Pacing Bighorn

"This is amazing! Nothing hurts! Well, except for everything."

A few months back, I got a text message from my friend Amy asking if I would pace her for her second hundred mile race, the Bighorn 100.  Immediately I said yes, because, duh.  Then, I got to thinking and realized that I have zero experience being a pacer, and I've never even come close to running that far.  She had asked that I pace her from the turnaround in the course, which is a mile 48. I had agreed to run 52 miles! No problem?

Amy is putting a lot of faith in me here, in my abilities, and in my personality.  Could you run half a day with someone that annoyed the crap out of you? We didn't even know each other very well! The first time we met and ran together was a circumnavigation of the Loowit Trail, around Mt. St. Helens.  I jumped into the adventure pretty naively, and wound up caught in a storm without proper attire, approaching hypothermia.  And she trusts me to get her to the finish line of a hundred miler?  Truthfully, she chose me to pace her because we didn't know each other super well.  It makes sense, because you are less likely to have a meltdown in front of someone you don't know super well.  

Fast forward to race weekend.  I hopped a tight standby flight to Billings, and crashed on the couch of a friend. (Thanks Erikka!) The next morning I made the two hour drive to Sheridan, trying to cram as many inspirational podcasts in as I could.  Amy and I met up at the packet pickup in town, and picked up our bibs.  We had a leisurely evening, dinner with her family, and met up with Bill and Ronda, Amy's best friends from Bend.  Ronda was also running Bighorn (29th 100 mile finish, 4th Bighorn finish!!!!!!!).

Bighorn has an eleven am start time, which is odd.  I suppose it's designed to have subsequent races all finish around the same time.  There is a 50 miler, 31 miler and 18 miler that all start the next day.  Bill and I dropped off Amy and Ronda at the start line, and headed up to Dry Fork.  

Right off the start line is this sweet little view. Not bad!

#trailsisters ready to go!

Amy came into Dry Fork (mile 13) looking strong.  It had been a pretty steep climb to get here.  The whole family got to cheer her into the aid station, and her crew chief mom had bottles pre mixed and a new bladder to swap out.  Wheels off, wheels on.  It was cool to see Bill crew so efficiently for Ronda as well; those two have a system!

It was here at Dry Fork where Bill pointed out the snow capped mountains in the distance.  So far distance, you'd need a heavy zoom.  That is where I'd be starting to run.  Gulp. 

Once the ladies passed through the first crew point, I had to figure out how to get some sleep, as I'd be running through the night and needed to be rested.  Ronda and Amy would see Bill again at Foot Bridge (mile 30), and would see us again at the turn around (Jaws, mile 48).  Amy's parents had just gotten a new motorhome, so I rested in there until we all made the trip up to Jaws.  

We could see virga and lightning, and hear thunder in the distance.  The Jaws trailhead sits at about 9000 feet, and it was COLD.  I was glad I hadn't overpacked by bringing my parka! It's strange not knowing when you'll start running.  Normally before a long run, I'm able to time my hydration and nutrition to get me going without having to pee right away, or get too hungry/ too full.  Not the case here; the pacer just needs to be ready to jump in whenever their runner arrives.  Amy's a champ, and showed up right on schedule, at 11:30 pm.  Parka off, headlamp on, and away we go!

Jaws Aid Station, Mile 48.  About 11pm

Chasing the little bunny in front of me! 

Time to get to know each other! I'd been holding off on stories and personal details, so I could keep up conversation for the next 52 miles! Amy had said that she didn't like to talk (didn't seem that way to me!), and that she needed me mostly to remind her to eat at regular intervals.  Easy job for me! Resume my normal chatty banter, make sure Amy eats every 20-30 minutes, and run 52 miles.  Simple?

The first five hours went by pretty fast.  Amy hit a little bit of a low, really more of a pothole than a low.  She admitted to being tired, which she followed with an enthusiastic, "That means I should eat something!"  No more low.  She told me to keep an eye out for headlamps behind us.  Everytime I pointed out a light in the rear view, she'd pick up the pace until the light was gone.  On the out and back, we passed some friends from Portland, Jen and Rich.  Always encouraging to see familiar faces! We saw Bill at Foot Bridge (mile 66), and he provided some much needed support.  Layers shed, more food packed.  I had been running for 18 miles by this point, and still felt pretty good.  It'd had been my longest run in the dark! Love my Petzl NAO!  It helped that the course was extremely well marked with glow sticks and reflective taping.  At one point after Foot Bridge, Amy told me we had to walk over the rocky sections, because her stabilizer muscles were feeling tired.  I reminded her that at the last aid station, she had changed shoes and socks while balancing on one foot.  Her stabilizer muscles were just fine! We motored on.

As the sun rose, so did our energy.  I kept exclaiming "Amy! Look at the mountains! Look at the view! Look at the flowers!" To which she'd patiently respond, "I know, I've been here before!" It was an out and back, after all.  We laughed, joked, talked about work and relationships, even sang a little. Ok, maybe I sang.  Spirits were still high.  Amy had a pretty gnarly blister by this point, and we decided that she could give the blister some time to hurt, then it was time to get over it.  We talked about how dry the trails were; friends had warned us about miles and miles of deep mud.  The dandelions and the birds became animate, and cheered Amy on.  Streams were still a welcome cool, as the temperature was starting to heat up as the sun rose higher. 

It's dry!

Still smiling!

So incredibly beautiful

We hit Dry Fork again at what was mile 82.  Amy's excellent crew family were ready once again with a fresh pack and mixed bottles.  Eighteen more miles! It was just after 9 am.  We had a couple miles to climb, then a 12 mile descent.  STEEP descent.  The pictures don't do it justice.  It was somewhere on this portion where Amy says "This is amazing! Nothing hurts! Well, except for everything."  We had a hearty laugh.  It was incredible to get to that point and not have any nagging pains!  As we were making our way down the rocky single track, Amy remarked "Are you noticing how many heart shaped rocks there are?!" I told her to pick one up and I'd carry it back.  We'd been getting pretty good at the relay baton of trash and discarded nutrition, so she hands me back a rock and I stow in in my pack.  When we get back, we laughed about how it was barely heart shaped;)  Since she'd been here before, she tour-guided me over bridges and around the most amazing hillsides of wildflowers.

Talk about steep! The race ends in the bottom of this valley.  Where the land looks like the horizon.  I joked about descending into the Pacific, it wasn't that funny after all

If only you could smell this photo. Sagebrush!

We hit a couple aid stations in between each crew aid stations, and everyone was so fantastic.  The volunteers kept us hydrated, caffeinated and fed, and even sun screened! 

The 18 and 32 mile runners started catching us by this point, and we had to spend a lot of time waiting in the brush for long lines of them to speed past on fresh legs.  Kind of annoying, because it made it impossible to gain any kind of momentum.  They were all moving faster than anyone running 100 miles, and wouldn't yield the right of way like they had been instructed.  I was running behind Amy at this point to let her know when runners were approaching.  We cheered them on, and they cheered us on.  

In this picture, you can see the iconic rock that is the symbol for the race

One thing I had learned in my research of how to be a good pacer is to not ask your runner how they are feeling.  They're running 100 miles for crying out loud! The answer to that question is never "I feel fantastic!" Asking a runner at mile 80 how they're feeling just allows for negative speech to come into play, and that is not allowed! A huge lesson I learned was the power of not allowing negative emotions or language come into play.  A pacer is not allowed to complain, or make the run into anything other than their runner's day.  I couldn't let Amy know that my blisters had blisters, or my calf might cramp and explode.  The mind is such a powerful tool.  Plus, she had been running for 48 miles longer than I had at any given time, and was STILL a machine.  

The last 4.5 miles of the course were on an exposed, flat, dirt road.  We hit the dirt and I took Amy's pack so she could just run.  She elected to do intervals of ten minutes running, two minutes walking.  To be able to run ten minutes straight at this point was crazy! It was 95 degrees, she had run 97 miles, and has ascended and descended 17000 feet! 

This is Amy, after running 97 miles, and ascending/descending 17000 feet.  Are you kidding me?!

We begin to actually pass some of the runners who had bombed past us on the descent from Dry Fork.  Ha! I forced Amy to run through every sprinkler, and under the shade of every residential street tree.  A kid at about mile 98.5 had otter pops! We stopped while he cut them open, and we slurped them down as we ran.  The end was in sight! Amy's dad was up the road, and I ditched Amy's pack with him.  We're doing this! Just around the corner, across the street, and through the park.  We ran our hearts out, and I left Amy just before the finish line.  She crossed it beaming.  I started crying.  How beautiful, how magical! Her body, soul, mind just ran for more than 24 hours, for 100 miles.  She ran through one sunset, into the sunrise.  

I collapsed in a chair; Amy played in a nearby stream and we watched people finish, and cheered on everyone's victories.  We saw Ronda come through the finish, after having fought some battles with the course.  It was simply inspiring to see people conquer a course like that.  And with smiles!

Best feeling ever

Little bit of trench foot! Amy later said, "That thing with a fissure has a blister under it!"

Ronda finishing with a smile, happy to be done and see her buddy!

I'm wearing sunglasses so you can't see my tears..

Camp chairs are the most comfortable inventions

My new favorite bib.  What an honor

I had told Amy that my desire to do a hundred mile depended on how this experience was.  Well, she made it look like a walk in the park.. so..

Orcas Island 50k Race Report

It's taken about a week to gather my thoughts about this magical weekend.  I was encouraged by my coach to write a race report, so here goes my first!

The story starts a few months back, when I made a decision to sign up for my first 50 miler.  I had a couple 50k's under my belt, and had never really followed a training plan.  Just wingin' it, and it was working out ok! I knew it wouldn't be safe to 'just wing it' for a 50 miler, so I sought out coaching advice.  I think trail running is largely about who can stay healthy the longest!

I started working with Jeffrey Kline at PRSfit in January, and subsequently got into the Mt. Hood 50 via the lottery.  That race isn't until July, and I had the Orcas 50k, and Smith Rock 50k before that.  I really dig Coach Jeff's philosophy with training and coaching; he's into effort based training and was already a big proponent of UCAN, which I swear by.  My weekly schedules had me doing more strength training and yoga than I have ever done (consistently), and WAAAY more 'Zone 1 and 2' runs.  I knew that the course at Orcas was going to be hilly, so I tried to run hills often, but if the trail goes up a few grades, my heart rate skyrockets! More work to do on that.

Just for the hill of it.

Fast forward to race weekend! We had a pretty solid crew going up: my husband Brandon, who was running Orcas as his first 50k, Meahgan, who only runs the most difficult 50k's, James, who chose Orcas as his first race EVER, and his lovely wife Katie, who was an extraordinary crew member/ finish line volunteer.  We met up in Portland, and began the drive north to Anacortes.  We fueled up there, then hopped on a ferry to the island.  It was pretty windy and a little rainy, but the greys in the San Juans are the most beautiful shades of color out there.  Once on the island, we checked into our bunkhouses and ate dinner with the rest of the runners.  Nerves were a little high, but it felt good to be there.  I was still deliberating on which shoes to wear (I brought the Saucony Peregrine 6, and the Hoka Challenger).  After dinner and a little shakeout walk on the course, an early bedtime was welcome.

On the ferry!

This view!!

Alarms went off just before 6 am, and we popped up pretty quick for breakfast and coffee.  James and Katie are craft coffee wizards, and brewed us the most delicious coffee! I had my typical pre-race breakfast of overnight oats with UCAN, and we all headed back to the cabin to get dressed! Since the trails weren't super muddy (like they were in 2015!), I opted to run in the Challengers.  Meaghan will tell you that I did freak out a little on what to wear apparel-wise, and she's right ;) We all got our packs filled with water, food, and electrolytes, and headed to the start line!

Coffee mixologists James and Katie! Thanks Water Ave!

I love how low-key Rainshadow Running events are.  James Varner, RD, hollered some instructions at us, and we were off! The first five miles starts on a paved hill, to a little summit on Constitution.  I started towards the back of the pack, and ran a few miles with my friend Bushwacker.  I had Brandon and James in my visual for about five miles, then they took off.  Brandon slays at downhills.  I ran relaxed at the start, just taking stock in how my body was feeling.  My coach had said that he wanted to see who I was as a racer, so I had decided to push it a little.  Still, I felt a little less than prepared, as I hadn't done much hiking in preparation.

Up the first hill, a faster than necessary descent, and then into the first aid station.  Glen Tachiyama was hiding there, and got some sweet shots.  I ran through this aid station, confident in my nutrition plan, and cruised on to the next portion, which was somewhat flat, with rolling hills.  Picture perfect lakes and woods.  A couple more hikes to smaller summits, and past the second aid station.  I chatted with a couple people as we ran together, but by that point, runners were pretty strung out.  Either I was getting passed, or passing someone, and we wouldn't cross paths again.  A few people remarked at how, even by mile 18, anything could happen.  Mentally, I was prepared to struggle significantly on the upcoming climbs.  The last ten miles of this course are absolutely insane.  I thought of the fact that I hadn't seen James or Brandon at all, so they were killing it!

Feeling spry! Photo by Glen Tachiyama

The third aid station is at mile 20, right before the hill climb known as the Powerline Trail.  The infamous Powerline Trail.  I saw James as I entered the aid station, and he gave me an energizing high five and told me to "Kill the hill!" I prepared my mind for about 45 minutes of hiking this section, and it was easier to digest than two miles.  I thought of the encouraging words of my friend Becky, who told me the climbs were her favorite part(!), and a reminder bracelet from Mary.  I thought of my parents, in-laws, friends, co-workers, and everyone else who wished me well and believed in me.  Just put one foot in front of the other.  Yes, I sang the song from that Christmas movie.  I prayed, ALOT. I thought of my two friends running the 100 miler on the same course in a couple weeks.  If they were going to go up this hill four times, I could do it once.  My trail name is Freight Train, and I just buckled down and got into a rhythm.  Be a train!

Just put one foot, in front of the other..

Then, the top! The next descent was so welcome, and quite a bit longer than I anticipated.  I went a little over a mile without seeing a confidence marker, and got a little spooked.  Did I miss a turn? I figured I was off course, and decided to just keep running downhill until I found a found a road and could flag down a car.  The single track was buttery smooth anyway.  I caught a glimpse of another runner ahead! At first I thought 'He's lost too!' but then I saw that sweet, pink survey tape.  The race is back on! A few hikers mentioned on how few women there were running, so I had a thought I might be higher up in placing.  Cool! The climb up to the summit of Mount Constitution was one mile, so I gave myself twenty minutes to push it.  The final aid station was at the top, and someone knew my name! Instantly encouraged, I ran past the aid station and began the final descent.  Miles beeped by, and before I knew it, I could hear the finish line.  I kept my effort high, and saw the colorful flags and cheering crowds marking the final stretch.

I'll be honest, one of the most rewarding things about running a Rainshadow race is that high-five from James Varner.  BAM! Got it.  I spread my arms wide, and spun a happy circle.  Brandon had finished six minutes before I did, so we immediately held each other in a salty, exhausted embrace.  We cheered on James and Meaghan's solid finishes, and resolved to spend the evening relaxing.  Food, more food, water, more water. Nap. Repeat.  Post-race music was lively, and provided the perfect ambiance.  Those dudes rocked late into the night, even out by the bonfire!

Four finishers, four winners!

Thanks for the tunes!

Top ten males and females!

All in all, a superb weekend.  We made new friends with our bunkmates, and I connected with a fellow Runner of the Wild from LA! Our group had breakfast on the island, and then once again in Anacortes.  We stopped a lot on the way home to stretch and eat.  My folks' house provided food, water, and a hot tub! Memories made, friendships strengthened.  Events like these are about just that.  Camaraderie, fellowship, a deep appreciation for nature.

On to the next!