WARNING: RIDICULOUSLY LONG AND DRAWN OUT (but it should take you less than 29 hours, 34 minutes and 6 seconds to read it.
Hi everyone! Thanks so much for your support. Steven was on the phone to my crew, and I heard "y'all were rootin' for me."
It was a tough day. I had identified my three real weaknesses in 2007: mild altitude sickness, a fear of heights and an inability to run fast (especially downhill) on gnarly trail due to dodgy ankles. I was determined to conquer these issues. Each week for the past few months I have done a night-time trail run (with my dimmest headtorch) with a great group of girls. I developed a better feel for the trails. I also practised hammering down hills as hard as I could, straight through the rough stuff rather than choosing a line. I also practised running right along the edge of hillside trails. I came up with my little mantras to keep me strong. I ran and walked up and down 55 flights of stairs in my lunch breaks to make sure I had fast feet and strong quads.
I even spent several days at Squaw Valley in the lead-up, and I took the cable car to the top and walked around to try to get used to the thin, cold, dry air. I was walking around at 8,500 feet, which is about twice the height of Mt Barney, I think. How can I train for this altitude back home? I went for a short run at 6,200 feet and figured out a pattern of asthma medication that would keep me breathing.
I kept myself ready for the heat during Brisbane winter, by running in thermals, fleece jackets, beanies, tights etc. I did everything I could to give myself the best possible chance.
So what can I say? For a start, I am very lucky I focussed my training on correcting my weaknesses, because if I hadn't made up so much time in the canyons this year, I wouldn't have finished.
As I started my climb up to the Escarpment, taking it nice and easy, I felt pretty good. My asthma wasn't playing up. But then something strange happened, up top. I started to get sleepy, very sleepy. I yawned continually and the urge to snooze alongside the track was hard to ignore. I felt a little nauseous, a little dizzy. I was breathing fine, but felt really weak. I pottered along at a very slow pace until another runner came past and told me to breathe harder and force more oxygen in. I thought I wasn't going to make it to Red Star Ridge before cutoff. This is the very reason why, when asked what my goal time was before the race, I said, "I'll decide after I get past the high stuff." At Red Star Ridge I decided I was going for 30 hours.
As I got lower down towards Duncan Canyon, I started to feel better. I picked up the pace and made it in to the aid station before cutoff. I was so grateful to see Marie. I told her I was sick, told her my symptoms. She was alarmed that I may be suffering heat exhaustion already but I told her I thought it was altitude as I seemed to be getting better. She gave me Ensure on ice to take with me, which is a meal replacement, sort of like Sustagen. It was great. For some reason, cold, sweet liquids and especially dairy foods were doing it for me instead of my usually salty solids.
I made up a bit of time getting to Robinson Flat. There were 5 creeks flowing this time, so I wet myself down and never got too hot. I was glad for my 3/4 tights, which everyone told me would be too hot, but held the water really nicely against my legs for about an hour at a time, aiding my cooling. I passed Dennis, my '07 pacer, who was struggling on the rocks, having rolled his ankles. On my way in to Robinson Flat, I saw a mountain lion. I gasped, but I had plenty of other runners nearby, so I thought I would be okay. I thought in hindsight I should have reported it, but I didn't think of it at the time.
Andy met me at the aid station. The energy gel from my drop bag had been in the sun, and was revolting, but Andy fed me up on some vanilla pudding (yes, more dairy, because it was really settling my stomach). I walked the mile to the top of the hill to let my food go down, and then ran.
And ran and ran. I felt like I was floating over all the rough stuff I had struggled on two years earlier. I delighted in this. Down, down, past Miller's Defeat, over the rocks and the sand, legs feeling fantastic despite the fact I had already run over 30 miles. I startled Marie when I ran in to Dusty Corners - she wasn't expecting me for another half hour. I was starting to think, "This could be my year..." but calmed down and just focussed. Marie fed me some Cheesy Mac with salsa, and some apple sauce, and another Ensure. Plenty of calories there. So off I went...
Down, down, down to Last Chance, where I met Pat for the first time (my first pacer) and caught up with Christina (my second pacer) and then continued on down into the canyon. I almost laughed at myself. I couldn't believe how easy the trail seemed. Sure, it was cleaned up a bit more than last year, but the drop-off did not seem scary at all, nor did the hairpin bends. What a difference a few years can make. I ran confidently across the swing bridge at the bottom and started the hike up Devil's Thumb. I'm pretty sure the climb was slower than last time, but that I had more than made up for it in advance.
Up top, I stopped for an icypole and my gel, and then headed off to Eldorado Canyon. I was expecting it to be a lot harder, but I found it easy also. But then something happened. I popped. Bummer. I had some fruit, water and lemonade at the aid station, and I just popped. Walking up the hill to Michigan Bluff, I was struggling not to vomit or pass out. At one point, the safety patrol passed, and were talking about bean burritos, which nearly set me off. I teetered and tottered my way into the aid station and flopped in to a chair for Marie and Andy to take care of me.
The questions started. Had I been peeing? Yes. Had I taken plenty of salt? Yes. Fluids? Yes. Did I want a shoe change? Yes. I explained that I couldn't get any food in, that I was too nauseous for even my caffeinated jelly beans. Was it heat exhaustion? Was it just because I had done too much, too soon after my altitude problems?
They suggested every type of food they could, and it all made me feel sicker. Eventually Marie suggested brushing my teeth. I did, and for a moment I felt better, and then I hurled my guts up. Marie, being a nurse, had no problems checking the contents and informing me that it was just clear fluids and I just needed some oral rehydration salts. So she filled a bottle with some horrible, fizzy ORS drink and ice, and sent me on my way, with my pacer.
Poor Pat, thought she had signed up for a 26-28 hr runner and got me instead. She tried her best but didn't know me well and it must be really hard to inspire someone you've just met. I took a long time getting to Foresthill and had slipped from being ahead of 30 hour pace to something more like absolute cutoff. I couldn't see myself making Dardanelles, let alone Rucky Chucky. I had managed to drink all of the horrible fizzy stuff and was feeling a bit better, enough to shuffle to the bottom of the hill, but the soup at Bath Road hadn't helped. Andy got me to eat some antacids, and I had some tea as well. That was all I could stomach.
Pat occasionally forgot the distance between aid stations, and in that state, I couldn't remember either, which made it hard to tell whether I was going okay. Being unable to take caffeine (because of the already bad nausea), I was falling asleep on my feet - once I nearly stumbled off a cliff. I couldn't run properly, but running was the only thing that kept me awake. So when I got to Peachstone, I decided that I was just going to run as hard as I could, because I didn't think I would make Rucky Chucky in time to cross, and I really love that river crossing. I told myself that the sooner I got to the river crossing, the sooner I could cool my legs off, and see Christina.
I ran to Ford's Bar as hard as I could, and it was somewhere near this aid station that Dennis passed me with a pacer who was not Penny as planned (and having very long legs to aid in rapid walking). This made me very happy, to see Dennis moving so well. Pat told me in no uncertain terms that I must eat, though I couldn't figure out what to eat, and we just went with soup and coffee for a while. As we approached the river, she told me we would cross straight through, and I snapped at her that of course that's what I would do. I felt bad, but she brushed it off without a comment. Cranky runner, low blood sugar - she was expecting it.
Through the snowmelt we went, and it was rejuvenating. And when I got to the other side, Dennis was sitting there eating. He looked at his watch and congratulated me on making up some time - I had emerged at Rucky Chucky far at the same time as two years ago. He told me I would make it to the finish. Then he bent over the arm of his chair and threw up all of his food. That somehow made his words just a little more powerful. We would do it. But I still had my doubts, because I didn't know if I had enough left to push as hard as I did with Dennis two years ago. So after some potato soup and some lemonade, I got the hell out of there.
Up the top of the hill at Green Gate, I met up with Christina, and I was happy to see her, because she knows me a bit better. She chatted to me, waited for me, she pushed me and watched her clock and her footpod. She kept me running, and when it hurt she told me her poem, and she told me I could do it, and I believed her.
And when it hurt too much to run, I walked, and then I found out that hurt too. So if walking hurt almost as much as running, I would run. And if running a bit faster hurt only a bit more, I would run faster. And when it hurt (which was wherever it was rough, rocky or cambered, as I had a bad blister on my left ball and instep by this stage) I would tense up, so I would tell myself that there was no point, and that would only hurt other parts of me - at least if I relaxed it was just my feet. And I'd sing out loud (very loud) "I love foot pain" and tried to make myself believe it.
At Auburn Lake Trails I got more coffee in, and another gel, and left my headlamp behind. I ran as much as I could to Brown's Bar. Christina told me that if I had a mantra, I should say it, and I told her I'd been saying it for the last 70 miles. I pushed to Highway 49 Crossing and was nearly in tears when I got there. I think it was here that Tim Twietmeyer came up the trail to push us to the finish. At the aid station, Andy had a chair for me and I said I didn't want it. I took my puffer and a gel and a fizzy drink and filled my bottle with ice and got out of there. Christina was still getting herself sorted, but told me to leave - she got back to me soon after
I ran as hard as I could across the open fields to No Hands Bridge. It had not cooled off at all overnight and was already getting really hot. Christina told me to get really wet, take some salt, and drink lots of fluids, as it was going to be stinking hot on the other side. It always is. Marie and Andy cheered and told me they'd see me at Robie Point. Dennis was on his way through also.
I ran all the way across the bridge, because I did that last time, and then I ran some more, envious of some guy swimming in the water below us. I didn't remember this section being so long. I hiked up that hill, stopping only to cool off in the little waterfall. I didn't know anything except that I had a bit under an hour to cover a bit under three miles. I got up to Robie Point and Marie was there with my Aussie flag and Dennis was just in front and his family was there for him. We hiked up the hill together. I didn't remember all that uphill. We walked through Auburn and then ran when we got near the track. I ran around that track and couldn't believe I had made it. How could I have made it? I have never felt so sick during a race, ever. Even when I dropped in Hong Kong Trailwalker, I was not as sick as I was on Saturday night.
Strange thing is, my feet hurt like crazy, and are swelling because I've been sitting at this computer for a while, but my legs feel pretty good. The rest of me is not sore. My weight didn't fluctuate throughout the run. I kept peeing the whole time (and it looked much healthier than that of the research subjects in the bags left along the trail - I saw all sorts of colours including brown, red and bright orange. Ew.) Despite all that downhill, my quads are only semi-trashed, not completely. Maybe our bodies get used to this, eventually.
29:34 may have been 11 minutes slower than last time, but it was at least twice as hard as last time. That buckle is sweet victory, and I have not had one sweeter.
And I got an age group 2nd place again!... And as a 28 year old "princess", I have two WS100 finishes, a total of three 100 miler finishes. And I finished on a day when some of the greats did not, such as Scott Jurek, Dean Karnazes and Gordy Ainsleigh. So I think I should aim for my next challenge. I decided somewhere near Last Chance that I will do GNW 100, and unless I get the flu before then (as happened last time I went overseas) or get injured (or run out of money), I will stand by that decision.
