Letters

 
Different combinations of letters are important at different times throughout our lives.  We begin our schooling in 'K' and work our way through elementary.  We then go to MS followed by HS (which were the same school for me).  At the end of HS, we takethe SAT and ACT so that we can apply for colleges (I ended up going to ASU) and acquire a B.S. or some other degree.  Some then take the GRE to get into a graduate program (EEB at UT for me) where, in my field, we send off applications to NSF in the hopes of obtaining a DDIG.  All this latter part can lead toward obtaining a Ph.D., which, for me, turned out to be a fairly long and twisty-turny road, and so along the way, I got into long-distance running and started doing races and setting PRs, and eventually set my sites on running a BQ. 

Somehow it happened such that the culminating events of my eight-year venture toward those three precious letters, Ph.D., and shorter but similarly important to me venture toward those two other precious letters, BQ, were to fall ten days apart in the month of February this year.

What an amazing feat, I thought, to defend my dissertation on a Friday and qualify for Boston the following weekend on Sunday.  It seemed appropriate that it would happen that way.  Free from the weight of the defense, I would run light on my feet, prancing almost, to the finish line of the Austin marathon in a time of 3:25, qualifying for Boston 2015 and solidifying February 2014 as the best. month. ever.  I joked with friends that if I actually managed to pull this off, I would probably just collapse into fetal position afterward, rocking back-and-forth, because I wouldn't know what to do with myself with those two goals completed.

Well, things don't always go as planned.

My Longest Endurance Event Yet (hopefully ever)
Thursday, February 6th, about 7:00 PM, I am in a great mood after having run my last pre-marathon run with the Ship (my running group).  I am excited for the race next weekend, nervous about the defense scheduled for 9:00AM the next morning and even more nervous about the weather reports of possible ice and what would happen if, in the worst case weather scenario, school were cancelled and along with it, my defense.  I get in my car after the run and before I could take a deep breath and attempt to relax myself, my phone rings, and it is my advisor saying 'The weather reports are getting worse.  Do you have a contingency plan in place?'   

I went home and got in the shower, and by the time I'd gotten out, UT had delayed school till noon, essentially cancelling my defense.  The worst case weather scenario had occurred.

 (Expletive)

This began a night of worrying, phone calls, emails, chats, text messages, crying, hope, despair....'It's on.  It's off.  It's at 9:00.  It's at 2:00.  We can't hold it.  I'll be there.  I can't make it.  You can do it April 25th instead.  It's on.  It's off.......' till 11:00 at night.  I slept maybe two hours at most before waking up fully at 6:00AM where the scenario continued in the same way.  At 9:00AM, I was dressed, in my office and still unsure if I am to defend that day, or if I have to wait two months until one of my advisors returns from overseas when, finally, 45 minutes before it starts, everyone agrees and makes their way to the classroom where it is to be held.

 The impossible happened.  I was able to defend, even with the 

terrible ice storm (not) occurring outside.

Somehow, I made this defense happen against all odds.  My family told me they were possibly more proud of me for not giving up and making it happen than for the eight years of work I defended in there (they're proud of me for that too, though, don't worry).  I decided to use this as motivation for the race and even ended up adding 'Dr.' in front of my name on my bib.  Yes, it would be fun to hear people call out, 'Go, Dr. Laura!!', but I did it more to remind myself that if I can do this (get my Ph.D.), I can get that BQ.

 With 'Dr. Laura' on my bib, I was ready to take on the marathon

Running friends had been fretting about race day weather, but I hadn't/couldn't pay attention really yet, as I had had defense day weather on the brain.  I gave myself the weekend to not think about the weather and Monday started looking at the forecasts for the marathon.

Uh-oh.

Predicted forecast: worst case scenario weather.  High temps mixed with uber high humidity = recipe for disaster for me, and I knew it, but I spent the next week playing every mind trick I could with myself trying to convince myself I could overcome it if I were mentally prepared and ridiculously hydrated.

Kindly sent to me by a pace group buddy expressing 

her thoughts on the forecast for race day (thanks, Ashley)

Some of my pace group buddies (with whom I had put in so many miles) and I met up the day before the marthon for a 'strategery' pow-wow to discuss the formidable forecast and our plan for how fast/slow to run the different sections.  We'll run together the first half through the hills, then everyone give what they've got for the second, 'flatter' half.  After we crafted our plan, we headed to the expo to get our bibs and have nervous, excited conversations about weather, hydration, weather, what's for dinner, weather, what are you going to wear, weather, where to meet in the morning, and a little bit more about the weather.  We bid adieu and good luck, and I went home to finalize plans for my clothes, gels, water bottles, bib, and.....the weather.

Some of my totally awesomesauce pace groupers 

and I head to the expo to pick up our bibs

Race Day
Let's just give the abridged version, shall we?  Basically, I did not meet my BQ goal.  Far from it, indeed.  I had a similar experience to my Austin marathon experience last year in performance, though, it was much improved in attitude, so I guess that's a win there.  I was on target through the half, but I had gone out too strong on that early 3 mile long hill, and by the time I reached the slightly uphill 6 mile section that took you from mile 13 to mile 19, I was toast.

'No, not again,' I thought.  'This can't be happening again.'  I tried to fight it off, but my legs just wouldn't go.  I had run that stretch three or four times during 20 mile training runs and had run it well -  the last two times well under Boston pace.  Those runs were in cooler temperatures and low humidity, but I knew that I was slowing down even more than what might be expected from the conditions.  I don't know why.  Maybe that early hill.  Maybe because I let up on my cross-training during the last few weeks, because I felt too busy to keep up with it while with preparing for the defense.  Maybe it was all in my head, though, I had practiced overcoming my head in training, but maybe it was just too much pressure during the real thing.  Whatever the problem, I slowed down.  A lot.

I knew people were waiting for me up ahead.  I thought about them scanning the crowd for me and wondering what had happened.  I thought about ALL the miles I still had left to go, then quickly shook that thought out of my mind.  'Think about it in sections,' I told myself.  I was on section 5 out of 6.  That sounded so much better than, 'You have eleven miles to go.'

Somehow, I slogged through the remaining uphill miles and got to where you can feel the ground FINALLY going back down.  I got a boost both from this fact and the fact that I knew that someone I was very excited to see was waiting just about a mile ahead with a filled water bottle and a bag of ice for me.  I got to mile 20.5, got the drink and ice and some much needed encouragement and forged on.

I used several mantras to help keep me going this race.  One I picked up at mile 7 from a sign someone had on S. 1st that read 'Believe.  Achieve.'  That one played over and over in my head most of the race.  There was also a little 'Just one foot in front of the other' there for a bit in those later miles (it had come to that point where I needed this seemingly obvious reminder), and Destiny's Child's 'I'm a Survivor' was on repeat on my mp3 player from about mile 22 to the finish....'I'm a survivor.  I'm not gonna' give up.  I'm not gonna' stop.  I'm gon' work harder.'  I don't know if 'harder'  is the right term, but I certainly didn't give up like I felt like I had last year.

I knew friends were going to be at 21, 22 and 23, and one of those friends had been reprimanding me for a year for how angry I looked last year when I came by her at that spot, so my goal was to smile and wave, which I managed as well as one 22 miles into a hot and humid marathon can do - at least I think I passed the 'run happy' test this year.  Upon passing the last friend I knew was out there and not knowing of any more people to help motivate me forward in those last few miles (though, there were a couple much appreciated surprises), words from one of the speakers at one of the pre-race seminars made it's way into my head and stayed there through the finish.  'Run with your heart'.  The speaker had said, 'When you have nothing left in your legs, run with your heart', and so that's what I did. 

I finished the marathon with my second slowest time ever and two minutes slower than last year- a far cry from my BQ dream, but I had walked less than in any other marathon, and more importantly, I had kept my head together, so I consider it improvement.

I got stuck in the finishing chute as the muscles in my legs and feet started cramping up as soon as I stopped moving.  I had taken in salt the whole race to avoid just this, but apparently, my efforts were not sufficient.  I got to a point where I could literally not take a step, because my left calf and toes were on the verge of cramping if I moved, and my right toes would only not cramp if held in a dorsiflexed position making walking a non-possibility.  I really just wanted to hobble over to where I could stretch, but every time I tried, my calf started trying to squish itself up into a tiny, little ball.  I finally had to ask for help from a man who was standing nearby eating chips (for the salt) to help me get over to where I could stretch.  I just wanted to get out of there and find the person waiting for me at the exit that I really wanted to see and find out how my friends had fared.  The man helped me over to the fence and gave me the rest of his chips, and I managed to stretch enough to where I could hobble out of the chute before the cramps started back up.  Finally, after getting out and getting my shoes off, I manually unfolded my toes and got the cramps to subside and was able to (extremely slowly) shuffle about.  I inched (somewhat literally) to the the gear check tent to get my finisher's shirt and then make my way to the hotel room that a friend who unfortunately ended up not being able to do the race herself had let me use, which was right at the finish line - a total godsend at that point (thank-you, friend).

I found one of my training buddies upon emerging 

from the finishing chute.  Way to PR, Saleem!

Eventually, we made our way to the Black Sheep Lodge where people from both my running groups had gathered to eat and share stories of their individual journeys out there on the course.  A few people had stories of victory and PRs and exceeding their goals!  Most stories had a common theme to mine of being 10 to 25 to 40 or more minutes off their goal time (I was 30 minutes off mine) and the difficulty they endured to get that time.  There was a bit of frustration among the group at the cruel weather trick played upon us of having trained in the polar vortexes only to race in heat and humidity, but I think there was a greater sense of camaraderie and contentment and achievement in conquering a tough course on a tough day, even if we didn't do it as fast as we had wanted.  It was comforting to be there with all those people I had put in so many miles with over so many months.

Some of the Ship folks I got to see afterward at the 
Black Sheep Lodge.  Love these 'Fools'!

After devouring a veggie burger and sweet potato fries and gulping down a big fountain Dr. Pepper (that I had been dreaming about for the last couple weeks leading up to the marathon), it was time to go home and relax and be quiet and reflect.

So, I did not get my BQ, but as I told some friends, if one of my February letter-getting ventures had to go awry, that is the one I would have picked.  I will have many more opportunities to try for the BQ, and, in fact, I just signed up for the OKC marathon (along with a couple pace-group buddies) in an attempt to at least run a good, solid PR (though, don't think for a minute I will forget about those other two letters while I'm there...)

I don't know when it will happen, but I do know that it will happen, because I'm not going to stop trying until it does.  As Thomas Edison said, 'I have not failed.  I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.'  I will find the one that does, though, one of these days, because if nothing else, I'm just too darn stubborn not to.

A CDEFGHIJKLMNOP RSTUVWXYZ

Ride Lala, Ride!! - The Livestrong Century Ride

Sunday, I did my first century ride.  In fact, it was my first official cycling event at all.  I was horribly undertrained and underprepared, but in the end, I made it to the finish line, and I had an amazing time doing it.

PRELUDE
When I had my stress fracture, I relegated myself to the gym to train and rehabilitate.  And it sucked.  After Chattanooga, I decided to back off the running to prevent some injury wannabes from fulfilling their full potential, but instead of heading back indoors, I decided to try some new things, and cycling was one of them.  It started out as aerobic exercise to bide the time while my feet healed, but turns out, it's kinda fun.

I was invited to come to these weekly swim/bike get togethers up in Pflugerville - swim in Lake Pflugerville (500-1000m, you pick), then go on a ride (15 miles).  I kept having conflicts till about half-way through the summer, but once I finally got myself up there to go, I was hooked.  Swimming in the lake was way more fun than swimming laps in a pool, and the country roads through corn fields in Pflugerville was quite nice, and the company was great and everyone very welcoming and patient with this newbie who seemed to have some sort of incident every week (flat tires, falling over and bending in the derailleur, more flat tires, etc.).  One time, a couple friends from my running group even tagged on a run around the lake with me afterward to complete our first unofficial sprint distance triathlon.

Somewhere in July, I think, I finally accepted that the Cactus Rose 50 miler was not going to happen this year, and that mixed with my new-found hobby made me set my eyes on the Livestrong Century Ride.  It was about the same time as Cactus Rose, and it gave me a big goal I could train for without inevitably running myself into injury on half-healed feet.

I purchased an old road bike from one of the women from the swim/bike group for a good price, and as I've mentioned before in here, through the generosity of friends, acquired other necessary equipment for this expensive sport.  Clothes, pedals, seats, and more...and a whole lot of knowledge too (anyone that knows me well knows I ask a lot of questions, and I have definitely taken advantage my friends' wealth of information on the sport).  Friends started taking me out on long rides and would patiently wait for me to catch up here and there.  Cycling, like swimming, was a humbling undertaking.  This runner, with good strong running legs, does not yet have her biking legs.  Friends would zoom up hills that I would huff-and-puff my way up, but it was still enjoyable. 

I had planned on getting at least one good 70-miler in before the ride, but life happened, and the best I could do was a handful of 50 milers.  'Oh, if you can do 50, you can do 100,' people told me.  'Um, okay,' I would reply, only half believing them.  I have been so busy with school that ride week snuck up on me.  Sometime last week, though, it hit what I was about to undertake, and let's just say I got a little nervous.

Saturday, I planned out all my nutrition (plan: eat a lot the whole time), got all my gear together and headed to bed about 2 hours after I had wanted to.  As I was pulling back the covers, I remembered that I hadn't switched out my pedals, which I had wanted to do because the right one had come off twice on me while riding, and not where you're picturing it would come off.  The part that you unscrew to change them out - that part stays on, but the pedal itself comes off the pole that attaches to the bike.  Anyway, it had only done it twice out of how many miles of riding?  So, I thought, 'I'm sure it will be fine,' and went to bed.  Famous last words...

RIDE DAY!!!
I woke up to a temperature of 41 degrees.  A little chilly you could say.  I didn't let myself dwell on it too much, though, and grabbed my things and headed down on my bike (the start line was only 2 miles away, but those 2 miles going home were not so insignificant as they were going there) to the start/finish area.  I left my bag at the bag drop area, made one more 'In Memory' card for Mr. Gawrys, one of the most influential teachers I've had, in an area where you can recognize loved ones affected by cancer.  There were too many more that I should have written.  On that note, in February, I ran the Livestrong Marathon and made it all about me.  Sunday, and the days leading up to it, I really thought about all the friends and family I've had that have been affected by cancer, and I wanted to make this ride about them.  One common thread amongst all those people I thought about was their strength, so I decided to try to channel that strength to help get me to the finish line.

I lined up with the other 100 milers feeling extremely out of place and like a fraud.  They all looked so experienced.  Like pros.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I saw some friends, but they were in the middle of the pack, and I didn't belong there, so I kept moving to the back until it wasn't so crowded.  I was worried about the mass start.  I wasn't used to riding in a crowd, and I didn't want to take someone else out because of my inexperience.  I was anxious to get started, though, as I was literally shivering just standing there.  I had arm warmers, my ear warmer and half-gloves on, but then shorts and a thin jersey.  I knew it was going to warm up and be a beautiful day, but damn! it was cold in the morning.  Finally, they blew the horn, and we were on our way.

MILES 0-20
Did I mention it was cold in the morning?  Oh. my. gosh.  My hands have never been that numb, and not comfortably numb in any way.  I was actually concerned at a few points that I was doing them permanent damage.  I would go to brake and I wouldn't know if I had ahold of the brake or not, because I could literally not feel anything with my hands.  I tried breathing on them.  Couldn't feel the heat from my breathe.  I tried putting them one-at-a-time in my armpit.  No heat.  I tried moving them.  They moved, at least, but it hurt to do so.  It was a little bit miserable.  People were coming up behind me and commenting on how cold I looked.  One guy said, 'I didn't know goosebumps could be that big,' and I overheard one guy say to a girl he was riding with, 'That girl looks COLD!!'  By the time I stopped at the 20 mile aid station, the sun was mostly out, and once I had a chance to get my hands out of the wind, they warmed up, and it wasn't a problem any more, but wow.  That was cold.  I saw some friends here, which was nice.  Even though there were a lot of people around, I was essentially riding by myself, and friendly faces were a nice break.


MILES 20-40
These miles went by fairly quickly.  I remember looking at the course and elevation maps and noting that the hills were primarily from 20-60, and so far, by this point, it hadn't been too bad.  I didn't allow myself to get too confident, though.  Who knows what's coming.  Well, I do know one thing that's coming.  There's some sort of giant, super steep hill somewhere around mile 50 that everyone told me about.  A lot of people walk it.  Some try to ride it and have to stop.  Some manage to make it to the top, but not without a Herculean effort.  So, I had that thought to keep me entertained.  I saw the same friends I saw at the 20.  They were doing the 65 mile route, so that was the last time I'd see them, but I also ran into a couple guys I had done a long ride with a few weeks ago.  They were new friends, and it was fun to see them out there.  I rode with some of them out of the aid station, but they were going faster, so I let them drop me and would just see them as they were on their way out of the aid stations as I was coming in.

MILES 40-60
Holy schnikeys.  Everyone talked about the giant hill.  They all lied.  It was 10 times worse than anyone suggested.  Somewhere around mile 46, you come around a curve and bam! there about a mile away is this monstrosity of a hill.  It looks vertical, and it was much longer than I had pictured.  Now, I like to try difficult things, and I often assume I can do them (call it naive idealism), but when I saw that hill, my visions of being able to say 'I made it up the hill!' disappeared.  All confidence left.  Maybe you real cyclists reading this who know what hill I'm talking about think I'm over-reacting, but that was a big, freaking hill.  As I neared it, I was riding and talking to a girl with a very fancy bike who had done this ride before (read: far more experienced than me) who was saying she wasn't even going to try it.  She was going to walk, 'but good luck to you' she said to me.  Great.  Okay.  I tried to muster up some fake confidence.  You can do this!!  (maybe)  Don't give up!!  (there's no way)  Let's do this!! (what the hell, just give it a try).  

Lucky for me, I have a granny chain, meaning a third 'big gear' in front (still learning the lingo....), or basically an extra easier gear that I can drop down into.  I made sure to be down in that before I started up.  Within the first couple of pedal strokes, I was sure I wasn't going to make it.  It was so steep.  And so long.  I wanted to just stop, get off the bike right there, but I kept going.  ~1/3 of the way~  It hurt.  It was so hard.  I need to stop.  I can't do this.  I was breathing so hard.  I started weaving back and forth because straight up was not an option.  ~1/2 way up~  There were people walking their bikes all around me.  Another guy weaving.  We got into this figure eight pattern so we wouldn't collide.  Don't give up.  If you give up, you'll regret it.  ~2/3 of the way~  One girl had her shoes off walking.  Almost there.  I can't do it anymore.  I could hear my breathing.  My heart must be about to jump out of my chest.  People were cheering at the top.  Yes, that's what I need.  Keep cheering.  Just a few more pushes.  Oh my gosh, I just might make it.  Just.  Keep.  Going.  ~And I was on the top!~

Granted I did it in the easy chain, but I'm not letting that belittle it for me.  I was on top of the world (literally and figuratively) when I got to the top, and there were my new riding buddies cheering for me.  'We all made it!' one said and gave me a high five.  I got a banana, filled my water bottles and headed on.  Not only did I conquer that hill, but that was more-or-less the half-way point.  Downhill from here! (in miles, that is)  And every mile from here on will be the farthest I've ever gone on a bike.  Let's do this.

From YouTube, a video of the Fulton Ranch Rd hill

MILES 60-80
These miles were a little tough.  For starters, my pedal came off just past the 60 mile aid station.  This was the second time that it had come off the first being right after the giant hill (not on it, though, thankfully), and it got me worried that the threading was stripped, and I wouldn't be able to make it to the end.  I would have been so disappointed if I didn't finish.  The 60s were also just mentally tough.  I was alone.  I was on pretty country roads, but that added to the aloneness.  Plus, I was getting tired, and there were still so many miles to go.  I couldn't think about all the miles left.  'Just working for 70,' I would tell myself.  That 10 mile stretch was longer than any other, though.   I don't really remember much about this section, except that it was mentally the toughest part, though, it wasn't as hard as some of the hardest places I've been while running, and I had no other choice but to just keep going, so that's what I did.

Making it to the 70 mile aid station was a much needed boost.  It was good to see people, even if I didn't talk to them, and it also meant that I could start saying, 'Just working for 80' in my head, and 80 sounded a lot closer to the finish.  I had only planned on stopping every 20 miles, but after the pedal came off the last time (it happened twice in this stretch), I thought I should stop at every aid station and give it a little tightening.  So, I did, had a little snack and was back on my way.

MILES 80-100
I was getting worried that my pedal issue was going to keep me from finishing.  So far, it had come off 4 times.  I told myself I would ask the bike people at the 80 mile aid station to try to tighten it better than I could with my hands, but when I got there, I was so elated about only having 20 miles left that I just hand tightened it myself and jumped back on and left (after another snack, of course).  Shortly after this, it came off again.  This was becoming old hat.  Right foot comes sliding off bike for apparently no good reason, brake, stop, get off, lay bike down, sit down and pull pedal off shoe, reattach to bike, say a little prayer that I'll make it to the finish, resume riding.  I had it down pat by this time.  After getting back on, one of my new riding friends came up on me saying his crew had gone ahead when he got a flat tire, so we rode together for the remainder of the 80s, went through the last aid station (oh my goodness, oh my goodness, back in Austin!!) and started heading down 1st street back to downtown.  Last 9 miles.  I'm actually going to do this!  Somewhere around William Cannon, surprise surprise!, my pedal came of again.  My friend went on, and I went through the routine and fixed it.  I had lost all concept of social norms by this point, and sick of my runny nose (cold+wind...), blew two snot rockets right there on the sidewalk along busy S 1st in the middle of the day.  A woman was walking down the sidewalk.  She asked if I was okay.  I was.  I got back on and continued.


A rider came up on me right as I was getting going again and started up a conversation.  I told him my pedal had come off 6 times by that point.  He was fascinated and, lucky for him, got to see it come off one more time (thankfully, the last) somewhere around Stassney.  I got that fixed and my newest friend took off.  I passed a sign that said 5 miles to go.  5. miles. to go.  :)  I crossed Ben White and was all smiles.  I know this stretch.  It's three miles to the river from here, part of the marathon course, we run it all the time in my running group, and the best part - it's downhill.  I don't know who designed the course, but they are a genius.  Coasting downhill the last three miles of a century ride is pure joy, especially when your pedals stay attached to your bike!  The view of downtown from S. 1st was possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  This is the closest thing to it I could find:

The most beautiful site in the world when you're 97 miles into a 100 mile ride that ends at the river.

FINISH
My friends have often told me that I look angry when I run, and my finish line pictures often exemplify that, but as I crossed the finish line on Sunday's ride, I had a genuine smile on my face as I raised my hand in the air and cheered.  I did it!  I rode 100 miles.  I made it up that big hill, and I had a blast, and what started out as cross-training time-biding till I could run again has turned into something that I think I am going to enjoy for a while to come.

Coming Back

A quick post just to document two mini-'triathlon's and a couple 5ks I did (it's the OCD in me, what can I say).  First, though, I should say that it is by the generosity of good people and friends that this poor girl has been able to continue doing what she loves to do (race!!) during a time of an extremely tight budget.  I was fortunate enough to receive entries to both the Brain Power 5k and the Heal Yeah 5k.  Those along with the $10 minis kept me entertained between the most recent big things (Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race to the Livestrong Ride).

I won't say much, but I will say that the mini-triathlons (300 yd pool swim, 2 mile bike ride and 1 mile run - no, you ready that right - they're that short) are a lot of fun, super cheap and a good time for anyone who wants a taste of triathlon, is under the age or 12 or wants to practice transitions.  I fall into the first group, and it was a great way to get an idea of what transitions are like and what it's like to race from one sport to another, one after the other.  They were super laid-back, casual events, and to top it off, only $10 each.  You can't beat that.

The 5ks were a bit of a test after a summer of backing off of running in an attempt to edge off a couple of injuries before they came on full-strength.  Ever since Chattanooga, I had some inflammation in my right ankle and a weird thing going on in my left arch.  My feet are my problem area, probably always will be, but I've done a fair bit of PT at Sports Performance (love Pieter!!  He's the best!) and that has helped, plus putting orthotics in my shoes too.  I know, I know.  A year ago, I would have scoffed at the idea, but the better part of a year of pain will change your perspective on things, and they help, so I'm using them.  I've been told they may not have to be permanent shoe accessories, so we'll see what the ol' hooves say in a few months and re-evaluate.

Anyway, back to the 5ks.  Besides losing speed from not running, I lost a lot of confidence that I could go 'fast' like I used to.  These two 5ks were an entry back into a regular running routine and a jumping off point back into regular training.  I certainly did not run my fastest times (23:15 and 23:20 respectively, slower by about 2:30 from last year), but they were fun, and I won my age group at both, which was nice.  More importantly, both were for good causes.  A good proportion of my running group ran the Brain Power 5k as one of our members, and a good friend of mine, has been affected by brain cancer.  It was fun to have our whole crew there and to see one after the other Ship of Fools members and other Team Scarecrows members take home overall and age group awards.  The race director is also a friend, and she put on a great race that day.  The second was for a charity called CTC (Comfort the Children), which builds medical facilities in Kenya where the people don't have access to basic medical treatment.  The race director is another running group member, and he put on a great race too.

Even though my times were not PRs, I got to have that racing high, and as I mentioned above, all through the generosity of friends, and all events were made more special by getting to share them with these and other friends as well.

Joyful - The Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race

 

Joyful.  If I have to sum up my experience running the 3 day Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race put on by Wild Trails and Rock/Creek Outfitters, that would be it.  I had a smile on my face for all 60 miles.  I loved every single second of it.  It was amazing.

                                                               Leaving on a jet plane with Mary

The trip started on Wednesday as Miss Mary Leonard and I boarded a plane to Atlanta where we had a 2.5 hour layover.  Chattanooga is a 2 hour drive from Atlanta, but we made the most of the time walking up and down the long hallway where the train runs between terminals and catching up on long overdue conversations that we didn't get to have training since I spent most of the training time inside in the gym due to my stress fracture.  Once to Chattanooga, my parents dropped a car off with us, and we met up with two of my dearest long-time friends, Katie and Kadi.

 

Dinner at Community Pie with some lovely ladies

We had a cheese-filled dinner and some great conversation and then made our way home to my parents' house.  We were supposed to be meeting another Austinite, Katie V., at this time, but she sadly was unable to come at the last minute due to an injury.  We brought her with us in spirit, though, we would much rather have had her there in person.

Tennessee flower garden at the park where we did our shake-out run

Thursday, we did not set an alarm and lazily rolled out of bed late morning, went for a shake-out jog and had lunch with my mom followed by specialty chocolates at an old favorite coffee shop of mine, Rembrandt's.  So far, the fueling was not as strict as I had planned, but Mary did not seemed concerned, so I decided not to be either.

 

Picking up our race packets at Rock/Creek!! 

Finally, it was time to head to packet pick-up and to meet up with Chris, a Kansas City native that we had met once in person through Katie V. when he visited Austin.  At packet pick-up, my nerves were high.  Everyone in line looked to me like an amazing runner.  I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the mileage - not of any one day - but the total, and the fact that they were back-to-back-to-back, which I had never done due to limited run training from my foot injury.  I was worried I wouldn't make the cut-off times and would get cut from the race.  While we were there, though, Kris with a 'K', one of the race directors, came over and introduced herself and talked to us for a while about the courses, what to look out for, the good parts, the bad parts, the slippery parts, the rocky parts.  Her happy, welcoming spirit put me at ease a little as she assured me that there were plenty of people there 'just trying to finish' too, and that not everyone was a rockstar runner like I was imagining.  We saw Kris all three days of the race (she ran it too), and from just that one encounter at packet pick-up, she remembered all our names and always came up and chatted with us.  Really great lady.  The conversation with Kris put me at ease, and then the three of us left to go to the Tennessee Aquarium once the sudden torrential downpour ended (it had been sunny without a cloud in the sky at lunch).

Mary, Chris and I at the TN Aquarium (and some Aurelia jellyfish).  Chris earns the name 'Ripsaw' here for admiring a fish by the same name. It stuck and was how he was addressed the rest of the weekend.

The Riverbend festival was also going on this week, and this night Lynyrd Skynyrd was the headliner.  This band always makes me think of Chattanooga (the reason why is a good story for a run someday), so I liked the fact that we could see their tour bus from the inside of the aquarium.  We had intentions of going to Riverbend one day while we were there.  We wanted to play Riverbend Bingo, a game described to us by Katie and Kadi where you make up your own board that consisted of things like 'guy with a mullet' and 'super sunburned lady' and other stereotypical Tennessee festival-goer squares, but the race ended up taking up most of our days, and we never made it.  We got home later than we wanted and quickly got our race gear packed and breakfast and post-race food ready and hit the hay.

 

Look closely and you can see 'Lynyrd Skynyrd' written on the tour bus.  

A view of the Riverbend Festival from behind.

 

'Sup dog?  Getting a high 5 from this pup in downtown Chatt

Walking back from the aquarium.  That's Lookout Mountain in the background.  Otherwise known as 'Day 2'

Day 1 - Raccoon Mountain - 18 miles

View from the drive to the Day 1 race start.  Clouds sitting on the river below.

The alarm went off at 5 AM, and I promptly got up and got dressed.  The new puppy woke my mom up too, so she came down and made me my coffee and Mary's hot water for her tea (thanks, Mom!) and took some pictures for us and sent us on our way.  Raccoon Mountain is the one mountain I didn't know very well.  Funnily, it is the only one I'd ever run on as there was one cross-country course up there (though not on the trails, of course, but along the long dam), but overall, I'd been up the other two mountains exponentially more times.  On the way up the mountain, 'Your Body is a Wonderland' came on the radio, which resulted in many a fun joke throughout the weekend.  This was one of the first of many a good hard laughs I had with Mary this weekend.  We arrived and found Chris and Luigi (another Austinite that I was just meeting for the first time) who had driven up from the Crash Pad, a cool, new hostel in downtown Chattanooga.  Everyone was all smiles and full of energy.

A shout out to Katie V. who trained so hard but was unable to come last minute due to injury.  She's already said she's going next year, though.  I just may be back too.  Katie - you were greatly missed, but thought of often!

Mary and I went to get our shirts that hadn't been ready the day before.  They were a pretty green color with the '3 days 3 mountains 60 miles' logo on the front.  We could also see the finishers jackets, Marmot wind/rain resistant jackets with the same logo and 'Finisher' on the sleeve.  These jackets would be the talk of the race all three days.  They looked pretty sweet and served as some level of motivation for a lot of folks.

Lined up on the startine, day 1

There is a John Hartford song in which he sings, 'Today it may be natural, sitting here discussing it; Tomorrow just as natural to be gone", and just like that, one second we were standing at the start line discussing the 3 days to come, and the next the clock had started, and we were off through the chute and into the woods.  It wasn't long (100m?) before we made a left turn off the paved road and onto a trail, and the whole group of 260 people came to a screeching halt as we filed one at a time onto the trail forming what had to be a mile long conga line.  There was no passing.  Where you were when you got on the trail was pretty much where you were through the first aid station at about 5 miles.  There were a couple of moments where you could get in front of a person or two, but they were few and far between, so whatever the pace of the group was your pace.  Of course my shoe came untied - first time ever in a race - so, when I hopped to the side to tie it, the conga line continued on past me and Mary, Chris and Luigi disappeared into the distance.  I didn't mind going slowly with the group.  In fact, I decided it was a good thing, because the first day was all about conserving energy.  There were two days after today, so my biggest challenge, I figured, was keeping myself from going out too strong and leaving myself with nothing on Sunday.  I did wish I was up with my posse, though, so I could chat with them, but I chatted instead with the people I was now surrounded by.  This was the beginning of three days of happy conversations with happy people from all around the area in the middle of beautiful woodsy areas.  Yes, the trails were beautiful, but it was the people that really made the race what it was.  I made all kinds of trail buddies.  Some people I ran with at some point all three days, others just one or two days.  Some for several miles, others for a short section, but all of the people I talked to provided good conversation and a genuine feeling of support and well-wishing.  Sometimes the person I talked to dropped me and went ahead, but never without thanking me for the talk and wishing me good luck.  Sometimes I was the one bounding away yelling back the same things to them.  This feeling of camaraderie lasted all three days, and is one of the reasons this race was so special.

 Left: Me on the far right, coming out into a field where an aid station is set up, about to go into the small intestines.  Right: Mary looking like a gazelle, bounding through the woods

One part of this trail is called the 'Small Intestines'.  It is a long section of switchback upon switchback upon switchback, first down, then back up, never very steep or if so, not for very long, but mostly gradual inclines and declines through the woods.  There were a couple points where you could look up and down and see a moving line of runners stretched out over these switchbacks.  It was fun to yell to Mary every few minutes as we passed by each other again and again in this section.

The 'Small Intestines' - a long section of switchback after switchback and a mile or two of runners stretched out along it

I ran for a while with a girl who I found out had been Arkansas's ultrarunner of the year last year.  I got a little nervous when she told me this thinking I should not be here with her but rather further back on the trail.  Am I going too fast?  Surely she knows better how to run these races.  My worries dissipated a little while later, though, when she came bounding out of nowhere (I had gotten in front of her) with about 4 miles to go and blew by me on a downhill.  I hung with her for a bit, then forced myself to let her go.  The trail overall was very runnable, and had it been a single-day race, we could have logged pretty fast times on it, I think.  But everyone was sitting back and making sure to leave some in the tank as each day was supposed to get progressively more difficult.  I walked on several hills that I didn't need to, but decided to in order to conserve the legs.  Looking back, I probably could have gone harder that first day, but I'm glad I didn't because I assured myself energy and legs for days 2 and 3.

Luigi finished first out of the four of us in 2:41, then me at 3:08 (30th place of the females), Mary at 3:13 and Chris at 3:17.  The cut-off time was 4 hours, and we had easily made it.  Afterward, we were sitting in the coldest water I have ever been in when a girl came sprinting out of the woods, and everyone started cheering loudly.  She crossed the finish line at 3:59:13 just barely in time.  We later met a guy who finished at 4:06 who wasn't allowed to continue the next day (who, to his credit, still came out days 2 and 3 and volunteered at the aid stations - and with a smile on his face too) and another who crossed at 4:01:12 and was cut.  They were serious about the cut-off times!  This instilled an appropriate amount of nerves for the next day, because even though we had plenty of time today and they give us a little extra time the next two days, tomorrow was 4 miles longer and a harder course.....and we would have 18 miles on our legs already from today.

My parents' puppy, Molly, helps Mary with the foam roller by deciding to chew her bone on Mary's leg.

This race is all about recovery.  I had my routine down with a recovery drink immediately after finishing, then shortly after that a protein drink.  We would then go for lunch, and afterward, I would just continue eating and drinking water water water, then a little foam rolling, some ibuprofren and sleep.

 

Mary's foot sausage.  The seed for many a joke over the course of the weekend.

Mary's recovery also included some ice in the form of a frozen sausage log on her foot (sorry, Mom - her foot was clean, though!).  This also resulted in many a joke the rest of the weekend.  Sleep came much later than planned as we had headed back out from my parents house (20 minutes out of downtown) back to the Crash Pad where the race organizers had a keg and were showing pictures from the day (all the beds at the Crash Pad were filled with runners in the race).  We went to eat and didn't order until nine o'clock.  9:00!!  We had wanted to be home by 9:00!!  Oh well.  Nothing to do about it now.  The fatigue was starting to set in, though, so we chowed down our dinners and got home and got into bed by 11-something.

Day 2 - Lookout Mountain - 22 miles

Start/Finish of Day 2

5:00 came earlier than it had the day before.  My alarm went off, and I immediately did a quick inventory - no apparent injuries or severe soreness.  Okay, that's a good sign.  We repeated the routine from the day before with my mom making my coffee and Mary's water for her tea (thanks, Mom!).  Mary packed up the car (again), and we headed out.  Today's race was actually on the Georgia side of Lookout.  I spent many a night on Lookout Mountain as a high schooler.  Many of my closest friends lived up there both on the Tennessee and Georgia sides, and I used to drive up and down that thing weekly.  I never ran up there, though, so today's race would be a first for that.  We got to the Lula Lake Land Trust property, and I immediately fell in love with it.  It was all forest all around.  No buildings.  No roads except the gravel one we came in on.  There was a river right next to the start/finish and a wooden bridge going over it.  Very picturesque.

 

Everyone's all smiles at the start.  

I waited a few minutes to hit up the Port-a-Potty.  BIG MISTAKE.  I got in line at 7:36 (race starts at 8:00) thinking 24 minutes is surely enough time for this line to work it's way through the three Port-a-Potties that had been brought there.  Um, wrong!  I didn't get to the front of the line until 3 minutes to the start.  Luckily, Mary had read my mind and brought me my hydration pack and taken my towel I was using as a jacket (it was chilly in the mornings!) so I wouldn't have to run back to the car before the start.  I managed to get out and to the start line with about 1:30 to spare.  We started off this day in the back.  We were taking the perspective of start back and pass people instead of the reverse.

 Lula Lake Falls

Today's course started off running by Lula Lake Falls, a beautiful waterfall dropping into beautifully teal green water.  Shortly after this was the section we'd heard about where you had to hold on to ropes to get up it was so steep.  Much like day 1, this was a bottlenecking point where we stood in line waiting our turn to go up.  Someone in the back called out, 'On your left!!' and everyone laughed.  The trail here, we noticed, was lined with poison ivy, and somewhere along the way I got in it.  For anyone who witnessed the Armageddon of poison ivy that ensued on my legs in 8th grade, you can understand that I was a little nervous, but knock on wood, just a couple little spots but nothing serious has appeared, so I think I'm in the clear.

Some runners coming down the so-steep-you-need-a-rope section of the trail.

At the top of the rope climb, we ran along the edge of the mountain with beautiful views off to our left for a mile or so, then down into the woods to finish out the first 5 mile loop, passing an aid station at the start/finish.  I LOVE my new hydration backpack I ran with.  I had lots of pockets and so was able to carry dates with me to use for fuel instead of having to rely solely on gels, which get painfully sweet by the end of a long race.  I just ate the gels and dates I had with me and only stopped at aid stations long enough to refill my water.

The next section was a lollipop out to and around Covenant College.  Somewhere along the stick of the lollipop, just before entering the loop of it (the pop?), a guy appeared sprinting toward me and running the wrong way.  I was so confused.  What was going on?  Then I realized that was the first place guy already on his way back.  Holy wow.  This dude is fast!  I checked my watch - 1:27 - and looked for landmarks around me to be able to note when I was passing back by this way.  Second place wasn't far behind.  I clapped and cheered for him since I understood what was going on now (first place guy just got a very confused stare from me - sorry!).  Then third came along shortly after that, then I was up on the loop and didn't see anymore fast guys.  When I finally came back by the place where I had seen first place, my watch said 2:20.  Wow.  Just wow.  Those guys are fast.  I ran back toward the start/finish through forest lined with ferns and covered in tall, tall, tall trees.  The trees were my favorite.  I love tall trees.  I miss them.  I didn't realized how much I missed them until I spent three wonderful days under them.

Back to the start/finish.  One more loop to go - the same as the first one, but in the opposite direction and with a little something extra at the end.  As I passed by the aid station there, I could hear the announcer calling out finishers.  These people were a good 6 miles ahead of me, and they weren't even the first ones!  There were a lot of really good runners in this race.  The last loop was fun.  I felt good and ran most of the long uphill back up to the ridgeline then picked it up on the slight descent back to the steep downhill with the ropes.  The 'bonus' section added on on the way back was a little hard to run because of the rocks and being slippery, but it was really beautiful with bright green moss on the rocks and the little creek to your side.  We finished by crossing a river just before the finish line.

As I came in, they announced my name and said, 'Number 233, Laura Dugan, with a BIG smile on her face!'.  Two days in a row I finished smiling.  Those of you who have seen me run other races know that I am usually not smiling at the end, but you just couldn't help but smile here.  I finished in 3:44 (15th place female), very surprised and happy to have run it sub-4.  Luigi came across at 3:33, Mary at 4:08 and Chris at 4:19.

Today's ice bath was just as bone-chillingly cold as yesterday's, though, it came with an added bonus - as they were pouring the leftover cooler ice in, a beer fell in with it - just as Mary was saying she desired one

We went to eat again and met up with another dear old friend of mine, Christy, at a burrito place.  We sat and chatted for a while, then headed home to shower and get ready for the next day.  We couldn't pull ourselves back out to the Crash Pad that night as the fatigue was catching up, so we went to eat with my parents and got home early to get ready for the last day.  Mary kindly reminded me a few times to pack my nutrition, and we got to bed nice and early.

Day 3 - Signal Mountain - 20 miles

 '3' for day 3!!  We made it to day 3!  Only 20 miles to go.....

"Day 3 is ridiculous."  These were the words of a Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race veteran in the ice bath on day 1.  Day 3 was indeed ridiculous from a rocky point of view.  The race started out running down Signal Mountain to Suck Creek.  Let me repeat for those who know the area.  We ran down Signal to Suck Creek and then back up the way we came.  Well, 'run' is a strong word here.  We gingerly worked our way down to Suck Creek in a single file (this was today's bottlenecking section) to the aid station, turned right around and hiked back up.  This was another place where we got to witness the front runners' incredible ability as they passed us coming back up.  Mary was fairly convinced the front guy used a cheetah when out of sight of the other runners.  This may be true, but even just on his feet, he was ridiculously fast.  We all would step off the single track and let them pass as they blasted by us in the opposite direction in this section. 

Today's course consisted of many suspension bridges over beautiful creeks that got wobblier as you got out to the center and trails along a ridgeline with magnificent views of the Tennessee River gorge.

And then there were the rocks upon rocks upon rocks, but different kinds of rocks from the ones we run on all the time in Texas.  They were bigger, and awkwardly shaped, and wet and covered in moss and thus, quite slippery and difficult to find any sort of rhythm through them.  For a long section that one of my trail buddies referred to as the 'Rock Garden' it was run two steps, walk 10 as we worked our way over the rocks.  And the trail was narrow here, and the drop-off to the side long and steep if you were to slip.  After the Rock Garden came a set of stairs,

 
then finally the most beautiful aid station ever.

 
I was again blowing through aid stations, arriving with my pack off and bladder already open ready to be filled.  I used my own food and didn't partake of any of the awesome array of goodies provided by the race, so I tended to pass a chunk of people at each one that decided to stop and hang out there for a few minutes.  I had been conserving my legs and my energy for 2 days and 9 miles.  I was feeling good, so I gave myself the green light to go for it.  From this point on, I went into race mode, picking up the pace and running every runnable thing.

There was about a quarter mile on the road as we went from one trail to another, and in this time, we passed an assisted living home where the residents were on the porch clapping and cheering us as we came by.  I was in glee club in high school and remember doing a performance there one time.  Like Lookout, I spent many a night on Signal Mountain too.  In elementary school, I begged my parents to move there as all my best friends lived there (they just chuckled).  It felt like home running on this mountain, under these trees.

Back in the woods again and down a descent.  I passed a fair number of people on descents, bounding down.  All the Texas trail running prepared me well for that.  It was in this section that I had my 10 minutes of....well, what's the opposite of coordination?  In this time, I did a slip-and-sit sort of fall, took two people off-trail, ran into a tree, then fell outright on my left shin.  It was after the second fall that I slapped myself in the face and got myself together.  I think fatigue + excitement + increased pace were the culprits.  After this, I began to realize that I had about 6 miles left.  I had run 54 miles over the last three days, and I only had 6 miles left.  I immediately became very emotional as I realized that this wonderful, beautiful, amazing race was coming to its end.  I forced myself to ease up on the race mentality and make sure to take in as much as I could, because it was going to be over before I knew it, and who knew when I'd get to come back and run here again, and never would it be with all these exact same people that had made this weekend so special for me.

I came to the very last aid station.  3.6 miles to the finish line.  This is it.  This is the very last push.  The whole rest of the way just about was a dirt road/wide gravel trail.  It was extremely runnable, the most runnable section of the day, so I opened up and went for it.  After climbing a Hill of Life-esque sort of hill, most of the way was flat or downhill, and I flew.  I was running so fast.  I looked down a couple times and saw 7:45 and 8:00 paces on my watch (fast for trail, for me).  I was blowing by people.  We would exchange a 'good job! or a 'keep it up, almost there!'  As I passed one guy, he said to me, 'Almost there!', to which I replied, 'I know!  I'm kind-of sad about it!', though, he didn't seem to share the same sentiment.  Very last hill - I could hear the finish, almost see the opening in the trees.  I thought about walking, then I called on one of the quotes I had in a Ziploc bag in my pack that I had put there in case times got tough and I needed some motivation, 'Your body will argue there is no justifiable reason to continue, at which point you must call on your spirit, which fortunately functions independently of logic.'  I recalled this quote and forbade myself to walk.  I will let my spirit carry me up.  I came out of the woods just a little behind another girl.  In any other race, I would have sprinted in and tried to pass her, but this wasn't that kind of race - not for where I fell in the ranks, at least, so I picked it up but didn't pass her.  The announcers called out my name as I entered the final curve....'Lara Zoeller!!'  Wait, that's not my name!  So I threw my hands in the air and yelled 'Dugan!!' as I neared the finish line.  They then said 'Laura Dugan!!', and I thought they were correcting themselves.  It wasn't until I was talking to that girl later that I found out SHE was Lara Zoeller, and they were calling out her finish.  Oops.  Oh well.

 Before

After - FINISHERS!!!

Luigi had already finished (3:39 - wow!), and so I waited for Mary and Chris to come through.  Chris came through all smiles at 4:37 and Mary at 4:45.  I gave each a big hug as they finished, and I was trying to talk Mary into getting her finisher's jacket when she crossed as I know she favored the blue one, and those were dwindling.  I would say, 'Go get your jacket!' to which she would reply, 'We have to go get Becca!!'  Becca is another Texan we met at packet pick-up and with whom Mary had run most of day 3 with.  Mary had gotten in front in those last few miles and done the same thing I had, which was open up and run.  We repeated this exchange two or three times before Mary looked at me sternly and yelled, 'WE HAVE TO GO GET BECCA!!!!!'  It was, in her words, a Forrest Gump moment and Becca was her Lieutenant Dan.  I had a pretzel in my hand, and I had told my legs we were done running for a few days, but suddenly, spawned by Mary's urgency, I was running again, pretzel in hand, back out on the course with Mary right behind (she had gone to get her jacket) to look for Becca and run her in.

Looking back, I understand the sense of urgency as there was a 5 hour cut-off, and when we left it was probably at about 4:48 or 4:49.  Mary had run with Becca all day, and she wanted to make sure Becca made it under the 5 hour cut-off time.  About a quarter mile or so down the trail, we found her.  We turned around and ran with her the last stretch of the trail, Mary encouraging her the whole way.  She crossed the finish at 4:52, eight minutes to spare.  The last official runner came across at 4:59:25.  I was on the massage table, but I heard the remaining crowd go crazy as she was apparently sprinting through the grass to the finish.  Mary talked to her after, and she said, 'I have never been so happy to come in last place.'  All the runners who finished after the 5 hour mark still got their finisher's jacket, but their times aren't listed on the official results.  Of the 260 registrants, 167 finished all three days within the time limits.

My overall results for the three days came out as such:
Total time: 10:59:31
FINISHER!!
13th place female
4th place in my age group

I got a chance to test out my finisher's jacket Tuesday morning in Austin during the brief morning rain

While on the massage table (my left knee and right ankle and arch had been talking smack for most of the day), the guy on the table next to me said, 'Hey!  Are you the crazy girl who said she was SAD she was almost done?'  We laughed about that a little, but I was sad, and simultaneously immensely happy.  I did it.  We did it.  We ran 60 miles in three days on three different mountains over some extremely technical trail and very steep inclines and declines.  And we had a blast while doing it. 

After the massage, we got in the ice bath again.  Today wasn't nearly as cold as days 1 and 2 had been, but while in there, they dumped out the cooler ice into it and then some dry ice that made for some pretty cool pictures.

Then, that was it.  Luigi and Chris took off for Atlanta as they had flights to catch, and Mary and I headed home (but not before I drove her through my old high school that was on the way).  My sister and her family had come up for Father's Day, and we celebrated with cupcakes and presents and went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant.  I told Mary she is now an honorary Dugan, though, I'm not sure that's an honor - I'll leave it to her to decide that (we are an odd bunch, though, she seemed to fit in just fine).  Seriously, though, I am so grateful and appreciative to my family and my Chattanooga friends too for letting me come and be completely selfish and self-centered this weekend and for working around my schedule, and to Mary for agreeing back in January to go on this adventure with me and to Chris and Luigi for sharing it with me and to all my new trail buddies whom I will hopefully see at more races in the future (I will be back to that area to race again - it is too beautiful not to return).  It was a wonderful weekend of running and friendship and family and home.  It is something I will treasure forever. 

One of those quotes that I ran with is by T.S. Eliot and says, 'Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go." I was afraid this race might be too far, and that I would not be able to go the distance.  I had not trained like I wanted, and I had never attempted three consecutive days of long runs.  I proved myself wrong, however, and it only motivates me to see how much further I can go - in running as well as in life.  This adventure is in the books, but I know there are so many adventures still to come, so many mountains yet to climb, and I cannot wait.