Bear 100... Just a bit short.

Going into this race, I knew I would have to be on point.  My training was sidelined for six weeks and then recovery at the point where I should have been amping up my mileage (May-June).  Going into August, my longest run in the last three months had been ten miles.  I went from 10 to 26 to 47 in four weeks.  That's a huge jump in a short period of time-mentally I could handle it, but my body said otherwise.  The same ankle kept rolling and then the other one would roll as I took weight off the bum one.  Everyone kept asking me if I would be ready, and all I could say was yes.  My eyes were "on the prize" and I refused to think otherwise and/or smarter.

Wednesday before Bear, I started coughing.  Coughing for most would not be a big deal.  Coughing for an asthmatic...?  Only adding to the recipe for disaster.  I still ignored the warning signs, sucking on Vitamin C drops like candy.

We got up to Logan midday on Thursday before the Friday race and headed straight to the hotel.  The hotel wasn't ready yet, so we went to the packet pickup.  On the way out of the Sportsman, I noticed my bib was not in my packet.  The tiny panic that went through my brain was only compounded by the crazy eleven hour drive, coughing and sore ankles.  Things just kept adding up.  I was given bib #335 and told to get creative with a red sharpie.  I guess a handmade bib is better than no bib at all, but it felt so unofficial.  The mystery ended up solving itself-it turned out the race director had thought that was his bib, picked it up, returned it and it ended up being in a pile of paperwork.  Still I was shaken and excuses were piling in the corners of my brain.

After the race talk and a nice dinner with crew and Shanna, I had a restless sleep, dreaming of everything that could go wrong.

Race day and the nerves were at their apex.  I couldn't go to the bathroom (all runners understand that comment) and things continued to feel "off".  I went to start my Garmin at the beginning of the race and it wasn't on my wrist.  I am extremely over analytical and had everything organized based on time and pace between aid stations.  The fact that I had no idea where I was at only added to the stress.  The first climb seemed even longer than it was on paper and the second a break came where it was flat and runnable, I fell (like I do).  All scratched up, people kept passing me on the single track trail as I gathered my wits.  I tried to jump back into the conga line, but people just kept going around me.  Finally there was a break when it appeared I was at the back of the pack and I started moving again.  I ran a little further before rolling my bad ankle on a tree root.  By now, visibly shaken, I began to limp only to roll the ankle I was limping on.  I decided to walk a bit and down some of my nutrition.  Salted Caramel Luna bars sounded fabulous in theory, but they made me throw up in reality and I wasn't even at mile five.  Stomach settled after puking some and I began to pick up pace. I had no idea if I was on pace or not, but figured I would at least run the flats and downs....  and tripped again.  Panicking from everything, I started feeling short of breath.  This turned into an asthma attack.  Yes, all of this was in the first seven miles.  I texted my crew and told them I was done.

Shortly after I texted them, this man and his wife came up behind me.  We chatted for a bit and they totally changed my mood.  They finished the year before in 35:30 with walking most of the time.  I made it to the mile ten aid station with half an hour to spare and felt 110% better.  I could do this if I could just keep pace.  I texted Meaghen and said that maybe I wasn't done.

Mile 19.66 and I finally made it to my crew.  Man, they were a welcome sight!  They insisted I down six inches of a hoagie sandwich because I was behind on my nutrition from getting sick to my stomach.  While being a necessary evil, it did take twenty minutes off the clock and made me feel like I had a brick in my belly.  I tried to run the next three, flat miles, but my stomach wouldn't allow it.  The brick kept shaking and threatening to come back up.  Shortly after the mile 23 aid station, I saw two guys coming back down the mountain.  They were already done and DNF'ing.  The bad thoughts started kicking in again and I began to think, "At least I wouldn't be the first to give up..."  A man came shuffling up behind me with a tool belt looking pack that held all sorts of wonders including nausea tablets for the brick in my stomach.

Once again, I started getting my hopes up...  I was in DFL, but the sun was shining and the foliage was gorgeous.  Then the GI tract rumbled.  No one was around, so I hid as far behind a slim tree as possible on a single track trail and went to the bathroom.  The crumpling of leaves-someone was coming up behind me.  I took a tree branch and mimicked a golf swing to fling my poo down the mountain.  I know-that's a not-so-pretty visual, but it's part of ultra running...  You have to go at some point and it's not always the best situation.  It was time to move on (feeling a lot lighter)

Shortly after a nice downhill and some switchbacks, I ended up running through some gorgeous fields and ravines.  I don't remember anything like these flatlands being on the elevation chart, but I wasn't going to complain.  I caught up to and struck up a conversation with Scott from Illinois.  He definitely made this portion more entertaining as we ran into multiple cattle drives complete with real cowboys and discussed his exploits from the year before.  I eventually took off on the downhill as my knee caps felt on fire.

When I arrived at the mile thirty aid station, my crew was nowhere to be found.  I started panicking and all my previous fears and doubts came to the forefront as I realized I had no nutrition or support for another couple of hours.  What went wrong?  Why were they not there?  Was there something wrong with my car?  Were they lost?  The panic continues to rise.  That's when Scott from Illinois came to the rescue again.  The first time kept me mentally on track and the second time was just to give me a cheeseburger.  Those 350 calories are the best 350 calories I've tasted in forever and it was like a light shining in the darkness (no joke).  I had enough nutrition to push forward even if I didn't have any on my person.  We continued.

Between 30 and 37, I pushed on.  I spent some time chatting with Scott before I pulled ahead, and the relatively flat ground helped me gain some time.  As I neared the mile 37 aid station, there was an out and back section where I was able to see that nice man and his wife from around mile 10 as well as a couple of other runners that called out to me.  This boosted my confidence and I cruised into mile 37 with my crew waiting.  At least my worst fears were not realized and everyone was okay.  I asked Julee what happened and she just kept saying, "Ask Meaghen."  I guess I had a look in my eyes that I wasn't happy and joked around about the "wrath of Amanda."

Meaghen wasn't supposed to join me until 45, but jumped in early to cheer me up.  She caught me up on the conversations with Coach and had me laughing at his statement, "Just keep her happy.  Do whatever you have to do to keep her happy because she runs best when happy."  Sadly, he knows me sometimes better than I know myself and my racing!  I kept asking Meaghen what happened as to why they missed mile thirty and she kept dodging the question.  Finally, she fessed up.  They were heading to the aid station when they pulled over to let some cars by and ran over a boulder that punctured my tire.  $167 later and a trip into town to Discount Tire and we were back on track.  I could finally relax and with Meaghen at my side, we were flying....  Well, as flying as we could go between 37 and 45 which meant eleven minute miles, but still.  We almost missed a turn as we caught up to and passed multiple people.

Feeling good, we rolled into 45 looking forward to switching into our cold weather gear while Julee put on her best cheerleader face...  only she wasn't there.  Meaghen looked everywhere in the parking lot as I shivered and huddled near the vegetable broth.  The absence of Julee meant the absence of cold weather gear, headlamps and packable nutrition.  Meaghen kept in good spirits while mine plummeted.  All my previous fears kept coming back as we braved a 4,500 foot climb over four miles before a two mile descent to the next aid station.  The elevation and cold air started taking it's toll on my lungs (again) and I found myself stumbling by the light of a $1 flashlight from Walmart, moving at sometimes greater than 30 minute per mile pace.  Under normal circumstances, I could've crawled faster.  By the time we got to fifty or so, I just muttered, "I'm done."  Meaghen had shred her shirt so I could wrap it around my hands as gloves while I continued to stumble and despite everything, she wouldn't take no for an answer.  About half an hour later of wandering led us to the next aid station in sight....  Only we couldn't get there.  All we could see in between us and the aid station was this dark abyss of a lake in the moonlight.  There were no visible trails and we shuffled back and forth looking all around for a way to get through to the warmly lit beacon.  Two more people came up behind us and together, the four of us eventually found the poorly marked trail.  Julee was waiting for us at the end of the path.  I made a beeline for the car, curled up under a heated blanket and sobbed, sipping chicken noodle soup for twenty minutes, muttering unpronounceable words.  Meaghen, bless her heart, kept checking in on me, waiting for me to get up and get going, but there was no moving.  Eventually she coaxed me into moving next to the campfire, while I sat there and listened to others' stories of past ultras and their ups and downs before signing my life away at the DNF table.

I have been making excuses since the race as I've struggled with processing all that was Bear.  As Meaghen said very poetically last weekend, "It's too soon.  It's just too soon."  Yes, I had significant physical issues, but I will finally admit that it was my mental state that did me in.  Everything kept slowly wearing me down mentally and it culminated in that last extra mile before the 51.9 aid station.  I was done.  I could've kept going but every ounce of my body and brain said no.  I have never felt so broken and such an overwhelming sense of defeat as I felt in the final moments of that race.  Hopefully I will never feel that way again.

Running Tips

I've been asked by multiple people to jot down any tips that I have when it comes to training and racing.  This will be a "working post" and I will update it as things come to me  :-)

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#1-Chafing
Chafing can be one of the biggest issues a runner faces.  I've noticed the hotter and more humid it gets, the more you chafe.  I've tried all different types from Body Glide to Vaseline and finally settled on (don't laugh) Boudreaux's Butt Paste.  Any type of diaper rash cream will work and it works a gazillion times better than any other product.  If you think about it rationally, diaper rashes are a type of chafing, so it works on grownups as well!  The following are typical areas you want to cover with cream: 

• Under the arms where your arm might brush against your shirt
• On the inner thighs where the thighs and shorts might rub together
• Ladies, on your sports bra line in the front-this is the worst place pain-wise!
• Your back if you are wearing a hydration pack....  My Orange Mud Hydraquiver never chafes me, but my Camelbacks and Nathans did, so it just depends on your pack

For men, mole skin will be your best friend.  I don't care who you are, if you run with a shirt on for any kind for a long run, to put it bluntly, your nipples will bleed.  I've seen some horrible cases where there is blood streaming down light colored shirts.  If you run without a shirt, you have no worries. 

# 2-Bathroom Issues
Most runners experience bathroom issues at one point or another.  I have had multiple races where I was sidelined for 10 to 20 minutes in portapotties.  Portapotties will become the best friend of any runner-it doesn't matter the condition on the inside.  I have yet to try it, but multiple friends swear by Imodium.  A lot of runners take a fiber supplement to ensure regularity.  I recently learned from my own mistake-do not take it on race day.  I thought that if I took it in the morning, it would be out of my system by the time of my night race.  BOY was I WRONG.  I'm not going to go into details, but you can use your imagination if you so choose.

Tidbit for us women:  If you think you might need to go pee mid-race, wear a skirt.  You can pull the inside of one of the shorts legs over and pee like a man still standing - just make sure your shoes are out of the way 😆

#3-Nutrition
Always practice with whatever you are going to use on race day.  I tend to lean towards anything that is natural like Picky Bars, banana chips or applesauce because real food sets better on my stomach.  I do take the occasional Gu, but there are only a few flavors that I can tolerate.  Every person is different.  The only thing I can emphasize is to take what you will take on race day.  If you plan on using whatever the race offers, make sure you figure that out all the way down to the flavors they are offering and test it ahead of time.  Otherwise, you increase your chances of having issue #2.

#4-Clothes/Socks/Shoes
Clothes are just like nutrition in that everyone is different.  Avoid cotton shirts as they increase chances of chafing.  If you have to wear a pack at the race, I would make sure to wear a sleeved shirt to minimize chafing.  Wicking fabric is best.  Otherwise, it's up to the runner.  As for shoes, always size up 1/2 to a full size from your regular shoe size.  For instance, I wear a size ten in my normal, everyday shoes and I wear a 10.5 to 11 in running shoes.  The longer you are on your feet, the more your feet are going to swell.  If your shoes are too small, you risk all sorts of foot injuries.  Your sock size needs to match your running shoe size even though sometimes this stinks.  I love all the cute colors that female socks come in, but those typically come in size Medium which goes up to size 10 shoe.  This would be okay if I was wearing normal sized shoes, but your sock size needs to increase with your shoe size.  I lost a few toe nails trying to cram my feet into cutsie socks.

#5-Training
There are many philosophies on training plans and many free training plans on the internet that give a good base for training.  I used Hal Higdon's training plans for my first couple of half marathons and  three full marathons.  It worked fine, but I did notice that I always "bonked" between miles 20 and 23.  This was because the longest training run he has you do is twenty miles.  I started incorporating a 23 or 24 miler in during my training and that problem went away.  On the latter half of a marathon, most of it is mental and muscle repetition.  Your brain can carry you another two to three miles, but six is asking a little too much.  It's like the people that stand at mile twenty with signs saying you are almost there and you think, "Ha!  No I'm not!"

If you want a customized training plan, always feel free to email me and I can create one for you.  I've taken coaching classes and run and paced enough races to know what works and what doesn't.

#6-R.I.C.E.
Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevate.  These are some of the hardest things for a runner to do, but are the most important when staving off injuries.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RICE_(medicine)

If the injury doesn't improve after using this method, go see a doctor.  I am the worst person when it comes to going to the doctor because I prefer to stick my head in the sand and overmedicate with anti-inflammatories.  I had a serious setback this past season and missed races due to this tendency and have since learned to always reach out to a doc at first sign of serious pain where R.I.C.E. doesn't help.

#7-Race Day Tips
First and foremost, follow all of the above tips. 

The night before, eat a meal that is a favorite and easy on the stomach.  I lean towards steak and potatoes because they are pretty simple and a meal that I was raised on so I know the reaction my stomach would have.  I would avoid beans and spicy food as they come with race day complications.  On actual race day, eat a small meal.  I've heard people say they can't eat before a race, but believe me, you need to eat.  If you have to wake up an extra half hour early to allow time for your stomach to settle, do this.  You need the energy a good breakfast provides in order to do your best at your race.  I lean towards bagels, bananas and toast.  These are easily digestible and provide the correct nutrients.

Put together a plan for your race and know it by heart.  For marathons and halfs, I would recommend a pacing bracelet.  Some race expos offer them for free and there are also websites where you can order them.  All you need to do is google "pace bracelet."  Using these help you to stay on track for your time goal.  Another option is to stick with a pacer.  As a pacer, I try to keep an even pace throughout the race as I know my runners expect that of me.  Place trust in your pacer as they will most likely get you to whatever goal you have in mind.  When it comes to Ultras, set a time goal even if your goal is just to finish.  When you are out there on the course seemingly by yourself, the brain starts to wander into some dark places at times and if you have a plan, it keeps you focused.

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As I said above, this will be a working document.  If you, as the reader, have any other additional tips, please feel free to comment and I will add them to the page!

Thanks,
-A

amandalynnhughes@hotmail.com

Old Pueblo Fifty Miler Part Deux

The entire week leading up to this race was filled with nightmares and relatively no sleep.  It seemed all too real that I was turning hypothermic again while getting lost in the middle of nowhere.  Even with the forecast stating it would have a high of seventy and total sunshine, I still packed three ponchos.  I wasn't taking any chances ever again.

The night before the race, I only got about four hours of sleep as the nightmares were even more vivid than the previous five nights.  I woke up with a mixture of dread and determination.  This was going to be a long day.

I arrived at Kentucky Camp about thirty minutes before the race started, which gave me ample time to get my wits together, sort out my drop bags and try to calm down.  We all lined up and the siren went off.  No one moved at first and then it seemed like everyone had a collective thought of, "Oh, that was the signal to start!"  We took off.

Somewhere around mile four, I rolled my ankle for the first time.  Knowing my body and it's tendency to keep rolling the ankle once it's been rolled this first time did not bode well for me.  Turns out I was right.  I made it to the Mile 7 aid station fighting the urge to drop.  The determination in me won that battle and I continued on my way.  I didn't want to let anyone at the aid station know about my ankle that early on for fear that they would pull me off the course.

Early on in the race, there was this really nice older man that I kept passing and then he would pass me again.  Eventually we got to talking and I was motivated by our conversation.  He used to be a hard core trail runner, winning Old Pueblo back in the 90's, but was a shadow of his old self after taking an extended period of time off due to a torn Achilles.  It was really neat listening to his stories about the old trail races and people he had met along the way.  Eventually, I had to speed up to try to make some of the splits that my coach had outlined, but the conversation had been just what I needed to take my mind off the pain.

Mile 25

At the mile 19 aid station, I heard the volunteers tell me to take a "sharp........", but I had my headphones on and didn't hear the rest.  Shortly after I left the aid station, the road made a sharp right turn and I assumed that was the sharp they were talking about.  Half a mile later, I realized there were no markers and made the trek back up the hill to see where I went wrong.  I came across the sharp left arrows.  From there on out, I vowed to pay more attention to my surroundings.  I couldn't risk getting lost again if I wanted to make the cut offs.

Once I was headed in the right direction again, I looked up and there was my buddy Ken.  We chatted for six or seven miles about anything and everything.  His foot was really sore, so he was having to take it easy on the uphills and I was looking for more conversation to distract me from my ankle pain.  I eventually took off again, when I feared for the cut off times, and turned up my music for distraction.  At mile 29, I finally decided to tell a volunteer about my ankle.  I didn't think they would pull me by that point and thankfully, they didn't.  They actually had some tape in the first aid kit and tried to rig some support for my bum ankle.

Mile 29

The tape helped for the first couple of miles after that and I was able to make up some time.  Based on my calculations, I would have plenty of time to make the cutoffs.  I could breathe a small sigh of relief and take in the surroundings.  The Santa Rita mountain range was truly a beautiful place.  I started thinking positive thoughts (finally) and decided I was going to finish this race no matter what.  Then I got to the mile 33 aid station.  I could go to the left and make it back to camp in three miles, or I could go right for seventeen more miles of torture.  Thankfully, my buddy was working the aid station and would not let me go left-I had to keep going.  He told me the next portion was mostly forest service road, which would be easier on my ankle and gave me some hope.

I started flying down the road, feeling rejuvenated from the fruit, conversation and level road and totally missed my turn.  Again.  I noticed the lack of markers almost half a mile out (I'm seeing a trend) and turned around.  When I got to the turn I missed, I felt like an idiot.  The first turn I missed had been a little sketchy, but this one was marked clear as day and I just wasn't paying attention.  This part was really rocky and I had to take it easy on my throbbing ankle.  The last thing I needed was a fall or another roll.

By this point, I had been left alone with my thoughts for too long was starting to entertain the idea of dropping out again.  After rolling my ankle a gazillion times and getting lost twice, I was nowhere near my split times and there was no way I could catch up.  Then, I noticed another runner behind me.  Yay!  Someone to talk to!  That other runner happened to be the guy I got lost with last year.  We had wandered around the freezing rain for hours looking for non-existent course markers.  It turns out that after I dropped at twenty five, he got lost again and added an extra twelve miles off course before finally finding someone to pick him up and dropping out of the race.  How miserable that must've been!  We spent about five miles together, constantly calculating and recalculating our splits and what we needed to make the cut offs.  We were both pretty paranoid at that point.  He told me how his family was waiting at forty and he had to finish for his kids.  I told him I had to finish for all the people cheering me on via Facebook.  How times have changed :-)

We reached an uphill and I decided I needed to run it (we had previously been walking the steep uphills).  He stayed behind.  I passed another runner as I was heading into the mile forty aid station and thought to myself, "There's at least two people behind me.  Whew!  I'm not last!"  I made it to forty with plenty of time to spare and could relax a little.  This was the last station with a cut off, so I was in the clear.  I only had eleven miles left, which was a mid-distance training run for me.  How many times had I run eleven miles?  Enough to know I could crawl and make it if needed.

Re-enacting Blair Witch

A couple of miles out of that aid station and I had to finally turn on my flash light.  The terrain was getting tricky-especially in the dark.  I passed another runner around forty three.  Good.  There were at least three behind me so I was definitely not last!  There was a lot of tall grass and I started imagining all the creepy crawlies I couldn't see.  What if I got bit by a snake or spider or something else?  The rational part of my brain knew it was too cold for that, but no one thinks very rationally after being on their feet for 40+ miles over thirteen hours.  I sped up and stumbled.  Crap.  Now I was having to watch my step, look out for scary things that go bump in the night AND try to find the course markings?!?!?!

Based on my calculations, I was 1.8 miles over from being directionally challenged, so when I reached the 47.8 mark on my Garmin, I fully expected an aid station to be there, but all I could see was endless tall grass.  Where was this aid station?  How did I miss it?!  Am I going to be stuck out here all by myself with Lord knows what lurking behind the next tree?

BACON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I eventually rounded a corner and saw some lights in the distance and down some switchbacks.  "Runner!!!!!  We've got a runner!!!!  Hurry up and get here already!!!!!"  The volunteers had spotted my light and were ready and waiting.  Scrambling down the hill, trying to find my way in the dark abyss, I hear "Bacon!!!"  I ran as fast as my bum ankle could carry me!  That is definitely one of my magic words  :-)  I had slices of bacon and even pocketed a travel sized tequila bottle for post-race celebration before taking off.  They told me I either had a short five or a long four ahead of me however I wanted to look at it.  Short five sounded nice, and off I went.  From there on out, it was pretty well marked with glow sticks.  There was one last horrible climb.  Two miles out, Chris calls to check on me.  We talked for a few minutes (mostly about how I was totally over this race, thankful I was going to get my buckle and swearing never to do it again.)

I have never been as thankful in my life as when I saw the "One Mile to Go" sign.  One mile.  How many times had I run one mile?  When I reached the finish line, I broke down sobbing.  This moment had been a year in the making and after one hellish experience followed by dozens of nightmares, an injury and the hardest battle I've ever fought in my mind, I had done it.  I had my Old Pueblo buckle.  Don't judge, but I slept with it under my pillow that night.

IMS Marathon

IMS Marathon was my second marathon pacing gig and I was determined to best my previous time where I was within twenty six seconds of my goal time.  As the 4:45 pacer, I would need at least a 4:44:35 to do this.

The 4:45 pace was a 10:52/mile.  My plan was to maintain a 10:45-10:48 pace allowing for walking through water stops.  My biggest fear was that the course was long like in Tucson.  The day before, I tried practicing my pace during my shake out run and realized this was going to be difficult.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't run slower than a 10:30/mile and somehow I was going to have to do just that for twenty six miles straight.

The day of the race came, we made it to Westgate and boarded the buses.  We ran into my friend Deni in the parking lot.  She was running this race as one of her "40 before 40" marathons.  IMS was her substitute for the canceled Sedona race.  We chatted the entire way to the start, discussing her past marathons and my plans for future ones.  When we got to the start, we unloaded the buses and I went on a search for a bathroom.  The last thing I needed was to have the urge to go in the middle of a race where I was pacing and not be able to do anything about it.

At the start of the race, I had a good group of about twenty runners.  I got to know each of them pretty well in those first miles.  I had some first timers as well as some that were on a fifty states quest like myself.  They were from all over the country and were attracted to the race because of how cheap it was-by far the cheapest marathon in the Valley. 

People started falling back around mile eight and soon I was down to four or five.  There was this really nice couple that were both in the military and this was their first marathon together.  They dropped back shortly before we reached the military base because they wanted to rest up for a little bit so they could look good for their friends and commanding officer when they ran the portion of the course that went through the base.  By then, my hamstrings were screaming and I was all alone.  It's moments like this when you have to find a task and focus on it to stay motivated.  For me, it was the fact that I had to get that stick across the line on time.  I passed a couple of my friends that had dropped as the sun was beating down on us.  There was no shade on the course and it was turning into a hot day.  I felt bad for everyone behind me that would be stuck on the course, in that heat for much longer. 

The last few mile markers were totally off and had me freaking out about the time.  First it was too long and I sped up to try to make up some ground and then the next one was too short, so I had to slow down a bit.  Runners came and went the last couple of miles, either trying to hold on to my pace or beat it.  As I neared the finish line, I encouraged the runners around me to kick it in so they could get a sub 4:45.  I ended up coming in with 7.5 seconds to spare.  I doubt if I will ever be able to get that close again-I was so proud that I couldn't wipe the "Amanda grin" off my face.  My muscles were sore for days after that because I had to adjust my gait to run that pace, but it was worth it.