As she went by I made an attempt to go with her but as soon as we started up another hill my legs protested heavily and won. My body was failing fast. I had gotten sick to my stomach again during the climb and hadn't been able to get down any form of fuel and was barely even tolerating water and Ginger Ale. I knew I was depleting. I was having a hard time lifting my legs high enough to clear the rocks on the trail. Still, I was pushing with whatever my body would give me.  As we rounded the lake I was legitimately worried I was going to have to walk in. I had never felt my legs crash like this. I looked back and saw one guy and another girl not too far back. I told myself there is NO WAY I am getting passed again with less than a quarter mile to go. I “kicked” with whatever my legs would give me. I managed to secure 6th place and proceeded directly to the trash can and threw up. I haven’t thrown up from a race since college. I don’t recommend it. Coach Dad kept asking how my knee was and all I could do was stare at him. I was dizzy and slightly afraid. I couldn't talk, nor did I want to in fear of vomiting all over his face. Not my best moment!

DONE. 

I was finally able to sip on some Coke and eat a few oranges. Our flight home was that evening so I hobbled to the car to get changed. It probably took me about 30 minutes to do so since every time I bent over my hips cramped and every time I tried to walk without my shoes off my feet cramped. It was a good source of entertainment for Coach Dad, and an awful source of pain for me! We didn't have a lot of time to get to a shower so I grabbed a water bottle and some baby wipes and did my best. Later, after we dropped of the rental car, we learned that our flight had been delayed 3 hours. AWESOME. Who doesn't love to sit in their own funk. After dropping Coach Dad off at his house I got home about mid-night. I went straight to the shower and then straight to my bed - which I didn't get out of until about 10:00 am this morning because I was afraid of what might happen when I tried to walk. My hunger finally outweighed my pain and I had to get up. So here I am now eating some toast and telling you my story!

I know a lot of people are judging me for even running while hurt but I don’t care. I don't  mean to be rude, but I have my personal reasons for starting the race. I didn’t decide to still do the race “just to do it.” Sure, being that it was a lottery played a role in my decision but the real reasons I will keep to myself and say that I got out of the race exactly what I went in looking for. I am proud of the way I handled the race. Even though I let myself get angry and frustrated, I never stopped moving. I kept going, I kept pushing and nobody can take my smile away from me. 

“I don’t do shit for applauses. I don’t do shit for fanfare. I do shit for me.” -SEAL, Living with a Seal

Getting a high five from the RD at the finish. 

Can you guess when this photo was taken?! ;)

That's a Lot of Cowbell

This time of year Sacramento always has a happy buzz of runners high. The California International Marathon brings thousands of runners to town while the Western States 100 lottery brings an early Christmas gift to a select few with their shot at the THE ultra of all ultras. This year, I was hoping to be one of the runners towing the line. I was hoping to run my ass off to an OTQ and join a badass group of woman in February down in LA.  Seven years ago today was my first marathon; here in Sacramento, at the CIM. However this year, my rolewas to cheer. With my injury still lingering, I decided it was my job to help those who were healthy make their goal of hitting the infamous standard.

With some of the Oiselle royalty!

Saturday morning I met up with some Oiselle teammates who were in town for a pre-race shake-out run. I hadn't met any of them before so it was awesome to meet some new people and hear their stories. There were six girls who were going to be chasing the standard and even more running down a PR. Meeting them in person made me more excited to go out and cheer them to the finish line. I was struggling with trying to be excited for them while internally fighting my own feelings of anger and sadness. I was truly excited to see them go for it but, at the same time so incredibly envious that I could not be out there to run with them.

Even though I knew months ago that I would not be running, reality did not actually hit me until I saw the elites run by me at mile two. It made not qualifying feel so final; it was really the end to the last four years of chasing. I felt like I was watching them running away with MY dream. MY goal. I fought back tears and the lump in my throat as I tried to keep cheering.  I have always been one to believe that you should encourage those who can do, what you can not. So I let my emotions go and said "If I can not run, I am going to shake the hell out of this cowbell!" I was also standing with Oiselle HQ stud Sarah Lesko and I definitely couldn't let her see me crying! With a cowbell in each hand, I tried to find those I knew and give them an extra ring of encouragement.

Extreme Cowbell-ing!

After making sure everyone runner got a ring of my cowbell, I walked back home to change into some dry clothes and head to the next spot. I met up with Coach Dad and some other runner friends at mile 22, handed out cowbells and we got to work. I was so wrapped up in cheering and dancing along to the high school band, I completely forgot about my sadness and felt good about being there for the runners. I stood there watching runner after runner go by wearing their pain and their determination on their faces. They were four miles from the finish, and you could see in their eyes all they were thinking about was the finish line and they were not stopping until they got there. I think it is physically impossible to watch a marathon and not feel inspired by human resilience. I stayed at the same spot for three hours! I will admit my fingers are a little raw and my throat a little sore but it was all worth it if we were able to give the runners a slight energy boost at a tough spot in the race.

Fueled By Frosting living up to her name!

More COWBELL! 

With a weekend so revolved around the sport I love, it feels almost impossible not to have gotten a little emotional. Running has been a part of my life since I was nine or 10 years old. It's who I am, it's what I do. It has been a bitter sweet weekend that I am glad I can put behind me.  I feel good about my role for the marathon this year and I can say I am walking away with a white hot fire lit under my ass to get back out there and compete.

2015: My Journey, My Goals

Last October I ran my final marathon of 2014 in Chicago with a PR of 2:50:56. WOO HOO! A PR, YAY! That's at least how you would think I would have reacted. Don't get me wrong, I was excited to have run a PR - especially after that train wreck of a marathon in Boston. (If you missed that story CLICK HERE.) I should have been walking out of the Athlete Village with a huge smile on my face and my head held high - I wasn't. I wasn't crying or dragging my feet either but I wasn't completely happy, and to be honest I was a little bummed out. I went into the race really feeling that I had a 2:48 in me. I was 100% confident that  a sub-2:50 was what I was going to run. But I didn't; I can't blame it on my training or my race plan or on anything else. It just simply wasn't in the cards that day and the fact that  it is something as simple as that made it so hard to be excited about what I DID accomplish - I still ran a 2:50 for goodness sakes!

I took the rest of October easy, only running every other day or so. At the end of the month when it was time to meet with Coach Dad to plan out 2015, I walked out of there anxious and not excited. I did a lot of thinking and decided that I needed a break. A break from the road and the grind and the endless feeling of fatigue. I needed to do something for me. For two years I sat quietly obsessing over the trail scene. Constantly checking the race feeds and entrant lists to all the big races. I envied anyone I saw running and racing ultras and I longed to be part of it. Any chance I had to do my long run on the trails, I took advantage of it. I was longing for the dirt, the trees, to be on a single track hearing nothing but the sound of my feet and the air in my chest.  After some heavy thinking, I decided it was time that I followed my heart and I run an ultra. The trails are where I feel happy. Where I catch myself smiling while running - not because somebody told a good joke, but because I am exactly where I want to be.

It took me three separate phone calls to Coach Dad to finally get out that I wanted to run an ultra instead of a marathon in the spring. We both have been so single tracked (pun intended!) on me qualifying for the Olympic Trials that I was afraid he was going to see it as me abandoning my goal and be disappointed. But he wasn't, and it didn't take any convincing at all for him to be 100% on board with it. He wants me to feel enjoyment in running just as much as I want to. It  is something that is totally refreshing and I am lucky to have a coach that wants to help me achieve me goals, no matter what they are.

So consider this my announcement that I will be running the Way Too Cool 50K this March! I know I made the right decision because I feel happier, healthier and stronger than I have in the last year. I have already received some amazing support and encouragement from my family and my friends and it makes me even more excited to make all of you proud! I really do have the best support system a runner girl could ask for.

THANK YOU!

I have an amazing 2015 ahead of me. How amazing? In a little over a month I will be spending a week in the Dominican Republic only to come home and race my heart out right in my own backyard and then do some awesome trail running and beach cruising on a trip to Hawaii in May. I haven't given up on my quest to qualify for the OTs and I will be racing my guts out in Berlin this September! Yes, I am aware that it will require me to run a 7 minute PR -but go big or go home right!? But home only after we go to the country and then to Paris! :) I am beyond excited to have the chance to do some traveling this year, but I am more excited about the people I get to travel with.

It truly is a Runderful Life!