The Morning Gaggle

For some unknown yet wonderful reason, I have been blessed with a plethora of amazing, fun, hilarious, inspiring running partners.  I was able to enjoy a run with several of them this very morning, and it was a pleasant reminder of just how much I love them.  After a week of tapering for the 50 mile, a week of recovering from the 50 mile and then two rain-outs, we finally got to run together this morning, and it felt like a family reunion. 

Our group has grown and shifted since I joined, which was about 2 years ago this December.  I had just run a string of marathons, achieved a few PRs and then burned out.  I knew I needed something new to change things up a bit, but I had no idea what that should be.  One day a friend from church told me about a group of girls in my area who ran most mornings, and I knew one of them from local running events.  Her name was Madelyn, and I wasted no time contacting her in order to invite myself to run with them.  She welcomed me without hesitation and so it began.

After an early  morning run

I got to know Madelyn, Alice, Courtney, Angie and Kristi, as they introduced me to new running routes of all sorts from hard hills to secret passage ways, and with great conversation along the way.  Before long, we were joined by Kristen, Julia and Stacy.  Several of these girls attended the same church, and a few discovered they did once they started running together.  We used to see Julia running alone almost every morning, so when Madelyn and I spotted her at a local race, we introduced ourselves and invited her to run with us. She has been in like Flynn ever since.

Joining me on my 30 miles for 30 years journey on the coldest day of the year!

Our most recent addition was Katie, who contacted me after reading this very blog.  We were both on the Fleet Feet Racing Team at the time, and we had both attended Auburn University.  From our very first run together, we became instant friends and now it seems like I've known her forever...just like the rest.

At some point on one of our runs, we realized that we were quite a group running the streets of Madison in the wee hours of the morning.  We'd surprised many a lone runner or walker, and once we were jokingly asked what race we were running.  It is common to see one or two runners out in the early morning hours, but seven or eight?  And we weren't just running, we were usually engaged in several conversations at once, with laughter, interruptions, crazy topics and the occasional squeal.  We were not a quiet or small running group.  

Celebrating Christmas at Angie's house

Were we a herd?  No, we didn't want to be referred to as cattle.  A flock?  No, that did not fit either.  A posse?  Getting warmer.  What about a gaggle?  YES!  A gaggle of girls!

Girls Night Out!

I recently looked up this word in the dictionary.  It can be used as a verb meaning to cackle (which some of us do very well, Alice).  It can also be used to describe a flock of geese when they are not flying, an often noisy or disorderly group, or an assortment of related things.

I think that fits us rather nicely. 

We are indeed an assortment.  We bring a variety of personalities, life experiences, religious backgrounds, and athletic ability to our morning activity, while having two main things in common - our faith in God and our love of running.  We are most definitely noisy and disorderly as our conversations range from G-rated to not rated, and the approach of anything dead or alive in the animal family sends us squealing and scattering in all directions (which I'm sure our sleeping neighbors appreciate).  And I personally like to think it is this time spent running together, dragging ourselves out of bed when we otherwise wouldn't, running farther than we would have on our own, and the daily prayer before each run that gives us the ability to achieve our racing goals and fly.

Celebrating Julia's wedding, October 9, 2010.

Among our group we have had three pregnancies, two babies born (with one still on the way), and one marriage. We have a wide range of professions and experiences in our gaggle with a Major in the army National Guard, a nurse, teachers, Boston qualifiers, moms of babies, toddlers, and teenagers, rowers, cyclists, dancers and the newest newly wed.  We have cheered for each other as we each ran events of varying distances.  We have encouraged one another, laughed with (and at) one another, shared disappointment and sadness with one another, and prayed for and with one another.

Courtney's Baby Shower

Needless to say, I run with a pretty amazing group of girls, and I consider myself extremely blessed as I look forward to many more running adventures with the morning running gaggle.

A Little Bit of Motivation

I keep up with Kara Goucher on Facebook and through Runner's World as well.  I am not usually interested in following the pros, I guess because my running experiences are so vastly different from theirs (although I do like watching them race). With the Gouchers, however, I was pulled in when I read an article about Adam and Kara, and I don't know if it is because they are a running couple and Jason and I are a running couple (although on a completely different level than the Gouchers), but I liked them and so I've kept up with them (mostly Kara) over time.

Along with Kara's amazing running ability, she seems like a normal, likable, fun, humble person, and despite the HUGE differences between my running and hers, I am often inspired by her attitude and approach to the sport (okay, and her amazing running too, I won't deny it).

Today on Facebook she posted a link to a video that had inspired her, and so I clicked and watched.  My reaction was very similar to hers as I was moved to tears and inspired by what I saw.  Many have already witnessed or read about the Ben Davis story, but I had not.

Her husband, Adam, posted it on his blog and you can visit the link here.  It is worth a watch for a little bit of motivation.

My favorite quote: "If you want to do it, all you have to do is do it."

NNNNNext!

It has been a little over a week since the madness that was the 50 miler, and I am glad to say I feel mostly mended.  One knee remains ugly, but the damage at this point seems mostly topical with some bruises turning lovely shades of blue, green, and yellow. 

I started running again on Wednesday with a 3 miler on the most beautiful day yet.  My quads were unhappy with my choice, but the rest of me was thrilled!  I smiled like the cheeseball I am as I started running down my road, on the asphalt.  The wonderful, glorious asphalt.  I did not wear a watch, so I have no idea what my pace was, but it felt great to get out in the sun and move!

I ran 3 milers on Thursday and Friday as well, with bits of soreness moving around from day to day.  Saturday I bumped it up to 5 miles and that felt pretty good.  Sunday I wanted to do 3, but I had too much Halloween candy in my tummy and could only manage 1.5.  Those Kitkats can be lethal. 

This morning (Monday) I had planned to meet my running girls at 4:45, but the storm rained us out.  I was glad for the rain, but disappointed to miss my run.  I am ready to see my girls!  Tapering and recovering have made it about 2 weeks or more since I've seen them, and that is simply too long.  I brought some clothes and toiletries to work so I could run at lunch but...alas...I suspect I forgot my sports bra once again.  Erg.  I will have time this afternoon, but it just makes for a busier evening.

I need to start hitting the mileage again to see what I've still got.  My hope is that all the training for the 50 mile is still there and I can run one heck of a marathon on November 7, but...I'm not sure it works that way.  Feeling recovered does not necessarily mean one is recovered, and I am not sure how long true recovery takes after an event like that.  I've got two massage therapy appointments between now and the 7th, and all I know to do is see what I can run this week.  Can I get in another 20 miler?  Maybe just 18?  I'm trying to figure out how to fit it in, if my body will even let me go the distance.  I need to do it this week in order to give myself a full week to "taper" for the marathon.

Crazy.  I realize that now.  But the close proximity of the Marshall University Marathon and the chance to get in another state toward my 50 states goal...it pulled me in and I signed up.  I expected to be tired after the 50 mile, but I had no idea I'd be so...beaten.

So we shall see.  After this I really am going to dial it down a notch, work on recovery and full body fitness once again.  It is the holiday season, after all, and one needs more time for celebrating, planning, decorating, visiting, cooking, and such.  I only need a certain amount of miles to support all the TREATS that go along with the season, after all!

The Reneau Family at Trunk-or-Treat 2010!

A hug from a niece!

A hug from Obi Wan Kinobi

When Garfield Makes Sense

One of the things I look forward to every morning, besides that first cup of hot coffee, is the arrival of my daily Garfield comic.  It comes directly to my in-box sometime around midnight, and I pull it up as soon as I get to work. He always manages to make me laugh, and I usually forward it on to my family giving different members different roles in the comic strip.

The Monday morning after the 50 miler was rough. I was unbelievably sore so that I groaned getting in and out of my car and sitting down on the toilet. I was extremely stiff and my right knee was red, angry and swollen.  I hobbled into work around 9:30 a.m. and gingerly sat down in my chair, grateful for coffee, ibuprofen, and adjustable chair settings.

When I pulled up my e-mail, I had some catching up to do, but I took a moment to go directly to my daily Garfield comic. I laughed out loud when I read his hilarious words of wisdom for me that day.

Sometimes this little cartoon cat makes so much sense.

My First Fifty, Part III or I Could Be a Stunt Double

I'm not sure if it was the fervent prayers of my mom who had seen how I was struggling, the ibuprofen, the good fuel of the honey stinger bars in my system, or the simple fact that I was rejuvenated by those who loved me, but my pain subsided considerably and I felt ready to tackle this thing once again.  I still believed I would get cut at the next hard cutoff, which was mile 37.5, but I felt better trying for it anyway.  Now that quitting was no longer an option, my outlook improved significantly.

Jason and I ran on.  We were both tired, and I knew he was suffering, but he would not talk about it.  Instead we talked about Chance being a good trail dog.  We talked about road running versus trail running. We talked about all kinds of non-running related topics, and I enjoyed the quiet conversation as we ran through the woods together. At one beautiful spot I said, "We should come here sometime to see this."

"We are here now seeing this," he replied sensibly. 

"I know, but I'd like to come just to see this," I said.  We had seen several families and hikers enjoying the woods, creeks, waterfalls and beautiful weather.  I will confess, I spent many a weary moment wishing to trade places with them.

We were running along a nice, smooth bit of trail when it happened.  I was chatting away, enjoying the rhythm of simply running and feeling better when I tripped on something (a small stump Jason later told me) and went flying.  I landed on both knees, but my right knee took the brunt of the fall as I slid until I slammed my left shoulder into the trunk of a tree.  I uttered one loud "UH!" when I hit the ground, and when I came to a stop I was sure my knee had shattered into a million pieces.

A girl we had just passed asked if she should tell someone at the next aid station.  I nodded yes, but then shook my head no as Jason said we would be able to make it.  I sat up, holding my knee with my eyes squeezed shut as I tried to breathe.  Eventually I straightened it out.  Then I stood up.  It wasn't shattered into a million pieces after all.  As I held on to the tree trying to shake it off, I looked at Jason and said, "Just call me Grace," and then I started to walk.

Both knees were bloody, and my shoulder was throbbing, but I was able to start running again.

"Obviously I cannot talk and run trails," I said to Jason once we were moving.

"Well, just be careful," he replied.  I usually respond to that statement by telling him my middle name is "Careful" but I'd just proven that to be incorrect.  We joked about the great sound effect I made and how it sounded like something from the movies.  I was relieved that my knee was in one piece and it would live to run another day.

We reached the next aid station at mile 32, and I sampled just about everything there was to eat as Jason quickly refilled our water bottles.  As we ran, I made a decision.  The next aid station would be mile 37.5 and if they did not cut me, I was going to keep running.  The exhausted, throbbing, bleeding part of me welcomed the idea of being cut.  The rest of me (and maybe even that part too) wanted to finish the race.

Mom and Dad were at that aid station and their eyes got wide when they saw my knees.  An aid station worker wrote down my number, looked me dead in the eye and said, "You doing okay?  You've got 4.9 miles to your next aid station."  And there it was.  I was 20 minutes ahead of the cutoff and cleared to keep running. 

Jason continued to run with me, but as the miles wore on, he was finding it harder and harder to hide his discomfort. He eventually admitted that his feet were hurting pretty badly, and I knew the terrain was not helping matters. The hills at this point were brutal and there were many rocky sections over which we had to scramble.  As we neared the next aid station, I begged him to drop. I did not want him to suffer any more because of me or to be too sore to run the next week.  He did not want to leave me alone in the woods, but I told him I was at a much better place now and I could do it.  Finally he agreed to stop and go with Mom and Dad.

So my amazing husband, who had planned on a 15-20 miler that day, ended up running 42 miles on seriously tough terrain.  When we finally reached the next aid station, Mom asked if she could run with me, but I told her no.  She had been training hard to qualify for the Boston Marathon and was growing strong and fast.  I did not want her to ruin all of that by getting hurt on those trails.  I took out my ipod shuffle that had been tucked in the pocket of my water bottle.  I hadn't used it until now because the trails were so narrow and I needed to hear if people wanted to pass, but at this point there were few of us left on the trails.  I flipped it to "The Battle" from the Gladiator Soundtrack and took off.

I ran like a woman possessed.  I had 5.4 miles until the next aid station and then only 2.6 more to complete the race. The finish line would close at 7:00 p.m. which was when it would be dark. The sunlight occasionally blinded me as it made its decent through the trees. I kept my eyes on the trail before me as I ran uphill, scaling cliff-side rocks, scrambling over technical sections, racing the setting of the sun.  I wondered who this girl was running through the woods like this and where this energy had come from...if it was real energy at all.

I watched for the ribbons that were guiding my way on the trails.  Eventually I began to see the glow sticks from early that morning.  I ran along the ledges where I'd seen the first glimpses of the sunrise as I raced the sunset to the finish.  I was almost brought to tears again, as I heard voices at the approaching aid station, but for an entirely different reason this time.  I knew without a doubt I would complete the race and with that realization came a gratefulness I cannot describe.  I was amazed, humbled, grateful, empowered, determined...and grateful again.  I thanked God for getting me all this way.  For the song that became my mantra.  For the people in my life.  For whatever ability He had given me to help me get to this point.

And there was Mom, standing near a ledge waiting for me.  "Wow, you got here a lot faster than I thought you would," she said.  "I ran most of the way," I replied, out of breath.  She asked again if she could run with me the remaining 2.6 miles, promising to be careful, and I said yes.  I required very little from the aid station at this point.  Jason handed me a cup of cold water and I was off again...for the last time.

While having Mom with me was fun, and I enjoyed showing her (and seeing myself) what I had traversed in the darkness that morning, these 2.6 miles seemed like an eternity.  We caught up to a guy who was running with his platoon, and only he and another out of the 7 who signed up would be finishing.  We talked with him on and off, but he and I were both distracted by how badly we wanted to see that finish line.  My adrenaline from the 5.4 miler was wearing off and a strong weariness was replacing it.

Finally, I scaled my 10,000th hill and saw the trees clear into a field.  The most beautiful finish line I had ever seen was there, along with Dad and Jason cheering for me.  The announcer had to run back to his post to read off my number to the sparse crowd still milling about.  "Here is number 101, better known as....Jane Reneau!  Congratulations, Jane!"  I smiled as I crossed and a photographer took my picture.  I received a medal around my neck and the tightest hug from Jason as he told me how proud he was.

I could not believe it.  I did it.  I completed the North Face Endurance Challenge Gore-Tex 50 Mile Trail Run in 13 hours and 51 minutes.  I was 90th out of 94 finishers.  A total of 124 runners had started the race, which meant 30 had dropped or been cut.

It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  I was bloody, bruised and beaten by the day, but in the end the goal had been accomplished.  I cannot claim my own strength as the reason, however.  I think we know from where my strength came, and I shall forever be grateful to the husband who stayed by my side, to my parents who showed up at just the right moment, to my friends and family who sent prayers my way that day.  And, most importantly, to the One who has blessed me with all of it.

My First Fifty, Part II or Love Conquers All

Once the light of day had arrived, I felt like the race had really begun.  The miles began to pass by a little more quickly, although not as quickly as I would have liked.  Now that I could see, I would glance at my watch when it told me I had completed another mile, and my pace was around a 13 or 14 minute pace.  I thought I should have been running faster than that, but the trails were way more technical than I had imagined and the hills were unending.  I began to get annoyed with this.  There was no way to get into a rhythm of any sort because every time I started to, I hit a rocky section or a steep hill.  I have heard from other ultra runners that hills are not worth running because they burn up your energy too quickly, and so I walked many of them.

Eventually, however, I got tired of stopping to walk and I started to run up the shorter ones.  Up, down, up down, rocks, roots, up, down.

And then the 50k runners began to catch up to me.  They had started their race 2 hours after the 50 mile, and when I reached mile 20, they were on mile 14.  Many were very polite about passing, but I could tell some just wanted me out of their way.  I usually obliged, but this too interfered with any sort of rhythm or cadence to my running.  I became more aggravated with each stop.

At one point a man ran up behind me and commented on the breeze that was passing through.  I agreed with him about how good it felt, and as we talked I realized how nice it was to have company.  I asked if he needed to get by and he said not yet, that hills gave him trouble (we were running up one as we talked).  Before I could respond I tripped and fell hard on my left hip.  Just as before, I hopped up quickly and kept running.  I was embarrassed once again, but the man said it happens to everyone and that it really hurts.  I rubbed my hip as I agreed.  It had really hurt.

Much to my dismay, he did eventually pass me.  I continued running, singing my mantra in my mind and trying to convince myself I was not in over my head.  Not only was my hip still aching from the fall, the pain had moved down to my knee and it was getting harder to bend it.  I knew this was not a good place to be at mile 22, and I was worried. 

Things took an instant turn for the better when I reached the aid station at mile 23 and saw the face of Jason Reneau.  He too had started the race, but only to get in a good run and then cheer for me.  I signed him up when I signed up, but he had been taking some time off and had no intention of running more than around 15 to 20 miles.  So he thought.

He asked me how I was and I said okay.  He told me he was finished running, and I looked at him, eyes wide and pleading and said, "Can you go with me?"  Without hesitation he said yes, told the aid station workers he would be running on with me, refilled his water bottle and off we went.

It was so good to see him, that I talked his ear off for the first few miles.  I told him of every fall and how I felt.  By this point I was hurting very badly and I was getting discouraged.  I did not understand why it was so hard.  The Dizzy Fifties 40 mile had not been anything like this, and I had trained much harder for this race.

This section of the race was probably the most beautiful. We crossed several creeks multiple times and it looked like we were in some foreign jungle instead of the mountains of Georgia.  The rushing water, the rock formations, the lush ferns all around - I tried to focus solely on the beauty and not on the pain, but it was getting harder to ignore.

I did not see how I could do 25 more miles feeling like I did, and I knew I was going to have to drop.  When this realization hit me, disappointment came like a rush and as hard as I tried not to, I began to cry.  Now, crying and running do not go together because doing the two at the same time make it hard to breathe.  I started to make all sorts of strange snorts and sniffs as I tried to hold it in, and Jason, who was running behind me figured it out.

"Babe, don't cry." he said so sweetly it only made things worse.  I had worked so hard.  I had trained and planned and pushed when I was exhausted.  The early mornings, the hills, the heat, the long runs, the excitement.  And all for what, 28 miles and a DNF?  I could not believe I had worked so hard for nothing.  I tried to get myself together before I got to the aid station.  I did not want to blubber like a silly girl when I told them I was finished.

As despair and doubt wrapped themselves around me, I looked up to see a familiar gray head sticking out of the trees in front of me.  Surely that couldn't be...it was!  It was my mom!  She began cheering and when I reached her, she already knew the state of things.  She put her arm around me and asked how I was.  "Not so good," I said.

Jason and I had reached Aid Station # 5 at mile 28 and I had a gear bag waiting on me, along with my wonderful parents who had shown up to surprise me.  As I stood there planning to quit, trying not to cry, Jason looked at me and said with his voice shaking just a little that he could not let me quit.

"We won't make the cutoff now," I said.

"So we will run until they tell us to stop." he replied.

He then wasted no time.  He fished out the clean socks and tank top from my gear bag and handed them to me.  Mom handed me my honey stinger bar squares and some ibuprofen.  I ate while she pinned my number on my clean shirt and Jason changed his socks.  Jason refilled our water bottles as I hugged my parents and off we went. As we started running I asked Jason how he felt.  He said it did not matter, this was about me. 

I know for a fact I would not have finished the race that day without the love and support of my husband, my mom, and my dad during that pivotal moment.  At my lowest, they were there and they knew exactly what to do.  This was a turning point in the race that changed the outcome, and I am at a loss for words to express how much it meant to me. The love of these people helped me shake off my weariness and doubt, and run the race I came to run that day.

It was going to get a bit worse before it got better, but I did not know that.  All I knew was that I was loved by some incredible people, and somehow that gave me the strength to keep running.

My First Fifty, Part I or The Woods Were Lovely Dark and Deep...

I've heard it said that ignorance is bliss, and in many cases I think it is true.  In the case of my 50 miler, however, ignorance was the pleasant unawareness of the trails and trials that were to come. As I look at my pre-race planning and pictures, I chuckle to myself.  I look at the girl standing next to the Franklin D. Roosevelt State Park sign the day before the race, smiling for the camera and think, "she has no idea what she is about to experience."

I wish there was a way, dear reader, to explain it all adequately with words.  I did, in fact, complete the North Face Endurance Challenge Gore-Tex 50 Mile Trail Run.  I experienced the entire gambit of emotions and physical exertion within this 50 mile adventure, and it is hard to believe they all occurred within one race!  I ran in darkness, I ran in the light.  I climbed, I hiked, I crossed creeks and scaled cliff-side rocks. I fell hard, I bled, I cried, I laughed, I loved, I questioned, I doubted... It was amazing and wonderful and terrible and hard and empowering all at the same time. 

So let's begin at the beginning, shall we?

The alarm clock went off at 3:00 a.m. which was 2:00 a.m. on my personal clock.  I opened my sleepy eyes and thought, "it is time."  After months of training, planning, thinking, hoping, and praying, race day had arrived and I would see if I had what it took to go the distance.

As Jason and I got dressed and checked our gear drop bags one last time, I downed some hotel room coffee and munched a granola bar.  I knew I needed to eat, but the adrenaline was pumping and my nervousness made it difficult to do so.  At 3:50 we drove to the parking lot where the shuttle buses would take us to the start.  Once we arrived at the race site, we gave our gear bags to the volunteers and stood around the heating towers, shivering in the morning cold as we waited for the race to start.

A few minutes before 5:00 a.m. the announcer called us to the start line and Dean Karnazes gave us a few words of encouragement/warning before we started our race.   I turned on my headlamp, kissed Jason 3 times for luck and prepared myself to begin my 50 mile journey.

We ran around a field and then bottle necked at the trail head.  Once on the trail, our way was guided by the occasional glow stick, for which I was very grateful.  My headlamp was not very bright compared to what the more seasoned trail runners around me were wearing, and many times I ran off of the light of others.  Until they passed me, that is.

Despite never having run in the dark on trails before, I enjoyed myself for a time.  It was almost like some sort of midnight vigil as I looked down the hill to see the line of head lamps leading the way.  It reminded me of the evening nature hikes at summer camp when we guided ourselves with flashlights through the woods to the bonfire.  I had no idea how much time had passed or what my surroundings looked like.  All I could see was the small patch of trail in front of me and the light of the runners ahead or behind me.  The beeping of my watch to signal another mile completed was my only measurement of time or distance.

I did not mind running slowly in the darkness because I knew I had a long way to go. I took my time and tried to be careful as I crossed creeks and watched for sharp bends in the trail.  A few times I got off course, but a glow stick would guide me quickly back.

The first glitch came shortly after mile 3 when I rolled my right ankle, falling hard on my left knee.  The guy behind me said "You okay, hon?" and I replied that I was as I jumped up and continued running.  I limped for a few steps willing my ankle to be okay and eventually it obeyed.  I worried it would cause me trouble and had a brief moment of panic, but the pain subsided after a few more miles and did not make itself known again.

It wasn't too long after that first fall that I took another, with my right leg slipping down the side of the hill we were running along.  This was getting embarrassing.  I was not hurt by this second fall so I hopped up once again and kept moving.  At this point I began to long for the light so that I could run more confidently.

After 5 miles we reached the first aid station.  I did not stop for long there, but showed my race number to a volunteer and kept moving.  Since most of the other runners did stop, I found myself alone for a while.  At first I liked it because it meant I was not holding up other runners behind me.  The trails were very narrow and passing was tricky.  But then being alone in the woods became slightly...eerie.  The only things I could see were the glow sticks directing my way.  Like floating strings of light in the blackness, they hung from tree limbs and trunks.  I occasionally heard other runners ahead or behind me, but I could not see them.

There was nothing for it, however, but to keep running.  I felt myself losing confidence and I tried to talk myself out of it.  Because the darkness of the trails reminded me of camp, a song from my summer camp days also came to mind, and it became my mantra for much of the race. An oldie, but a goody, it goes like this:

"I've got confidence, uh huh
My Lord is gonna see me through.
No matter what the case may be,
My Lord, my Lord is gonna fix it for me."

It was a song I sang in elementary school and beyond, and I have no idea why that song of so many I know came to mind, but the words were somehow perfect.  I repeated them over and over and over again until I believed what I sang in my mind.

Around mile 8 I glanced up and thought the sky had grown a bit lighter.  I followed the trail to a rocky ledge where a volunteer stood with a flashlight to warn runners that it was very narrow there.  As I continued running along the edge of the mountain, I saw a bright red line across the horizon and realized the sun was finally making its appearance.  My heart rejoiced and I stood there for a moment watching the sun come up over the mountains surrounding me.  It seemed to me I was at the perfect spot at the perfect time.

As the light continued to grow in brightness, I took my headlamp in my hand and picked up my pace.  I felt energized by the sunlight and ready to make up any time I had lost in the darkness.  I could finally see and I was ready to run.

Hairy Subjects

SO, I got my hair cut last night after work and I LOVE IT!  My hair dresser, Jim, did exactly what I wanted with only the words "fun, short, and sassy" to work with. 

I need to tell you about Jim.

Before going to Jim, I trusted my hair to a guy named Jeff Johnson at Terrame for several years, but because he is such a talented and popular guy, it is VERY hard to get an appointment.  The final straw was when I called 3 months in advance and it was not enough time.  I knew it was time to find someone new, but the thought was terrifying.  I have had a LOT of bad haircuts in my day because so many hair stylists aren't quite sure what to do with curly hair (and many of them don't listen). So from the "tent look" to the "mullet" to the "boy bob" I've had many an interesting hairdo from which to recover. 

That all changed with Jeff, however, and so leaving him was hard.  Still, I began asking around and discovered that two of my mom's friends in Fayetteville came to Huntsville to get their hair done.  They both have really cute dos so I asked them where they went and they said Jim at Neo Mode.  So I called Neo Mode and made myself an appointment with Jim. 

When the day of my appointment arrived, I got directions to Neo Mode, made my way there and told the receptionist I was there to see Jim.  In a few minutes a man I assumed was a patron came out and asked if I was Jane.  I said I was and he said he was Jim.  I gasped inwardly.

Now, I am going to confess that I have a stereotype when it comes to male hair stylists.  It is nothing negative, but they are usually prettier, more stylish men than your run-of-the-mill Joe.  They have the gelled hair, the button-up shirts in wild patterns (or all black), the pointy shoes, the hip jeans - the works.  This is my stereotypical vision of what they should look like. 

Jim looked like a 'Nam vet with really great hair.  He was tanned (from golf, I later learned) like a fisherman, had tattoos on his hands and arms, a regular polo shirt covering a slight beer belly, regular jeans and tennis shoes.  It was too late to run out the door, so I shook his hand, swallowed and told myself my hair would grow back. 

Well, Jim turned out to be just perfect.  I learned that he liked to golf, had Great Danes (which formed an instant bond right there), and was redoing his kitchen for his wife.  Not only was he friendly and easy to talk to, I absolutely loved my hair when I left.  I went to him a second time and then, last night, a third.  I knew when I told him I wanted something different, something short and cute, that he would be able to deliver.

Jason was a little unsure about it when I got home, but I think it will grow on him.  It is very different from what he is used to (I have bangs!) and so it may take him a little time.  He did say it was cute, so that is a good starting point.

Now, the dilemma is how to wear my hair when running!  There is no hint of a possibility of a pony tail.  Maybe tiny piggy tails, but I'm not sure that would work either.  It is definitely rockin' when I put my headlamp on (I tried it out last night in the backyard - not as bright as I would like, but I guess it will do), so I am going to be one attractive trail runner come Saturday. At least it will be dark. 

Until then, however, I will enjoy it just as it is (sans headlamp and/or visor).

Uber Ultra Planning and Such

I am now 5 days away from the North Face Endurance Challenge Gore-Tex 50 Mile and I believe I have planned the event to the nth degree (or at least it feels like it).  I know for a fact I have never planned this much for a race, not even the Dizzy Fifties 40 Mile I completed last November. 

I'm pretty excited, but just like the 40 mile, I have no idea what to expect.  Will I be able to go the distance?  Will I hurt myself?  What experiences will I have along the way?  What will the "creek crossings" be like?  Did I train enough?  These questions run through my mind multiple times a day and I try to answer them all as positively and confidently as I can. 

My training peaked at two consecutive 60 mile weeks, followed by a 52 mile week, and then last week was 40.  This week I am trying to keep the mileage low, maybe getting in a nice, leisurely 3 miles a day.  I'm hoping to do that tonight with Jason as I try out the two headlamps I have, to make sure one of them will be enough to light my way for the first 2 hours of the race.

So now, because this kind of behavior should be documented, I am going to dip into my 50 Mile file folder (yes, I have a blue file folder in which to organize everything) and record for you here all of the "planning." 

Gear Bag Drops

There are 3 aid stations where I can have a gear bag dropped, so I have written the location and what I want in each bag.  I may combine the first and the third bag.

Mollyhugger: Mile 16.1 - socks, tank top, honey stinger bar squares, ibuprofen, lip balm, toilet paper, small baggie of potato chips

Tower: Mile 28 - socks, shoes, tank top, honey stinger bar squares, ibuprofen, lip balm, body glide, toilet paper, small baggie of potato chips

Mollyhugger: Mile 42.5 - socks, tank top, honey stinger bar squares, gloves, small baggie of potato chips

As for other gear, I will wear my headlamp for the first 2 hours, my Garmin the whole time, and I will carry a water bottle with some Powerbar Gel Blasts in the zipper. 

Cutoffs

This is my great fear, being told I cannot continue.  While I really do not think this will be a problem unless something unforeseen comes up, I want to be prepared for these just in case.

Aid Station # 4: Mile 23.1 - I must reach this point by 11:26 a.m.
Best case prediction: 9:40 a.m. (12 minute pace)
Worse case prediction 10:00 a.m. (13 minute pace)

Aid Station # 7: Mile 37.5 - I must reach this point by 3:23 p.m.
Best case prediction: 1:00 p.m. (12:30 minute pace)
Worse case prediction 2:00 p.m. (14 minute pace)

Finish Time Estimates

I have a total of 14 hours available to me to complete the race (5:00 a.m. - 7:00 p.m.).  That is about a 16 minute pace.  If I use my 40 mile time, which was an 11:56 pace, these are my finish time estimates for the 50 mile.

Best case predication: 3:00 p.m. (12 minute pace)
Next best case prediction: 3:30 p.m. (12:30 minute pace)
Worst case prediction: 4:40 p.m. (14 minute pace)

And what I mean by "worst case" is that this is the slowest I hope to go.  It does NOT mean that I will be disappointed if I do, in fact, finish the race around 4:40 p.m.  Finishing the thing is the goal.  I am only paying attention to time because there are cutoffs. 

Weather Watch

Yes, I have been a weather watching fanatic these past few days.  Here are the dates I've checked and the weather readings for Saturday, October 16.

10/7 - low 46, high 76
10/8 - low 47, high 80
10/9 - low 47, high 79
10/11 - low 43, high 78

I am hoping for the temps to drop, not rise.  The colder the better, in my opinion.  Depending on the final weather prediction this Friday, I may amend my gear bag items and my wardrobe choices (though not much).

Miscellaneous

I am getting my hair cut Tuesday.  I have no idea why, but I like the idea of beautifying before a big race.  I usually get a pedicure, but for a trail run, there is really no hope of it lasting the race.  I will paint them myself for free.  Probably green.  I will also pluck my eyebrows.

I am planning a shopping trip to the local Fleet Feet store to buy a tiny body glide, honey stinger bars, and possibly a cute celebratory racing top and a splurge on another pair of Balega socks. 

And that, my friends, is my complete 50 mile planning list...for now.  Did I miss anything?

Dorky Jeans and Taper Troubles

I'm feeling a little bit like a grouch this morning.  I think the root of the problem is that I am tired and sleepy, which only makes worse the tiny aggravations that show up from time to time.  And while my logical, intellectual side says, "Jane, you are one blessed chick with nothing in the world to complain about." My emotional, feeling side says, "But things are not going exactly how I want them to." (Picture hands on hips, stomping one foot).

So, although I know this stuff is meaningless, silly, and a waste of energy, I am going to share (vent) my annoyances here.

I have no good jeans to wear.  And you are really going to roll your eyes when I tell you that the reason I have no good jeans to wear is because I've shrunk. That means all of my jeans sag annoyingly, except for my dorky high-waisted pair, which...I am in fact wearing at this moment.  With a sweater set.  Just call me Mom.

I don't want to buy a new pair of jeans because they are expensive and I won't always be training for a 50 miler so the 4 pounds that left will probably be back.  And that is really okay.  While I do get a kick out of seeing the skinnier me in the mirror, the 4 pounds weren't necessary.  Just fun.  Except when I put on jeans.   And then it just looks dorky.

My second problem is this - and I will warn you now that it is totally in conflict with the first - I'm worried that I will gain back those 4 pounds during taper time.  While losing a little weight was not necessary to look okay, I believe it has helped me run a little faster.  So, I don't want it back until after the 50 Miler...and the Marshall University Marathon.  Then, if they must, the 4 pounds can return.

And so the logical thing to do here is NOT to taper as much until about 2 days before the race.  That would be fine with me except that my knee and hip got mad again when I did some faster, shorter runs and so I need to rest them...but I don't want to. Not yet, anyway.

SO, in conclusion...my jeans are dorky because I am thinner, but I'm worried I'll gain the weight back while I rest for my big race, and I would not rest as much except that my knee is mad again, so I might gain back the weight I lost...which at the very least would mean my jeans would fit again.

I guess there is a positive side to everything.

Taper Taper Taper Time

I'm choking down my daily banana as I write.  I am not a huge fan of the banana (although I do love banana nut bread and muffins and such), but knowing how good they are for me and how my grandmother ate one a day and lived to be 98, I force-feed myself one every day around 10:00 a.m.  They aren't that bad as long as they are not too green or too ripe.  Finding that middle ground, however, can be tricky.  Today's was perfect so not as bad as some.  I've been known to make a few faces while eating them and to heave big sighs between bites. 

Here is how I see it.  When I am asking my body to do things like run marathons, run 60 miles a week or run a 50 mile trail race, I've GOT to take care of it.  Like owning a car, only more important, you get out of it what you put into it. Even if you take away all the running and such, I just plain enjoy feeling good.  Getting enough sleep, eating well, exercising - it all helps me stay that way.

As for my training, I am down to taper time.  I am enjoying this as I thought I would, but I'm still having a hard time holding back.  As a result of all the consistent training, the increase of miles, and the fact that I am a little lighter on my feet, I have noticed a change in my pace.  When I set out to run a shorter distance (3-7 miles), I've noticed I have quite a bit more push than I've had in the past.  I start around an 8:30 pace and end around a 7:30 pace.  And it feels FINE!  Last night I ran the No Boundaries course to mark it before the runners arrived and each mile was right under 8 minute pace.  All week, my runs have been faster than normal and what's more, when I stop running I find that I am not used up.

All of this excites me and gives me the confidence I need for the upcoming challenge.  It is a sign that my training has made me stronger and that is exactly what I needed it to do.  I've also begun looking passed the 50 miler with visions of a marathon PR dancing around in my head.   

So this week I'm aiming for around 40 miles, or just under it, and next week even less.  I'm trying to give my body the nutrients it needs to go the distance. I'm trying to keep things stretched out and to let any current aggravations heal.  I'm trying to get plenty of sleep, keep my mind and spirit at peace, and think positive, mile-conquering thoughts.  As I instructed my No Boundaries runners, each time I look in the mirror, I tell the girl I see there that she has trained well and she is ready for the upcoming race. 

I'm figuring out what I want in my aid station bags, the headlamp situation, what I will wear, and any other race logistics that need addressing.  I've read the Gore-Tex 50 Mile Participant Guide cover to cover multiple times so that I won't forget anything important. 

Now all that is left is to rest and then run.

Two Running Truths

There is a universal truth belonging to the wonderful sport of running and it is this: There will always be someone who can run farther and faster than you, and there will always be someone who cannot run as fast or as far. Even the best of the best in the world have a target on their backs as new runners enter the field and try to break the current record.

I, for one, am okay with this truth. It allows me to stand amazed at those who can run double the distance I can, at a pace significantly faster than mine, while also appreciating the challenge placed before new runners as they train to run their first 5k.

I have run a total of 21 marathons so far. My first marathon was a 5:24, and my current best is a 3:58. That means I have taken almost an hour and a half off of my marathon time. Impressive? Sure. Not so much, however, if you compare me to the many marathon runners I know whose first marathon was a 3:20. Knowing this, was I still ecstatic to cross that finish line in under 4 hours? You better believe it!

I have also run a 40 mile trail race. That is a long way to go on foot. Still, there were many ultra runners out there that day who had run double that distance (maybe even triple) and at a much faster pace than I ran my 40. With that information, was it still an amazing accomplishment for me to complete that race? Without a doubt! I reveled in it for days…weeks even!

I believe it is human nature to compare, and that is why I'm addressing this topic. I cannot count the conversations I have had with new and experienced runners alike that go something like this:

Friend (said with excitement): “I am up to 4 miles now and I am almost ready to sign up for my first 10k!”

Me (mirroring excitement): “Wow! That is really great!”

Friend: “Yeah, well I know it is nothing compared to what you do, but I am happy about it.”

Me (floundering): “It is too something! And you should be happy about it…”

And then I try to say something about how I’ve been running for 15 years or how I remember my first several 5ks and how I had to walk to finish them. Or how even now I have days when 3 miles seems hard. And I am a little embarrassed by the comparison in the first place because I am fully aware of the entire spectrum of runners and exactly where I fit within it.

So here is the second running truth of the day (made up by me): Your running accomplishments are awesome. End of story. While a race is a race and the purpose is to see who can run that distance in the shortest amount of time, only about 10% of the runners out there are actually trying to beat someone or win.* I think a little healthy competition is good and helps us all push a little harder, but you should never negate what you do because there is someone out there who can do it better. If that were the case, we should all have given up ages ago.

So be proud of what you do. Whether it is your first 10k or your first 100 mile race, if you are just starting out or returning to the sport. Be proud, stay humble and most importantly, keep running.

*There is the possibility this could be a slight exaggeration, but not much...