McLennan's Grit

I was on the receiving end of a little trail magic this weekend at McLennan's Grit 12-HR Run in Summerland. The kind event organizers graciously allowed me to register at the 11th hour (i.e. the day before) and I showed up race morning with no plan and low expectations. Based on my lack of training --  or even recent long runs -- I didn't expect to be able to do more than 50km, and then hoped to feel well enough to at least walk a few more laps before calling it a day. 

No one was more surprised than I was when 50km rolled around and I was feeling great so I revised my plan to aim for 60km of running, which became 70km and then 80km. At that point, I was walking some, but still running at least half of each 5km lap. I hit 90km with over an hour left on the clock and was very tempted to stop yet I pushed on knowing that I could walk the entire lap and still finish within the 12 hour cut-off. That final lap was a slog, but it got me the women's course record (!!) so was worth it.

Photo credit: Louise Blais

It's no secret that I have had stomach issues at many...most...of my ultras and it's one of the main reasons that I stopped doing them. This weekend, I had no GI upset and I think a big part of that was due to the fact that the weather was unseasonably cool for June. The skies were overcast for much of the day and we even had some light showers in the morning, which was perfect for me and my temperamental gut! I know I won't always be so fortunate weather-wise, but it was a nice change to only be concerned about calories in and not all the ones lost alongside the trail!

I had a number of people come up to me after that race and comment on how happy I looked out there and I absolutely was. I love trails and running -- the longer the better. However, for the past few years, I've been struggling with injuries, illness and a general sense of blah that has kept me from doing what I most enjoy and I wasn't sure if I'd ever get back to it. Being out there this weekend literally filled me with joy and I probably was grinning like an idiot and that's okay. It's better than being a grump on the couch.  

After the race, Dave said to me, "It's like you got away with something." And that's kind of how it feels. On paper (or Strava) there's no way I should have been able to run 95km, yet I did without so much as a blister. Hence, trail magic!

Will I race again? I don't know. I had fun this weekend, but there's a lot about racing that I don't miss so we'll see. Perhaps the temptation to get 20 laps/100km at next year's Grit may prove too strong to resist. 😉

Tucson Marathon

I ran my first marathon 20 years ago in Vancouver. Despite being appallingly under-trained, I went in with the over-confident attitude that only a naive (arrogant?) 20-year-old can have. "How bad can it be?" I thought to myself. Really, really bad it turns out. Horrendous even. There were tears, blisters, cursing and chaffing. It was a massive suffer-fest that took me nearly 5 hours to complete (4:51 to be exact) and I couldn't walk properly for weeks afterwards.

I certainly didn't shuffle away with the sense that marathon running was "my thing".  But, oddly enough, something about it made me happy. And somewhere along the way, it actually became my thing. Go figure!? When it comes to running, what I lack in natural ability, I make up in sheer determination. I think that's how, two decades later, I ended up with a PR and win at the Tucson Marathon. Not talented, just stubborn.

Waiting for the race to start.

Obviously, though, simply being obstinate will not win you a marathon. You need the support of others and I've got some pretty amazing people on my side. My husband is at the top of that list for so many reasons. Without him, I'd never make it to a single race start. Seriously, I can't read maps, I'm terrible with directions and I hate driving. Most importantly, he believes in me even when I don't believe in myself. As well, I have the good fortune of training with David Roche of Some Work, All Play Running and the progress I've made under his guidance these past two years is remarkable. (I've PR'd in almost every distance. At 40! WTF?!)

I definitely didn't go into the Tucson Marathon with any expectation of winning. I consider myself a trail runner who decides to do a marathon every few years and then regrets it. This time around, my only goal was to go under 3-hours (which has been my goal for more years than I care to admit). I had run a 3:04 at the Cascade trail marathon in July without much preparation and got the idea in my head that this was the year to give sub-3 another go. I selected the Tucson Marathon because I thought the Arizona weather in December would be ideal, it was an opportunity to visit my parents and in-laws and the downhill course profile was very appealing.

Easy cruising in the early miles.

My marathon specific training started in the fall and went extremely well. I didn't have any issues with injury or illness, and the weather this year could not have been better. I fully expected snowy streets to force me onto the treadmill for many of my long runs, but it never happened. I was able to log almost every mile outdoors. Based on my training efforts and a 20km race I did in November, I knew I was on track for a 2:58-3:02 marathon. Meaning that to go under 3 hours would require race day perfection - there would be no margin for error. One bathroom break or loose shoelace could make all the difference. I knew this going in so I think that's why I didn't stress when faced with the slightest of headwinds. Oftentimes, a headwind isn't a big deal unless it's a point-to-point course (like Tucson) in which case you'd better learn to love it because you're going to be stuck with it.

I was a little sad to see that I losing a couple of seconds per kilometre once the winds picked up, but as I was otherwise feeling great and having a fantastic race, I didn't let it get to me and actually stopped looking at my watch entirely at about 30kms. For the most part, the course is very open and runs alongside the Tucson-Globe Highway. There is one 5km out-and-back section around the halfway point where you get your only opportunity to see where you are in the field. I knew I was the third woman and was curious to see how far ahead the top two ladies were and how they looked. I also wanted to get a sense of the gap between me and the ladies behind me.

Other than a headwind, the weather was perfect!

Fortunately, the turnaround confirmed for me that I could comfortably hold my pace and position and just settle in for the second half. I was not going to catch the ladies ahead of me who were looking strong and relaxed and showed no signs of fatigue, and there was enough distance between me and the next couple of ladies that I didn't feel vulnerable. Mentally, this was my happy place. I was following my race plan, feeling amazing and only had a half marathon to go. Sweet!

Somewhere around three miles from the finish, I realized that I was gaining on the 2nd place woman which suprised me. As I was still feeling pretty damn good, I decided to go for the pass. I did it with the best race face I could muster and didn't look back. I still feel like an ass for not saying anything to her but sometimes saying something seems insincere (i.e. "you look great", "way to go", "keep it up" etc. - when the person is clearly not having a good time) and I'm not a very chatty race person anyway. (We did talk at the finish and she is absolutely lovely. Hi Carrie if you're reading this!)

At this point in the race, we had caught up with some of the half marathoners so there were a lot of runners out on the course. With about a mile to go, I looked up and spotted what appeared to be the blue shirt of the lead marathon lady. I had assumed that she was long done by now and decided that she must be a half marathoner with a similar shirt. It wasn't until I was right behind her that I realized it was the leading woman and she was hurting. Still running well and feeling the pull of the finish line just around the corner, I passed her but indicated that she follow me so that we could finish together. Again, I felt bad going ahead so close to the finish when she had lead the whole race.

Clearly, though, she didn't have anything left so I continued on alone. I pushed hard in that final mile with "oh shit oh shit of shit" running through my head. I didn't think she would catch me but I also didn't want to let up just in case. I was ready to be done. When I crossed the finish line in 3:01:32 it was not disappointment I felt for missing my sub-3 goal, it was sheer joy for having run my best marathon ever and feeling so good in the process. Winning was the cherry on top. (Results here.)

Finish lines are always a welcome sight for tired legs.

This year of running has probably been my most successful, both in terms of results and enjoyment. I still can't believe all that I've done without even the slightest hint of injury or burnout. And the fact that I turned 40 in September and am now racing as a Master with better times than I had in my twenties just adds to my awe of what the body is capable of when we treat it right and have a positive (and realistic) attitude.

I'm now in the process of planning my races for 2019 and there will be another road marathon on the schedule. I still haven't given up on my dream of a sub-3 hour marathon. If anything, there's more fuel in the fire now!

For the holidays and New Year, I wish you health, inspiration and time to pursue the things that make you happy!

Frosty Mtn and the TNF Dirty Feet Tunnel Run

Frosty Mountain 50k

By the time September comes around, I'm usually too busy and excited about the race that we put on (insert utterly shameless plug for the Mighty Quail Trail 100k here) to do more than get in a few runs and, if I'm lucky, maybe even a race. 

Race reports, though, never seem to get written which means outstanding events like Frosty Mountain are overlooked. Why this race isn't more popular and doesn't sell out like so many less scenic and more expensive events, I'll never understand. Frosty Mountain rocks! If you haven't done it, do it! Let 2019 be your year to discover this gem of a race. Both the 27k and 50k courses offer a satisfying challenge and lots of stellar views. There's a 10k too but I haven't done it so can't vouch for its awesomeness.

There's something about Frosty that attracts kooky people and I think I met most of them this year. (And, just to clarify, I mean fun kooky, not if I met them alone in a dark alley I would run away screaming kind of kooky.) For example, there was the fleece jacket guy, who, despite mild temperatures, claimed he didn't need to ditch his fuzzy sweater because he was getting enough air circulation through the pit zips. I figured he must have been at least a little uncomfortable as I was wearing far less and feeling quite toasty. Then I met another runner who wanted to tell me about his chaffed balls and I decided that he deserved the prize for the worst race day outfit. And perhaps the biggest overshare to a stranger...

Anyway, I finished the race first woman and second overall in a time of 5:28:26 - just over a minute behind the top man and less than three minutes off the women's course record. Will I be back? You betcha!

Results here.

The North Face Dirty Feet Tunnel Run 20k

This was my fourth - and fastest! - TNF Dirty Feet Tunnel Run. I was sort of using it to test my fitness for the Tucson Marathon next month where I'm aiming for a PR. Having met my goal of going under 1:25 at the Tunnel Run, I'm hoping that will boost my confidence for the marathon, which I'm still expecting to be hard AF!?

This is THE tunnel!

My Dirty Feet friends, Phil, Grace and Pickles (the dog), put on this great race and I try to do it every year if we're in town. Out and back runs on the KVR trail are the bread-and-butter of my workouts so it's a surface and grade that I'm very comfortable with. And being a local race usually means I'll see lots of people I know. 

Because the race is held around Halloween, costumes are encouraged and there are some great ones! I'm always amazed by what some people are willing to run 10k/20k in (the race can be done solo or as a relay in teams of two) and also curious about how these outfits are cleaned afterwards. I dressed up one year but didn't find wearing what was essentially a gigantic polyester tent very conducive to running fast so have stuck with my usual race kit ever since. So boring, I know.

Results here.

Less than 4k to the finish.

Based on these two write-ups, it would seem that I'm preoccupied with "proper" race attire. I'm really not, but I have done my share of overheating and chaffing in the past and would happily help others avoid making the mistakes I've made. However, as most people don't appreciate unsolicited advice, I'll just keep my thoughts on race day fashions to myself...and my blog. ;)

Idaho Peak Ultra

Had you asked me immediately after crossing the finish line if I enjoyed the Idaho Peak Ultra, I think I would have had a hard time answering. My initial feeling upon finishing is that I was very glad to be done and wouldn't want to do it again. With hindsight, though, I can honestly say that it was a great race and I will likely go back next year.

Finally finished!

There aren't a lot of races that I want to return to, especially in consecutive years, but sometimes you have to make exceptions to your own silly, arbitrary rules. There are two main reasons I'd go back to Idaho Peak. One is completely ego driven - at the finish, I found out that I'd missed the course record by about two minutes and since I don't feel like I ran my best race this year, I want to see how I do when I'm not fighting a migraine. And on a day that's a few (or 10!) degrees cooler.  

The second - and more important factor - is that I received this highly unusual trophy that is mine for the year, but must be returned. I don't imagine I can easily ship it through Canada Post so I guess I'll be hand delivering it and if I'm going to be in the neighbourhood anyway, I might as well race, right.

One of a kind trophy art

My one regret for this race was underestimating the elevation gain (approximately 2,200 metres over 45km according to the race website, although my Garmin showed it being a bit less for both elevation and distance). Whatever the exact numbers are, it's a shitload of climbing, coming almost entirely in the first half. When Dave commented on the vert after looking at the course profile, I should have listened because the guy knows numbers and can climb like a goat. However, I brazenly disregarded his concern knowing that I like climbing and generally do well at it. How bad can it really be?

Well, let me just say that after 18 kilometres of climbing, I didn't like climbing very much anymore and couldn't wait to start descending which is a new and scary feeling for me. The photo below does not do justice to the steepness of the last climb up to the peak. I was scrambling up using my hands for sections and worried that if I leaned too far back, I'd go ass over tea kettle down the mountain.

Final push up to the Idaho Peak lookout.

By far, the best views of the course were along the ridgeline from the fire lookout tower. I was mostly focused on the trail and darting around day hikers, but occasionally I'd look up and be absolutely blown away by the beauty around me.

The reward for all that climbing

After reaching the high point, it was finally time to switch into downhill mode. I blew through the second aid station without stopping and Dave let me know that there were two women who were only a minute or so behind me at the first aid station. It was not exactly what I wanted to hear as I was still feeling crappy with a throbbing head and it was starting to get hot. I would have preferred a larger gap between me and the other ladies, but what are you going to do. Just keep running, I guess! 

Knowing that I don't do the downs as well as the ups, I tried to stay focused on keeping a consistent pace and effort. And not falling on my face. I saw Dave again (he was biking parts of the course) between the third and fourth aid stations and he let me know that I had increased my lead significantly by the second aid station so I felt a bit less pressure but didn't want to ease up much just in case.

The final few kilometres of the race followed the river and included a cable car crossing, which I thought was going to be gimmicky, but was actually quite fun and the volunteers there were very efficient and didn't waste any time sending me across. 

The Kootenay Sufferfest crew, who puts on this race and some other very cool events (running, biking and multi-sport), are doing a great job of promoting tourism and trail use in one of my favourite areas of BC and it makes me happy to support them and their efforts! 

Race results here:

  

Cascade Super Marathon

When I sent an email to my coach (David Roche) at the end of May saying: 1. that I wanted to add a marathon to my summer race plans 2. said marathon was taking place in one month and 3. I wanted it to be my fastest marathon ever; I'm pretty sure his initial reaction must have been "ARE YOU CRAZY?!? (He probably would have inserted an F bomb in there too because he's very expressive that way.)

Fortunately, David is a wise man and probably realized that I was foolish enough to attempt it with or without his blessing so he'd better get on board and try to minimize the damage that I might inflict on myself; thus, undoing all the careful and cautious post-injury running babysteps we've taken together over the past year and a half.

His one caveat to agreeing to this last minute marathon was that I would scrap my plan to do the Fragrance Lake Half Marathon three weeks before it. To which I relied, "um, nope, I think I'll still do that one too." (Race report here.) Good lord, who knew I was so difficult?? (Lord to Stacey: EVERYONE knew! Your husband, parents, brother, friends, colleagues, neighbours, even the freakin' mailman had his suspicions and he's only been on the job a week.)

So long story short, I did the marathon and it was AWESOME! I won't bore you with all the details of what I ate the night before or how many trips I took to the porta potty race morning, but I will say that I had as perfect a race as I could have hoped for.

Nearing the turnaround at mile 2.5.

Being an old rail bed, the mostly downhill course was fast and slightly more forgiving than asphalt as the surface was comprised of dirt and gravel. There was a very cool 2.4 mile tunnel that we ran through requiring flashlights because it was so dark inside. Race day temperatures where mild and calm and, thanks to all the aid stations, I didn't have to carry anything for hydration, which was nice for a change.

One of several trestle bridges we crossed.

Like I said, it was a good day. The race was well organized and everything went smoothly, yet I still missed my long sought after goal of a sub-3 hour marathon by four minutes and 57 seconds. Sigh...I guess that means I'm going to have to do another one of these damn things!? (Full results here.) Instead of dwelling on what I didn't achieve, I'm going to celebrate the fact that I won the women's race and got a marathon personal best time by over two minutes. That, my friends, deserves a woo hoo! And also a round (or two) of beers. ;)

I have no plans to go to Boston, but it's nice to have qualified!

There's a very good chance this won't be my last Cascade Super Marathon. I would definitely consider returning for another sub-3 hour attempt. But next time I'll give myself more than a month to train for it. (You're welcome, coach!)

Fragrance Lake Half Marathon

If I'm drinking beer at 11am on a Saturday, it's either been a really good or a really bad day. This time, fortunately, it was the former. I'd only decided to do the Fragrance Lake Half Marathon about a week in advance and wasn't specifically trained or tapered for it, but like most of my races this year, I just wanted to run fun trails, visit new places and meet cool people, and I succeeded. 

I love the trail running community and am continually impressed with the amazing people that I meet. This weekend, I had the pleasure of sharing a few miles and laughs with my SWAP teammate, Nikki, right from the start which put me in a really good mood and filled me with positive energy. 

Me and Nikki cruising along the Interurban trail

I had run parts of the Fragrance Lake course before when I raced Chuckanut 50km and the Bellingham Trail Marathon so I had an idea what to expect. With over 3,300 feet of vertical, it's definitely not an easy race, but I knew I'd be okay on the climb (always my favourite part), could handle the quad-pounding descent if the footing wasn't too tricky (it wasn't) and then I'd just have to try not to die on the technical ridge trail (slick from heavy rainfall the day prior...ugh). 

Although, I didn't exactly enjoy the ridge trail, I did survive it with no blood shed or bones broken so that's something. I know I lost a fair bit of time along that section (exacerbated by an emergent yet still annoying "pit stop"!?) so I expected someone to overtake me, but no one did. Whew!

Love the up!

Once Nikki and I split up at the start of the climb, I ran almost entirely alone. The second place man was within sight for most of the first half but then I caught him near the top of the climb. He later passed me in the final kilometre which burns me a bit because I thought I was doing pretty well on the downhill. I guess I'm going to have to work on my finishing kick!  

After the race, I had a nice chat with Maria Dalzot who was the OVERALL winner and holds the women's course record. I'm totally okay with coming in second to an elite runner like Maria! It's also pretty awesome to see four women in the top 10. 

Full results here. 

Top 3 ladies - speedy and colourful :)

Thanks to Tad Davis for the photos and to Destination Trail for putting on this fantastic race!

And, as always, my heartfelt appreciation and gratitude to my husband Dave and coach David for their roles in getting me to the starting line of every race happy and healthy. 

9 Months, 8 Races Later

I'm back! Now before I start making excuses for essentially abandoning this blog, I'd like to say this...I love running again! It's true. For awhile (hmm, like most of 2014-2016) I didn't, which really sucked because running has always been my thing, my go-to happy place. Except when it wasn't. Those times when my hamstring throbbed after every run and my stomach revolted during every race just left me feeling sad, frustrated and empty.

But I kept on running (and occasionally racing) partly out of habit but mostly because I thought I could force happiness. It didn't work - shocking, I know! However, things have finally turned around. My hamstring is nearly back to normal and I am getting some speed back in these old legs thanks to Coach David. (I never expected to be posting some of my fastest times at almost 40!!?)

I've done eight races since my last blog entry and as I have neither the memory nor patience to write that many recaps, I'm going to be lazy and simply add a few pics and words about some of them.

Sun Mountain 25km
I think my face says it all: I love this race! This photo was taken just past the halfway point of one of my all-time favourite trail running events. Put on by Race Director extraordinaire James Varner of Rainshadow Running, the Sun Mountain 50km was my first ever ultra (and blog post!) and will forever hold a special place in my heart. I have been to this race four times now, having also run the 50-mile and 100km distances, and always had a blast. I thrive on these trails and this course has been kind to me. This year, I was second woman and sixth overall. So much fun!

Photo credit: Glenn Tachiyama Photography

Leona Divide 50km
My first big race of 2018 and the kick-off to our California road trip. I lucked out with great weather and a beautiful course, consisting mostly of the Pacific Crest Trail. My favourite takeaway from Leona Divide is running almost 40 kilometres with this amazing gal. Not only an incredibly talented runner, but also an absolute sweetheart and it was wonderful to share the trails with her. We were both aiming for a sub-5 hour finish and decided to work together to make it happen. Even if my stomach hadn't started turning during the final 5 miles of the race forcing me to drop back, I would still have been rooting for Emma to take the win. She's just that nice. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to catch the 1st place lady but finished strong in 2nd and I was about 5 minutes behind her in 3rd. (Three ladies in the top 10 - woo hoo!!) We both easily broke 5 hours and made the list of top 10 fastest times ever.

Photo credit: Rudy (Emma's man)

Interior Running Association (IRA) Races
I'm pretty sure at some point I said (with a sneer) there's no way I'd ever go back to road racing. Well, never say never. I've done two IRA road races this year (the Oliver 10km and Blossom 10-miler) and enjoyed them way more than I was expecting. Shifting focus from 50-plus mile events to mostly 25- and 50-kilometre races means racing shorter distances more often and at a faster pace. I find both of those things kind of scary, but that's probably why it's good for me to do them. It's also nice to occasionally be social (as an introvert I struggle with this) and to support the local running community. Plus, there are good prizes like wine!

Photo credit: Vlad Zamecnik

Dirty Feet 20km Tunnel Run
This is always a fun end-of-year race to do. Phil and Grace Hiom of Dirty Feet have it dialed in terms of putting on a well organized and attended event with a fun, low-key vibe. I've done this race at least three times and what makes this one memorable is that I decided to run to and from the race, almost doubling the distance. My intent wasn't to be heroic. Quite the opposite actually. As you can see from the photo below, conditions were not ideal and since I hate winter driving, I decided it would be safer to run to the race.

Photo credit: Phil Hiom

Frosty Mountain 27km

I don't know why I didn't do a write-up for this one - it was my best race of the year! Maybe that's why. I think bad races are easier to write about because inevitably something funny and/or embarrassing happens that you're going to want to share with a bunch of random strangers on the Internet. Good races are just plain boring. On this occasion, though, I'll take boring.

A former coach used to encourage me to "go Kamikaze" in races, but it's just not in my DNA to go all out. My self-preservation instincts are too strong. I've probably done more than 100 races over the past two decades and can recall exactly three times when this crazy competitive drive kicked in and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. Anyway, Frosty was one of those times when I decided to go for it. I had a perfect race, winning outright and setting a new women's course record. (My father-in-law is still in disbelief that I, a girl, could beat ALL the boys. Every time he brings it up, it makes me smile.)

Photo credit: Daryl Spencer

Mighty Quail 100km

Frosty might have been my best race of 2017, but the Mighty Quail 100km was by far my favourite. I didn't run it, but instead helped organize it, along with Dave and our friends Andrew and Magda. It was probably one of the most stressful and satisfying things I've ever been involved with and I am so proud of what we created. Find out more at: www.mightyquail.com.

Photo credit: Aaron Barry Photography

Since the theme of this post seems to be love, friendship and gratitude, I'm going to wrap things up by thanking my husband Dave for his support through all my racing highs and lows. I think my struggles with running and injuries have often been harder on him as I have a selective memory and forget the really bad times. I'm pretty sure all he wants is for me to retire from racing and yet he knows how happy it makes me when things are going well so he's willing to stay up late scrolling through event calendars with me and planning all our holidays around my race schedule. What a guy!

I'm also grateful for my wonderful friends who put up with me even though I often can't do anything with them because I'm going for a run, recovering from a run or going to bed early because I have to run in the morning. And they refrain from making piggy noises when I eat twice as much as everyone else at the table!

Waldo 100k Race Report

Where's Waldo? Well, he's not hanging out in my GI tract because I emptied it on the course and didn't find him there. I didn't realize that when I added the Waldo 100k to my bucket list of races, that I would literally need a bucket during the race for all the puking I'd do, but perhaps that was short-sighted of me. Based on previous long-distance race experience, a bucket should be on my mandatory gear list. When will I learn??!

I can make light of it now because I fully get that in the grand scheme of things, having a shitty race doesn't matter, like, at all. Still, I'm disappointed. My training for Waldo went really well and I'm healthy and uninjured for the first time in years so I was expecting good things. Maybe even great things if I'm being completely honest.

Since joining the SWAP (Some Work, All Play) training group in February and working with coach David Roche, I've been logging some of the biggest mileage weeks I've ever done and instead of getting sick or worn down like I have in the past with larger training loads, I'm feeling strong, fit and happy and that in itself is a huge accomplishment.

Earlier in the year, I made the conscious decision to race less with the hope that I would enjoy racing more. I only did one 50k event (Slay the Dragon) leading up to Waldo and I can see now that that was probably a mistake. While my stomach held for 50k at Slay the Dragon, it was starting to go off by the end of the race which is about the same point things went sideways at Waldo.

And I think I took for granted that I didn't have any nutrition issues on my long training runs. But then again, I never do! It seems there's something about racing that triggers a seriously leaky gut and I have yet to find a solution for it. The other possibility is that I've developed a psychosomatic aversion to racing that manifests itself in severe and prolonged vomiting episodes in events over 50k. Either way, it blows...chunks - ha, ha.

Race week was dreamy. I slept well, ate well and even gave up beer (mostly). I couldn't have asked for a better lead up to a big race. I was so excited to run this one. Having seen a lot of the course beforehand, I knew it was totally up my alley - non-technical, cruise-y singletrack trails with lots of climbing. It's like a roller coaster made for running.

The first half of the race flew by uneventfully. I was pacing well and staying on top of my food and hydration. I had a minor fall descending the rocky summit of Mt. Fuji leading to a bloodied knee and shoulder which the aid station volunteers wanted to clean up, but I politely refused because A. it didn't hurt and B. I thought it looked badass.

My only photo from Waldo

Coming into the Charlton Lake aid station at mile 32, I was on track for a sub-12 hour finish (my goal) and sitting comfortably in 4th place amongst the women. Then I started getting queasy. I decided to slow my pace considerably in the hope that I could settle my stomach, but it was too late. Within half an hour of leaving the aid station, the barf fest started and the party didn't stop until I rolled into the finish many looooong hours of slow walking - and puking - later. (Total time 14:22, 12th woman.)

It was an absolutely miserable 8+ hour period of my life that I would love to get back. I probably should have dropped out earlier but quitting is no fun either and I was pretty sure I could make the cut-offs even in my compromised state. Plus, I really needed another trucker hat for my collection...

Fortunately, there were some lighter moments. In a failed attempt to win a booby prize (not real boobies), I decided to go for the Show Us Your Waldo (also not what you're thinking) contest which is a spirit award voted on by the aid stations. Lacking any real talent, the best I could come up with was to Prancercise in and out of the aid stations. Yes, Prancercise. Based on the blank - and often confused - stares I received, it seems not a lot of people are familiar with Prancercising. If you're one of them, I suggest you check out the video below. It's kinda awesome! (But didn't win me the prize.)

I also met my doppelganger at Waldo and she's a lovely wife and mother of one from Bend, Oregon, and her husband and daughter were very excited to point out that not only do we bear an uncanny resemblance and race day fashion sense, but apparently we also run the same and share a fondness for stopping to pets dogs at aid stations.

And then there were the amazing ladies running the med tent at the finish who were able to give me a wonderful prescription strength anti-nausea medication that fixed me up well enough that within a couple of hours of staggering across the line (with Dora by my side!) I was up and actually able enjoy some of the post-race festivities that Rainshadow Running is known for - like pizza!

It was sweet how many other racers who had seen me struggling on the course stopped by after the race to tell me they were happy that I finished. Apparently, I looked as bad as I felt out there!? This sense of community created out on the trails - in good times and bad - is one of the best things about ultra racing.

Dragon Slaying

For my first race of the year, I decided to do a new 50k at Silver Star Resort called "Slay the Dragon" which includes the nearly completed Beowulf trail that has been four years in the making and was built by bikers for bikers. And it felt like that. I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way, but there are trail features for mountain biking that just aren't as much fun for running, like berms and tight switchbacks...

Part of a 10k descent, followed by a 10k climb

It was still a fun course, though, even if some sections lacked flow, and I'm pretty sure my mountain biking friends will love it.

Random internet guy, not an actual friend

Mostly, I just wanted to get in a low-key training race before the Waldo 100k in August and this was the perfect event for that. I got to test my gut and hamstring on a hot, tough course and both held up well (sorta...keep reading). Hopefully, that means those concerns are mostly fixed, or at least good enough to run hard and get a few more miles on this body.

Since February, I've been working with David Roche at Some Work, All Play and his guidance has been incredibly helpful. I credit his cautious and conservative approach for my successful return to running with a torn hammy. He's also hilarious and makes training a lot of fun!

As for my stomach, well, it got me through the race just fine. I ate and drank throughout and didn't have any problems...until the car rode home and then things went south. Dave was forced to pull off the highway with little warning so I could fall out the car door and do some retching into the gravel. I thought that was as bad as it could get until we got stuck in a traffic jam near Peachland and couldn't pull over so I had to do my barfing into a plastic bag which I later learned had a hole in the bottom. I think the resale value of our Subaru went down that weekend.

Random internet dog, not my actual dog

Anyway, we finally made it home (longest drive from Vernon EVER) and after a couple hours of moaning miserably on various flat surfaces (i.e. the floor and couch), I was totally fine and able to take down every edible in the kitchen like a professional eater.

The working theory for my post-race bout of pukiness is the evil Ibuprofen I popped mid-race to counter an increasingly throbbing headache. I probably won't do that again. But headaches suck too so I might have to.

As for the race itself, I was able to run the first mini loop of about 13k with a few friends doing Grendels' Mother  - the 25k distance - so that was fun and helped passed the time. After that, I was pretty much on my own for long stretches. It was not a large race so the field was quite spread out.

I was happy with my pacing and on track for a 5:20 or so finish which I thought was pretty good, especially considering the course was looking to run a bit long and had a decent amount of vertical. Unfortunately, an unmarked (sabotaged?) intersection at around 44k earned me a few bonus kms as I tried to figure out where to go. I finally found my way back on the course and dragged my ass over the finish line (or finish area since there didn't actually appear to be any kind of line or chute) in 5:46 for 54k. That was good enough for 1st woman and 5th overall. Results here.

For a first-time event, I thought the organizers did a great job. There were a few minor hiccups along the way, but I'm sure they'll have them sorted out for next year.

Winter Hibernation

I definitely tend towards introversion on the social scale at the best of times, but come winter, my hermit-like tendencies kick it into high gear. And this winter - with its prolonged periods of cold, snowy weather - was no exception.

Not that I'm complaining, I've read some excellent books (I highly recommend anything by Chimamanada Ngozi Adichie), made enough soup to fill a swimming pool, filled every available inch of freezer space with baking and did a lot of nothing.

Well, almost nothing...

There were some fun family snowshoe adventures.

Ski touring on the KVR.

And unusual yoga classes.

After The North Face San Francisco Endurance Challenge in December, I took two entire months off from running. I needed the time off to complete a series of prolotherapy treatments on my torn hamstring. I'm happy to report that I have a much happier hammy now. Not entirely pain-free, but at least improved enough to start thinking about some races.

Since I've been off for so long and gotten terribly out-of-shape, I've decided not to plan any early season races so that I can gradually build up my mileage and, hopefully, avoid more injuries and burnout. 

My tentative 2017 race schedule looks something like this:

March - Elevator Multi Sport Relay (road biking)

April - Rainshadow Running Yakima 25km

May - Dirty Feet Kal Park 25km

June - Chelan Century Challenge 100-mile (road biking)

July - Slay the Dragon 50km

August - White River 50-mile

August - Waldo 100km

Hmmm, now it kinda looks like a lot!? Well, I'll just have to see how things go and how my body holds up to a bigger training load. I'm no spring chicken anymore after all ;)

I am, however, pretty excited that spring is coming! And I'm not the only one. My hairy little friend is looking forward to hitting the trails again too. 

Bring on spring; we're ready for it!

The North Face Endurance Challenge 50K

My arms and legs are pumping furiously and I keep looking over my shoulder for a glimpse of the girl in the hot pink shirt. I passed her a couple of kilometers back and now I'm certain she's chasing me down. Being more of the slow-and-steady type, a sprint finish is my worst nightmare. I know I'm close, I just need to hang on a bit longer.

I sneak another peak behind me. There are so many runners on this final, slightly uphill road section where four of The North Face Endurance Challenge events -- 50mile, 50km, marathon and marathon relay -- converge that I can't spot her, but I sense she's closing in. And then I hear spectators shouting "Get her, Kelsey!" and "Go, Kelsey, go!"

I'm pretty sure my face looked like this dog's as I sprinted for the finish!?

In my mind, there were thousands of them all cheering for this Kelsey girl. In reality, it was probably only a couple of people, but it lit a fire under me and I was able to pick it up a bit. In my head, I'm thinking "sorry, Kelsey, not today, this is my day." (For the record, I don't know Kelsey nor have anything against her. I chatted with her after the race, and she was very nice.)

This mad dash to the finish seemed more exciting when I thought I was racing for 3rd place and a spot on the podium. It turns out you can't always believe what well-meaning volunteers and spectators tell you as I was actually 4th. Oh well, whatever, it was fun. And painful. But mostly fun.

In fact, the whole day was a blast. I can't remember when I last felt so strong and consistent for an entire race. It makes me very, very happy and relieved. Like I said, it's been awhile since I've experienced such euphoria on the trails with a number pinned on and I thought maybe that part of me was broken. Was it my best race result? Nope, but the races I find most personally satisfying usually aren't.

Amazing views and lots of climbing (over 7,200ft)
Photo credit: http://www.ultraracephotos.com/

This was my third time at the Endurance Challenge, having run the 50-miler in 2011 (race report) and 2012 (race report), and I continue to be very impressed by how well organized everything is, especially considering how many different events and athletes are involved. The course is scenic and well-marked, and there are plenty of aid stations. Plus, there is a nice selection of beer and hot food at the finish. And for once I wasn't suffering from post-race nausea so I could actually enjoy it!   

I had originally planned on running the 50-mile distance until a random knee injury mid-October set my training back a few weeks, and I decided 50k would be smarter. And since Dave was also signed up for the 50k, I thought a little spousal rivalry would be fun. (Dave had a good day and finished 15th OA and 2nd in his age group; thus, kicking my ass - surprise, surprise. Full results here.)

We arrived in San Francisco late Wednesday and spent the next two days exploring the Bay area on foot. It's such a beautiful city with so much to see and do, and we lucked out with perfect weather for the entire five days we were there. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to walk that many city miles before a tough run, especially in hilly San Fran, but those are the trade-offs with a race holiday.

Another potential attempt at self-sabotage occurred the day before the race when we made the unwise (yet delicious!) decision to have the extra spicy Thai curry at lunch. I knew it was a bad idea even as Dave was ordering it and yet I said nothing. Miraculously, for a girl with a looooong history of GI probs during races, my stomach was totally fine on Saturday. Whew! Still, I probably won't do that again.

For once, I had absolutely no race drama. Everything went smoothly, which unfortunately means no funny stories for my race report -- sorry. All the things I worried might flare up (and it's a fairly long list these days!), didn't and I was able to focus on simply running, eating and drinking. I couldn't even obsess over the data as my Garmin hadn't charged properly so I went watch-less for the first time in an ultra. Initially, I felt a bit lost without it, but after awhile I didn't miss it at all and may race without it in the future. If I race again that is... ;)

Usually once my last race of the year is over, I can't wait to start making plans for next season. Not so this time. I really don't know what's next for me. For now, I'm going to take a bit of time off from running to deal with a few chronic niggles. I'm also looking forward to getting out on skis and snowshoes, and tackling the tower of books on my nightstand. I suspect before long, I'll be pulling out maps and scheming on spring road trips and adventures, but for now I'm going to enjoy some downtime with no big plans or training programs to follow.

This year has had its share of ups and downs but overall I'm satisfied with where I'm at and what I've accomplished. I've tried to listen to my body even if I didn't like what it was saying and that meant taking time off to rest, racing less, healing injuries, building strength and, most importantly, finding joy in running again.

A huge thanks to The North Face Canada for your steadfast support and for making me look way cooler -- and faster -- than I actually am for the past three years. I'll never know why you decided to take a chance on sponsoring me, but I'm sure glad you did! #NeverStopExploring

Happy December my friends!

Summer Solstice 12 Hour Race

A week after the Bryce Canyon 100 fiasco, I spontaneously (and perhaps unwisely) decided to jump into the Summer Solstice 12 hour race. Why waste good training, right? I had mentally and physically prepared for a big race and felt robbed of the opportunity so it was like I was being given a second chance.

Also, as it was a low-key and small (like really, really small) first-time event, I could test the theory that my ongoing stomach problems during races is stress-related. Since no one I knew (except Dave) was aware that I was doing this race, there shouldn't be any pressure. And the idea of doing a "secret race" thrilled me. I'm kinda kooky that way.

Happy to be back on familiar trails @ Sun Mountain

I've also always wanted to do a timed event so this seemed perfect. The fact that it was being held at Sun Mountain where I love the trails and have always run well was just icing on the cake. True, my legs were still feeling the miles I'd put on them at Bryce and the adventures we'd had on the drive home, but I felt fresh enough.

The course consisted of 8km (5mi) laps on mostly single-track with a decent amount of climbing. My plan was to do at least 12 laps and aim for 14-15 if things were going well and my stomach behaved, which it did for the first 8 hours or so.

Then it unravelled. All those precious calories I had consumed, were returned to the earth over the next couple of laps. Nothing in; everything out. Same old story. I won't bore you with the gag-inducing details because if you've read any of my previous blog posts, you know how this ends. I managed two more laps of walking and vomiting before calling it a day.

At least with a timed event, you really only have to leave the starting line to be considered a finisher. I fell short of my goal, but still managed to take first place overall. (Did I mention this was a really small race?)

Beautiful handmade finisher's medals.

Even with my GI issues, I'm glad I did it. It was a fun and well organised event with great people and lots of potential. Hopefully, it will attract a few more runners next year.

Bryce Canyon 100: The Race that Wasn't

Dear Bryce: You seduced me with your beauty and then you broke my heart. I know I’ll get over you eventually, but I’m not there yet. Sincerely, Stacey

Ever have the feeling that today is going to be your day? That’s how I felt heading into the Bryce Canyon 100-miler. Having completed two previous 100s (Cascade Crest and Javelina Jundred) with underwhelming results, I felt I’d learned some important lessons that I would apply at Bryce and I was going to rock it.

Fate – or more specifically, my stomach – had a different plan.

Going into the race, I was confident in my ability to not just finish but to finish well. My training had been solid. Sure, there were a few injury hiccups in the months leading up to Bryce, but they left no lasting damage. Really, I felt in much better shape for this race than any others I’d done in the past two years.

With both previous 100s, I had struggled with horrendous GI issues, resulting in lots of puking and walking in the later stages of those races. I knew outside of an injury, stomach problems would be my biggest obstacle to success at this distance.

Through trial and error in training, I determined that a nutrition plan based on real food and minimal sugar worked best for me. So the night before the race in the “kitchen” of our VW van, I whipped up a feast of boiled potatoes with salt and butter and corn tortillas full of avocado and turkey bacon all stuffed into little baggies for easy consumption on the go.

Mmmm...yummy wraps.

That night I slept well and awoke at 4:30am well rested and ready to run. I felt good, no great, and was psyched for a big day out on the trails. As I got geared up, I nibbled on my PB and banana wrap. After a few small bites, my stomach started to feel queasy and I didn’t think I could eat any more so I offered the rest to Dave.

It bothered me a bit that the day hadn’t even started and already I was falling behind on calories, but I decided it was just excitement and a few pre-race nerves affecting my appetite and that I would relax once I hit the trails.

We drove 10-minutes down the road from our campsite to the starting area. It was a cool, but pleasant morning and people were huddled around small fires chatting and waiting for the race to get underway. At this point, I was still feeling relaxed and full of hope for an inspired day (and night) of fun trails and new friends. I knew there’d be lows – it's 100-miles after all – but I was ready for them too.

Ultra dork! My super sexy pre race combo of sun hat and puffy.

With little ceremony, we were off. The race started on a mostly flat double-track dirt road for several miles, followed by flow-y single-track through a sparsely wooded forest that spit you out into some of the most impressive scenery of the course. These are the views that have made Bryce Canyon famous. Gravity defying rock formations and hoodoos that are both spooky and spectacular. And we were running on, over, up and through them. It was surreal! Obviously I wasn’t the only one who thought so; I have never seen so many camera-toting racers before. Tripods and selfie sticks too. Bizarre.

Even in the first hour of the race, my gut felt unsettled and I feared I'd be revisiting my breakfast. Again, I didn’t think too much of it and decided that I should have woken up earlier so I'd have more time to digest. I told myself to be patient and wait for the nausea to pass and then eat.

When the second hour came and went and my attempts to ingest anything were soundly rejected by my closed throat and grumbling belly, I started to get nervous. This was an all too familiar feeling, yet I thought if it was going to happen, then it would happen after 50-60 miles, not in the first 10! From experience, I knew I could persevere through many hours of throwing up and moving slowly; however, I had never had my stomach go off so early in a race. This was not good. Not good at all.

Then things got a little worse when 30-40 of us went off course and added 2-3 bonus miles to our day. Not a big deal in the grand plan, but not what I needed. Once I was back on track, I further slowed my pace to see if that would make me feel better. It didn’t, and now I was vomiting too and would continue to for another 10 hours or so. As I came through the next aid station, I was happy to see Dave there as I had told him not to bother as I would be fine until at least 60 miles. (I believe my exact words were "the wheels NEVER come off before 100k!" Ha! Never say never…lesson learned.) He was clearly worried about me as my detour and slower than expected pace meant that I was already well off my projected times.

In hindsight, I should have dropped out at this point, but I still hoped that I could bounce back. It was early in the race and my mind refused to accept that it wasn’t going to be my day, even if my body was fully aware. I had come so far and trained so hard for this race. I couldn’t just quit. Not yet.

The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I recall climbing, the heat and many incredible views. But mostly, I remember vomiting. Lots and lots and lots of vomiting. It was quite a long stretch until the next aid station and I had a few very rough patches on the way there. I was obviously looking bad enough that some of the other racers had alerted that aid station crew that I was going to need some assistance when I arrived. And did they deliver!

I must give a huge shout out to the volunteers at the Kanab Creek aid station. They made me feel like a real VIP (very important puker) and did everything humanly possible to keep me in the race. When I eventually dropped out, I actually felt bad for letting them down after all they had done for me. My heartfelt thanks and gratitude goes out to you guys for your concern, support and encouraging words.

By the time I got to Kanab, my brain was scrambled and I had mistakenly thought that this was where Dave would be and that I could end my misery. In fact, that was one of the few thoughts that had gotten me through the last few hours; just knowing that my suffering would soon be over.

Imagine how I felt when I got there and didn’t see Dave or Betty White (our VW). I looked around desperately while a volunteer searched for my drop bag. It was only when he told me my bag wasn’t there and I went over to check for myself and saw all the bags were labelled “Kanab Creek” that I realized this wasn’t the aid station I thought it was and Dave wouldn’t be here as there was no crew access.

After a lengthy rest in the medical tent, and a promise to the aid station captain that I would take and finish a bottle of Gatorade before the Straight Canyon aid station in 8 miles (where Dave was, hopefully, waiting for me), I set off at a slow but determined pace. Just one mile at a time, I told myself. And who knows, maybe now, finally, things would turn around.

Nope, after another vicious repeating cycle of sip-jog-barf-walk, I finally made it to Straight Canyon and there was Dave. I collapsed in a heap on a shady patch of grass for awhile considering my options, which all seemed to point to the inevitable: DNF. I calculated that for the 12 hours I’d been out on the course, I’d taken in roughly 600 calories and vomited up at least that. Plus, I’d been unable to keep down any fluids for the past 5 hours and it was a warm day (temps in the mid-20s).

It was a big hole to be in. Too big. Especially with 50+ miles to go at night with freezing temperatures expected. My body had already been through a lot and didn’t deserve more abuse. I had to accept that my finish line had arrived, far sooner than expected and instead of cheers, satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment, I felt sad, sick and empty.

Dejected, I informed a volunteer that I would not be continuing on and handed in my race number. It was over. I was done and just wanted to be as far away from the race as possible. We drove back to our campground mostly in silence. What was there to say?

This DNF hit me hard. It wasn't my first, and probably won't be my last, but it was and continues to be the hardest for me to accept. I don't know where I go from here. All the training in the world won't help me if my stomach decides to revolt on race day.

After a night of sleep and finally being able to eat a bit, I physically felt much better even if emotionally I was wrecked. Needing some distraction from the feelings of disappointment and failure that consumed me, I did what I always do when I need a mental break: run. There was a 8km trail starting from our campground that Dave had checked out earlier and said was beautiful so I laced up my shoes and headed out.

In life and in races, sometimes you get knocked down, but then you pick yourself up and carry on.

Contemplating life at Reflection Point.

Post race recovery leg soak/hike in the Zion Narrows.

Climbing mountains is good for the soul @ Wheeler Peak (Nevada).