San Diego 100 - Race Report

Wow! I still can't believe I actually finished a 100-mile race. I want to include a lot of cold info/data, as well as some of my thoughts on training and reflection on the experience. I'll start with data, and then move chronologically through training and race day.

OVERVIEW

This report is long, so I broke it into three sections with bold headers (basic statistics, training, race day).

Haha look at that smile. I had no idea what I was in for ;)

Things I would change for next time:

• I started with too many calories (280/hour), and Vitargo does not shake/mix in soft flasks. Lessons learned.
• Chasing cut-offs sucked, so that's good motivation to get a little quicker (and sign up for colder races).
• Blister kit. I need to make one.

Things I was really happy with:

• Toughing it out. SD100 was a great lesson in not giving up.
• My crew. There is no way I would've made it without their help and support. 
• Vitargo! After I diluted it, my stomach was happy, even in 100+ degree heat. All day, I only ate 2 cups of soup, a few potatoes, and Vitargo (plus two Gu that got puked up).
• Gaiters are awesome. I plan on wearing these a lot - they minimized a lot of shoe/foot issues.
• Post-race mobility. I feel great!! My feet are a little swollen, but I am really happy with how I feel.

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BASIC STATISTICS

I like data. Here are some numbers, with corresponding pie charts and percentages.

My GPS data was all screwed up, but a few others' have shown roughly 101 miles with 17,600' of gain. I swooped some temperature data from other Suunto/Movescount user data (thanks Eric Miersma). It looks like it was around 99F for most of the day, and then dropped down to 40-50 during the night. The heat index was 108F.

Temperature Chart from Eric Miersma's Movescount
(linked in paragraph above)

OVERALL ATTRITION
259 starters; 122 drops; 137 finishers

GENDER
27 total female finishers; 110 total male finishers
First male finisher was Nate Jaqua in 19:15:12
First female finisher was Jenny Capel in 22:00:08

AGE GROUP
7 under 30; 41 from 30-39; 60 from 40-49; 24 from 50-59; and 4 over 60.

FINISHING TIME
25 under 24 hours; 14 between 24-26 hours; 26 between 26-28 hours; 32 between 28-30 hours; and 40 between 30-32 hours.

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TRAINING

My longest run leading up to SD100 was 24.6 miles (April 23). I did very little heat training, mostly because it's been a cool and wet spring. My average mileage per week was around 50 - for about five weeks (with four weeks around 40 mixed in), and I tapered for two weeks leading into the race. Despite the relatively low mileage (in this age of "mega-milage"), I survived! And not only survived, but was walking and climbing stairs within a few hours. So what gives?

I'll start from the beginning...
I signed up for SD100 on January 2. After my DNF at Rio Del Lago (mile 76) in November, I was determined to spend the next six months preparing for another attempt at 100 miles, even if it meant adjusting my expectations and preparing for a long, slow day on the trails.

I eased back into training - mostly doing rock climbing, strength training, and stationary cycle through December. I worked my injured Achilles with calf drops and then picked up running again in January. I was also finishing my last semester of law school, during which I was working full-time at the DOJ (with night class 1-2 times a month). On top of this, my art business has been doing well, so I've been working to fulfill orders. This spring, a typical day for me was waking up at 5am, running in the dark, showering, running to catch the bus to SF (70-80 minute ride), working a full day in SF and then bussing home (another 80+ minutes), making dinner, fulfilling art orders, and passing out around 10pm... It was grueling.

COACH BOB BUMPS UP TRAINING
After a few weeks of adjusting to this schedule, I realized I needed to up my mileage and start some serious 100 mile preparation. I sought out a coach with 100 mile experience who could prepare me mentally and physically for SD100 - despite my busy schedule. I emailed Bob Shebest.

Bob's training was fantastic. With his help, I focused on quality over quantity, although my mileage increased, too. I incorporated strength workouts and spinning, which I love. I'm a not a mileage hog - unlike Stephen - so I don't thrive on mega-miles, especially since my days were already packed with 11 hours of work/commute, studying for the MPRE, and night class. Plus, it takes me a lot longer to get the same mileage as someone like Stephen because I run at a much slower pace. So even though I was spending around 12 hours on the trails, I was only running about 50 miles per week.

ANEMIA STRIKES
Towards the end of April, my training was going great. I was hitting all of my workouts, I had taken (and passed) the MPRE. My graduation was in sight. But I felt really fatigued. I figured it was because of all of my crazy commitments. But after a long run, I was too weak to even walk home and had to call Stephen to pick me up - only a mile from home. The next day, I went to the Berkeley health center and requested a blood panel.

The results showed low hemoglobin (HGB), low hematocrit (HCT), low MCV and MCH (meaning my red blood cells were small in size), and a Ferritin level of 6.

HGB - 9.9 (normal range 12-15)
HCT - 30.9 (normal range 32-43)
MCV - 77 (normal range 80-100)
MCH - 24.8 (normal range 26-35)
Ferritin - 6 (normal range 15-150)

The doctor recommended I start taking iron supplements. Notably, the doctor deflected any suggestion that my anemia was diet related. He suggested I keep my diet the same - but to add salt (I was low on sodium). I also talked to my friend (and amazing role model) Meredith Terranova, who provided great advice about dealing with anemia.

I tried to stick out the last few weeks at or around 50 miles of training, and I felt a difference almost immediately. I stopped falling asleep during the day (I had been struggling to focus and stay awake - at work and at home). I felt superhuman on my runs, with oxygen delivery starting to return to normal. It was a huge relief and boost of confidence to know I would be getting stronger heading into SD100.

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RACE DAY

I ran in Nike Wildhorses, Stance socks, Dirty Girl Gaiters, and Oiselle Roga shorts and Verra sportsbra. I had ZERO gear issues, besides four (relatively small) blisters on my feet. Karis and Aaron had given me an Elevation Tat, which was so, so, so helpful during the race. I saw a lot of people with them on during the race, and mine lasted the entire time.

The start line.
Photo: Stephen Wassather

Friday Morning (start to mile 21)

The start was beautiful. The race started on the west side of the lake and we all started walking in a conga-line up towards the first climb. This year the course began with two climbs - one right before Paso Picacho AS (aid station), and one right after. It was already hot, and the aid station was handing out cold buffs (so appreciated!)

Coming down towards Paso Picacho.
Photo: Ulysses Chan

I had planned to drink Vitargo the entire race. That plan went sideways at the first aid station. I poured my carefully-measured Vitargo powder into my Salomon soft flask, only to have the entire mixture coagulate into a giant glob of jelly, clogging the flask mouthpiece and preventing me from getting ANY calories. So it was a long 5 miles until Chambers AS, where I flung the sticky pink mess out of my flasks and refilled with a bit of Tailwind and water.

Karis and Rachel at Sunrise AS.
Photo: ?

Now hot and hungry, I gobbled down my only two "emergency" Gu packs. It was an exposed 8.5 miles to Sunrise AS, where nice cold Vitargo awaited. I just had to make it 8.5 miles. Well, about a mile in, now full of sugar and really hot, my stomach revolted. I had tried to listen to my Harry Potter audiobook to distract myself from how shitty I already felt, but the descriptions of Dudley Dursley were adding to my nausea. I ripped my headphones out and emptied my stomach all over the trails. Other runners were looking back, while I puked Exorcist-style all over the grass and tried to keep moving.

I made it to Sunrise AS and was feeling a lot better after puking - but was hot, dehydrated, and hungry. My crew was incredible from the start, helping me wipe off my dirty feet (my original goal was to clean my feet and change socks at every station - HAHA). Anyway, it started well, and I was soon on my way, packed in ice, with fresh Vitargo, clean feet, and only 7.2 miles from next aid.

Friday Midday (mile 21 to 43.8)

Leaving Sunrise, heading to Pioneer Mail.
Photo: Stephen Wassather

The trail from Sunrise AS to Pioneer Mail AS looks like the edge of the world. The trail skirts the Anza-Borrego desert, with a huge drop down to the east. It is surreal. That sensation is magnified when you're running an ultramarathon in 100 degree heat! Thankfully, I had ordered a "Cool Off" bandana with a pocket for ice and a built-in chamois that stays cold and wet for HOURS - seriously, best $20 I've ever spent.

This section was really enjoyable, despite being hot. Mostly because I leapfrogged with a really nice runner named Greg, who had run SD100 before and was doing the Solo division. Realizing how many little kicker-hills were on the course, I was really jealous of his trekking poles, but I resisted knocking him over the edge of cliff to steal them, and we ended up commiserating in the heat and chatting about running and life. It was great!

Rachel, working her magic.
Photo: ?

Pioneer Mail AS was another picture of crew perfection. I had puked and rallied - and I was feeling great. I was well ahead of the cutoffs and having no issues (minus a small blister forming on my right foot - which Rachel covered with New Skin). My friends had Vitargo ready to go, refilled my water, and packed me in ice. I was heading into the second (and last) long stretch without crew.

From Pioneer Mail AS to Pine Creek AS is a long, rocky decent with no shade. At this point, it was about 100 degrees, but I was grateful to be going downhill with a bit of a breeze coming up from the west. I was really, really grateful for the rock plate in my shoes. I was able to run the entire downhill section, passing a lot of people on the way down, some who were just sitting on the sides of the trail.

Looking down towards Pine Creek AS.

Pine Creek AS was carnage. I must've been pretty far back in the field, and the station looked like it had been hit by a wave of locusts. Despite appearances, A VOLUNTEER ANGEL ran up to me and helped me get full bottles of Tailwind. This volunteer seriously saved me. Within about 5 minutes, I was covered in SPF 50, packed with cool, fresh calorie drinks, and had my ice bandana back on. My friend from SFRC, Zak, had been contemplating dropping at Pine Creek, but rallied to join me for the long climb up Noble Canyon. I was really grateful for the company since I'd been running alone for the last few hours.

Fuck Noble Canyon. That's all I'm gonna say about that.

Friday Evening (mile 43.8 to 55)

I got to Penny Pines AS at 6:30pm, and it was a worse scene than Pine Creek AS. It looked like a war zone. They were out of soup and a lot of other snacks, and people were strewn on the ground and in chairs everywhere - not moving, just panting and covered in dirt and sweat. Another angel-volunteer refilled my bottles with Tailwind. About a mile before the AS, Zak had stopped to rest. Knowing I would be close to cutoffs (and like a gigantic jerk) I left him. But just as I was heading out, he came in - as did my friend, Kara. It was great to know friends were on their way and surviving.

Sunset about 1 mile from Meadows AS

The sun went down as I was approaching Meadows AS, and I was really looking forward to seeing crew. We had planned on doing hot soup, a clothing change, and rallying for the night. Well, again, things were not as planned. I ran for a while without seeing trail markers and was totally stressed out when I finally made it in (thankfully there were two other runners who had run the course before and I was able to follow them into aid). Knowing I was getting closer and closer to cutoffs, I felt stressed, hungry, and I needed a real revamp sesh.

Then I got a reality check: I would not be changing, first because it was still too warm for pants, but also because I was now approaching cutoffs. Second, I would not have hot soup because I hadn't packed a lighter. Third, as Stephen tried to heat the soup (in vain), some little shit kid stood behind him, deliberating trying to kick dirt into the soup bowl. I asked the kid nicely to please stop kicking dirt into my food. But instead, the punk got a smirk on his little mug, looked me in the eye, and swung another hefty kick of dust right into my meal. So I did what any rational adult would do: I yelled, "HEY KID, STOP KICKING FUCKING DIRT INTO MY SOUP!" At that point his father (whose hand he had been holding the entire time) tuned into what his spawn was doing and told me to "calm down" since the cretan was "only five years old."

The crew at Meadows
Photo: Jessi Goldstein

Well, now my crew really wanted me out of the aid station, so Rachel (who was not originally slated to pace) strapped on a headlamp and valiantly volunteered to pace me from Meadows to Cibbets Flat AS. I wasn't feeling so great after eating my cold dirt-soup and not getting to change, so we had a few rough miles in the dark. I told Rachel I didn't walk to talk and just wanted to find my "zen place." I was pissed that I felt crappy because I was finally near Kara Teklinski (racing) and Jessi Goldstein (pacing). But they slowly pulled away from us. After about 40 minutes, I puked up something black and disgusting. It did the trick. I felt better and we started jamming - through Red Tailed Roost and towards Cibbets Flat.

Late Night with Maggie Tides (mile 55 to 80.3)

Rachel was an amazing pacer. The descent to Cibbets AS was slightly wider than single track (1.5 track?), rocky and rutted, and lined with sharp, pokey plants. Rachel pushed me the whole way, encouraging me and giving me concrete time goals as motivation. We saw a ton of beetles, a couple scorpions, a mole, and even a tarantula! I was so relieved to see the glowing lights from the Cibbets Flat aid station - and I'm sure Rachel was even more so. About a mile away, my headlamp died [editor's note: Rachel reminded me how this actually went down - I was already kind of loopy!]. We had a backup, so I threw that on, but the battery was somehow dead - even though I had checked them all the night before. Rachel gave me her headlamp, and she ran the rest of the way using her iPhone flashlight. It was a shitshow, but we got it done - and 45 minutes ahead of cutoff.

Hiking up to Dale's Kitchen.
Photo: Stephen Wassather

Knowing I had to make it back up the long climb to Dale's Kitchen AS, the plan was to hustle through aid and rely on the cushion Rachel had helped secure. Karis and Stephen had found a lighter and prepared warm soup, and I was able to sit and chill for about five minutes. At about 1:40am, Stephen and I started up the climb. I actually really enjoyed the climb. My stomach had settled down. The chaos of the day was past, and it wasn't hot. It was almost peaceful out, especially since I was enforcing a strict no-talking policy (lol sorry guys).

About 2 hours into the climb, my Achilles started to seize - just like they had at Rio. I was pissed and terrified. We kept climbing. I popped a couple Advil, and decided that I wasn't going to stop preemptively, like I had at Rio. If my Achilles were going to rupture, then so be it. But I wasn't going to stop unless I literally could walk no more.

Dale's Kitchen was a ghost town when we arrived. Chihping Fu was there, but Stephen and I bustled through before he had left (we'd end up seeing him a lot and he finished shortly after I did). After Dale's Kitchen, shit started to get weird. It was about 4:00am, and the sky was barely starting to get lighter. I could've sworn I saw cats in the bushes, and my mind started to separate from reality: there were things in the world, things my crazy mind was thinking, and a small voice of reality in the very back of my mind.

Popping out on the edge of the Anza-Borrego desert.
Photo: Stephen Wassather

We rolled into Todd's Cabin at 5:10am. By this time both of my Achilles were agonizing, but I had told myself, "The pain isn't real. If you can run, you are ok." I sat down at the aid station, expecting a short reprieve and food. Stephen looked at me with shock and told me we had to GTFO if I wanted to make cutoff for next aid. So I jumped out of my seat and ate a banana as we hiked out of aid.

The section from Todd's to Penny Pines was brutal, but beautiful. We had popped out onto the edge of the Anza-Borrego Desert again, and the sunrise was a deep, blood red. I kept seeing weird things in the plants - like broken down trucks, cats, and faces. With 24 minutes to spare, Stephen got me to Penny Pines, where Melanie picked me up. I refilled with Tailwind (no crew allowed), and we took off. My stomach had settled, and I was surprised at how well my body was cooperating (with the exception of my blisters and Achilles).

Saturday Morning (mile 80.3 to 91.5)

Saturday morning felt hotter than Friday morning, but this time I was prepared for the relentless exposure along the eastern-facing trail. Mel meant business: between each aid station, she gave me a concrete time goal, and an average pace I had to maintain to make cutoff. We kicked butt. I was so mentally exhausted, I didn't talk -  but we were on the same page and ticked off mile after mile.

Mel and I leaving Sunrise for the last 9 mile stretch.
Photo: Stephen Wassather

Unlike the day before, I wasn't figuring out nutrition issues: my stomach was soaking in three soft flasks of calories between every aid station (16 oz x 3 = 48 oz total). When we had crew, I took in Vitargo, but if not, I drank Tailwind. I took a total of 8-10 Advil to manage the Achilles pain, but eventually the pain meds didn't make a difference, so we stopped. I stayed iced up, and focused on listening to the small rational voice in the back of my head. I felt completely disconnected from my body and only somewhat connected to the outside world.

Leaving Pioneer Mail, Mel and I saw two big rattlesnakes, which was really cool (but also terrifying).  For the last 16 miles, we leapfrogged with the same group of runners - who were all really nice and equally exhausted. It was hard to take in the beauty of the desert when all I wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position in air conditioning. But it was stunning, and I thought about how lucky I was to be testing my limits. I thought about my mom. About my friend Mike Holmes, who recently lost his daughter to cancer. I thought about the world and being and life. And we kept running.

Saturday Midday (91.5 to finish)

This is what the "zen zone" looks like. Ouch.
Photo: Mel Michalak

Sunrise AS felt like a small victory. My pacers and crew were confident I would make it. After hours and hours on the trail, I felt like nothing was guaranteed. Mel and I headed out in the heat of the morning - ready to finish the last nine miles. Those last nine miles were almost completely lined with knee- to chest-high grass and almost completely exposed. Every shadow looked like a snake - and we did actually see a real rattler about 5 miles from the finish. I figured if I got bit at that point, I would just walk it in. Nothing was stopping us.

The cold water station 4.5 miles from finish was a huge morale boost, and Mel and I jogged most of the remaining miles, weaving down through green grassy fields until we ran along the edge of Lake Cuyamaca. As we turned the corner to see and hear the finish line, a wave of emotion washed over me. We were here. I could hear my crew screaming, but I couldn't look. I had come this far, I couldn't fall apart now. We ran the last half a mile hard, trying to make it under 31 hours. My official time was 30:59:06.

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THE POSTSCRIPT

Tres amigos con cervezas
Photo: ?

At the finish, I felt elated but empty. Finishing was surreal. It wasn't until I was back in Marin, listening to James Taylor on the radio that everything hit me and the tears came. This finish meant a lot to me. It represented the culmination of my self, my being. It has been difficult to maintain myself and my heart through the challenges of the past three years. But I'm here. And I couldn't have done it - and I wouldn't be who I am - without my incredible friends.

Coach Bob - thank you for believing in me. You took me (and my crazy goal) seriously, and you prepared me thoroughly. Your workouts had a physical and mental focus, and I learned so much from you. I have LOVED training the past couple months, and I am a little sad that this goal is over! I want to sign up for another race, just so you can keep coaching me to improve - and I can keep getting your encouraging messages and feedback. I can't thank you enough, Master Shifu!

Thank you to Rachel, for cleaning my feet and resurrecting my race. You were so prepared and so organized and so willing to do whatever it took to get me to the finish. All while you've got bigger and more important plans this summer... Seriously, I felt so lucky to have you on my team. I am in awe, and I'm beyond grateful.

Karis - thank you! Thank you for being on top of with the aid station supplies, for taking care of EVERYONE else and snapping photos and for your crazy enthusiasm and support. You have been nothing but positive about this insane endeavor since the beginning :)

Thank you, Melanie, for talking to me about running and life. Next time we can talk about geology on the run, too :) You have been a part of this since before Rio. Thank you for believing in me. Not sure if I should thank you for your cooling methods during the race...

Finally, thank you, Stephen. It's almost exactly three years ago that you did DRTE100, and I thought- what kind of an idiot runs 100 miles? I guess we've answered that question. I'm so grateful for your support and advice, and for your patience while pacing me. I can't wait to be out there for you in a few weeks. I love you!

A hug is all you really want after 100 miles.
Photo: Rachel Wadsworth

Rio Race Report

By: Maggie

A reflection on my first attempt at 100 miles

STRAVA DATA
My Suunto only caught the first 53 miles.

COURSE MAP
In my excitement leading up to race day, I decided to make a map of the new course. The race director adopted it as the official course map - woo hoo!

BEFORE THE RACE

I hadn't been so nervous before a race since my first half marathon - almost 10 years ago! I was happy with my training. I'd loved the higher mileage weeks - I never thought I'd break 40, let alone 80 miles in a week. I'd made a pacing plan. I'd run two 50k races, about 6 and 3 weeks out from Rio. I'd cooked potatoes and peas and packed them into baggies to eat on the run. The night before, I obsessively checked everything. I think next time I'd have a whole beer instead of just a few sips of wine - haha! But I hit the hay early the night before the race, and I couldn't wait to run.

A quick photo with Jack at the start.

THE FIRST 20

Terrain: Basically flat, mostly paved. The bluffs were a short, steep hike up, followed by nice dirt singletrack. After the gradual downhill on the way out, I was happy for the gradual uphill on the way back to Beal's. 

The first 20 miles flew by. I toed the line alone and was relieved when I met up with Mel (my cyber-training buddy) just a couple miles in. The stars were stunning - Orion was above us as the sun rose on our left. I had never run on the American River trail before, but it was fantastic. The weather was perfect - nice and cool. My hips were a little tight and I started to get a hotspot on my right toes, but I'd run through worse and figured I'd ignore it for now (haha).

Mel and I had planned to take it easy. Even at our "slow" pace, Beal's Point arrived before I knew it. I was right on pace - just a couple minutes ahead of my goal time. I was stoked to see Jenni and Jesse J. - all decked out in costume! I was so jazzed. I grabbed some ziplocks of potatoes, applied sunscreen (well, Stephen sprayed it on me), shed a couple layers of clothes, and headed out towards the "Meatgrinder."

Leaving Rattlesnake feeling like a boss

BEAL'S TO RATTLESNAKE (38.5 miles)

Terrain: Rolling, mostly runnable, with short kickers. A few sections were annoying - requiring big slow steps up or down. 

Climbing out of Beal's, I bumped into Leigh-Ann and her friend, Janeth - who ended up being a wealth of 100-miler info! Mel and I hung together through the Meatgrinder, which was really beautiful, despite the depressingly empty lakebed. My motto was EAT, EAT, EAT. And I did! I felt awesome. My hips had warmed up - my "hot" toes had reached a consistent pressure. I could tell I had blisters but as long as they stayed at that pressure, I could deal with it. It was my dang socks - I'd worn old favorites with worn-out cushioning. I should've put on the brand new ones I had sitting in my bag!

Nonetheless, the weather was perfect, and the company on the trail was unbeatable. I felt AMAZING. The miles were melting away, my stomach felt great. I was super hydrated and happy that I'd stuck with my Salomon pack - I was chugging almost a full pack every 20 miles. Coming into Rattlesnake I was greeted by Dawn H. - an ER doc and ultra bad-ass - and Jenni was already cheering enthusiastically here, too! I haven't run a race with so many friendly, cheering faces. It was kind of overwhelming - so I got down to business filling my Salmon pack, grabbing some potatoes and Gu, and heading back out.

RATTLESNAKE TO COOL (52 miles)

Terrain: Loved this - really runnable rollers along the hillside, with the American River down to the right (south). A couple of long climbs - not brutally steep (no Cardiac trail) - on the way up to the Auburn Overlook. Nice downhill to No Hands Bridge, followed by a 3-mile climb up to Cool, which I mostly pout-walked.

I think Erica was pointing to the Porta-Potty

After Rattlesnack, I was ready to do work. I figured it would be the hottest, hardest section of trail. I wanted to put my head down and do work. I'd split from Mel a little earlier, so now running alone, I decided to listen to some Doo-Wop (my favorite running music). The trails were all new to me - and I loved them! The rolling terrain kept me engaged and paying attention. The sun was mottled through the trees, and the air was cool. Again, I was surprised at how great I felt, but I stayed on pace and KEPT EATING. I was eating a bag of potatoes every hour and a Gu every 45 minutes.

I saw Mel again at the Overlook. Heading into that aid station was a big hike- and I shared it with super badass, Erica T. She'd run Rio a couple years ago and crushed it. She was on track to do it again! After trudging up the hill and making it to aid, I started to make little mistakes. I was so focused on hitting the porta-potty, I didn't eat enough. I had eaten all of my homemade potatoes, but I didn't grab enough food to get me to Cool feeling good. I was also wearing a sweaty t-shirt and sports bra, and the air was getting noticeably cooler. I was getting cold. I noticed Erica had her headlamp - and most people had an extra shirt. I had neither. My noob was showing.

Cruising across No Hands on the way to Cool

Feeling kinda annoyed at myself, I headed down from the Overlook on familiar trails and still feeling great. My legs felt fresh. My tummy wanted real food, but I was downing Gus easily. Then a switch flicked - I got bummed, I got cold, and I got hungry. I walked intermittently down to No Hands, feeling angry that I hadn't held onto my longsleeve. Feeling annoyed that I didn't grab an extra bag of potatoes. It was awesome seeing my crew at No Hands. But I was so grumpy that I marched through the aid station without eating. Taking a few minutes to calm down and eat something would've helped a lot - oops!

COOL LOOPS (68 miles)

Terrain: Rolling singletrack. A climb up the road on the first (counterclockwise) loop. Run down the road into Cool to finish second loop.

So I made it to Cool (53ish miles), mostly "pout-walking." It was awesome watching the speedy folks (like Erika L. and Luke G. whiz past me - and it cheered me up!) Cool was fantastic. I was so happy to be there, I was happy to see my full crew (Stephen, Jack, and Ken), and I was REALLY happy to change my shirt and put on a couple more layers. The sun had set - beautifully - over the Cool meadows as I was running in, so it was getting really chilly. I was so freaking pumped to be in Cool and to have Stephen with me, I just wanted to get running and change my mood. After a slight detour (we started the first loop in the wrong direction) - Stephen and I climbed the short hill on road and were running on the rollers in the dark.

It. was. AWESOME. Everyone was chatting and jumping on and off the trail for one another - It was like running camp for adults. I was a little cold, but really happy. The stars were brilliant. Stephen was chatting away - and I was really, really happy. It was perfect. 

My mood had improved, but I noticed my hips were getting tight, and I was feeling a little tired. I planned on eating a lot of hot soup after the first loop - but there were no vegetarian options. I had a lot of learning moments - so next time I will have my crew bring my own soup and camp stove - or I will check dietary issues with the race director ahead of time.

The second Cool loop felt longer - but I was determined to knock it out, and we were having fun. I ate too many Chomps and puked about halfway through. After puking I felt FANTASTIC, and Stephen and I ended up crushing it and finishing the second go-around faster than our first. 

UN-COOL (76 miles)

Terrain: Back downhill 3 miles to No Hands. Four mile climb from No Hands up to the Overlook.

Jamming out of Cool, hopped up on No-Doze

After the Cool loops, I was really freezing. Laura and Kynan were angels at the aid station. And thankfully Jack - my running guru/mentor/inspiration - knew what was he was doing and brought extra long sleeve shirts. Wrapped in a blanket, I sipped on hot water, took some Advil for my legs, which were feeling pretty stiff, and mentally gave myself 10 minutes to sit (the first time I'd sat). It revamped my mood, and I was pumped to get moving again. Although, if I had it to do over, I would've switched to pants and maybe switched my socks, which were pretty grimy. I think I should have kept my legs warmer. 

I took no-doze before leaving Cool, and my ass was on fire heading down to No Hands. I was pumped. Stephen and I met the nicest guy from Cupertino who ran with us to the aid station. We really jammed downhill, and my achilles had started to ache and twinge with pain. We made it to the bridge, ate some snacks, and started heading up. Leaving No Hands, I felt like I might be moving slow the rest of the night - but at least I'd be moving.

Yeah, so that dream got crushed pretty quick. After about a mile of hiking, the backs of my heels/ankles were really feeling stiff and sore. Maybe the Advil was wearing off - I don't know. I stuffed a handwarmer down my sock to try and warm it up. Spoiler alert: it didn't work. Then it seemed like everything fell apart - my blisters were killing me. I had been compensating for my Achilles pain and formed a blister on the pad of my left foot. At Overlook, I sat down and took my shoes off. My achilles were swollen. I had blisters where I thought I did.

I called it quits.

I'm still stuck in my head - could I have kept going? Did it really hurt that bad? Maybe I'm conservative, but I don't want to risk long-term injury. I'd like to finish my races feeling like I ran well - and smart. And maybe that's unrealistic - but I'd like to give it another shot before pushing through serious pain. 

LESSONS LEARNED

Pre-race

• Run more (rather than walk/hike) in training
• More big weeks consistently (70+ x 3 weeks in a row)
• Pack more clothing options - warm tights, socks, shirts
• Pack my own soup - and ideally camp stove. Or check food with RD.
• Pack handwarmers

During race

• Take time to re-group if needed. Don't rush. 
• Change socks right away if a hot-spot happens
• Eat at aid stations
• Carry a long-sleeve
• Keep the potatoes! It worked great

NOW WHAT

So I walked a mile about 2 weeks after the race, which was still really painful in running shoes. I'd wanted to go longer but started limping after half a mile, so I turned around to limp home. I'm walking normally in shoes that don't put as much pressure on my achilles. I'm doing eccentric heel drops, and Stephen set up a bike trainer - I started that this week, and am feeling tons better.

I'll take it one day at a time. On the bright side, I have more time for art and margaritas!

Life's too mysterious - Don't take it serious!

THANK YOU!
Huge thank you to Stephen for being patient while I figured out how to train - for making dinners while I was at class late and running big weeks - and for being both crew and pacer.

Thanks to Jack for being willing to pace me on my first 100 and being out on the course so much. I'm sorry I didn't make it to Rattlesnake! I wish we could've shared some miles out there.

Thanks to Ken for driving up and crewing, even though we didn't get to hang out! It was awesome seeing you.

And, of course, a big thanks to all of the volunteers (seriously, Kynan and Laura - I wanted to hug-tackle you at Cool) - it was a fantastic event, and I enjoyed (almost) every minute of it!

2015 Western States 100

By: Stephen

My Quick Stats
Time:    18:50:26
Place:   18th Overall / 5th in 20-29 age group
Splits:
     Duncan Canyon - 3:51:00
     Robinson - 5:08:00
     Michigan Bluff - 9:55:00
     Foresthill - 11:13:00
     Green Gate - 14:46:00
Strava data HERE

Overall Stats for 2015
371 Starters
254 Finishers (68.5%)
96 Sub-24 Finishers



It's been a few months since the race, and while I hadn't intended for this piece to take so long, it's been helpful to reflect on that day and really let everything sink in. Too often after a run like this, I'm eager to check Ultrasignup for the next race without ever taking the time to decompress from what is, usually, a very tiring and hard-earned effort. I'm not exactly sure where this recap will go, or really what to include for that matter, but hopefully there'll be something useful, and maybe even interesting.

1) Eat! Early and often.
2) Run my own race.
3) Be adaptable.
4) Have fun!

In the simplest sense, these were my only goals going into Western States. I knew that if I could stick to them then I would have a great race. Easy, right?

The High Country

I was probably more worried about this first 30 miles than I was of the the whole race in its entirety. I had spent a few scattered days on various parts of the course, but the high country would be completely new to me. The climb up the escarpment would be challenging, but so long as I ran my race, I knew I'd be ok. Mags and Ken, my incomparable crew for the day, dropped me off at Squaw around 4:15am, and promptly left to make it to the first crew access point at Duncan Canyon (mile 24). I milled about the start, nervously looking for familiar faces. Eventually, a little group formed, including Brett, Denooch, Alex, Dbo, Magda, and myself, and we lined up more-or-less together.

 The shotgun blasted, and we were off. Before long, a group of about 15-20 guys separated from the pack and worked their way methodically up the winding fire road; this would be my first test of patience. I was working, but not breathing particularly hard. I felt comfortable and hiked when necessary, which ended up being probably 30-40% of the climb. After cresting the top and receiving some high-fives from Eric (HOKA rep), Chris (my soon-to-be pacer/crew), and Mel, I began the breathtaking descent. I caught up to Brett, who unfortunately re-rolled his ankle, and we ran together through Red Star, leap frogging pretty much until Duncan Canyon. "This is your day. You deserve to be here," he told me; words that would motivate me later in the day when my energy was low and things looked bleak. The first 50k was relatively uneventful, which meant I was doing everything right. I ran conservatively, making sure to enjoy the incredible vistas along the ridge. A few miles before Duncan, I found myself in a small group made up of Denooch, Mike Wardian, Skip Crockett, Ryan Kaiser, and Michele Yates.

Maggie and Ken had everything laid out perfectly for me at Duncan, allowing me to be in and out in a flash; although maybe too quickly since I accidentally dropped my sunglasses and took off without them! I had to remind myself to mentally slow down, and focus on the present. Today would be a process, and the only thing that mattered was the here and now. Mike, Denooch, and I took off down the descent to the creek crossing, before the long climb to Robinson Flat.

Brett had told me multiple times to hike/run this section and not to worry if people passed me. Chris and Mike ran strong and pulled away early on, but I continued my hike/run routine and stayed relaxed. I eventually was passed by Magda, Stephanie Howe, and a few other runners, but I trusted Brett's advice and comfortably made my way to the top. For those who haven't been there, Robinson is a complete party, and definitely my favorite aid station on the course. The trail is so crammed with people that I could barely find the turn back to the course, but the energy and volunteers are top-notch. I tried not to linger too long, and before long, found myself running with Stephanie.

We clicked off miles together on the descent our of Robinson, catching Joe Grant in the process. By the time we got to the flatter/rolling sections before Miller's Defeat, she had tip-toed out of sight, and my energy levels were waning. The gradual uphills felt more difficult than necessary at 35 miles in, so I backed off and slammed a couple of gels. "Eat! Early and often." This was my mantra. I knew this section well from my 50 mile training run with DBo in early June, which was a big confidence boost. Here's the Strava data for those interested.

The Canyons

The remaining miles between Robinson and Devil's Thumb were, thankfully, uneventful. My strategy of pacing from early seemed to be working. I topped off my water bottles from a natural spring at the bottom of the Thumb like DBo had shown me, and began the long hike to the top. In training, I had run sections of this, but come race day I couldn't jog more than a few feet. Every step caused my calves and groin to cramp; a few salt pills later, and I continued the slog. Eventually, I made it to the aid station, but not before being passed by Brendan Davies. Luckily, I had caught the talented young gun, Ford Smith, less than a quarter mile from the Thumb, so I didn't beat myself up too badly.

This next section, the canyons, was not only my favorite, but also the most familiar part of the course for me. I had done a number of out-and-backs from Foresthill to Deadwood and felt confident that I could hold steady through here and possibly make up some ground. I let gravity take me down the long, fast descent to El Dorado Creek, catching Justin Houck along the way. This raised my spirits, and I opened my stride thinking another runner might be just ahead. As it turns out, I don't think I saw anyone else until DBo at the top of the Michigan Bluff climb. I had been moving well, but it was a shock to see him. For a second, I actually considered the possibility that he had already finished the race and had come back to the climb to cheer everyone else on. I think the heat was getting to me. He offered some words of encouragement -- "Stay up on your toes. I'm proud of you bud." -- and I offered some water, as we both continued the scorching climb to the next aid.

I lingered at Michigan Bluff longer than originally planned, but I needed the calories badly. I slammed 3 or 4 cups of Coke, a few gels, and some salt pills of which, thankfully, Mario and Larissa had extra. I jogged out of the aid station feeling a little defeated, but motivated to see my friends and family at Foresthill. The rollers through Volcano Canyon were rough, and the familiar cramps of Devil's Thumb were back and worse than before. I had probably miscalculated my calorie consumption through the early canyons and hadn't taken enough before leaving Michigan Bluff. Oops, my bad. Magda and I had been pushing the downhills together through Volcano, but after we crossed the creek at the bottom, she put in a huge surge and pulled away on the climb to Bath Road.

Looking back on this, it almost seems too obvious. I was cramping, my mood was low, and my energy non-existent. I needed calories and salt, but was too complacent, or maybe forgetful, to do anything about it. Luckily, my good friend and pacer, Chris Wehan, would change all of that.

Foresthill to the River

I jogged into the elementary school parking lot feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of spectators, but grateful that I'd finally made it to the 100k mark! My goal time of 10.25 hours was completely behind me. I think I reached the aid station about an hour slower than that, but who's counting? Maggie and Ken had expertly set up my little swath of a sanctuary, and I was immediately surrounded by 20 of my closest friends and family. I took a seat and chowed on watermelon, Svelte (a vegan drink similar to Boost), limeade, and gels before finally struggling back to my feet. I figured I'd sat for only 4 or 5 minutes but was informed it had been closer to 10; not exactly the expeditious transition I had planned on. I left the safety of my crew at what happened to be an unsustainable pace, and as soon as Chris and I made a left onto Cal Street, I immediately stopped and commenced the hands-on-knees heaving position. I figured I'd lose most of my recent meal, but my stomach settled, and we set off again, this time at a comfortable jog.

Unfortunately, this would the story for most of Cal Street. Jog a few miles, have GI issues, start walking, feel sorry for myself, curse into the wind, repeat. I had been looking forward to this section. The gentle rollers (excluding 6-minute hill) were supposed to be a warm welcome after the steep ups and downs of the previous 62 miles. This was the section where I'd relax, reel myself in, and not push the descents too hard like DBo had shown me. Instead, I was forced to walk while nervously glancing over my shoulder, waiting for the next runner to catch me. Well, it wasn't long before Skip Crockett blew by, along with another one or two runners. Chris reminded me that we still had a lot of running to do, and that worrying would get us no where. He was right. Patience. It had gotten me this far, and it would get me to the finish.

I learned a lot during those 15 miles to the river, but mainly that my stomach doesn't tolerate sugar well that far into a race. We narrowed my GI pain to all of the Coke I had been mercilessly drinking, so from here to the finish I would only have one cup MAX at each aid station. This, in comparision, to the two or three cups that previously found their way into my hands. He also bumped up my salt intake from one S! cap every 30 minutes to two, which worked wonders. I have no doubt that Chris saved my race on Cal Street. With only a few miles until the river crossing, I was finally feeling good! Patience and problem solving, check.

The River to the Finish

It's true what they say about the river crossing; it really does rejuvenate you. Using the Dylan-approved technique of pulling myself across while letting my legs dangle down-stream, I literally floated across to the cheers of Anthony and Fernando. (Seriously, DBo, thank you so much for all of your wisdom in prepping for States.) I had hoped that, at best, I'd be able to run a few minutes of the Green Gate climb, but I'd managed to shuffle up more than half of it.

Maggie, Ken, and Drew greeted us at the aid station, and, man was it good to see everyone. I felt like I had only run a 50k! Not knowing how I was feeling this good, and not wanting to jinx it, I hustled out of the aid and bombed the next descent. I managed to catch the two runners who had passed me on Cal Street and knew Magda couldn't be far ahead. Honestly, these final miles were kind of a blur, but I can honestly say I've never felt that good towards the end of race. I kept my salt and gel intake high, doing my best to stay in the moment like Brett and Jorge had taught me. Focus on the process, not the result.

Somewhere around mile 90, Anthony began having calf pain and fell back a bit. I waited until I could see his headlamp behind me, then kept running. Eventually, the pain was bad enough that he told me to keep going without him, that he'd see me at the finish. I felt bad leaving him; I had wanted us to reach the track together, but I knew that it was out of our control. He got me through the crux of the last 20, and now that I was in single digits, it was up to me to get this done.

I stopped briefly at the remaining aid stations, finally reaching the the last push up to Robie. From there it would be a mile of runnable downhill to the track, and more importantly, the finish. I choked back tears as I ran down the dimly lit streets of Auburn, silent except for the occasional cheer of late night onlookers. Rounding one last turn, the track appeared, stadium lights glaring, and it was beautiful. It was exactly as I had envisioned so many times on my training runs. Runners and spectators were scattered across the infield, hands outstretched, welcoming me and all the other runners to the finish. As I reached the last straightaway, I found my family cheering in the bleachers, and at the finish line, wide-eyed and smiling, was Mags.





When all's said and done, I'm extremely pleased with the day. I went in with lofty time goals, and I'm perfectly fine with not hitting them. This is the first of three 100 milers that I feel like I actually raced, thanks to a solid pacing plan and my undeniably indispensable crew. A huge congrats to all of the runners who toed the line three months ago, and thank you to all of the selfless volunteers who made this happen. And a BIG thanks to Maggie, my crew, friends, and family for their unending support as I chase my dreams. Western States was everything I had dreamed, and it's thanks to all of these great people. :)

Silver State 50k recap and under 3 weeks 'til States!

By Stephen

I tried to cuss my way out of the situation, cursing the snow and mountains surrounding me, but all I could do was laugh. Maggie and her mom had not lied when they described the soul-crushing Reno mud. The clay latched on to your shoes without warning, indifferent to the 3 mile climb to the Peavine summit that lay ahead. I had moved into second place around mile 14 and was running scared, still confident that I could catch first place. But for now, I was cursing the mud.

I ran Silver State for the first time last year, where I mistakenly took a very obvious wrong turn, costing me the chance for a top-10 finish in the 50 mile. Nevertheless, I was grateful for the experience and planned to return the following year, and as serendipity would have it, I got into Western States this year and the timing of SS50 fit perfectly into my training. 

MUFFINS!

Maggie and I drove up Friday before the race to pick up my bib and prepare some tasty lentils and vegan banana muffins for the post-race BBQ. After a quick soak in her mom's hot tub (which, along with baking the muffins, I now deem tradition), we headed to bed. The civil start time of 7am made for a great night's rest and a relaxing morning of coffee and Picky Bars. For being such a low-key race, there was a buzz of excitement at the starting line while we waited for John to count us down...3-2-1-Go! 

I settled into a relaxed pace with 4 or 5 other guys, as we picked our way up the single track. After only a few miles in, a runner from Montana put in a small effort and now lead the race. I, along with local Reno runner, Ben, jumped on board, and together we climbed. They pulled away on one of the more sustained climbs, but they only had around a 30-45 second gap, so I hung back and tried to play it cool. In reality, I was questioning my every step. Should I increase my effort and catch them? They're making this look effortless. Am I burning my matches too soon? With still 6 or 7 miles of climbing to the Peavine summit, and plenty of racing left in the day, I committed to trusting my instincts, knowing that I could make up time on the long descents. It was around mile 8 that Ben put in a solid push and took the lead up Peavine, fading quickly out of sight. I figured a ballsy move like that would either get him the win or be unsustainable and cost him time in the later miles. I forgot about him for the time being, and instead focused my energy on staying smooth and efficient. I fed off the energy of seeing my friends Loren and Erica, and before long I heard the cheering from the Peavine aid station, mile 12. After a quick GU Brew refill, I blasted down the rocky descent towards the 50k/50m split. (Fun fact! I averaged 5:50/mile for the 2.4 mile section between the summit and the split.)

Photo cred: Erica Teicheira

Not long after starting the descent, I came upon my friend and accomplished runner, Mike Holmes, who said that the second place 50k runner had just passed him. This is good, I thought; I'm in a great position. I caught him a few minutes later and pushed towards the Sandy Hill a/s, mile 17. It was on this section last year that I had not only gotten lost, but also that Erik Skaden had given me this useful advice: you're either the predator or the prey; you decide. Choosing the latter, I put my head down and hoped that Ben was just around the corner. 

The fire road wound along the side of the mountain, where I caught a glimpse of him about 5 minutes ahead. After a quick refill at the aptly named Sandy Hill a/s, I began hiking up the steep climb until it popped out onto a more runnable fire road. Then the mud started. And to make matters worse, it came on such a runnable section! I skated across the ground with 3-inch thick mud pies caked on my feet, and finally resorted to walking, while simultaneously flailing and kicking my feet to release the mud. It worked for a few feet until the mud reattached. I knew that I was losing time, but as frustrating as it was, I reminded myself that every runner was dealing with this same annoyance, and that all I could do was adapt and keep moving. After the muddy meadow, the climb kicked up for about 1.25 miles on the same rocky, rutted fire road that we had descended not long before. (Thanks to whoever gave me the shoesnbrews shout-out on this section! It was the perfect motivation to bring my spirits around.) I did a mix of power-hiking and running and hit the summit quicker than I had planned.

Photo cred: Erica Teicheira

I knew the mud must have slowed Ben down at least a little, so I resolved to pushing the 11 mile descent to the finish as hard as possible. Again, I saw him as the trail weaved along the ridge, and by my guesstimation, he had around 3 minutes on me. My quads were still in great shape by this point, and I knew I'd have to run outside of my comfort zone if I wanted to catch him. It wasn't long before I rolled into the Ridge View a/s, and after some motivation from Chaz (Canyons RD and super nice guy), I sprinted back onto the trail and resumed the chase. By mile 28, I had first place within 45 seconds of me, and not wanting to waste time, I skipped the final a/s, pushing up a small, but steep climb to the radio towers. I opened up my stride on the following descent, and realizing that this was my opportunity, I charged past Ben on the final small ascent, around mile 29. We exchanged a high-five and few words, but I knew I still had to hang on for 2 more fast, runnable miles. I ran scared and as hard as possible, not knowing if he still had the legs to catch me. After what seemed an eternity, I made a right turn under the freeway and onto the park path from which we had come earlier that morning. I rounded the last bend and was greeted by my parents, Maggie, lots of smiling spectators and volunteers, and a hug from John Trent, the RD.

I absolutely love this race. John, Jill, and the volunteers put so much into making this a special experience for everyone, and it truly shows. Thank you to everyone who sacrificed their time to make it happen, and a huge shout-out to all of the runners, especially in the highly competitive (and not to mention REALLY HARD) 50 mile field!

Finishing time of 4:18, 6th fastest time on the course. Here's the Strava data for those interested: Silver State 50k

Maggie is a bomb photographer :)

So, what did I learn? Lots of stuff!

1) Eat! Eat early and eat often. By my count, I had 11 gels, about 40 ounces GU Brew (+ addl. water), and a can of Coke. This was the steadiest energy that I've had during a race, and I owe it to the calories!

2) Run your own race. Do it! I hear this all the time, but I rarely ever listen. You should know whether or not you're pushing too hard too early. Listen to your body, and you'll be rewarded later in the race. This was my 29th ultra, and besides Miwok 100k last year, the only time that I've truly run my own race. And, what do you know, they're probably my two best performances. :)

3) Be adaptable. That mud and snow really sucked, but some things are out of your control. Focus on moving forward and taking care of yourself and the things that you can change, like your attitude, your mental space, your fueling, etc...

4) Have fun! At times I put too much pressure on myself and forget this crucial component of running. We have the opportunity to be on the trails and in nature and to do what we are so passionate about, so why not have a good time?

With less than 3 weeks until States (gasp!), these are lessons that I hope will carry me to the finish. #seeyouinsquaw

Overlook 50 Miler - Race Report!

By Maggie

I almost titled this "Overlook: Like a Tolstoy novel, minus the snow" because there were some dark moments, some beautiful moments, and I was occasionally confused - but I think I actually enjoyed it. The more I think about it, it was really spiritual and moving. And I really wished there had been snow. But despite the similarities, I figured the title was overkill.

Anyway, last weekend I completed the Overlook 50 miler. Since my first "ultramarathon" last December, I've fallen in love with trail running, trails, and the incredible community surrounding these events. I was eyeing this race after my second 50km this past May. The Overlook 50 mile event had 13,000' feet of climbing and traveled along miles and miles of Western States trails in beautiful "hill" country. Plus Ann Trason was the RD! What a treat to run the inaugural race put on by an epic ultrarunning legend. When Jack, who mentored me through Silver State, offered to run the whole 50 miles with me, I was in.

An overview of Overlook!

The lessons continue!

Jack kept his word and ran the whole race with me. I kept joking that it was like 2 polar bears in the heat - miserable! See above image for depiction of heat (orange line) and altitude (white line). It hit 100F multiple times and hit a high temp of 103.6F! At the cutoff (mile 35) we picked up the heat-loving cheetah, aka Stephen. With such great company and beautiful scenery, the race was really a joy (despite being somewhat physically uncomfortable the whole time). Plus I got a whole new load of Jack wisdom dropped on me!

Jedi-master Jack!

No window shopping.
Even if the going gets tough, the tough must make cut-off. Which means walk with a purpose if you've gotta walk!

This race was a great lesson in being prepared for the distance AND weather conditions - it felt like a battle to make cut-off, a pressure which I haven't really felt before. And while I don't want to experience that again, thanks to Jack's coaching I know how to keep going when the heat is on!

We made the cutoff with time to spare!

Stop doubting.
I can withstand a lot more than I ever thought possible. I remember registering for my first half marathon and thinking it would be a miracle if I could drag my butt 13 miles. I remember registering for my first marathon and thinking it would be the farthest I could ever run in my life- that I would be peaking in my lifetime running at a mere 25 years old. But I did run 13 miles, and I did complete a marathon, and I've kept running since then. And every time I've finished a race, I've rationalized that it must not have been THAT far, THAT difficult... During this past 50 miler, I heard myself say, "I'm not good at this." Well shit, at this point it doesn't matter if I'm good at it - I'm doing it anyway, and I'm having fun! It's easy to self-doubt and to be self-critical. But running (and life) is much more enjoyable "on the windy side of care."

Starting to smell the barn on No Hands Bridge!

Start training.
I have been SO BAD at being consistent lately. Between job-searching, apartment-hunting, half-assed training and school starting, I have been a poor excuse of an athlete. I'm ready to be disciplined and really put it on the line! I know that I respond well to routine and am excited to have a plan (and stick to it) for my next race. Thankfully my RRCA-certified boyfriend can whip me up something fancy ;) I am feeling really good about prioritizing my health instead of just fitting it in. RAH-RAH-BOOM-BANG GO TEAM.

Puke happens. It's not all bad. 
First off, let me start this by saying I *had* a major, major no-puke streak. It might not be 14 years like Jerry Seinfeld, but it was a long time. I pride myself on my ability to withstand stomach viruses, hangovers, and other tummy traumas.



Well, thank you Ann Trason, for ruining my no-vom-streak. I held it in until around mile 25 when Jack told me to "get it out!" I emptied my stomach all over the trails until about Rucky Chucky at mile 36. Thankfully this lesson was accompanied by Jack's "no pity party" rule. And actually, puking felt pretty good and I was able to run intermittently along the Cal Loop. Apparently this is some sort of ritual: other runners on the trail shouted out "great job, kid!" and "now you're a real ultrarunner!" as puke dripped from my nose. I'd brag about being in the top 10 women finishers, but there were only 9 of us (eep!) A total of 30 people total finished the 50 miler: 21 men, 9 women. All results here!

All in all, another great day!