Friday, August 28, 2015

Recovering from Devil Mountain with the Grandkids!!

Wow!! Devil Mountain 50 miler was mean! I couldn't decide whether I should do the 50K or the 50 miles so I figured I would wait until mile 23, aid station 4. Gecko, organizations of the race, are really  nice about it. If you signed up for the 50 miler and want to drop to the 50K at aid station 4, that is totally fine. You are eligible for awards and a finisher medal.

So, I made it to the aid station and still felt really good. I had been running back and forth with a woman in my age group for a while. She was going on; of course I would go on. Little did I know what would befall me at this same point on the way back (ominous music in the background).

The two of us continued for many miles together. Made it to the turn around and took a page from the book, to prove we had been there. Headed back, still talking and laughing. Continued to aid station 6 and knew we had a tough 8 mile stretch to our next stop, which had my drop bag with food, warm clothes, and lights. Eight miles but it was only 5 pm. Plenty of time to get there before dark. Plenty of time....

Where did all that time go? Seriously, how could it take that long to get to the aid station? It was getting dark, I was out of food, I was wet, and the aid station was missing. The woman running with me had a small flash light so she took off. No way could I stay with her, since I couldn't see the trail. Where is that aid station? I was finally convinced that we had by-passed it (later found out that we did indeed by-pass it....the trail to the aid station was like an exit ramp and we stayed on the freeway, missing the ramp).

Not funny anymore. Hungry. Cold. Tired. DARK!!! Seriously dark. I could see just well enough to follow the trail from one glow stick to the next. And then I couldn't. Each time I headed out from the last glow stick, I tripped over something and fell on my face. Went back to the glow stick, put on my emergency rain poncho and hunkered down to wait for the next runner. The next runner never came. I WAS the next runner; I was DFL at this point. OK, time to try out my emergency whistle. Turns out I was very close to the road, but I couldn't know that. One of the race directors came out to retrieve me and we walked a mile or so together. Got a ride back to the finish. The good news: I had a bunch of friends waiting at the end. So nice to have friends.

Next morning, got up and went to the pancake breakfast and then drove home. The kids (all four grandkids and Jonas and Alexis) flew in that evening. I was exhausted but determined to keep up with the young'uns. Not an easy task. Did a short run with 9 year old Avery on Monday and again on Wednesday. He has a really nice, easy stride.

All the kids left today. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Way too quiet. Sigh.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Going public

Why do I announce, to anyone who reads the blog or listens to me rant, my intentions to run a particular race? It is easier to just keep quiet, go to the race and then if all goes well, I can post/talk/brag about it afterwards. And if I "fail," no one will know that I tried and I will feel no shame.

Going public is a deliberate tactic. It provides that extra motivation. I can't quit; everyone knows I am out here trying.

Blah!!! I wrestled with this before Never Summer 100K. I decided to put myself out there. I did not succeed. Perhaps I failed. Perhaps I just quit. Whatever....doesn't matter. Let me tell you about this race.

Beautiful day for a run. Got to spend some time with new friends and old friends. Sauntered for a while. Went up a mountain, down a mountain, up a mountain, down a mountain. The Diamond!!! What the heck was that about? I swear, that sucker was so steep that, if I leaned forwards just a bit, my knuckles dragged the ground in front of me. I took a couple of breaks. Once I stopped and looked up to try to see the top. I almost fell over backwards, I kid you not!! It was that steep! Seriously!! As I was trudging along, one foot at a time, I could hear a snare drum, beating out a nice, slow cadence. Nothing to fast, just a steady rhythm. The most interesting part of this section of the course was that we kept crossing a trail that had switchbacks. How I longed to take that trail....switchbacks, a real luxury. Found out later that the switchback trail is "not on the maps" so we weren't allowed on it. Instead, we went straight up the damn mountainside where there was no trail.

All was good until about mile 35. I started getting a little goofy. Decided I didn't want to eat the peanut butter and jelly roll ups at the aid station. Didn't want the drink they had. Didn't want any of the foods I was carrying. Mile 44 aid station: Decided I didn't want to continue. Seriously, I was out of gas. But, the aid station volunteers told me I could only quit if the medics said I was too sick to go on. They didn't want to deal with a whining quitter. So I sucked down some broth and noodles and headed back out on the trail. Figured I could quit at the next aid station.

The trek from mile 44 to 50 was excruciatingly slow. It was dark. I was alone. In fact, I was DFL...no one was behind me. I started getting cold. I tried to force fluids down but they came back up. I barfed out the broth and noodles I had at mile 44. When I got to the aid station at mile 50, I fell into a chair, grabbed a blanket and put it over my head. I said I was quitting. I refused to take the blanket off my head. "Are you ok?" they asked. "Sure, I am fine," I said from under the blanket. "Do you want something to eat." "No."

I got a ride back to the start/finish. Only then did I emerge from the blanket (don't  know whose blanket it was but I took it with me, even through a change of vehicles). I brushed my teeth, discarded my muddy clothes, and crawled into my sleeping bag. Blah!!!

I am not going to tell anyone what I am doing this Saturday (in Pagosa Springs, at Devil Mountain). Nope....not going to announce it.