Only the ‘dedicated’ enjoy the challenge of icy trails….

My first trail run (six days after my knee mishap) was mellow with a hint of awesomeness. Do I enjoy running slushy, ice trails? Not really. Do I appreciate catching a runner’s high as early as mile 1.71? You bet! Considering last weekend I didn’t even come close to ‘floating’ I’ll take the high early on. 

Then there was the camaraderie between trail runners…yep, small talk amongst trail runners is what keep us trail people on the same wave length...even while running. Just like the belief of all life being inter-connected in the universe in Buddhism, the trail running universe is also inter-connected. We mesh and understand each other on the trails.  

I hit some simple non-technical nature preserve trails for my first run back after my failed 20k, yet successful 10k trail race from the previous weekend. To clarify; my reason for the downgrade in distance was due to some pretty intense and sharp anterior knee pain. Not my winter deconditioned state. I'll be busting out a 50k and a 50-miler this May and June. Winter lung capacity still sucks. 

My knee was fairly cooperative the week following my first trail race of 2015 in my daily 6am heat yoga classes, but there were a couple of days when the single-leg balances just weren’t happening. So I wasn't sure what to expect. But as any endurance athlete would do,  you go back the next morning and try again. Note: In trail running, you never let a 'bad' trail run define you. You put your shoes back on the next day and run again.

When I started my week later ‘recovery’ run my knee was pissed and I didn’t think I was going to complete more than two miles. The terrain was a slushy icy annoyance with occasional spots of mud. Yet I chose this particular trail for a reason: it’s good for recovery runs and good pace. So, despite the circumstances I busted out a pretty good pace. Yay! Redemption! 

For the love of slushy, icy trails. 

The trick to slushy and icy trails is to run 'off-trail'. Running on the grassy, leafy areas on either side of the trail is a great bypass to the middle of the trail that is packed down with snow and ice. It's also a great way to avoid walkers on the trail. Just sayin’.  But be mindful and show Mother Nature’s house the respect it deserves by not leaving any off-trail damage.

Winter sunsets are still pretty awesome. 

Needless to say I finished a fast (according to me), fabulous four miles slightly injured (issues in my tissues). I enjoyed the short miles with a few high-fives to fellow ‘dedicated’ trail runners along the way. The recovery run proved to be a win-win.

Wet trail shoe problems: thankful I always have extra pairs of trail shoes in the Jeep for post-run errands. 

Happy trails,

~Cat~

Happy 2015!

I am 41 and On the Run!

This year I have good intentions of accomplishing quite a bit of running, including more races. I don’t have a goal of x-amount of miles for the year but just to run more with intention. Just like as I practice yoga every day, it is with intention, not about being more flexible or endurance.

Like yoga, running is personal and not competitive for me. Which is part of why I have not ran very many races. I am competitive in many areas of my life, but running is not one of them. I run because I love to run. I love the zen. I love nature. I love the woods. I love the alone time. I love the escape. Trails are like second nature to me. Summer running is my favorite but as a dedicated runner currently living in Ohio I must contend with mother nature and let her do her thing while still getting my run on all during seasons. Weather is about acceptance, right?

My race goals for 2015 begin with the Rocks and Roots Trail Series trail races. The race sold out but thankfully by the good graces of awesomeness and good karma, I got an ‘in’ through Jeff the race director. Life is good. I signed up for the 20k in January and the 30k in February. I figure going with less miles early on is good as it allows me to build up to my goal of a 50-miler and additional 50k races this year.

Starting the year off right, I have been focusing on doing yoga seven days a week. I have somehow become one of those early a.m. workout people. I enjoy getting my time on the mat before heading to work. There’s something about waking up before the rest of the world and accomplishing something that feels awesome. I have worked on squats in the gym a bit but not to the consistent level I need for stronger running legs.

Today, was the first race of 2015 for me and it did not go as I intended. I knew the 12 miles wasn’t going to be easy because of the combination of the weather and me not getting in the training miles I should. But when there is snow on the ground and below freezing temps you just move forward and give it all you got. One of the reasons I was going into this race was to see how de-conditioned I am and build from there. I left this morning for the race guided by a beautiful sunrise (sorry, no pic). I felt great.

Swag

I got to the race early. Not as early as I wanted but at least early. I started the 20k about 5 minutes late because I didn’t realize the start/finish was as far as it was from the parking lot. But the dude working the finish line said it wasn’t a big deal because the sensors track the runner’s time when they cross the lines, not based on the clock with the big red numbers. So, that was cool. I trotted along slow to start. Managing my new GPS, huge mittens, and water bottle.

The trails were not forgiving. However, the race directors and crews did an awesome job of spreading light sand on the hills. That likely saved a lot of folks from falling on their ass. All the water crossings were frozen solid. The only time it was windy was on the trails closest to the lake.

View of the lake from the trail, Oct. 2014

The most awesome thing I witnessed today was a dude who squatted down and slid down a hill on his feet. I told him that is fucking brilliant! I almost wanted to go back up the hill and give it a try.

I kept moving along, albeit pretty slowly, doing the best I could to keep my lungs warm and trying to breathe through my snot faucet nose. As an asthmatic, huffing and puffing with open mouth (gasping, essentially) is possibly the worst way and an unsafe way to run. Diaphragm breathing through the nose is required to get your pace going real good.

Mile four is typically when I start to ‘float’ during a run and ease into a nice steady pace. Sadly, that did not happen today. I had a few moments of floating that were quickly slowed down because of my lungs. Although, I used a gaiter to cover my neck and part of my face, I was struggling with its looseness. The gaiter I have is fleece and is not technically a runner’s gaiter which made it kind of annoying because it retained moisture.

My feet felt great. I took my hand warmers out of my incredibly warm and waterproof Thinsulate mittens and put them on my hip flexors. Lesson learned: run with my actual running gloves and hand warmers if needed, not bulky warm mittens with warmers.  

I tweaked my knee right before mile five by stepping onto a rock to pass over. The gal in front of me even turned around to ask if I was ok after I ‘yelped’ an “ouch”. I told her my knee was just a little angry with me today. 

Unfortunately, the sharp pain in the front of my knee slowed me down and made running pretty painful. I knew at mile 5.5 that I was going to ask if I could just finish out at the 10k distance, and not continue to finish the 20k. The race directors were cool with it. Interestingly enough, when I made that decision my body became eerily cold. Felt like my body went into cool down mode.

I stood and chatted for a bit with some folks at the finish line, and walked back to my Jeep with my head low trying to put into perspective my ‘defeat’. Weighing pride with justification of cutting my miles in half.

I felt like a pussy and had a five minute pity party during my drive home. I’m disappointed in not getting the planned miles I wanted but also respect that my running goals this year are bigger than one race. I reminded myself that I have to keep my head wrapped around the big picture and not the little blips along the way. Telling myself that without the learning experiences and challenges, my journey won’t be as meaningful.

I once stated my thoughts on life’s journey: “Imagine how boring life would be if the journey was just a straight and narrow path. Embrace the ups, downs, twists, turns, leaps forward, and steps back. Live outside the lines with love in your heart, be human, and breathe.” I reminded myself of that today.  

Today’s race reaffirmed me that running through the snow is like trudging through mud except your ass is freezing cold. I was reminded of my dislike for running through snow, but also my ability to make the most of it and deal with what’s in front of me.

As I was reflecting on the day’s events and settling in on my afternoon cup of Yogi herbal tea and a dark chocolate, the tag on the tea string read: “Live through consciousness, not through emotion.” I love my tea and the little tags of wisdom.

See you on the trails in 2015! 

Happy trails!

~Cat~

#runhappy ...for as long as you can.

Finally, a month later here's my Playin’ Possum 50K 2014 recap!

I love the trails at Delaware State Park. I run them a lot. I mean, A LOT! Occasionally, I will venture over to Alum Creek State Park for some trail time but Delaware State Park is my ‘home base’ for trail running: single track, secluded, no meandering Starbucks carrying suburbanites in flip flops taking up precious trail ‘space’. My kind of place. Not too hilly, great lake views, mosquitos, lake smell, wildlife, awesomeness. The Playin’ Possum 50K takes place on these beautiful trails, and is the main reason I started running at DSP.

The 2014 PP50K was my second year running the event. I got a pretty cool finisher award and by the time I had decided that I was going for round three next year.

The day started VERY early for me. Up and at ‘em at 4:45am. On the yoga mat by 5am. Off the mat by 5:30am. Breakfast began about 6:15am. Out the door by 6:40am (10 minutes later than planned).

My belly and intestines were a little upset as I was driving to the park. It wasn’t nerves. It couldn’t have been. My mental state about doing the 50k was relaxed because of the familiarity of the course and excited because I was going to run a 50k again. Perhaps, it was the ‘processed’ food I ate the night before. Perhaps, it was the high amount of carbs I had been consuming the past few days. Whatever, it will work itself out.

I get to the park and there’s a line for the check in..not my favorite place to be given the churning in my bowels. I quickly check in and quickly scurry to the bathroom. Damnit! Another line! I smile and joke while squeezing my glutes and all the innards of my nether region till it’s my turn. I take care of business and get out of there.

I walk over to my Jeep and realize that it’s cold outside. Yeah, I was a little oblivious to that fact up until that moment. Weird, I know. I say, “It’s cold out here. My hands are cold. Shit. I don’t like to run with cold hands.” It’s one of my worst cold weather weaknesses. Cold fingers and hands while running annoys the shit out of me and distracts my running. Thankfully, I had a pair of cheap knit gloves still left over from winter in the Jeep. YES, procrastination paid off! Who knew I’d need gloves in the middle of May. Curses, Ohio weather! Curses.

All set! After a few announcements about the course changes due to flooded out trails and other miscellaneous information we had a really awesome pledge by a really cool kid from the special Olympics. Little did I know at that moment how much that pledge was going to mean to me:

“Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt”

And we’re off. A nice steady pace to start felt great! Not too fast. Not too slow. We all took off as a group and like all races we were a bit more staggered after a mile or so. I felt great. I ran happy for miles and miles! High fiving runners, smiling, saying hi. Typical happy trail runner behavior. Running great!

Run Happy!

I stop at the mile nine aid station feeling pretty good but needing a caffeine jolt. So I grab a chocolate flavored gel with caffeine. Bleck! It was disgusting. I almost spit it out.  I continue on and make a mental note to never ingest a chocolate gel again.

Moving forward there was a nice creek crossing that had a nice size sinkhole in the bottom of it which really wasn’t a creek but was only a creek because the lake was flooded. I watched the gal in front of me fall in waist deep so I moved to the side and went in only knee deep. Score. Despite the cold temps of the morning the cold water felt good. Then it was on to the dreaded beach parking lot area (I hate running the parking lot) and some road to get over to the dam (I hate the dam, too). My hamstrings were beginning to tighten up but I was running pretty well.

I hit the dam and was slowing down a bit. It was getting close to time for a feeding and my stomach was posing a feeling like it was being punched. Probably thanks to the gel. I should have stuck with the gels I stored in my hydration vest. Mental note: don’t ever eat another chocolate gel. Ever.

I decide to take a lunch break and walk out mile 14. I texted John to let him know how I was doing: “Mile 15. Tops of my feet are killing me. Hammies tight but rest of me feels fine. Finally just ate.” At this point I was on target to finish around the 7 ½ hour mark. Feeling good. The tops of my feet hurting baffled me. But whatever, keep moving forward. The bottoms of my feet felt great. Thank you Hoka One One Stinsons!

I pick it up. Check in at the next aid station. Running through the wildlife area there was a guy who said hello, asked if we were running a race of some kind, and shooting blank shells from his shotgun. I say to the gal next to me, “Is that our cue to run faster?” I think I’m supposed to run away in a zig zag fashion or something.

My stomach and intestines are becoming increasingly irritated. I’m drinking tons of water in an effort to calm it. I have to pee. The weather starts raining. The least of my worries. It’s raining sideways directly into my face.I pull my visor down and shrug it off. Rain is temporary, and so is the hail. Never ran through hail before. That just added to the bad-assness of ultrarunning. The stomach pain and nausea are worse and I get to the point that every time I run I feel like I’m going to throw up but was still hoping it would pass.

I check in. Down some mountain dew and move on. I was officially past the halfway point so I was excited. Trying to run as much as I could due to stomach issues I found myself doing more walking than I wanted. That kills my time.

I check in at mile 24 with tears in my eyes. Partly due to being pissed about my pace and because every time I run I feel like I was being punched in the stomach. John’s at the aid station and asks if I needed to quit. I snapped, “No. I’ve gone this far I can’t quit now.” I down a couple pepto tablets and a handful of pretzels and move on. My stomach feels a tad better and I stop and ask some dude who looked like an Urban Myers look-alike who was cheering people on to grab my 5-hour energy shot out of my back pack. Awesome! I figure the jolt will get me to the finish line. It’s only seven miles. Totally do-able!

I feel good for a few miles. Pissed and cursing every time I slip in the mud. “Fucking mud.” “God damn mud.” “Fucker.” “Stupid fucking mud.” “I didn’t sign up for fucking 50k tough mudder.” “I hate spring races.” “I’m not doing this race again.” Not only was I annoyed with the ankle deep pig slop mud but I was pissed that we were even running on this part of the trail because we possibly have ruined a trail. I was seriously considering not running this race ever again. The mud was nearly impossible to run through but the best a runner can do is just keep moving forward. And cuss at the mud. Or is that just me? The circumstances up the ante on the determination to get past the slop and finish.  

The top of the trail is an out and back so it gives you a chance to see how many runners are still behind you and to throw some motivating words at them. I wasn’t last! For some selfish reason that made me feel a little better. The other gals didn’t look like they were doing very well and I could only imagine I looked just as miserable. To add insult to injury, my GPS died. That was a bit of a downer because it informed me that I’m taking too damn long for what is not an incredibly difficult race. Sigh.

Once I got past all the mud it was a feel good moment but the stomach issues were nagging at me. I sit at the aid station feeling green and contemplating pulling out. I just wish I could throw up and get out of my stomach whatever the hell is making it miserable. Fuck it, just keep going. Don’t be a fucking wuss. Just go as long as you can. I mention that I’m ready to get this over with but since there’s only about two miles left things are looking up. The aid station worker informed me there are actually three miles left. WHAT!? I wasn’t mentally prepared for that. Because of the flooded trails and altering of the course the total miles are around 32.6. Well, it is what it is. Keep moving.

The weather was getting warmer and the rain/hail had stopped. I had been drinking so much water to help soothe my stomach and not sweating it out that I had to pee. I stopped, looked around, and popped a squat right quick in the woods. There’s a first time for everything. I quickly get up and get moving. Out of nowhere comes a family walking their dog just as I step back on the trail. Close call! The dad asks, “Is there some kind of a walk-a-thon going on today?” OMG. We’re that pathetic at this point. I laugh and say, “It is now! This is the tail end of a 50k. Definitely a lot more walking than running at this point.” He chuckled and wished me good luck. That was a highlight of the day. I loved it and totally needed that.

A few minutes later I get a text from John (they must've started tearing down the finish line):

“How are you doing?” 

I text back: “I should’ve DNF at mile 24. Feeling real sick and weak.” 

“Want me to come get you”,

“I’m on briar patch near mink run”.

At this point I knew I was going to walk it out. It was already 4:00. Any attempt at finishing at a decent time died a few miles ago. I would walk. Stop and keel over in stomach pain. Get dizzy every time I stood back up. And keep moving forward. Total annoyance. But I continue on to meet John on the trail with visions of him pushing me along to the finish line.

About mile 31 it finally hit me! I showed the trail the contents of my stomach! Yay! I felt so much better. Why the hell couldn’t I have thrown up back at mile 18? Anyway, moving forward. Still walking. At this point I had mentally given up but wanted to attempt to run again. I nibble on the bread of the turkey sandwich I had packed. Tiny bites. More water. A little running. I get to the trail head and there’s John and Kyle (my son) waiting for me...in the Jeep. I thought they were going to pace me to the end. He offered to give me a ride back but I said at this point I have to go to the finish because you can’t pull out in the middle of a trail. Only at an aid station.  

I grab some Ritz Crackers from a bag I had in the Jeep. Throw the sandwich away. Tell Kyle to get out and walk it out with me. We walk and talk and nibble on crackers. This was such a refresher and almost brings tears to my eyes because it meant so much to have him there with me on the last mile. Plus I needed good human interaction. Interacting with myself and my own pity party was getting old. I try to run, but at this point my hips had already tightened up so much from all the walking that I couldn’t. So I walk with Kyle and I’m ok with it.

We get to the finish line. The weather had cleared up just in time for my finish. Chad and Mark hand me my finisher award, hug me, and we chat. I honestly wasn’t sure I was going to receive a finisher award because I missed the time cut-off but I was super happy when they handed me my second year finisher award. Come to find out there were at least 3-4 people behind me. I thought there was only one. I cheered on the gal that came in behind me. The others were about 30 minutes out. I peeled off my shoes and socks. Took a selfie. Headed home.

Aren’t trail feet pretty?

All smiles and done 50k finisher selfie!

I rode in the back seat on the way home but the nausea in my stomach wouldn’t let me take a nap. I get home, throw up some more, shower, and eat some comfort food. My body definitely took a beating on the inside this year. Worst feeling ever but a lesson learned. My feet, ankles, knees, and hips felt a 1000 times better than they did last year. I definitely will only be running in my Hokas from now on. Not to mention, I came out of this 50k with NO blisters and all 10 toe nails intact! That is worth celebrating for sure!

Peace, love and trails!

~Cat~

Back to the platform and off the trail…or is it???

[This post is a few days late and is originally from 11/30/13]

Honestly, it’s November and the temps have been averaging about 20 degrees below the normal temps here in Ohio. This time last year I was busting ass on the trails and counting the days till the first snowfall. All that shit came early this year. There is snow on the ground and my asthma (and body) is not liking the cold below freezing temps thus far. So, I have been working on doing yoga several days a week (I am officially a heat yoga junkie) and working on building my strength with Olympic lifting, barbell conditioning, and practicing kettlebell sport a couple times a week. I’m still managing the hours in the day trying to find time for my workouts like I did for my trail running doing the best I can. My days are often broken up into blocks of time. (We health insurance brokers are busy this time of year).

For those who don’t know, I picked up my first competition kettlebell a few years ago and have been hooked ever since. Kettlebell sport and I, just mesh. The technique is natural to me and I’ve been told by several coaches that my physique is perfect for the sport. Ok, I’ll take it.

Alas, trail running is still my first love and exertion of choice when my lungs can handle it (cold temps or not) but kettlebell sport training taps into my inner strength in a different way. It’s hard to explain but just know that for 10 minutes (long cycle) or 30+ minutes on the platform (pentathalon) when juggling a kettlebell around, the focus is in higher demand and you have to stay on pace more so than running.  Kettlebell sport is a little bit more intense compared to a trail race because you just can't put your ear buds in and ‘disappear’ amongst the masses of other participants or slow down and speed up when you feel like it. You are front and center accountable for every rep at a qualifying pace.

Kettlebell sport (girevoy sport) is considered a strength-endurance or power-endurance sport versus ultrarunning which is considered an endurance sport [to most]. The ‘to most’ refers to people who don’t understand hills, long hills. Just know that hills and terrain are no easy feat no matter how experienced the runner may be. I mean seriously, the transition between uphill, downhill, obstacles, and uneven terrain is enough to mentally exhaust even the best of trail athletes. 

Ok, this isn't a very big hill but it has tree roots and slippery leaves and stuff.

Just know that you need to continue to challenge yourself in the off-season. Also know that the hard work you put in during the off-season will pay off when you see improvements as you hit the trails again in the spring in the form of better lung conditioning, muscle conditioning, mental focus, stamina, strength, speed, etc.

A body at rest tends to stay at rest. A body in motion tends to stay in motion. As adults we have to continue to keep our bodies primed and moving in the off-season to hit our goals and stay competitive in our ‘game on’ season. Get some.

Happy trails,

~Cat~ 

40 year old's perspective

11-8-13= 40

Yeah, I quietly hit my 40^th birthday this month. I’m not sad about it, but rather, I’m reflective with a feeling of renewal. As far as I see it, my 30s were a learning experience but I know I still have a lot of learning experiences to enter into my life.

My 40s will be a life experience to make the 2^nd half of my life grand. I gained experience (and accomplished quite a bit) in my 30s that makes me feel ‘seasoned’. Life changes that happened throughout the decade compounded with the flighty experience that was my 20s, and I know there’s more out there for me beginning in my 40s.

The 20s ain’t got nothing on my 30s. The 30s won’t have nothing on my 40s. There’s a newfound sense of wisdom and conquest to seek for more improvement. Improvement in business, success, personal and professional relations (and growth), health, finally accomplishing those dreams I’ve had years to refine.  It’s all there but I’m being selective as to what is actually important enough for my time.

It’s hard to explain, but it’s a new approach to what I do and what is important to me on a daily basis. I only have a certain level of capacity and time in my daily life and brain, and I’m not going to waste it on stuff that’s not important to me. Shoving out the negative juju because it’s not important. Life’s too short to spend time thinking about or fixating on the negative. Whether, it’s negative people, situations, politics, etc. In my corner of the world there is no room for negative vibes!

As a mom whose life has revolved around her family for over the past decade or so, I feel it’s time to ‘give a little’ and let my birds spread their wings and shift my personal focus inward a bit. It’s time for me. I love my family but it’s time for mama time. Mama selfish time.

I found trail running (and other fitness outlets) in my 30s. I even made it my profession for a while (fitness training) but grew out of it and wanted something more out of life. Different experiences.

The workouts and runs I do now have a slightly different approach. The same in that I am a ‘veteran’ at the activities, but different in that the focus is even deeper. My trail running is my zen. My escape. My therapy. Always has been since step one. Trail running is something that I have an interesting and healthy relationship with, over and over again. But now I feel a deeper approach beginning with that first step on the earthly miles every time I run. Deeper in that I am even more appreciative of my ability to run the trails and do the activities I do. Appreciative in that, although I’m not where I thought I would be at age 40, I’m still unstoppable and will continue set and reach my goals. Just with better clarity and purpose.

   

I developed a new approach with my breathing when I run, when I’m feeling stressed or nervous, when I’m on the mat, or on the platform. When I inhale I say to myself, ‘I am’ and when I exhale I say to myself, ‘at peace’. Depending on what I am doing at that moment depends on how long each breath is but typically the exhale is 1-2 counts slower. Try it. Whenever I catch my breath when I’m running and getting off pace I resort back to inhale/exhale ‘I am/at peace’ mantra. This technique has proven helpful over and over as I’m also breathing more from my diaphragm/belly than my ‘upper lungs’. Great for an asthmatic like me!

In addition to breathing consider this approach and see how it works for you: thank your body. Thank the individual parts for all that they do and all they endure. Connect with yourself spiritually and your body will thank you.

Peace, love, and trails.  

Happy trails!

~Cat~

My first 50k!

It’s been a week since my first (yes, I’ll be doing more) 50k ultramarathon. Today, I reflect throughout the day at about which mile I was on at various times throughout the day, how I was feeling, what was going through my mind, the time I crossed the finish line, and the recovery. The weather was perfect; 60s, cloudy, and a little rainy with the emergence of sunshine by afternoon, and unless I get hit in the head and have severe memory lapse, I’ll never forget my first 50k, the Playin’ Possum 50K at Delaware State Park. (Although I’m sure every event with a lot of K’s will have memories worth noting.) 

The Playin’ Possum 50K is an amazing event that is the brain child of a couple of amazing trail dudes, Mark Carroll and Chad Heald. The course is beautiful and relatively flat as it winds through the woods, across the dam (hate that dam), through a wildlife preserve, and just a little bit of road (I deemed one gravel road ‘the road to hell’). Despite the beauty of the surroundings the 50K is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Yes, even harder than giving birth. It was longer than labor and there was no epidural. I’m looking forward to running Possum again. I taped up well and even walked away without any blisters and minimal chaffing. I only wished that I had two bras on (being a DD is hard when you’re a runner), and a shirt that dried faster. At some points of the race I was chilled because my shirt was soaked from sweat and rain. Annoying.  

All taped up! 

Although I did not hit my time goal of 7 ½ hours I did manage to squeak through the finish line at 7:59:54. It’s hard for me to not be hard on myself as I look at those numbers but considering the circumstances (hold that thought..) I’ll take it. I am a goal-oriented person and when I miss a goal it is tough to chew. But I am also smart enough to know that you have to take the bad with the good sometimes and look at getting better for next time. Chuck it as a learning experience and improve from there. I was on target for my goal till about mile 23 when a foot injury from a month earlier reared its ugly head and decided to remind me “Hey, remember when you injured me last month? Here I am! Don’t forget about me.” It just added to the mental exhaustion I was trudging through and almost brought me to tears. The agonizing and shooting pain was enough to slow my pace significantly for the remainder of the race. Thus, taking me off the mark for my goal. It is what it is. Move on, right?

Here’s a little recap of what I experienced at various moments through the miles:

Slow start (that’s normal for me) and lower leg burning to work out before running smooth. The pack of runners were ahead of me and I didn’t care. I know enough to not give a shit about anyone else’s pace, and knew that the pack would thin out eventually. It’s fitting for me because I’ve always been a lone wolf versus a sheep in a herd. It is what it is. Carry on.

My lungs were finally ‘warm’ at mile 2.19. Yep, I looked down at my GPS at the exact moment I could feel comfort in breathing and ability to take a lungful of air.  #asthmasucks

My right hip and glutes were letting me know that I don’t spend enough time on flexibility training and with my foam roller by mile 8. Let the mental games begin. Experience has taught me that your body will get pissed off and you have to convince it to keep moving no matter what. You convince your body that what you’re doing to it is good. I kept my pace and began focusing more on rhythmic breathing (a technique I practiced throughout the 31 miles). But at the same time I was up on that stupid dam that just seems to go for miles and miles. A sense of relief when you get off the dam, just so you know. It’s the small victories we’re thankful for in running.

I became quite the cranky Cat on mile 11 when I experienced the infamous ‘hitting the wall’. Annoyed, I pulled out a raw bar and electrolyte gel and pushed through the wall. No time to stop.  Mile 12 was on the ‘road to hell’ and thus, the crankiness continued but I was driven to get off of the stupid road and didn’t stop. My mantras; ‘pace, stay on pace’ and ‘keep moving, just keep moving’.

Thanks to a wonderful stitch cramp in my left side I walked mile 13. I still continued to focus on breathing and popped an Advil Cold and Sinus tablet (helped my hip/glute and runny nose). I took the time to practice fast-paced walking to get me through. Now back to the dam…The return is not as daunting as the first pass so the run back seems to have a new perspective as you’ve almost reached the ½ way point and start to run numbers through your head on how far you’ve come, your time, gauge what the second ½ will be like, and foresee a finish time.

At mile 15, I practically sprinted. Feeling a new sense of awesomeness, I ran with it and got off that damn dam! Woohoo! Back to the woods! One mucky creek crossing later I felt great by mile 18 at the aid-station check-in, said hello to my Italian friend, Luca, and old Rogue CF friend Nick Longworth (who introduced me to trail running back in 2008), and kept on moving. This break was much needed as my mental toughness needed a break.

Feeling good at mile 18!

Life was good and I kept on moving to my favorite part of the entire course: the serene and wooded Mink Run, Briar Patch, Lakeview, and Big Foot trails. Ahhh, my weekend stomping grounds. At mile 19, I felt like crying tears of relief because I had reached a state of relaxation and didn’t want to go back to the mental tough game that I knew would return at some point. My brain was exhausted. Like visiting an old friend I pushed though the familiar trails knowing where the tree roots were, where the mud pits were, where the low hanging branches were. Good times.

I checked in at mile 22 and despite exhaustion, life is still good. Keep moving. Head up through the Bigfoot trail (one of favorites as it has a section of canopied trees that shelter you), I hit mile 23 and BOOM! My left foot injury becomes incredibly irritated and I feel like any healing I’ve done the past month has all been undone. If you heard F-bombs and agonizing noises on the Bigfoot trail, that was me. Not only was I forced to reckon with the pain but because of the pain I had to change my gait and compensate by putting additional weight on my other leg. My other leg (the same as the pissed off hip/glute) was holding as strong and fighting fatigue as much as it could. This shift gave me ‘trail toe’. A black toe nail on my right foot. 

Having an injury is where mud on the trail can be more dangerous than usual because of the instability in the mud, your feet and ankles are subject to even more strain, and the injured foot at this point is not dealing with instability very well delivering shooting pain every step of the way. It obviously poses a challenge that is 100 times harder than usual. Part of the [many] beautiful aspects of trail running is the constant varied movement needed to adapt to the terrain. It challenges you. Simply. The core is actively engaged the entire time. Your body is shifting and adapting the entire time. Your brain cannot lapse or zone out because of tree roots, wildlife, mud, downed trees, uneven terrain, etc. The element of being in a steady-state is almost non-existent. We’ve all been there and have scars to show where we ‘goofed’ and tripped over a tree root or two. In a race for time, you’re pushed to stay focused even more to avoid a goof that could take you out of competition altogether. Rookie mistake.  

Mud! 

I checked in at mile 26, limping to the aid-station trying to shake it off. I refilled my water, finished my raw bar, guzzled a gel pack, and went about hobbling along determined to finish. Evidently, my determination was so obvious that a couple of the aid-station workers approached me after the race to make sure I was doing ok. Trail culture is awesome. Quitting was not an option for me. Don’t get me wrong, I pick my battles. In my mind, if I can walk I can run. And running small intervals with a lot more walking is how I finished. Bottom line, I didn’t have any fleshy wounds or bones sticking through my skin, so keep moving. Stay in the game. I’m not going to lie but I felt like crying on mile 27 because the pain was bad and my mental toughness was sick of it. But I stuck through it. DNF was not an option. “Just keep moving, just keep moving”.   

By mile 28 a much needed new outlook came over me. I was almost done. I was beginning the celebration in my mind which helped the last 3 miles seem like the shortest of them all. Limping along like an injured animal I partly trekked and jogged continuing to follow the little pink flags through the discus golf course and creeped closer and closer to the finish line. I emerged from the woods and there was my cheering section. Exactly what I needed. Major props go to my Italian friend, Luca, who pushed me to the end running alongside of me next to the beach to the finish line, giving inspiring motivation talk, and making me aware of where I was on the clock. To be honest with you, I totally forgot about the clock. He knew that when he pointed out the time that I would be determined to ‘beat the clock’. He was right. The inner competitor in me didn’t want to be the clock’s bitch. I had to beat it and I did. I squeezed in under 8 hours, and I all I could think was ‘wow, that’s a long-ass time to be running’ and I’m finally here. I survived only slightly broken. Inside, I was disappointed of my time but knew at that moment I was going to sign up for next year so I could beat that time by a landslide. Eff that clock and 8 hours.

Emerging from the woods heading to the finish line on the beach! 

My post-run recovery was good. Once I was ready, I took my muddy shoes and socks off, sat down and nibbled on some food. I sat and reflected on the miles, shared how my pace overall has slowed down the past year since I hadn’t been doing strength work, told my buddy Nick Longworth that this whole ultrarunning thing was his fault. My way of thanking him.

My buddy Nick. 

My buddy Luca. 

Proof I finished! Ha! 

The pain made it difficult to walk to the parking lot. I ate almost an entire pizza for dinner, chilled the rest of the weekend at home, and felt like I had a hangover. A 50k hangover, I’ll take it. 

Happy trails,
~Cat~ 

And so begins the training...

What's a trail girl to do when she approaches such a creek? She crosses it! No holding back. 

Not an obstacle but rather, an interest of agility in nature. 

3/28 – I feel like today was my ‘official’ first day back on the trails for a couple of reasons: 1-it’s the first spring run, and 2- it’s the first trail run since committing to the Playin’ Possum 50k in May. Yeah, I hit the trails a few times this winter but this time I'm running with intention and goals. My pace was a decent jaunt-pace of about a 14 min mile (turtle). I don’t consider that a fast pace by any means but the pace is the same I was running last season. I try not to fixate on my pace too much because with my asthma the pace is sometimes just out of my control due to limited lung capacity, and all. However, I do want to see an improvement in my pace this year. It's weird how a few years ago I was knocking out a 10-11 minute pace, and last year my pace slowed to 14-15 minute pace. I killed some hills, and for the first time in a long-ass time I didn’t dread hills. I told myself to “just run up the hill –get over it” a couple of times today, and didn’t let the hills get the best of me. I actually reached my Vo2 max on one of the big hills today. It was an awesome feeling.  A nice runner’s high hit me at mile four, and that in of itself is pretty kick ass rockstar feelin’. The weather today was decent in the 40’s and sunny. One thing I especially appreciated today as I took a moment to ‘feel it’ was the warmth of the sun. Ahhh, it felt awesome. 

 A couple of realizations from today’s trail run; 

1- I need new shoes (which I already knew but today’s run reminded me w/the pain in my feet). Just a reminder point.

2- I need yoga (again, I already knew that but my hips were like “Whaat?!”). Again, a reminder point.

3- I sometimes questioned running a 50k but then realized that the scenery will be more challenging and less boring than today's trail, and backing out is 'not my style' as it represents defeat.

4-  I captured the vision for some more business ideas to start an apparel company (something I’ve tossed around in the past but never really considered seriously, but a clearer vision will make it a reality).  

5- I reaffirmed what I already know in that I am and will always be an entrepreneur! 

That’s the whole ‘trail running girl’s perspective’ that happens when I run trails. Ideas come to light, realizations of what’s really important, what else I want to do in my life, and just letting go of any negativity while appreciating life to live it to the fullest.  

Happy trails,

~Cat~