Race Recap: The Mohican 50 Mile Edition

A year and a half ago, I finished my first 50k.  I knew then that that race was just the beginning of my jump into the ultrarunning world.  I decided after completing my second 50k last summer that I wanted more.  I decided to run the Bigfoot 50k in December and then, if all went well, I'd shoot for the Mohican 50 miler this year.   Except Bigfoot didn't go as planned.  I finished only 10.5 miles of the 31 mile course and I left with my spirit crushed.  My first DNF-it wasn't a good feeling.  I decided to take a step away from ultras and just get back to enjoying running.  And in January, I did that.  Except there was this little voice in my head whispering, "Mohican."  By March, I couldn't make that voice be quiet.  I decided to go for it.  I found a 50 mile training plan and fit some races into the lineup.  I paced the Ann Arbor Marathon in March, ran the Rock & Roll Nashville Marathon in April, and then ran the Bayshore Marathon in May.  In early June, the schedule had a 50k planned as a Saturday long run.  I couldn't find a local 50k and didn't have the time to travel, so I opted for a self-supported point-to-point 50k solo.  And it was so much fun.  I knew if I could go 31 miles alone, I at least had a shot at completing 50 miles with support. The course would be a tough one, but I felt up for the challenge.

Finally it was time to head to Ohio. I had completed all of my training, gathered everything I would need for a full day in the woods, and now I just had to do it.  I arrived Friday afternoon in Loudonville, OH and made my way to packet pickup.  It was a light-hearted atmosphere filled with old friends and making new ones, and of course, beer.  Filip was there, who I had paced with in Ann Arbor, as well as Scott and Tom who were also ultra veterans.

I headed back to the hotel where I assembled my drop bag, loaded my vest with supplies and fuel, and laid out my clothing.  And then it was time: One more sleep until the BIG day.  Except, I didn't sleep-I never sleep the night before a race.  So, I tossed and turned for six hours and was already awake when my alarm went off at 4am.  After chugging some coffee and downing a protein bar (which I do every single day) I got ready to go.  I made it to the Start Line, where runners were slowly congregating. The 100 mile runners had already taken off and soon it would be our turn.  I placed my drop bag filled with extra shoes and socks and anything I thought might sound good after 27 miles of running in the designated area and headed in search of a bathroom.  A pre-race poop is a good omen for me, and this day did not disappoint!  Whew!  One less thing to worry about out on the trails.
After that, I scoured the start area and found Leanne.  This was her second 50 miler-a stepping stone to her goal race of 100 miles in July at Burning River.  We had discussed running some miles together at this race and I was excited to have a companion at the start.

I always find the start of ultras a little funny.  There is no big fanfare, no gun fired, no big to-do.  Everyone just kind of gathers near the start, someone says"GO" and we go!  At the start of the race it was already 70 degrees and the humidity was so high you could feel it on your skin.  With temperatures predicted to reach near 90 degrees, everyone had hydration on their minds.  We started out at a comfortably slow pace and talked about races and fueling strategies and how lucky we were to get to spend an entire day in that beautiful forest.  It seemed like we had just begun, but there stood our first aid station.  I wasn't hungry, and I still had plenty of fluids, but there was watermelon and I couldn't resist.  I quickly ate a piece and took off again, following Leanne.  The next aid station had a little bit more distance to it, but we chatted and laughed and shared stories and at the top of a small climb, we made it to our second aid station-Fire Tower.  I again had some watermelon and a few orange slices and the volunteers filled my pack with water.  We didn't stick around long and then we were off and running again.  I was excited for the next part of the course because I knew what was coming-a descent into an amazing canyon with a waterfall.  The route took us right through the bottom of it and it was breathtaking.  Leanne and I each took turns taking pictures for each other and I have to admit, I was pretty sad that I'd only get to see that spot once during the race.

The next aid station was Covered Bridge and boy, was I happy to see those tents appear.  By this time, I was drenched with sweat and the temperature was rising.  A volunteer took my pack and filled it with ice and water.  As I grazed on watermelon and pb&j squares, a tall man who was volunteering approached.  When I asked him if he ran and he said, "a little", I knew that meant a lot.  I asked him what his next race was and he said Western States!  If you don't know, Western States is to ultra runners what Boston is to marathoners.  He told us to hydrate well because the next portion of the race would be the most difficult and it would be seven miles until the next aid station.

Let me tell you right here, that guy was NOT joking.  As soon as we left the road and headed back onto the trail, we were faced with endless steep climbs and switchbacks.  We took it slow and steady and were thankful for any portions that leveled off or gave us any kind of downhill.  The trails were very narrow and filled with roots and taking your eye off the trail for even a moment could trip you.  I found this out personally around Mile 16.  I lost focus for just a second and CRASHED.  I hopped back up quickly and shook myself off and kept running.  Leanne and I had discussed earlier that if one of us had to back off or speed up, then so be it.  When she started to pull away from me around Mile 17, I let her.  I could tell she was feeling great and I was happy to see her go.

I came up to the Hickory Ridge aid station and realized this was my last aid station before I was back to the start.  They took my pack from me and filled it and I snacked on more watermelon and a cookie and hit the road. On this portion of the trail, I met up with and older man with a thick accent.  He was so positive and talkative and I was thankful to be following him.  He talked of races he had run all over the country and asked about my family and I swear he talked me all the way in to the Start Line aid station.

When I got to the Start Line after 27 miles, I was starting to feel it.  My feet had begun to hurt and I was HOT.  Filip and Tom were both there and while Filip helped me get my pack off and filled, Tom told us how he had already fallen four times and had a pretty good gash on his leg.  I knew that this stop would be the hardest for me. All I had to do was get myself going again.  I was feeling nauseous from the heat and didn't want to eat anything.  I wanted to change my shoes, but Filip advised me to keep the shoes and change my socks.  He was so full of energy and I most definitely was NOT.  He pulled off my socks and I put the new ones on and then he tied my shoes for me while I sat there and panicked.  I told him I was going to go to the bathroom and I'd wait for Tom and him by the  start of the second loop, but he told me to just take off.  He must've somehow known that had I stood around much longer, it would be doomsday for me.

After about five miles, I came to the next aid station-Gorge Overlook.  I was at a low point, and I asked the volunteers if I could just sit for a minute.  I took one look at all of the food and decided I wanted none of it.  I pretty much collapsed into a chair, and this angel woman appeared and asked if I would like some overnight oats with chia and agave.  HELL YES I DID.  She pulled a magical container from nowhere and gave me a full cup of deliciousness.  I think I sat there twenty minutes savoring that treat, but it was totally worth it.  I thanked her and told her I loved her and took off down the trail once more.

This is where I entered uncharted waters. I had never ran more than 31 miles before. I had never been on my feet running for more than seven hours.  I was now entering hour nine.  I could feel the ache from my feet slowly moving up my legs as the time moved on.  I was walking along the trail when I was passed by a smiling 100 mile woman and another couple running the 50.  They called to me to join their "train" and I did.  They were not moving fast, but they were slowly running and chatting and it definitely raised my spirits.  At the next aid station, those of us running the 50 had a right turn, and we wished good luck to our 100 mile leader as she continued on her journey.  I stuck with the couple for a few more miles and then they stopped for a break and I didn't see them again.

The next few miles were long for me and I started doing the math in my head.  I was traveling about four miles per hour; I wanted to finish by 9pm; I wanted to finish before it was dark.  At that rate I'd be done around 7:00 or 7:30.  And then I got even slower.  The pain had reached my knees and downhills were no longer appealing.  I was alone in the woods and WHERE IN THE HELL WAS THE COVERED BRIDGE AID STATION?!   I had expected to see it by Mile 37, but there was no sign of it.  Was I even on the right trail?  When was the last time I saw another runner?  When was the last time I saw an orange flag?  And then, of course, I saw an orange flag. And then I saw the sign indicating I was approaching the Covered Bridge aid station.  As I got closer, I saw the same tall man I had talked to during my first stop.  I stared at him in disbelief and he said, "We've been waiting for you!"  Me?!  For real?  Was a dreaming?  He followed me into the aid station and my pack was quickly filled with the last ice they had to offer.  I had a sandwich and wanted to sit down, but knew I didn't have much time.  I went over and thanked him for his encouragement and wished him luck at Western States and promised to follow his race, and I was off. Somewhere along my way, I turned around and spotted these guys just watching us all pass by!

I had a little over seven miles to the next aid station and I was all alone.  I slowly started climbing through the steep terrain and realized my bug spray had long ago worn off.  There were black flies constantly swarming me.  I expended WAY too much energy fighting off those beasts.  I was moving slowly-only about three miles per hour at this point.  But I only had 12 miles to the finish!  Just 12!  HOW WAS I GOING TO GO TWELVE MORE MILES?!  My legs were really starting to hate me and my shoulders were throbbing from carrying my pack for so long. I just wanted to be done.  Around Mile 39, I caught a glimpse of white behind me.  Filip.  Who was this guy?!  He seemed to have endless energy as he came upon runners and offered advice and skipped and told stories.  He finally caught up to me and encouraged me to shuffle run when I could and to fast walk the uphills.  Easy for him to say.  I tried to follow him, but soon enough he was too far ahead to see.  I guess I started to space out, when suddenly something was coming AT me on the trail.  I let out a yell and stopped in my tracks. There, in front of me was a groundhog.  What the hell?  It looked like it was going to charge at me.  My first thought was to pick up a rock and chuck it at him, but I decided to take out my camera instead.  If that thing was going to attack me, I at least wanted it documented!  As I snapped a photo, it decided to turn and take off up the hill.  Adios, dude.  On my way.

At the final aid station, I ran into Filip once again.  He tried to get me to eat, but I was really angry at this point.  Everything hurt.  Badly.  He waited for me to gather myself and we set off to the finish together.  It was only about five miles away, but I knew that meant two more hours on the trails.  TWO MORE HOURS!  No turning back now.  I might not have been moving very fast but I wasn't standing still!  As we hiked and walked and shuffled, I mentioned that I had had a confrontation with a groundhog.  Filip told me I was probably just hallucinating. I promptly gave him the middle finger and told him I was super happy I had taken a picture!  Those last two hours were excruciating and even though Filip tried to cheer me up, I was nothing but an angry beast.  Everything in my body wanted me to stop.  My quads were toast, I could feel random chafing everywhere, I was SO dirty and hot, and I was saying really unpleasant things to Filip, despite his best efforts to urge me on.

The last three miles of the race were spent winding in and out of the campground.  As we passed campers and volunteers and other runners, Filip kept yelling out, "THIS IS HER FIRST 50!  ISN'T SHE DOING GREAT?!" That of course, would get cheers and congratulations from everyone and I couldn't help but smile.  I crossed the finish line at 8:51pm, nearly 15 hours after I had begun that morning.  I was so elated that I had made it.  I was so elated that it was over!  I JUST RAN 50 MILES!

As I headed to find a place to sit down, I spotted the man with the accent I had run with earlier in the day and collapsed into a heap at his table.  He congratulated me and said he knew he'd see me crossing that finish line.  I think it took until that moment to realize that it was actually over.  That I had actually done it. And when I was sitting there ugly crying and that man said, "Hey, mom of five, those better be happy tears", he took my phone and snapped a picture.

Ultrarunning is about more than just running.  It is a community.  The people that I have met are the most genuine souls.  Many of the volunteers are runners themselves, and they know just what you need and just what to say.  I could not have completed this race alone.  So many people helped me along the way. The runners I encountered, the volunteers, the fans, they all helped me succeed.  And when I was finished?  I had a few people waiting to hear the good news as well.

I told my husband on the phone that night that I was pretty sure I had gotten this ultrarunning thing out of my system, but I think I'm going to have to take that back.  It's been two days since my first  50 and I still can't go down one single step without flinching, but I'm already dreaming about when I can get back out there. Afterall, who could give up all this?

Race Recap:The Bayshore Marathon Edition

The Location:  The race is an out and back course on Old Mission Peninsula, along the coast of East Grand Traverse Bay, in the northwest corner of Michigan's Lower Peninsula.

The Traffic: If you have never been to Traverse City, put it on your list.  From wineries and breweries to breathtaking views, it's definitely a city worth visiting.  If you have been to Traverse City, when I say the word "traffic", you know what I mean.  On any given weekend, tourists from Michigan and beyond flock to this northern town in Michigan.  Summer for us here begins Memorial Weekend, and the traffic is always an issue.  Add in 6,000+ runners and their friends and families and traffic becomes a spectacle. Plan to get there early, and plan on not being in a hurry to get out of town after the race.  There aren't many routes to access the start/finish of this race, and I can only imagine the melee it would appear to be from an aerial view.  

The Weather: I had spent the previous week at our family cabin, which is located about an hour from Traverse City, and had seen the sunshine for about 70 minutes total that entire week.  Race day Saturday had promised great weather, and it did not disappoint.  The start of the race began with clear blue skies, temps in the upper 50's and calm waters.  It gradually warmed up throughout the race, to temps in the low 70's, but with much of the course shaded, heat was not an issue.

The Half Marathoners: In addition to a marathon, Bayshore also offers a 10k race and a very popular half marathon race.  The half marathoners are bused out to their start and then they have a one-way run to their finish.  I knew several people running the half, and I was looking forward to passing them on my way out to the 13.1 mile turnaround.  Just before Mile 7, the leaders of the half were headed toward me.  Soon I saw Nick barreling at me.  And then Justin.  And then Matt.  And then Jessica.  And then the girl with the fancy pants from the restroom line earlier that morning.  It was definitely a highlight of my race to see all of those runners in action and to exchange some high-fives with many of them.

The Oranges: Until about a month ago, I didn't venture out from my race fueling plan of water/gatorade/gels during races, but the heat of Rock and Roll Nashville this year changed my mind.  In that race I ate every cold and refreshing thing that was offered to me, in hopes of cooling my body down.  During Bayshore, when I came upon an aid station somewhere around Mile 8 and saw that they were offering orange slices to runners, I was elated.  In fact, several aid stations on the marathon route offered oranges, and I partook of ALL of them.  Oranges can be quite a mood lifter, especially in those later miles when you need a pick-me-up!

The Leaders of the Pack: After all of the half marathoners had passed me, the next thing I had to look forward to would be the leader of the marathon.  It's always exciting to see that first runner heading toward the finish at a much higher rate of speed than I am.  Around Mile 10, I saw the bicyclists clearing the way for the leader.  But there wasn't one leader-there was a pack.  There was a tightly knit group of men leading the way, with serious faces and their eyes on the prize.  And if I was at Mile 10, that meant that they were already at Mile 16, and that was pretty damn impressive!

The Bloody Nipples: As I got closer to the turnaround, more and more marathoners were coming toward me, and I got to check them out as they passed.  Some were smiling and some looked miserable.  Some were walking and some were offering motivational words as we passed.  Now I've seen bloody nipples before on men, but never, I mean ever, have I seen so many blood-stained shirts as I did in this race. This is a mystery to me.  Men, is this unpredictable?  Or is it something expected and you just deal with it?  Why is it not preventable?  If someone can offer me some answers regarding bloody nipples, I'm all ears.

The Disgruntled Runner: After I made the turnaround at 13.1, I started looking for other runners I knew who were running the full.  First I saw Brian.  And then Brandy and Anna.  And then Kari.  I yelled at all of them and continued on-I was feeling pretty good!  I checked my watch and saw that I was at Mile 15.  Already?!  I turned to the man next to me and said, "We are already at 15-just 11 more miles to go!"  The look he gave me was not a pretty one.  In fact, I think he would have loved to slap me right in that moment.  Sorry, dude.  Just keep running.

The Poop: This is where shit got real.  Literally.  Moments after I had my awkward exchange with the disgruntled runner, I saw it.  And I couldn't look away.  There, in front of me, was a petite woman wearing black spandex shorts and yes, there was poop.  Not only could I see the poop in her shorts, it was also running about halfway down her inner thighs on both legs.  Really?  I have never seen this before.  I mean, I've heard of elite athletes doing this in a fight to the finish, but not a mid-packer.  And definitely not on a course that had designated bathrooms every mile.  She never stopped, and I eventually passed by, far to her right.  I wish that was the end of the poop,but it is not.  Around Mile 17, I noticed some poop in the road-a few spots here, a few spots there.  And then I realized it was a trail.  A trail of poop.  Are you kidding me?  I kept running, careful not to step in it, and then I saw her: A blonde girl running, with her legs almost completely covered in poop.  I'm sorry, but I DO NOT COMPREHEND.  She had not only chosen to poop while running for over a mile, but was continuing on her race with this literal shit show.  A four hour marathon is impressive and all, but it's nothing to shit your pants over.

The Volunteers: In addition to running races, I also know what it's like to be a volunteer at a race.  There is a TON of work that goes on behind the scenes to make race day run smoothly.  The number of volunteers at this race was unbelievable.  There were aid stations just about every mile along the course offering Gatorade and water and oranges and gels.  During the first few miles of the race, I was happy to receive some water and a smile and carry on.  But during those last few miles, I longed to see the sea of green shirts that indicated I was approaching an aid station.  From start to finish, the volunteers at this race were exceptional.  It's easy to lose focus as a volunteer when the half marathoners have passed and many of the faster marathoners have passed, but there was no sign of any of the volunteers wavering as the time wore on.  The organizers of Bayshore are to be commended for all of their preparation and effort.

The Wanting to Die: There comes a time for me in every race where this happens to me.  Whether it's a 5K or an ultramarathon, there is always a point where I feel like I can't go on.  In this race, that happened to me at Mile 22.  My pace had been gradually slowing, but not at an alarming rate, and I was okay with that.  At Mile 22, though, I just wanted to be done.  Or dead.  Your choice.  JUST MAKE IT STOP.  

The Chafing: I pulled my head out of my butt shortly after my Mile 22 meltdown, and picked up my pace.  Right about then, my shorts had other plans.  For some reason, all of a sudden, something started to poke out of my right shortleg into my left inner thigh. Perfect!  When I realized that pulling the legs down or raising them up didn't change the poking feeling, I was forced to just deal with it for the rest of the race.  Whatever.  (eye roll)  I had been feeling some chafing along my bra line on my back for miles, so at least this chafing was keeping my mind off of that chafing.  

The Track: During the last mile of this race, there are several turns before you get to the finish.  Races like this always mess with my head.  I always have a time goal in mind, and as I make those final turns, I am always wondering which turn will be the last turn and when I'll actually be able to see the finish line.  The last turn for Bayshore is onto the track at Northwestern Michigan College-a quick turn to the left onto the track and then partway around to get to the finish.  As I hit the track, the fans were there in full-force cheering me on in my final steps.

The Finish: As I headed down the track, on that final straightaway, the announcer called my name over the loudspeaker and I sprinted over the finish line, knowing that I made it in under four hours, which was my goal.  With tears in my eyes, I accepted my finisher's medal from a boy about 13 years old, and I wondered if he "gets" it.  If not, I hope he does someday.

The Chocolate Milk and Ice Cream: I am not much for post-race food.  The bananas and water and pretzels and bagels and pizza are overrated in my book.  But there's one thing I LOVE: chocolate milk.  The thought of cold chocolate milk at the finish line fuels me the last ten miles of every marathon.  It is completely amazing.  At Bayshore, they also offer award-winning Moomers Ice Cream at the finish.  I opted for Cookies and Cream, and I sat on a bench in the shade and devoured it.

The Puke and PR: I knew many people running this race, and I couldn't wait to hear their stories.  For some, this was their very first marathon.  For others, it was a chance to run with friends.  And for others, it was a chance to PR.  Two people I know earned personal best times in the half marathon after stopping to throw up on the course.  That is the ultimate "puke and rally", right?!  

The Sitting on the Toilet: With all of my recent ultra training, I've been slacking on my speed work, but I still had a goal of finishing in under four hours.  I knew it would be tough and I knew it would hurt.  When you're at a race that offers both a full and half marathon, you can always tell which runners ran the full by their walk.  My whole body hurts after a marathon-my feet, my legs, my shoulders, even my skin.  By the next day, most of those pains go away, but one always remains: my quads.  Going up the stairs is fine, but do NOT ask me to go down them.  And going to the bathroom?  I'll bet when you've got to go, the thought of how your quads are helping you sit down and stand up from the toilet never crosses your mind.  But on the day after a marathon, sitting down on the toilet is an EVENT.  Once I get there I'm good, but then, at some point, I've got to get back up.  One of these days I'm going to pull that towel bar right off the wall.

The Conclusion:  It was exciting, it was tough, and it took everything that I had to achieve my goal.  My seventh marathon did not disappoint, and I can't wait to run another one.

New Beginnings

You were born.

And then you were a big sister.

And then you started school.

For the next 13 years, your new year began with a new school year. Pencils and erasers and notebooks and Trapper Keepers and bottles of glue and markers and that fresh box of Crayola 64. 

And there were new sports seasons.

A new musical.

A new car (or at least new to you.)

A new boyfriend.

And then there was college.

A new crowd.

A new direction.

A new city, or even a new state.

Along came a new job, or maybe several.

A new apartment.

A new house.

A new feeling, thinking that this one was THE one.

A ring on your finger.

A wedding.

Another new house.

A new puppy.

A pregnancy.

A new baby.

A family of four.

Another new house. 

A family of five.

A new year.

A new season.

A new month.

A new week.

A new day.

We are endlessly beginning again. Life is full of fresh starts. Do you feel like you're stuck? Take a look around. See the new. Choose to see past the things you cannot change and see the fresh and the good that is constantly being presented to you. 

Spring is here. Have you seen it? Is there a better fresh start than springtime? Around here, Spring means new life.

From apple trees

To lilac bushes

To baby chicks

To kittens

To nests, ready for little blue eggs. 

We plan the garden

And mow the grass

And swap our snow boots for mud boots. 

We watch our tiny chicks grow.

And we wait for the rain to stop long enough to do a little light landscaping. 

Here and there we catch a day of sunshine. After months of coldness and gray skies, warm sunshine here in Michigan is the greatest gift and we take full advantage of it. 

The chickens get snuggles

The swings soar to the moon

The cat gets more than she bargained for

The dirt bike gets fired up

Eggs show up in full-force

And everyone just wants to soak up the sun. 

We don't take these opportunities for granted. We choose to live here for the lifestyle. I don't mind the grass stains and the mud and I don't mind when Grey turns a little too wide on the tractor and misses a bit of long grass. I don't mind getting side-tracked with pruning a tree when I'm in the middle of cleaning the chicken coop and I don't mind going on an adventure with Nash to hunt for sharks in the ditch instead of pulling those weeds along the front of the house. Every day is a new beginning. I wake up and make my plans, and if I accomplish half of what I set out to, then I call that a successful day. And if not, I'll get to it tomorrow. And if I don't? Who cares. Sometimes, the most important thing is just getting outside for a little fresh air,

where you might find a whole clutch of eggs hiding under the old truck,

and where you can perform some ridiculous stunts!

I am learning new things all the time.  For example, I have learned that chickens love s'mores as much as we do.

I have learned that wine tastes just as good by an outdoor fire as by an indoor fire.

I have learned that chickens get really annoyed when you try to clean out the coop while they're trying to lay eggs.

I have learned that you should always wear goggles when fishing in the mud.

I have learned that mama cats know just how long they can be outside at play before their babies need them back inside.

I have learned that sometimes when you're walking in mud boots, the mud claims a boot.

A fresh start is what you make it. It could be a huge, epic change to your life, or it can simply be a new start to a new day.  So the next time you're feeling angry or sad or frustrated or just stuck, I hope you're ready, because a new beginning is right around the corner.