Over the past year, I attempted to write numerous posts regarding the mental side of running. I see so many people struggling in the same way that I did and have a strong feeling that I need to share my story so that others know there is hope. This time last year, I was in the throes of a depression that would only get worse before it got better. I think there is a lot of truth to the old saying that you have to hit bottom before you can make your way back to the top. I wanted to share what I was going through even then, but it was so difficult that I couldn’t find words to put onto a page. After I navigated my way out, finding words to describe my journey was still too difficult.
In the midst of it all, I was a MESS. I had zero self confidence. I compared myself to others and, in my mind, always fell short. I believed that I had no talent and no chance of ever being able to compete in this sport, regardless of how hard I worked. Receiving compliments from other runners made me feel like a big fraud. I stopped posting as much about running on social media because I couldn’t handle compliments and felt as if somehow I was misrepresenting myself. I mean, if people had known the truth, they certainly wouldn’t be calling me a “badass”. All this negativity started bleeding into my day-to-day life and I contemplated quitting running altogether However, there was still a tiny spark within me that loved running and being a runner and wouldn’t give up on the possibility of what I “could” be.
At the end of May, I ran one of my biggest mental disaster races to date, but it was the catalyst that I needed to start making a change. I picked up a copy of “The Happy Runner” by David and Megan Roche. In the book, they describe what a happy runner looks like and with sadness, I recognized a former version of myself. I wondered how I allowed myself to get to this point. I was so far off base that it seemed like I was completely out of the park. But….there was hope. I had been a happy runner once and I could be a happy runner again. The book challenged readers to answer questions including: Three affirmations, Why do I run at all?, Why do I run each day?, Why am I racing at all?, Why do I have long-term goals?, and to come up with some short-term and long-term crazy, seemingly out-of-reach goals.
I couldn’t answer the questions. I definitely couldn’t come up with affirmations or big, crazy goals. But I wrote the questions down and continued reading the book. I re-read chapters in hopes that keeping those questions in the forefront of my mind would help me find those elusive answers that I was seeking. In order to do something, I decided to focus on being consistent and talking nicely to myself. To me, consistency meant completing every scheduled workout that I could manage. I also aimed for consistency within each workout, which gave birth to a new mantra “don’t kill it; be consistent”. I needed to complete workouts without the pressure of performance. Training shouldn’t be about performance, anyway. Training is about getting the body primed to perform. I had lost sight of that fact. As far as talking nicely to myself, that took a little bit of work that required self-awareness. Slowly, I became aware of my negative thoughts. Being able to recognize those negative thoughts was the precursor to stopping them which was, in turn, the precursor to replacing them with affirmations. Simply focusing on consistency and self-talk began to empower me and resulted in finding joy again in the simple act of running.
As my attitude improved, so did my hopefulness about running. I still wasn’t in a place to dream big, but I had finally made it to the starting block. I went back to the book to refocus my brain in hopes of finally finding answers to some of the questions. By the time I left for Ouray 50 at the end of July, I had answers to all of the questions, except the big, crazy dream.
Ouray went really well. I didn’t finish but that was OK. I made huge improvements in my mountain running and made it farther than I had the year before. I still didn’t see myself as competitive in the trail and ultra scene, but I was becoming OK with just being the best I could be, whatever that looked like.
I had a great warm-up for Pinhoti at Sky Island 50k in September and my best race to date at Pinhoti 100. I didn’t just finish Pinhoti, I raced it. The race was a huge turning point for me as one of my biggest goals was to race a 100, not just finish. My finishing time and place didn’t matter to me that much all because I had accomplished that goal!
Pinhoti dealt me a setback, though, in the form of tendonitis in both ankles. The left ankle was ANGRY. It took a good 6-8 weeks to work it all out. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t mentally tested during this time, but I managed to keep myself in a good place. Having a coach as amazing as Greg helped a ton. He is so creative and used this block of time to focus on building strength for GDR, so I was able to continue my workouts but with less running volume to give the ankle some time to settle down.
A week into the second phase of GDR training had me at the start line of Ouachita Swichbacks 50k. I loved the course, but the rocks gave me all kinds of hell. This race exposed weakness in my right ankle. I did not handle the stress of the race well at all and was in a negative space much of the last half. I had reverted to my old habits of focusing on performance rather than the joy of running and I suffered for it. After the race, I struggled mentally. My brain wanted to stay in that place telling me that I wouldn’t be strong enough by the time GDR rolled around and I questioned my ability to even finish my next race at Cross Timbers.
Despite all the negativity I was fighting within, I continued to chip away at my training, keeping the same focus from last summer: consistency and talking nicely to myself. I started adding another layer of mental muscle when I began reading “It Takes What It Takes” by Trevor Moawad. I had learned of him in late December and pre-ordered his book which was released in early February. His approach was the perfect continuation in my mental conditioning and the timing was perfect.
The ankle was improving, but I knew Cross Timbers 50k would be real test. Well, last Saturday, my ankle was put to the test AND IT PASSED! In addition, I paced myself just right, calories and hydration were on point, and my mental approach was spot on. I have never been more satisfied with a race result. I just happened to come in 1st Female, but my satisfaction has nothing to do with that and everything to do with the way I ran the actual race. I used a strategy that Moawad suggested, which was not saying any negative thought out loud, and I truly believe it helped.
Through this process since Pinhoti, I have achieved yet another goal: “Be a STRONG, CONSISTENT, HAPPY and GRATEFUL runner.”
“Success is not final. Failure is not fatal. It is the will to continue that counts.” ~Churchill
I’ve tried to come up with words for this race and I just don’t have them. Maybe they will come later; maybe they won’t come at all. Everything I try to say just sounds like one big excuse. Everything I try to say sounds really negative and that isn’t the way I usually approach things. However, I’m going to keep on writing here, negativity and all, because I feel like being raw and honest is the only thing that will get me off this ledge that I’ve been perched on the last couple of days.
I went in knowing a lot of things – knowing that I didn’t have time to sufficiently train, knowing that I wanted to use whatever I got out there as training for Ouray – but when the DNF actually came, none of those things actually mattered. Our emotions rarely consult with our intellect.
This isn’t my first DNF, but it stings the most.
I’ve struggled in the past few days. As ultra runners, we talk a lot about attempting things that are out of our comfort zone and embracing the prospect of failure, but our actions don’t always match our words. Mine did. But now that the “failure” happened, I’m stuck in a negative mental loop.
Did I over-reach?
Will I ever be strong enough?
Am I foolishly chasing something that I can never achieve?
These questions have haunted me and are still haunting me. I keep trying to redirect my brain to the positives:
My climbing is stronger.
My downhill is WAY BETTER than at Cactus Rose
My footwork and agility have come a long way.
I HAVE IMPROVED.
PC: Trail Racing Over Texas/AJ Stasulli
I enjoyed most of my time out there, even during the suffering. Climbing anything, but especially mountains, puts a sparkle in my eye and a spring in my step. Running in the middle of the night is, hands down, my favorite thing in ultra running. I think the thing that is most difficult for me right now is that I keep questioning my decision to attempt Ouray again. Is it really within my reach? Will I ever be strong enough to gut out a finish on that course?
I need to get my mind right again. I’m not exactly sure how to do that. But, for now, I’m going to allow myself to feel defeated. I’m going to allow myself to feel upset. I’ll lick my wounds and visualize rising strong like a phoenix from its fire. Hopefully, when my pity party is over, I’ll be ready to unleash hell on the trails again.
In the mean time, I’ll be focusing on this. Even though Lone Star was far from Barkley Marathons, this quote from Laz gets me in the feels:
“you all know about the comfort zone. that’s where most ultras take place. running ultras is all about staying in the comfort zone. all our strategies revolve around staying in the comfort zone. all our advice is about staying in the comfort zone.
“walk every uphill”
“dont take any chances”
for all the talk about exploring human potential, and seeking our limits, ultrarunners tend to play it safe. they line up “challenges” they know they can finish. and run them carefully well within their “limits”. we believe that success is never failing.
at the barkley success is about over-reaching our abilities, and living to tell about it. sometimes success is getting your ass out alive.” ~Lazarus Lake
“Success isn’t how far you got, but the distance you traveled from where you started.” ~Steve Prefontaine
This time last year, I was 2 months out from Brazos Bend 100. I was training for Boston Marathon. Yet all I could think about was getting out to El Paso to run Lone Star 100 in the Franklin Mountains. At the time, it seemed like a pipe dream, one that would never come to fruition. I didn’t think I could EVER pull it off because it is firmly in the middle of club volleyball season. I didn’t feel that I would ever become strong enough to even consider running a race as difficult as Lone Star. Heck, at the time, I thought Cactus Rose 100 would forever be out of my reach.
Here I am, one year later, getting ready to hop on a plane at the end of the week and tackle this beast. I’m not in the most optimal shape. Training hasn’t been perfect. Did I do everything I could to be prepared for this race? Nope. But did I do everything I could to be prepared for this race, while still retaining a shred of sanity? Yes.
I have a hard time juggling training and life when we aren’t in club volleyball season, so training for and running a big race during club is quite an undertaking. Even though the season is still early, the demands on my time have been substantial. Add to the mix the fact that I took on additional duties at work in January and it’s a small miracle that I even survived.
I am going into this race with a lot of doubt. Training breeds confidence and I felt like I started taper the second week in January, because, volleyball tournaments. However, with some reflection I have started redirecting my doubt to three main truths:
This race is training for Ouray. Period. I knew when I registered that making cutoff would be difficult. At the time, I acknowledged that every mile and every foot of vertical gain that I am able to get will be good training in the bank. There is no other place in Texas that I can get this kind of training. So, even if I don’t finish; even if I don’t make cutoff, I will still have been successful.
I’ve come so far in just a year. Really, in less than a year, because I didn’t get into any “real” trail training until after Boston last April. I am hard on myself and focus a lot on my weaknesses and how far I have to go. In recent days, reflecting on how far I’ve come has been rewarding and also confidence-boosting.
I find joy on the trails, whether it is in training or racing. Regardless of the outcome, I will be out there getting some of that coveted dirt and vert. I’m looking most forward to seeing a couple of sunrises and a sunset out there in the mountains.
I can’t close without giving thanks to a few people. Without a support system in place, I couldn’t consider any type of success in this sport. My husband, Bobby, has been a great support in this training cycle. Alli is always understanding of my need to get out on the trails on our off weekends. And my good volleyball mom friend, Marcy, for being a surrogate mother to Alli this weekend while I’m off playing in the mountains. Love you all!!
I’m ready. Franklin Mountains, give me all you’ve got!!
2017 was a stellar year for me. I qualified for Boston in January; ran my first ultra in February; ran my first trail ultra in May and then I worked my way up the ultra distances, culminating with my first 100 mile finish in December. I was pretty much on a high the entire year and didn’t give myself time to recover between races or process all the emotions that accompany such epic accomplishments.
So, when I found myself feeling a little funk-ish in mid-January, I didn’t think much of it. I realized that I had asked a lot of my body and my mind in 2017, and it seemed quite normal that I was experiencing a bit of a low.
But the low continued.
I believe in the “fake it ’til you make it” mentality. I still had Boston on the horizon. I had to stay in the game. I continued to train, but couldn’t maintain my usual intense focus. I felt like I was drifting, without a goal. Qualifying for Boston was the biggie. Running Boston was like dessert. I didn’t expect to run at my BQ pace because I had wanted to check off my first 100 miler more than I wanted to maintain my absolute speed for the road.
I continued to limp through training. I was still consistent, but not as consistent as usual and I couldn’t manage to find enjoyment in the process like I usually did.
Spring Break came and I needed some trail therapy, BADLY. I hadn’t been on a real trail since my 50 miler in October, 2017. I talked my friend, Radkey, into coming with me to explore Cross Timbers on Lake Texoma. It was amazing and difficult and more than I could have hoped. I was on Cloud 9. And on our way back, I tripped, fell and broke my arm.
The break obviously set me back, but my ortho gave me a soft cast and clearance to continue training. I suddenly felt a renewed focus. It was almost like I needed the added difficulty to give me a purpose.
Boston came. The weather was horrible (by other’s standards – it didn’t bother me at all) and I was under trained but I crossed the start line with the intention of enjoying every step of that race. I did just that.
After Boston, I made the decision to change coaches. I loved my coach, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was time for a change. The decision was a difficult one that I agonized over. In the end, I trusted my gut instinct and made a leap of faith. I knew that in order to conquer the mountains, I needed someone who knew how to build a mountain runner.
With Boston behind me, it was time to turn my focus back to trails!! I had Possum’s Revenge 50 miler just 3-4 weeks after Boston and went in undertrainined…again (broken record – story of 2018 so far!). I ended up struggling toward the end, but there is always some beauty to be found in the misery. I shared those last miles with someone who was also struggling and we ended up becoming the best trail buds!!
With Possum’s behind me, I could now focus on my <foolish> goal of running Ouray 50 miler. I had an entire 2 months to train for this beast and literally had NO CLUE what I was up against. But I had a bit of a renewed sense of excitement for training, which was a nice feeling.
I showed up for Ouray knowing that I had slim to none chance for a finish, but I was just there for the challenge whatever the result. I got halfway before missing the cut, but I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything…and I was now IN LOVE with the mountains!
Coming back after Ouray, I had to go right into training for Cactus Rose 100 at the end of October. However, workouts weren’t going well. I was fatigued ALL THE TIME and all I wanted to do was sleep. When I ran I felt wheezy and out of breath. I couldn’t see any improvement in my fitness despite all the heat training I was doing. I was becoming seriously concerned that I was suffering from depression. I had also contemplated whether I was actually cut out for endurance. It was a dark time filled with a lot of doubt and apprehension.
I had considered Inside Tracker blood testing several times, but had never pulled the trigger. I decided that the time had come and finally ordered my blood test. I received the results just days before my next race: Alamo City 50k. The test revealed that I was severely deficient in Ferritin. I was overwhelmed with this knowledge, but it was also very freeing. I FINALLY had a reason for the way I had been feeling!
Alamo City 50k ended up being my worst 50k to date, but I fought through the fatigue, finished and had hope for what was to come. I just had to hang in there and give my body a chance to recover from this setback.
I started supplements very soon after learning about my Ferritin deficiency and the results were almost immediate. My mood improved, I no longer felt the need to sleep all the time and the BEST thing: I could feel the fitness improving each and every workout!
Cactus Rose was quickly approaching and the dread I had initially felt was replaced with an excitement about getting out there to race. Plus, my best trail bud had volunteered to come crew and pace! Tommy knew of my struggle to get back to being myself and deemed that Cactus Rose would be my reset race.
He was so right!! Cactus Rose 100 ended up being my best race ever! Thanks to Tommy, the great training provided by my coach and my body getting back to normal, I felt like I finally “raced” a race. I came out of that event with a renewed confidence in myself.
I closed out 2018 by pacing my friend, Brent, to his first 100 mile finish at Brazos Bend 100. The next weekend, I was able to return the favor to Tommy and crew and pace him at his first 100 mile finish at Loup Garou 100. Being there, helping him get to that finish line is one of my most rewarding experiences to date!
A recreation of a pic Tommy took during Cactus Rose
Buckle pics are THE BEST!
Cactus Rose was more than a restart for me in my racing world – it was a reset for me mentally as well. Since then, I have started to feel like I am myself again. Mentally, I am focused and more confident and I am excited about tackling some big challenges in 2019.
For the biggest part of the year, I had negative feelings when I thought about 2018. But as my health and mental state have improved, I am seeing the year in a positive light.
I started and ended the year pacing and crewing. Focusing on others and helping them achieve their goals is a good way to stay grounded and provides a different and meaningful way to stay connected to the ultra running community. I wasn’t able to volunteer as much as I wanted in 2018, but the time that I was able to volunteer was extremely rewarding as well.
I ran the BOSTON MARATHON. It was a truly amazing experience that I’ll treasure for years to come.
Changing coaches ended up being one of the biggest blessings of the year! Greg’s training has made me stronger than I ever imagined that I could be and we have just started. A special bonus is the Team Ninja family that I inherited as a result. I have grown to love these people as if they were a part of my family. The camaraderie has enriched my life more than words can describe!
My oldest daughter got married and we had a fabulous time celebrating with friends and family.
I met my best trail buddy. We are so much alike it is a little freakish and have wondered if we are twins that were separated at birth. His friendship has definitely enriched my life!
Continuing on through the adversities of the year definitely built some mental callouses that will come in handy in tough times to come.
Here’s to 2019: testing limits and having adventures!
It’s been a long hiatus, but I’m going to throw my hat back into the blogging ring with a report of my attempt at the 50 mile run at Ouray 100 and 50 Mile Endurance Runs.
I went into this race as strong as was possible. I chose this race while my hands were tied with broken arm/Boston training, plus I already had a 50 miler planned one month after Boston. I know I give my coach a really big headache with the way I schedule races. Being prepared for a 50 miler a month after marathon training seemed really doable when I registered for it. Preparing for the most ridiculously hard mountain race (my first mountain race, mind you), which was a mere TWO MONTHS after running a 50 miler in Texas also seemed very doable at the time. Apparently I have some sort of dissociation complex, in which I can’t process the negatives associated with the way I pick races. Once the 50 miler in Texas was done, I started training for climbing. Reality set in and I quickly realized that I had gotten myself in wayyyyyy over my head.
I contacted the RD of Ouray well before Boston to see if he would accept my finish at Brazos Bend 100 as my qualifier for this race – he basically said that if I was brave enough to register, that I was welcome! I still waited for quite some time to register because the family couldn’t come with and I was anxious about driving alone. In the end that was wasted energy because Kolbe volunteered to come with me! We had a great time travelling (I did, at least) and I appreciated her coming along for the ride.
I was as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof during the drive up to Ouray. I told Kolbe that I felt I was driving myself to my own execution. I had a pretty good understanding of what I would be facing and also understood that there was no way to replicate those climbs in my area of Texas. I realized that a finish was likely out of my reach – I just wanted to race in the San Juans and see what I could accomplish.
We arrived in Ouray on Thursday afternoon and went immediately to pick up my bib. Suddenly, a wave of calm rushed over me (even though I had been given “lucky” bib #13). It’s hard to feel nervous when you stand in that valley and see the majesty of those mountains ALL around you.
Friday, Kolbe and I “attempted” a hike on the Ouray Perimeter Trail, but we ended up on a closed section where I had to literally use my hands not to slide down the side of the mountain. I finally admitted that we had somehow gone off the maintained trail, we backtracked and found the location where we missed the turn to stay on the actual trail. I chose to see this as my one wrong turn while in Ouray, rather than to see it as a foreboding of difficulties ahead. We had planned this hike around Ouray to include visiting Box Canyon, but after taking the wrong trail, decided to drive there instead.
Our breath was taken away by the visit to Box Canyon, where we witnessed a waterfall within the mountain. I was also able to walk through the tunnel and down the stairs that would take me out of Ouray on the first section of the 50 miler. We were planning to rent a Jeep and explore some of the Jeep roads that would take me to the trails during the race, but it rained all afternoon and neither of us felt like driving around in the rain. I used this time to re-organize all my gear and get things race ready. The rains finally moved out for good (for Friday, anyway) and after dinner we soaked in the Hot Springs. My legs enjoyed that and it set me up for a really good sleep.
Saturday morning, I was up early as usual even though the race didn’t start until noon. I was surprisingly calm – I was just ready to get out there and experience all the race had to throw at me. We went for breakfast at a coffee shop we had found the day before and enjoyed coffee and bagels and more coffee. When we got back to the hotel, the antsy started setting in. I couldn’t stay busy enough. It was impossible to sit still, but I really didn’t have anything to do. We decided to head to Fellin Park around 10 and just hung around, chatting with others, until it was time for the race to begin. North Texas had a good showing – there were 3 guys from Dallas Dirt Runners there, as well as myself. We had set up our own little Facebook group to compare training and share info. I registered for this race thinking that I would be going alone, but it was so nice to be able to share with others from my area. I also met a guy at my motel from Ft Worth that ran the 100 and we met yet another Texan while waiting on the race to start. While we were waiting for those final moments to tick away, Mother Nature reminded us who was boss with a quick rain and hail storm. I had <seriously> joked that I would not be happy unless I was hailed upon during the race, so check that box off the list. I was also able to use the little stash of duct tape that I had in my pack to secure my SPOT tracker, so I was pretty pumped about that as well. It clearly doesn’t take much to make me happy.
Before we knew it, RD was counting down and off we went. We hit the Perimeter Trail, up the stairs, through the tunnel, then onto the Jeep roads that would eventually take us to the Weehawken aid station. That first little section was mostly on Jeep roads, but still clocked 1300′ in ascent and Mother Nature unloaded on us with pouring rain. The next section up Weehawken Pack Trail to the Alpine Mine Overlook was up the side of a mountain on beautiful single track. Mother Nature still had quite a bit in store for us and we were rained and hailed on again. I laughed like a 5 year old – I had so much fun!!! And while the hail stung a bit, it was so small that it didn’t cause an issue. I didn’t even bother getting my jacket out. I did attempt to record with my phone, but my hands were wet so I aborted that attempt quickly. The DDR boys were a bit ahead of me, but I was still happy with my climbing at this point. I reached the overlook just as they were about to head back down. Bryan was kind enough to snap a couple of photos of me and we all began the descent together. The sun was shining now and it was actually a little warm (I secretly wished for another downpour – I would later get my wish). We didn’t want to blow our quads on the first descent, so we made our way down quickly, but didn’t bomb down the mountain. The trails were also wet and slippery in places and I actually slid off the trail once. We made it back to Weehawken AS, quickly refilled water, ate and moved onto the next section. One of the volunteers told us the next section was a “burly” climb. I appreciated the honesty. We had clocked about 2360′ of vertical ascent in this section and were up to a rough total of 3,680.
To get to the next section, we had to go back down the Jeep road that had brought us to Weehawken (DOWN!!!), then we would take a right onto another Jeep road that was somehow more steep than the one we were on. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally made it to the trail head. It was raining….again and hailing…again. Honestly, the weather didn’t bother me. I kind of liked it. It kept me cool (still hadn’t put a jacket on). This section was…..tough. We left Weehawken 25 min ahead off the cutoff, which meant I had about 3 hours and 30 minutes to get out to Crystal Lake and back to Fellin Park. Only 7.1 miles. As soon as I started climbing, I knew I would be cutting it close. The trail was roughly 2.2 miles to Hayden Pass with 3600′ gain. Which sounds totally doable, right? I was moving so slow. The climb was relentless – there was never really a break in going UP. Even the switch backs – take a turn and you’re still going UP. I am sure altitude played a role in my energy level, but the main contributor was that I just wasn’t fueling. I had my poles out and it was a real hassle to get the gel out, get the baggie for trash out and manage the poles while I was doing all this. Plus, so much of this was on the side of the mountain. I waited (foolishly) to fuel until I made it to a section that wasn’t as exposed. By this time I was behind on fueling yet I continued to take only one gel at a time. I kept thinking that I had to be nearing Hayden Pass. One of the 100 mile runners came down and I asked her if I was getting close. I love truthful people. She said, “No. Sorry. You’re going to keep going up. Then down just a bit. Then up some more.” I felt like I would never get to the pass! When I did, I knew I was falling behind on time, but part of this journey was about the experience. I took a minute to soak in the beauty of the view and snap a pic. Then I was on my way again. After the pass, there was a relatively flat section that cut across the mountain – my best guess is that it was about a mile long. It was above the tree line so the views were amazing. I knew that I just needed to get across to start my descent into Crystal Lake, but at this point I was getting dangerously close to the cutoffs. I finally made it across and started the descent. I was moving as quickly as possible, but also cautiously because the trails were still a bit wet. I passed several runners making their way back up and they all felt I had time to make the cutoff. I wasn’t convinced, but I had to give it my all. I met the DDR boys and Bryan told me to “run like the Devil was chasing me.” I continued as quickly as possible, but was slowed due to a more technical section. DAMN. I made it to the bottom, but the aid station was near the parking area for Crystal Lake – I ran as fast as my legs would take me, but I knew I had missed the cutoff…by FIVE MINUTES. When I came into the AS, the volunteers asked what I needed. I said, “I missed the cutoff.” They told me the cutoffs were “soft” and that I looked really good, so they would let me continue. I got tears in my eyes and nearly started crying. I DID NOT want my race to end at Crystal Lake. I knew that, realistically, getting back to Fellin before the cutoff would take everything I had – and then some – but for some reason, my mind felt that getting halfway before a drop would make it more palette-able. Bryan’s wife, Shellene, was a God-send. She had waited there for me and refilled my bladder while I was digging out a long sleeve shirt, stuffing more gels in my pockets and eating. I was in and out of that aid station in less than 5 minutes. I couldn’t have done it without Shellene!!
Now I had the pleasure of climbing BACK up to Hayden Pass. As I made my way past the trail head, Mother Nature opened up the skies again and dumped more pouring rain and hail down on me. I went just a little way before I decided to get out my jacket. I had just put on this dry long sleeve shirt and I knew that the mile across the top of the mountain would be cold. It was windy up there and the sun was starting to set – wet clothes wouldn’t make that any easier. Onward and upward I went, maybe just a tad faster than my ascent from the other side of the mountain, but not much. Luckily, the way back was a shorter ascent with only 2,600′ gain. I made it to the top, crept across the mountain and was elated to finally be back at the pass and ready to go DOWN. The elation was short-lived, though, as I soon discovered that the trail was now a muddy slip-n-slide after the day of rain – in many places the trail served as the avenue for the rain water runoff. I’m not the best at sliding down slopes (without skis, anyway), so this section was painfully slow. The glimmer of hope that I had of making it to Fellin before the cutoff was quickly snuffed out. My lack of fueling was also beginning to catch up to me in a bad way. I knew that I needed to eat, but, but, but…..
This last section was the darkest part of the race, for me. I felt pretty defeated. I was exhausted. I could tell that mentally I was starting to drift. I just wanted to get back to Fellin Park. The great thing about mountain races is that no one is coming to save you. You can’t take any shortcuts down. I had to see it through. I reminded myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. As slow as it was, I just had to keep moving. I also had to pee ALL THE TIME, like I did during the night at Brazos. Still haven’t figured out if this is how my body reacts to the cold, or if I was low on sodium. I stopped to take an Oral IV, but had to pee AGAIN not long after. At one point, I thought I was off course. The trail looked different in the dark and I think the runoff made it look different as well. I was able to use the Gaia app that I had downloaded and could see that I was still on course. (I continued on and found a flag just steps later.) It was at this point that I also realized that I was still a very long way from Fellin. I decided to try to text Kolbe – weird thing is that I had better service on the side of the mountain than in Ouray! It was around 10pm and I told Kolbe I hoped to be there by 11, but clearly would miss the 10:10 cutoff.
As luck would have it, I was much closer to the trail head than I realized. I was so excited to be back on the Jeep roads. I ran as quickly as I could, but those little roads seemed to go on forever! After what seemed like an eternity, I was back on Camp Bird Road, which would take me to the Ouray Perimeter Trail and then back to the streets of Ouray to Fellin Park. That last stretch of road to Fellin Park seemed never ending. Then I missed the turn to go over the bridge to get back to Fellin. Luckily, some people were out walking and asked where I was going. They told me I had overshot the turn by about 1/4 mile. (GREAT) One of the ladies in the party ran me back to the turn (God bless her!). She told me that she had attempted the 100 for the 4th year in a row and DNF’d for the 4th year in a row.
Getting back to Fellin was a mixed bag of emotions. I knew I was too late to continue but I was glad that the suffering was finally ending. If I had been given the opportunity to go back out, I’m quite certain I would have declined. That bothered me initially, but some time and perspective has allowed me to decide to use that as fuel for next time. In the end, I climbed around 9,900′ – not nearly as much as I had hoped but much more than my legs have ever handled at one time!
In the end, I’m pretty happy with it. I was able to get halfway through this beast with 2 months of dedicated training (not bad for a flatlander from Texas!), so clearly the training that I did paid off. I was so worried about my quads, but they felt so strong even though they dealt with more descent ever before. My mental game was decent. The only thing that really got to me was the climbs. I felt defeated and was angry that those climbs were so slow. I realize now that some of this was altitude but a very large part was TERRIBLE fueling. Terrible fueling isn’t new for me – it has been an ongoing problem for me in races and training.
Special shout out to my coach, Greg, for encouraging me to take on this challenge and getting me as ready as humanly possible!!!
There will be a next time – I’m already planning to go back!! But for 2019, I’m going to train more than 2 months and see how far I can go!