The Perfect Journey With a Cherry on Top

How could any story in 2020 use the word “perfect”? Turns out that mine is a story of perfection, certainly not in the context of the overwhelming political and societal turmoil all amidst a horrible global health crisis. Far from it. Yet, think a moment of those times when you may have joked about owning an island, a little place far away to escape from the negativity that consumes our every day and feeling helpless for that which we are not able to change. Well, I don’t own that island (yet anyway) so I find a path, a journey, that will keep me focused on the positive, on the things that bring me joy, and that which I can control.

I won’t dwell on the gut wrenching beginning to 2020, and needless to say, it didn’t get better from there. In fact, while on a long weekend getaway with friends in the Adirondacks mid-January I found myself playing Pandemic. I never even heard of the game, let alone played it. Essentially, you team up and use your player’s designated “ability” to conquer the spread of the pandemic and save the world.  We did “win” the game that evening. If only it was that simple as a mere 6 weeks later the game became an unthinkable reality.

At the time, I was also in the middle of working through a hip flexor injury, and while I had races on the calendar, I needed to see how my body would respond once I was sufficiently healthy enough to resume a training block. That time came in March, just as the fear and panic of COVID-19 spread across the globe and our nation. As shelves were being wiped clean of toilet paper and pasta from Maine to California, and the normal life around us was literally shutting down, I began training for my first race – Wilmington Whiteface MTB 100k, June 6, 2020. I ventured out for long rides on the weekends, and while I frequently find myself training solo, these outings presented me with odd feelings of loneliness as my surroundings had a vacancy of life that didn’t previously exist. Granted, nothing would ever be “normal” again.  

As the days passed with the uncertainty of pandemic life and other sadness seemed to loom around me, the stresses were building. I was feeling the effects in my mood and sleep patterns.  I was also unhappy with the projection of my training post injury and backed off a structured schedule.  This continued through April and decided, if there was any time to take a step back, re-group and focus on getting 100% healthy, that was the time. I discussed with my coach, Chris Dunn (Ascend Endurance Coaching) to clear the calendar for May also, I just needed a break.  Looking back, I’m glad I spoke up because it turned out to be the best decision for me. It’s important not only to be attune to your body, but to listen and be mindful and keep communications open between coach and athlete, and not just about all the good fun stuff! A coach should be able to assist you during times of injury, same as during peak training phases, transition periods and off seasons. It’s all part of the two-way learning process and team work my coach and I have continued building on over the last 3 years.

This all doesn’t sound very joyful, but hear me out. While the year that 2020 quickly became was foreshadowed with the turn of the New Year, this is about a change of mindset to focus on the things I am able to control. A story of my journey towards healing and a DIY adventure challenge.

As I spent the months of April and May focused on healing my body, the reality that none of my races would take place this year quickly became apparent.  Fortunately, my motivations are not driven by one race day. Rather, I find great fulfillment in the journey – the routine, the planning, the effort and hard-work, the consistency required to attain a goal, the adventure! Doors had closed, but that doesn’t mean you stop searching for others unlocked.  Sure enough, as I glanced around the room, a sign hung from the doorknob of another that read, “Cross New Hampshire Adventure Challenge”.  Without hesitation, I turned the knob and walked through that door. Thankfully, the time I took in April and May to focus on physical therapy, yoga, foam rolling, sleep – heck, all things ‘get this body back to 100%’, proved extremely fruitful. I was also able to continue some eastward progress on my FLT E2E project, and picked up a couple more adventure projects along the way (thanks to my trail sister sidekicks!) of biking and paddling all 11 Finger Lakes.

June 1, 2020 (13 weeks to Cross NH Adventure), time to get to work and I was feeling like “me” again. Yay! I looked forward to once again having a structured training plan (pretty sure my coach was happy to give me workouts too), and even more excited to have longer weekend adventures to plan. After the snowiest May that I can recall in years (yes, several days of actual snowfall occurred – I mean it is 2020 after all), turns out we had the most spectacular Summer. As with any big event (registered race or not), I became very dedicated and focused to prepare myself as best I could for the nearly 100-mile journey across New Hampshire via bike, hike and paddle. I spent three months prioritizing, planning, setting early morning alarms, adventuring, squeezing in 2 workouts before work to have an evening “free”, training with friends when possible (socially distanced of course), dragging my husband on crazy wife hilly gravel bike routes only to then have him wait patiently while I subsequently went on my 90-120 minute fast hike brick activity (okay, I honestly didn’t really drag him on training rides, he did willingly sign up). As the weeks passed, I built fitness and strength, and continued to dedicate extra time to PT exercises, stretching, foam rolling, sleep and nutrition. I knew the effort banked during these weeks would have a significant contribution to the outcome of achieving my goal.

The end of the training cycle was drawing near and I didn’t need a calendar to tell me. Each of us is so individualized in so many ways, I feel it is important to emphasize this, to know yourself.  There is a reason for training blocks and phases.  Mentally and physically I have a limit and by mid-August, the pot was at a full boil. I was tired. Tired of the routine, the planning and time to prep for the long weekend activities, the early morning alarm, squeezing in workouts, and I was feeling small twinges in the area of my old injury. I’ve worked too damn hard for that to come back. Don’t get me wrong, these aren’t terrible things in the grand scheme of life. I get it. I chose this challenge and all that comes with it. But how I was feeling is part of that process and the fact being, my taper couldn’t have been more perfectly timed.

I took the first week to settle in to the reduced volume, stayed focused on sleep, nutrition and hydration, and kept a watchful eye on that hip flexor, which I’m happy to report didn’t escalate beyond a niggle. I soon turned my focus to full on preparation and packing for a full day crossing NH solo and all that entails for me and my crew (my husband Ken!), plus being away for a week! Oh, and not checking the 10-day forecast on a daily basis. Ha!

August 28, 2020, 4am Wells River, VT at the border of NH the gun goes off. Kidding! I started my Garmin and said “I’m off!” as I road into the empty streets of town. The first 40some miles were on the Cross New Hampshire Adventure Trail, through towns and woods, passed covered bridges and over the Ammonoosuc River. While I missed the majority of these scenes, I did see my first porcupine (which I proceeded to take a wide berth around) and was able to experience my favorite part of the day, sunrise. It was spectacular! First coloring the sky shades of pink, outlining a backdrop of the White Mountains I would soon be hiking, and subsequently blanketing the fields and valleys with its warmth and as I crested a hill and soaked in this view, a smile formed ear to ear. I was so grateful to be in this place.

Ken met me at our self made aid station for a brief check-in and hydration re-fill and off I went with about 20 miles remaining, feeling good and keeping a steady pace. Soon after, the climbing began. And nothing feels better than a 10-mile climb with 2,000 feet gain at this point, but reaching the top of Jefferson Notch sure was one heck of an accomplishment! Reached the first transition after about 55 miles of riding for a quick gear and clothing change and fueled with Skratch Labs recovery drink mix for easily digestible calories and nutrition before heading into the White Mountains.

I started the trek with 2 others, but they quickly outpaced me, so once again found myself solo as I made my way first up to Mount Washington. The views were jaw dropping, as I looked up to the endless sea of rocks ahead of me and as I glanced back to blue skies colliding with a landscape of green covered mountains and valleys. I made it to Lake of The Clouds Hut and layered up with my rain pants for the windy final ascent up Crawford Path. I had a solid pace and still had good energy in the last mile and was so happy to reach the summit of Peak #1! Ken made the drive up the auto road to meet me (I will let him tell that story) which was a good morale boost. After the obligatory summit photo, I continued on via Gulfside trail. Still had 3 more summits to go!

Coming off Washington, the clouds dissipated and the sunshine emerged, so I quickly ditched the rain pants and made my way up to Mount Jefferson. Things slowed down a bit as I continued my trek. I was getting tired. My legs were not as steady and the concentration needed for all the boulder hopping was seeping the energy from my mental state. I fell, which could have gone really badly, but fortunately I left just a scraping of my thigh on a rock, took a deep breath, assessed, and reigned in my pace a bit.  Looking off in the distance, Adams seemed SO FAR AWAY.  Turns out, it was at the rate I was going. The solo trekking was now testing me mentally, in addition to the effort. I was at the point of, “If I need to spend one more %$#^% hour on these rocks I’m going to lose it.” I made it to Mount Adams, snapped a cool photo in the gusty wind (so I thought and I’m not going back for that photo) and unfortunately descended the more technical route – and yup, I lost it. Here was my low point. My legs were tired. I was tired of being alone. Madison Hut seemed like it was not getting any closer. However, I was only going to get there taking one step at a time. Many deep breaths later and focusing on this one small goal, I made it to the hut. I had already made the decision based on pace and daylight hours remaining to skip Madison and head out an alternative trail.

I was SO HAPPY to see the cars in the parking lot coming off that trail and Ken was ready and waiting with some hot food and all things needed for gear and clothing change – back on the bike! Dusk was setting in, so I wanted to keep moving to get as much daylight riding as possible. I had no idea how my legs would perform after over 9 hours trekking and I hopped on the bike and literally took off. My legs felt….fresh?! No idea, but I had 15 miles to go on the CNHAT, mostly in the dark, so I took full advantage of the short 5 mile stretch of trail that was very smooth and fast. I was having so much fun and was beaming ear to ear! Until, darkness set in. I missed a turn and was momentarily off route. Which meant, I was passed by some others who were also adventuring that day (I later find out). Either way, I continue on solo and the last 10 miles were less than ideal gravel bike conditions to tackle.  I was frustrated because my legs felt great, but I couldn’t just ride. I encountered many spots where I didn’t feel comfortable riding as I really didn’t want to risk taking a tumble. But Bo (my gravel bike) and I managed, talked to myself a lot, walked more than I preferred, talked to my ghost “camera crew” following on my adventure and just went one mile at a time until I hit paved road and bombed down to the last transition.

It was as I had envisioned several months ago given the route, the miles, the timing – a solo paddle down an unknown river (the Ammonoosuc) under the darkness of night. Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?! Ken sent me off downriver about 9pm, and I was like “Wow. It’s dark and quiet and lonely out here!” Good news bad news though. Good news – river was low so I knew there would be very shallow and calm waters. Not so great news – can’t see the little ‘rock’ islands in the dark so I had a super fun time pushing myself out of beaching my kayak 3 times. I went from moments of “Sheesh, I can’t see a damn thing! Is that an island I need to go around or the shore!?”, to moments of, “It couldn’t be better weather for paddling, the moon is partially out which is so beautiful reflecting on the water. I’m very grateful to be out able to do this and I’m about to finish my goal.” I encountered a beaver, his tail smacking the water to inform me I was clearly interrupting his river crossing. I knew the paddle was about 5-6 miles and was looking ahead in earnest for headlamps along the shore. Next I knew, I heard what sounded like rapids (after such a quiet paddle this seemed loud) and I panicked, mostly because I couldn’t see a danged thing and how was I going to maneuver through these rocks, when off to the right, there it was. The best sight I could ever see. Headlamps beaming back at me from the shore. Oh, here I was! I DID IT!! I paddled close to shore, around the mini-rapids, and was greeted to a welcoming finish line of cow bells, clapping and congratulations! Thank You!!

I jumped out of my boat at Gilead, Maine, and nearly fell over from wobbly legs as I teetered across the rocks and came ashore. Over 18 hours of adventuring, primarily solo, and 90 miles covered across New Hampshire. The challenge was complete. The cherry on top of a journey that led to this day that was as good as it was possible to be.


A new job, a new home, a new city, a new career, a new interest……all of these provide the opportunity for new beginnings, to explore, to see from within yet also gain perspective from outside your world and to create a story along the way.  For me, this is a new beginning – to share my adventures, my perspectives, my stories of life, love and the outdoors.


Mud. Fog. Smiles.

As we drove south towards the Finger Lakes, the hills became blanketed with a thick heavy fog that engulfed the woods and created a magical fairy tale scene.  It was the most calm I have ever felt for such an “important” event.  The call to start was shouted and thus began the 20th Anniversary of the Muddy Sneakers 20k.

This was my 14th running of the iconic local trail race, put on by Goose Adventure Racing, that takes runners through the hilly single tracks and logging roads of Hi Tor in Naples, NY.  The race is known for its consistently cool, damp, wet and muddy race day conditions and warns of being a non-PR course. Well, despite all that I had lofty goals, because, why not?  A sub-2 hour time on this course has been on mind for years and my PR was ‘only’ 5ish minutes off that.  This time around though I had an amazing coach (Chris Dunn, Ascend Endurance Coaching) and combined consistent strength training within a structured training plan.

I was going for it. It’s been instilled in me. After all, it’s the Rock Warrior’s Way.

My coach helped me recover from injury last Summer, slowly but surely bringing me back to running (“trust the process” he always says, so I do) and doing the thing he does best ‘behind the scenes’ tossing together all the ingredients necessary to cook up the best A race for his athlete. I’m one that needs to study for the test to do well, it doesn’t just ‘come naturally’.  Thus, there were many months of dedication to the process, the hard training cycles followed by a week of recovering harder. Slow runs are SLOW, tempo runs put in the work, I started seeing progress. I did my best to avoid illness with a healthy diet and lots of sleep, and even more so to avoid injury – I had enough of that from last year.  The weeks went by, the cycles came and went. My body was undergoing noticeable physical changes, as well as mental changes as I practiced the “effort follows attitude” philosophy, among other teachings of the Warrior’s Way.  My weekly updates to coach seemed to get repetitive, “I feel great”, “I’m feeling so strong”, “I’m feeling some speed come back.” I was on a wagon high tailing it across the plains and I didn’t want the wheels to fall off.  For the first time ever I didn’t race through the Winter (actually, my last race was the previous June when I was injured), and I squeezed in a tune-up half marathon 2 weeks prior, the Dirty Kiln in PA (highly recommend and I will be back).

Then it was race week (i.e., taper week) and I found myself taking extra precautions, like when reaching for the hair dryer, because we all know that’s when the random back spasm hits! Ironically, after raking over the prior weekend, I awoke Monday morning of race week with what most likely was the Guinness Book of World Record’s largest knot in my left trapezius. NBD right?! It’s only Monday. Well, later in the week a little knee pain niggle re-surfaced with the worst it felt 2 days before the race. Still – don’t panic. Friday the knot in my shoulder moves to a horrible ache below my neck. I really didn’t want that targeted energy/stress on race day, but meanwhile my knee was feeling fine, so that’s good right? I was also experiencing the typical antsy legs and excited energy flowing through my body all week. I was so ready!

After a seemingly never-ending winter, things had been drying up – in fact, April showers even seemed to be holding off for the most part. Well, until the days leading up to the race. Friday, it essentially poured, and rained some more, and added to an already wet base on the trails. All week was forecasting 40s and rain for the morning of race day, so I was prepared. It is good to be prepared, not to stress, because it is a forecast which does NOT necessarily equate to actual race day weather.  Fortunately, the forecast wasn’t spot on and it was not raining which was a blessing. The mud, however, showed up in true shoe sucking, root slipping, muck slopping fashion. As in, bring out your inner child folks and enjoy the ride!

The start of Mudfest 2019 (Photo: Ian Webber)

Racers took off, legs spattered with mud within the first 10, never mind, 2 steps off the start line. We funneled in to the first single track, I forged the first creek, high-fived Mort and settled in. To say this year was muddy is somewhat of an understatement. It was the muddiest I ever raced this course and others said it was the muddiest on record. Well, perhaps not ideal conditions for a PR. Yet unbeknownst to me, as two goals slipped out the window, the door to another opened. I made my way through the woods, through the fog, through the mud. I was smiling and having fun (hey, what a concept!). I approached AS2 where my husband was waiting with my hydration and as I rounded the bend towards Mile 6 he yells out “3! Number 3!” Okay, I know my head was in the fog (literally), but….no. Did he mean I’m the third female? HOLY CRAP!! Well, if that isn’t a little light a fire under your shoes motivator to push you up the next mile of a hill, don’t know what is! I had no idea how far back 4th was and I just kept pushing.

Prepping for “the demoralizer”.

Before I knew it, I was headed down the gully, crossed another creek, and prepared myself for that last climb. And again, as I passed by my cheering husband and headed straight up the hillside, I heard his voice behind me, “Third! Still in third!”.

This time I looked back and saw my 4th place competitor. Yet, after 13 years of finishing this race, I knew how difficult it could be to pass someone at this point. I did not want 4th. This is where the grit kicked in. MOVE those legs! DON’T GIVE UP! I didn’t care how slowly I went, I was NOT walking that last logging road section.  Just focus. Keep moving.  This was seriously the longest half mile by the way. Where the hell was the end of the woods and that finish line?!  AT LAST! There it was! I peeked behind me, then put the biggest smile on my face. There was no sub-2 hour finish, there was no PR, but this third place finish was the best experience I could have asked for.

SO happy to be finished. SO grateful for the day.

As the sun broke through, what emerged from the fog was an incredibly memorable day, filled with mud, friends, and lots of laughter. Muddy Sneakers 2019 (aka Mudfest 2019) was a perfect day.

Shout Outs:
Special thanks to my husband for tromping through that muck with an injured ankle to take photos and cheer.
Skratch Labs for hydrating my race with strawberries Sport hydration mix.
Orange Mud for so many hydration pack options, including my go to Gear Vest Pro worn in this race.
The Goose guys for giving the running community something to look forward to after long ROC winters for the last 20 years.
Feature photo by Ian Webber.

Many on the Genny

Over a year ago I wanted to run the inaugural Many on the Genny (aka MOTG), but I was just getting back on the running scene and hadn’t yet done my first ultra.  Being older and wiser (for the most part), I knew I wasn’t ready for 40 miles at the time; but after all the positive things I heard about this race it was a sure thing to be on my calendar for 2018.  It’s local, it’s on some of my most favorite trails in the area, and I hadn’t yet been on over half the trails of the course.

Many on the Genny takes the runner through 40 miles around the east and west sides of Letchworth State Park, often referred to as the Grand Canyon of the East.  This race and just about everything about the day did not disappoint.  From the weather, the amazing views, the course, the aid stations and awesome volunteers, to the ever memorable last 50 meters to the finish (sit tight, that comes later).

This race followed 7 weeks after my 50k (see my Chasing Ponies race report) and was planned as a ‘training run’ for my 100k A race in August – practice pacing, nutrition, hydration, gear, mental attitude, etc. Leading up to MOTG, I was feeling super strong and healthy, and excited to explore my longest distance ever run. I toed the line for me, to see what 40 miles would be like, to enjoy the day and have fun.

My husband was also running MOTG and we didn’t have any crew or support for the race, so we figured we would hop the shuttle to the start so our car would be waiting at the finish (race is a point to point).  Whoops – we registered so long ago I forgot about that optional ‘ticket purchase’ during sign-up and thankfully one of the several race emails that week reminded us “tickets must have previously been purchased”.  On to Plan B! Lucky for us, my parents planned to cheer us at the finish and agreed to pick up our car from the start area (yes mom and dad, just one more reason you rock!).

Kemily – Calm and cool at the start (PC: Laura Howard)

All week the weather forecasted pretty much a rainy day with thunderstorms.  Alas, once again we lucked out on the weather.  We awoke to no rain and the T-storms must have re-routed elsewhere.  We parked about a quarter mile or so down the road and walked up to the start, a nice way to get the legs moving.  Everyone was mingling about, setting the stage for a relaxed and low key, no fuss event. The RD called everyone to the start and at “Runners Go”, we took off downhill, yes, in the opposite direction.  There was a nice short mile and a halfish ‘loop’ out and back around to the start area to spread out the racers, and to get in our 40 mile distance.  I quickly fell into a relaxed pace, ignoring many people who passed me, remembering that this is my race, my pace, run smart.  I told myself I would see some of them in about 30 miles or so – and I did.

The first half of the race was relatively ‘easy’ compared to the second half and it certainly was tempting to take off and enjoy the many downhills, flats, and faster road section.  Being a newbie to this distance, but not endurance sports, and familiar with most of the course, I knew I needed to keep a steady pace to conserve energy (both physically and mentally) for the more hilly and secluded second half.  My husband and I did a training run on the first 15 miles last month and the trails were pretty much covered with spring growth, downed trees and branches everywhere.  Having done that and then to run the same trails on race day on not only cleared, but also mowed trails was AMAZING! We could truly appreciate all the work and hours invested by the RDs and volunteers to make that happen, so thank you!

There was only one water crossing (nice series capture above thanks to RD E. Eagan).  I was cracking myself up recalling the RD telling us at the start to “cross where indicated because we know it is safe”…and conveniently the deepest! Haha! I enjoyed the many beautiful views along the way and was surrounded by more racers than is typical for me in a race (yay!).  I had fun on the single track and trails that I hadn’t explored before today.  The miles were ticking by and I got to AS1 just for a quick refill of bottles and off I went.  The trail then drops racers down into the gorge and as you emerge up onto Trail #15, you seriously feel like you are on the set of Jurassic Park.  It is a completely different, Amazonian-like environment (never been to the Amazon, but it’s what I picture in my mind).  You just want to look around in awe of this expansive space, but meanwhile, not trip on a root or hole in the ground.  After the long climb back out of the gorge there are a few miles along the road. While the break from trail is sometimes nice, I’m not much of a road fan and these miles did drag a bit. I was no longer distracted by super fun single track or views over the gorge, but I knew after this section, it was back to the good stuff. After turning off the road, we entered a nice double track path and I began passing racers. I still felt relaxed, kept my pace, and knew that AS2 wasn’t too far off.

At AS2 I refilled bottles again, grabbed some PBJ and oranges (yes, getting hungry), and hit the trail again. It didn’t seem very long until I was approaching the halfway point and I was very excited to be entering AS3. I was feeling great, in high spirits, and was greeted by my friend Laura (quick hugs).  I am just so impressed with these aid station set ups (way more than I expected) and the volunteers are so friendly.  Their positivity and willingness to help out made me feel so good and definitely gave me a happy mood boost! Those volunteers were on it – grabbed my drop bag, refilled bottles, took trash for me, asked me if I needed anything….really, THANK YOU to all the volunteers.

Back onto the course I went, chowing my PBJ, re-settling into my pace and was soon crossing the stone bridge, over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s….oh wait…..crossed the bridge with a quick pause to take in the views, up some stairs, and onto the Finger Lakes Trail to begin the real grunt work. While I was surrounded at most times by racers, or at least those who were in view during the first half, I suddenly questioned – Where the hell did everyone go?!

I moved through the heavy dampness of the air with a heightened awareness of my breathe and feeling of seclusion – gosh it was getting a bit lonely out here and, moving much more slowly now, 7 miles was not ticking by.  But, lo and behold, up ahead I could see….a racer! A female racer, even better! I was gaining ground, keeping up my power hiking pace, and eventually as I passed she said, “good effort”. Well, that was just the little bit of motivation I needed to push me another mile.  I passed another male racer or two and AT LAST….Aid Station #4, a site for sore legs.  But, as I approached AS4, I saw my friend Laura exiting the aid.  What?! That can’t be?!  I saw her in the first 1/2 mile and did not expect to see her before the finish line (she is strong and speedy).  Maybe I am doing better than I thought? What place AM I in anyway?  Turns out, I should have asked Laura, or maybe it was better I didn’t know.

Heading out of AS4 I was again motivated chasing down Laura. She was in sight, I caught her, we chatted a few words, and off I went.  Then, I hit 50k and a rough patch of several miles.  From AS4 to AS5 was the longest mileage between aid – nearly 8 miles. I hurt. I was at my most miles ever run and I was feeling it.  I thought I didn’t grab enough fuel and was feeling low on calories.  I power hiked.  No, I walked – a lot.  But, I also mustered up the energy to take advantage of “flats” and downhills when I could to jog, to keep up any pace faster than a plain ‘ol walk.  I was determined.  Clearing my absentmindedness, I finally reached in my pack and found some fuel and downed it. That energized me just enough until my ears heard the sweet sweet sound of “The Final Countdown” – yes, the song, blaring through the trees as I emerged on a long climb up from the previous gully.  I couldn’t help but smile and laugh, at this point.  Something to keep my mind off the grind and the hurt.

Oh wow, AS5 was bustling! With volunteers cooking up a storm, refilling bottles, offering food and packs of ice (wahoo for ice!), chatting about the weather and how we were all thankful the storms held off – and while I would love to stay and chat, I confirmed….”only” 4.5 miles to the finish.  I am very familiar with these 4.5 miles. They are technically the easiest this side of the gorge and very runnable.  Oh the irony! My body hurt all over and I had developed some sort of cramping/tightness in the outer part of my lower right leg. Hmmm….am I going to completely cramp up?  What is going on here? Well, who knows, but I can’t WALK this damned easiest section of the trail that I absolutely love.  So, off I shuffled. Yup, the ultra shuffle took me through those last miles, along with a lot of grit and focus and pushing away of pain. As I encountered the last half mile, I became flooded with all those emotions,  finishing my longest run/race ever, proud of how I felt the first 50k, excited that my parents would be there to capture the moment.  I was teary, I was elated, I was SO ZONED!

I emerged from those woods to the cheers of my mom and dad and others hanging around, and ran across that parking lot to the finish. I barely noticed the muted shouts of “there’s someone behind you”, “get going”….or something to that effect.

Alone near the finish? Don’t be fooled!

I glanced over my shoulder, but not far enough to realize it was a female, and as she came SPRINTING around me I realized who it was.  I didn’t even care I was getting passed (again because in that moment I was clueless as to my overall placing).  I was just so zoned and happy that the finish line was ahead. I turned, and as she whizzed by I half mumbled a, “Oh, hey Laura,” as I chuckled to myself, since I had no idea there was anyone that close behind me, let alone someone I had passed over 10 miles earlier.  Seven seconds later, I crossed the finish, high fived the RD and picked up my swag.


Exhausted, but happy as can be!

I turned to find my mom and dad, the relief and emotions bubbling up into my eyes, tears starting to fall.  My other friend Laura (who gave the hugs at AS3) proceeded to tell me I was 4th female.  WHAT?!  WHAT DID YOU SAY??!! No. Way.  How can that be?! Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined a ‘training’ run would turn into a top 5 finish – which, I confirmed did turn out to be 5th female in the end, because yup, thanks to Laura’s last minute sprint she bumped me out of 4th (hahaha).  See, she knew there were 3 females in front of her when I passed her after AS4. Well, it was all in good fun, made for lasting memories, and I’m happy for her she bounced back for 4th place.

Congrats to Ken for finishing! Yes – I chowed the garbage plate food!

This turned out to be such a fun day.  Many on the Genny is a beautiful and challenging course, with fabulous aid stations packed with all sorts of food and wonderful supportive volunteers, and a delicious post race picnic style “garbage plate”.  I will most certainly return next year to take on the 40 mile challenge around the “Grand Canyon of the East”!

This sums up the day – beautiful views and smiles for miles!  (PC: Gustavo Zajia Jr.)

Chasing Ponies

There are times we may feel our weakest,
yet we find strength to perform our greatest.

One word, “ponies”, and I was sold.

Is there such a thing as a trail race that meanders along babbling brooks and waterfalls, through rhododendron tunnels, up beyond into the expansive heights of the highest points in Virginia where ponies roam?  HELL YES!

It was 7 months in the making, back when my friend Laura, soon to be new friend Hadley, and I registered for the Grayson Highlands 50k (my husband Ken joined as the best crew sherpa around).  Little did we know back then that down would go Hadley with a torn ACL, then out of the triad went Laura due to ongoing injury.  It was up to me – no pressure.  As the weeks went by I subconsciously avoided injury, but wasn’t so successful in avoiding illness.


10 days before race day, after returning from a great adventure in Colorado, I got sick. Just a cold I thought. Nope – sinus infection. For a week I wasn’t eating much, tossing and turning with sleepless nights that ended on the couch, and at one point didn’t even want to bother going.  Thank goodness for antibiotics.

Thursday we arrived at this serene cabin along the river, engulfed in the rays of the waning sun.  Things were looking up.  Friday morning as the sunshine seeped warmly throughout the cabin, I emerged from my groggy state feeling as if I may be turning the corner just in time for my feet to toe the start line.  We took advantage of the gloriously sunny day (rain and T-storms forecast for race day) to explore the park, get in a shake out run, take in the views, and of course, find those ponies!  We enjoyed a picnic lunch, ventured into the town of West Jefferson, and then returned home to fuel up.  After race prep was complete, I set off to sleep with ponies prancing in my dreams.

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Pre-race day fun with this crazy crew!

Race Day

I awoke not feeling as well as the morning prior, but this was race day.  Brushed away the doubts, went about my morning routine, then set off just as dawn was breaking. Much to our surprise, it was a nice morning.  In fact, the sky showed no sign of rain (what a treat!).  Racers mingled awaiting the mandatory 7:45 am meeting when we were called to the start area by the Co-RD a little after 8am (the official start time). Turns out the RD, Sean ‘the Run Bum’ Blanton, had dashed out just 45 minutes before race time to re-mark the re-marked course.  Due to the forecasted T-storms the RDs had re-marked the course to lower elevations yesterday, only to awaken race day to partly sunny skies.  Sean wanted us to experience the original course that traversed the higher grounds, passing through pony territory and the majestic views.  Everyone was so grateful that Sean went through that extra last minute effort!

Happy no rain! Patiently waiting for the start.

I started up front, per my race plan, and we took off!  No sooner was I enjoying the energy of the start and speed of the paved downhill did we hit the first single track trail and the energy shifted.  The next several miles were rough going.  My heart rate felt abnormally high, my legs didn’t have the pep I wanted, and people were passing me on  inclines I felt I should be strong enough to run.  It was a bit discouraging and I thought I was in for a long day at a very slow pace, but race prep isn’t just about training the body, it is just as important to train the mind.  Thankfully, my coach (Ascend Endurance Coaching) taught me this and it has become as natural to the training process as tempo run and hill work.  My mental fortitude was heavily tested today and I repeated many times, “Don’t give up”, “Just keep moving”, “I have worked hard and I am strong.”  True, it was early in the race and somewhere along the way I gained ground.

Mile 6 began a sweet long rocky rubbly descent, essentially into Aid 1.  I did my best navigating the technical terrain and praying I wouldn’t twist an ankle.   Coming into the first aid station I noticed several of the women who passed me before mile 6.  Hmmmm….maybe I wasn’t as far behind as I thought.  I mustered as much energy as possible, but body and mind just weren’t connecting.  Then magic happened.

About 13 or so miles in as we made another slow ascent a switch was flipped.  My legs just went, my mind had this solid go get ’em focus, and I was passing people.  My husband was waiting for me at mile 17 aid station – motivation to keep up the pace and keep pushing. I entered the aid station to cheers and welcoming helpful volunteers, wasting no time to re-fill my bottles for me.  I was on a bit of an elated high and as my husband handed me my drop bag he says, “Yeah, you are like 7th place female.”  WHAT?!  My reach goal for this race was top 5 female, which I knew was highly unlikely given the last week I had, but top 10?! That was unexpected.  “Okay, thanks!  Gotta go!,” I said.  I took off down the double track road to the rumble of thunder.

I kept my go get ’em focus as the course took us through mile 18 onto this amazingly beautiful single track.  It was like a mini-roller coaster throwing us up and down and twisting around through this rhododendron tunnel that paralleled along a creek with gushing waterfalls.  I popped out onto a rock in the middle of the creek where several other guys were quizzically looking about for the next flag (hmmm….somehow this doesn’t seem right).  Sure enough, the guy behind us was like “Hey, the trail goes this way!” Ha! Always gotta keep your mind sharp so you don’t get off course!

The next couple of miles to the out and back 21.5 mile aid station was a bit of a slow slog along double track.  My elated high coming off the open mountain and through the rhododendron tunnel was becoming overshadowed by fatigue and sore legs.  Again, my mantra rang through my mind, “just keep moving”, “don’t give up”.  It was fun to be able to see the top runners returning from the aid station and mostly all of them were very friendly and cheered me on which was a good boost along the way.  I also noticed how many females were returning and when I entered the aid station, filled my Orange Mud HydraQuiver bottles and grabbed some food to go, more women were filtering in.  I think I’m still in the top 10?!….that lit another fire under my feet and I got the hell outta there.  I was back in the zone, pushing as hard as I could, ignoring the hurt, muttering out a “good job”, “way to go” when I could to cheer other incoming racers, but mostly I was thinking “I need to gain as much as possible on those women behind me.”  I wasn’t going to let top 10 get away that easily.

Then comes the seemingly endless climb of ~1300 feet over about the next 2.5 miles.  GASSED. SPENT. ZIP.  ZERO. ZILCH.  However you want to put it, my tank was empty.  The battle with negative self-talk resumed, the glances over my shoulder for other female racers was inevitable, the desire to just curl up in the leaves on the side of the mountain may have crossed my mind once or twice.  I was soon accompanied by a friendly women (who made some comment about stopping to pee every 20 minutes) and we chatted for several steps before her strong fast paced hike overtook my slow slog.  She was pregnant she had told me.  Wow!  I was impressed (and understood the peeing every 20 minute comment).  Meanwhile after she jaunted by and quickly made her way up the trail, I dug deep to just keep moving, to brush away the negative talk, to look at how far I had come, how hard I trained, and what I was accomplishing despite not feeling I had the energy to race just days prior. I am going to do this.

The final aid station was up at the Visitor Center and right next to the finish, so it was filled with people cheering, including my husband, and friends Hadley and Laura who were helping with timing at the finish.  I pasted on the best smile I could for the people cheering, high-fived a little boy cheering passersby, but when I glanced over at my husband I did not hold back that look of total exhaustion.  I entered that final loop holding back tears because I felt so defeated that I didn’t have the wherewithal to run this last “easy” loop. A few jogging steps here and there, but any technical part of the trail I attempted I didn’t feel I could safely negotiate the rocks and roots (and continued training for my A race in August was awaiting my healthy return).  I put one foot in front of the other to just keep moving, pushing away frustrations of wanting to run this last beautiful section of trail at the top of the mountain and seeing my top 10 finish slipping away as more women ran by me.  Around the bend and we reached a high open rocky point – “Only 1/4 mile until the finish,” someone was yelling as racers approached.  I didn’t say a word, but could manage a thumbs up and a smile.  Coming down off the rocky peak, I heard cheering and clapping and I saw the flat gravel path that I knew rounded the bend to that sweet sweet finish line.  Well, I sure as hell wasn’t walking through the finish! I took a deep breath, told the legs it’s time to get moving, and around the bend we went to bring it on home.

I am happy with my race, toeing the start with limited expectations, yet with an outcome that I didn’t necessarily anticipate.  In the end, we must trust in the process (as my coach would say) and know that we will find the strength in body and mind to perform the greatest that day will bring.

I highly recommend this race! It is technical and challenging, yet achievable for various abilities.  We SO lucked out on the weather and got the spectacular views and adorable ponies (babies too!) we were promised so many months ago.  Definitely make this a bucket list race!

Time – 6:10:37; 12th of 78 females; 3rd AG


The Power of the Salt Potato

Patience to trust.

Persistence in effort.

Perseverance to overcome.

7 years since I consistently ran and raced competitively. 7 years since I raced the 2011 Cast-A-Shadow snowshoe 6 hour race solo. 1 year since getting back into the running scene.  If you don’t know me, I can be competitive, so yeah, I may have had something to prove to my 30something year old self.

The months leading up to this race, aka CAS as the locals call it, sure didn’t set the scene for crushing my younger self.  One month into some solid training found me seized up with a back strain followed on its heels with some version of the cold/flu thing.  It was a frustrating month (as my coach can attest), not hitting nearly the mileage or time on feet training runs that, as memory recalled, I had hit so diligently those 7 years prior.  I was feeling slow, undertrained, unmotivated, and ready to take CAS off the race calendar.  However, my coach (Ascend Endurance Coaching) patiently listened to my squabbling, firmly yet encouragingly advised patience with the process, and re-worked the training plan accordingly to accommodate those minor setbacks.  “Give it a couple more weeks until you decide,” he said.  My husband was also right by my side during those difficult weeks with constant words of support, telling me “You’re so strong!”, “You are working so hard!”.  I tried to believe him.

At last I was able to get in a 3 ½ hour snowshoe run 3 weeks out from the race. Although the first 3 hours were slow and I was tired and questioning whether I would be prepared for 6 hours, I kept plugging away.  And as the sun spread its rays down through the woods and across the fields, soaking me with warmth and energy, a transformation of body and mind occurred.  I think a little smile may have even formed across my face.

Finishing up my 3 ½ hour run, warmed and energized by the glorious sun.

The following week I snowshoed the trails for a solid 3 hours and as I finished up that run I thought to myself, I didn’t work this hard and spend the last 2 weekends snowshoeing for hours to give up on this race.  Bring it on!

Friday evening was filled with race dreams and Saturday morning was filled with more nervous energy than I anticipated.  I was so ready – mentally I had prepared for any type of weather and physically I felt taper week was quite successful.  I had big goals, which seemed achievable given this year was a trail race due to lack of snow and I had more than 6 hours thanks to Phil seeing his shadow (if the groundhog sees its shadow meaning extended winter weather you may start your last lap before 6 hours is up).  The race started at 1pm and my husband (racing also) and I arrived an hour ahead to check in (yay, no bib numbers for solo racers!),  suss out the scene, stretch, and get geared up.  I headed out to the start line feeling confident and ready to lap it up!

My goal: 50k (13 laps before 6 hours).  I quickly settled into a steady pace, legs feeling strong, sharing stories and laughs with fellow racers and my husband for the first 4 laps, and before I knew it, 15 miles passed by.  I was pleasantly surprised at how good I felt, yet a tad worried about my pace.  Here I was trucking along without pace slowing snowshoes or deep snow and relatively flat terrain.  Both quite different conditions than the majority of my training runs.  Fortunately, one of my skills is pacing.  I reminded myself to stick with my pace – everyone out here had different goals, some using this as a training run and not going the whole 6 hours.  Run your race.


After many laps of smiles and a high five, the mileage crept up and daylight started to fade.  I trained and prepared for the endurance to get through 6 hours, but not necessarily the mileage I aimed to achieve. I also found myself significantly lacking simple math and recalling the length of each lap (~2.25 miles), at one point thinking I would be lucky to make marathon distance (I was behind one lap count) and a later lap announcing I was going into my marathon lap (whoops – that would be the next lap)!  Regardless of my miscalculations, all the while I kept eating and sipping – stay fueled, stay hydrated, just keep moving.

High fivin’ and feeling good! (Photo: Rob Richard)

As I approached the finish of lap 12 (27 miles), I felt pretty exhausted, cold, and my feet were super sore from wearing traction.  I told myself I had one more lap in me, but I wouldn’t have time for 2 and I relinquished my 50k goal. I was okay with that, I had accomplished what I could. I paused. My friend and Goose Adventure Racing RD Mort Nace was at my side to help – “Do you need anything?”, “Are you getting enough calories?”, “What can I get you?”.  I replied…..I just need a breather…..and get these damn microspikes off my feet! “How about a salt potato?”.  It was as if a kid was just asked if she wanted an ice cream (oh wait, that would be me too, but I digress) – my eyes lit up – YES! Mort ran inside and next thing I knew I was walking into lap 13 with a big ‘ol hot, buttery, salty potato on a fork.  Wow – not only was I thinking how amazingly delicious was this salt potato, but it literally re-powered my brain and I realized, these loops are only 2 miles!  I looked at my watch – oh, and YOU HAVE FORTY MINUTES! Forty minutes…..2 miles…..HOLY CRAP, I got this! I chucked the remainder of the potato into the woods, stuck the fork in my hydration pack, and got my ass moving.  I pretty much hurt all over at this point, but who cares – 2 miles, easy jog, walk the couple of little inclines, plenty of time…..all of this re-playing through my head to get me through the lap.

Finishing up lap 13 with 15 minutes to spare I shouted out – I’m going through to get my 50k!!  See you in half an hour!  And off into the darkness I went, making my way around each familiar corner, cautiously over the few icy spots, all the while wondering where my husband was, I hadn’t seen him since lap 4.  Up a little incline, around this corner and the oh so familiar rooty section along the creek – the last stretch before the home stretch. I was already ecstatic, I passed 50k and was now into my longest race distance to date.  And to more perfectly close the chapter of this amazing race day, in the glow of my headlamp I saw my husband.  A huge congratulatory hug and a few tears shed, so proud of both of us, I resumed my run, I was ready to cross that finish line.

6 hours 15 minutes and 32 miles after the starting ‘shout’ I crossed that finish line for 3rd place female.  Yeah, take that 30something self.

Marathon distance finishers get a special prize! Woot!

I am fortunate to have an incredibly dedicated and knowledgeable coach and a supportive and encouraging husband and running partner on this journey.  Here’s to the next adventure.


When It’s Time to Trust the Process

I was really looking forward to entering the 4th week of my training cycle (for what I thought was to be my recovery week) because I worked my butt off the last 3 weeks and subsequently played even harder over the weekend to jam in as many snow filled activities before it all melted – long snowshoe run, followed the next day by a skate ski and classic ski (because why not?), followed the next day by a great Fit1 Outdoors class.  I was physically ready to cut back the miles, mentally prepare for the upcoming holiday, and let my body and mind take that very necessary week to rejuvenate.

While playing in the snow all weekend felt great at the time, I felt fatigued during my Fit1 class, especially in my lower back.  I sensed in the back of my mind that all that classical ski kicking trying to catch up to my friends as I chased them around the pond may not have been the smartest idea I’ve had lately.  Turns out that I literally did work my butt off and sure enough by Tuesday morning, my back essentially gave me the middle finger – a sure sign there were some lessons to be learned in my coming days.

Skiing! It was fun…at the time, but I overdid it that day.

Lesson #1 – Emotion:  Be it a minor injury, or one that changes an entire year’s plans, it’s okay to allow yourself to feel those ‘negative’ emotions, just as you allow yourself to feel that post workout runners high or shear happiness from being out on your favorite trails.  This too is part of the process, of riding that thrilling roller coaster full of dips and peaks, twists and turns, as day by day you progress through your own personal journey.  Sleep more, be sad, shed those tears, be frustrated, hug a loved one, find consolation in your best friend or trail sisters who surely can relate and provide that extra support you need, and perhaps that extra little push to get you back on that uphill climb. Processing these emotions and listening to my feelings made me realize how much running means to me now.  I just wanted to run.

Lesson #2 – Patience:  Day by day.  This is my general outlook on life lately, be it an in-season or off-season training period, but it certainly applies when a significant activity is removed from your daily routine, no matter how temporary.  Working your way back to that regular routine is often a struggle for strong, determined, self-motivated athletes (heck, I’ve seen so many comments and articles recently on athletes having difficulty managing a recovery week!); hence, therein lies the difficult practice of taking things one day at a time.  Although we know in the grand scheme that a week or two won’t be a major setback to that longterm goal, let’s face it, we all know that it feels like we are missing months of training.  Instead, focus on the present.  This is the time to take a deep breath, let the body heal, find some peace in the activities we are often too busy to accomplish.  As I told my husband while his broken pelvis was healing, and he in turn reminded me this last week when I felt I was doing nothing over my 5 day holiday vacation, “You aren’t doing nothing.  Resting and healing your body is your task now.  You are doing something.”

Puzzling with mom – trying to practice patience and enjoy an annual tradition.

Lesson #3 – Trust: It’s a hard thing to do, whether the process is working to increase your speed, or working through injury.  For me, it is a dip in the roller coaster due to injury.  Now, to trust my husband who says that that pain will go away soon yet I’m hurting, to trust my coach who says that this too shall pass when next week seems so far away.   Even if you have previously experienced injury and know that you come out the other side ready to fight, it is hard to think of a few days or a few months ahead, or certainly for some a year later.  Be calm and surround yourself with those you can lean on for support and trust.  They are there to help you through.

Fortunately my injury is temporary.  After processing the emotions and exercising (ahem) some patience, the pain dissipated, my range of motion increased, walking started to feel normal, and best yet – I got the thumbs up to go for a run.

“Trust the process you must.” ~Chris Dunn, Ascend Endurance Coaching (or Yoda, whomever said it first)


Transitions – training, seasons, life

It began with a scheduled phase in the training cycle, coming off my first 50k I had three whole weeks of “Transition”.  This was a time to recover, let the body heal, enjoy activities that I don’t have time to squeeze in when the days are filled with work and focused training.  I was going to embrace this phase, knowing it will pass quickly as time tends to do, and let myself do what I wanted with each new day.  I hopped on my bike, enjoyed a paddle, explored new places, and even made a quick trip to the Adirondacks on the most perfect day for a hike up to Whiteface Mountain. I love adventuring, whatever it may be.

I planned to give myself the time I needed to go for my first post-race run (let’s be honest – it took a few days before I even felt comfortable walking normally around the office).  Everyone is different in so many ways.  The volume of training the body can handle, the types and frequency of foods needed to fuel an endurance event, and certainly the recovery plan. By the way, I find it interesting that there are so many resources available about training and preparing for a race, but near silence on post-event expectations and body/mind management.  Isn’t that period just as important as any other to an athlete?  Anyway, I digress.  The point being that I would run when I was ready and I trusted myself to let me know when that time came.  I just didn’t realize the time would come during the process of loss and grief.

My Transition phase quickly took on a whole new meaning in less than a week out from my race as I learned the shocking news of the sudden death of my brother (at age 50).  Now I wasn’t just transitioning from healing my body and mind from months of training and 6 ½ hours of racing, I was unexpectedly transitioning into the change our family had encountered.  The relationship with my brother was quite distant, so for several days my focus and concern was for my parents – my dad in particular who had maintained the closest relationship.  I thought I was fine, until I wasn’t, until the shock wore off and I broke down with sadness of the loss for my one sibling, for my parent’s son.  Nearly a week after his death is when I got the message – YOU NEED TO RUN.  The urge literally knocked me out of my exhausted, sad state. It was almost 2 weeks since my 50k and I had no idea how I would feel.  Will I be slow and tired?  Will I feel fit and fast?  Really though it didn’t matter, because as my feet felt the trails beneath me and my soul soaked up the peace within those woods, this became a run for Michael.  My heart beat when his no longer could.

Transition of seasons
Transitions – of training, of seasons, of life

As my family grieved and life inevitably moved on, the official Transition period ended.  I was ready to get back to some structure and looked forward to my strength routine as I entered the off-season.  Working to build back my strength is the primary goal of this period, so running was sporadic and unstructured, but I found myself antsy to get out when I could and once again excited for those long runs (I love my weekend long run adventures!).  I started noticing that both rail trail and single track trail runs were [unintentionally] faster than pre-race.  Was this an aberration of my Garmin or is something really happening here?

It’s been nearly 5 years since I was primarily running, yet as my strength builds and my legs explore more and more miles, I can feel my body transitioning. Now, I’m feeling more efficient and ‘flowy’.  My legs just going without much thought.  My mind seeking the next opportunity to get in some miles.  It’s been an interesting road on this nearly year long journey back to running.  One thing for now is clear – I just want to run.

Re-discovering the love of running

Baking in the Sun – My First 50k

“You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”  ~Marcus Aurelius

It was HOT! Yeah, yeah, many people would say that they train and race in 90+ temps all the time, but folks – this is VERMONT, at the end of SEPTEMBER!! I think we hit only two 90 degree days all Summer and well, technically, it’s now Fall.  Anyway, more on embracing that heat and humidity later…..

My story goes back to earlier in 2017 as goals for the year were discussed, unsure whether this would be a “running” or a “biking” year.  See, my husband had a multiple fracture pelvic break July of 2016 in a fluke bike accident and, needless to say, he wasn’t going to hop back in that saddle for training rides of any duration any time soon.  The good news is that he was cleared for activity that December, a mere 5 months after the accident, and started immediately running.  But, I digress……..after nearly 6 years of training and building my skills and endurance on the bike I was at a crossroads.  I could either continue the biking without my training partner (which certainly is feasible, but for me biking hours solo is just not quite as pleasant as running hours solo), or choose to run again.  I did have a bunch of ‘bucket list’ running races in mind from years back when we were running and so, after much discussion, together we decided – running year.  Initially my goal was Twisted Branch 100k (August); however, after coming off a minor back injury from December and a subsequent foot injury in February, I turned to another race that was on my list – Vermont 50.  Given that it had been a good six years off from any consistent or high volume running, I somehow made the smart decision to sign up for the 50k rather then the 50 miler. Must be the “wiser with age” theory – who knows.

Unfortunately, my motivation and enthusiasm to run didn’t quite equal my excitement for this new endurance goal.  As I worked to build my base miles, I frequently questioned myself wondering “where was my love for the trails?”, “you used to love trail running, why doesn’t this feel like it used to?”.  I just couldn’t find my trail running groove, I missed biking, I was frustrated and struggled with the decision I made to make it a running year.  Meanwhile, my husband (Ken) and I had a few local races on the docket for May and July to use as training runs and I just kept plugging away at my training plan.

May 7, 2017 – MedVed Madness 15 miler.  This was the day! The turning point when I found my groove.  I re-discovered a connection, my legs carried me through the woods, my feet moved across the rooted earthy ground, I smiled, I relaxed, I ran.  My mind and body made the transition and accepted this new path I had chosen.

MedVed Madness 2017

Over the next few months, although I was no longer on my bike, I was riding the runners high, loving the trails, the parks, the woods, my weekend long runs once again what I longed for as each Monday rolled around.  I tackled two more races, Ontario Summit Half marathon and 0SPF Half(ish) marathon, both on more trails I love and I was quite pleased with my performances.  During this time, I also took on a coach.

Everyone has their own reason(s) for hiring a coach, but no need to go into all of that now.  Sure, one can internet search for a training plan or purchase a book to guide you along the way, but I wanted more than that and in the 2 short months of working with my  coach Chris of Ascend Endurance Coaching, I would quickly find part of what I was seeking.  See, in my strong-willed, go-getting, goal driven ways, the training plan I was following (although I thought I was modifying accordingly) ultimately led me to an overtrained state in Week 19 of my 24 week plan.  I had been here before exactly 5 years prior, just a couple of weeks before the Leadville 100 Mtb, and it isn’t a fun place to be – the classic signs of fatigue, slowness, lack of motivation, etc..  Great, here I was again, not caring about getting out on the trails and feeling sad that my excitement for my first 50k seemed nearly buried in the quicksand.  Thankfully, I had a whole 5 weeks to turn things around this time.  My coach essentially but on the breaks, kindly indicated he would take the reigns from here (“have at it” I believe I said), and subsequently managed to reach out a hand and week by week pull me out of that quicksand and set me down at the starting line at the base of Ascutney Mountain in Vermont feeling the best I could on race day – oh, and did I mention…… was HOT?

My husband and I arrived in Vermont 4 days before the race, extending the trip to enjoy a little anniversary celebration and explore the area.  We already knew at that point that we were looking at 90+ degree temps on race day, so rather than fret or waste our energy stressing about it, we drank water – lots and lots of water (okay, there may have been a beer or glass of wine tossed in there).  I was starting to feel recovered from the place I put myself in 4 weeks prior, but was a little anxious about how I would feel on race day.  It seemed like so many weeks since my longest run (which was 21 miles).  Again, trying not to stress or waste energy – save it for Sunday I told myself, because I have done what I can do at this point and race day will be what it will be.  Those few days leading up to race day happened to be, well feel, a little cooler and less humid than forecasted.  Our Saturday morning ‘shake-out’ run felt great and my legs were raring to go.  As I awoke Sunday morning, September 24th, the weather app would inform me we were not to be so fortunate that day – already it was 90some percent humidity, 60some degree dew point and projected 80some degrees well before noon.

Our start time was 8am. The juxtaposition of the fire can and down jackets because it felt ‘chilly’ struck me as quite ironic as we walked down to the starting area that morning.  “This isn’t going to be a PR day for anyone” says the RD as we gather at the mandatory pre-race meeting.  Yup, I hear ya loud and clear.  Deep breath……stay hydrated……it’s minutes to go time.

Someone yelled “GO” and we were off – I was swooped up in the energy of the racers bathed by the already warming sun, put a smile on my face and made my way down the road and into the first few miles.  I was doing my best not to start out too fast, which was difficult considering the beginning was paved and hard pack dirt roads.  In fact, for several miles I felt like I was the car doing 75 in a 65, yet everyone else was passing me.  Am I really going that slowly?  Do these people realize we have 30 miles to go?  Am I the only one concerned about the impending heat and how that will make me feel in 20 miles?  I told myself to relax, calm down, race YOUR race, and don’t worry about what everyone else is or isn’t doing.  This was lesson #1.

Unfortunately this course only allowed for 2 crew stops along the way – hey, I will take what I can get. So I knew our friends Terry and Rebecca would be waiting for us at the Mile 13 aid station.  I felt good for that first third of the race, way ahead of my goal pace (which was partly due to the nature of the terrain), and was SO excited when the course popped out of the woods and I could see the tents down below at the bottom of the field.  I was doused with an ice cold wet sponge (thank goodness by the way for those and the the hoses throughout the day!), greeted with hugs from Terry and filled up my bottles to stay hydrated (my Orange Mud HydraQuiver Vest Pack 2 worked out great for this race as it allowed me to have both water and my Skratch Labs hydration mix handy throughout the race as well as plenty of room for fuel!).  I gave Rebecca two thumbs up as a I headed out of the aid station.  “You are looking great and ahead of your pace”, Rebecca yells.  Then came mile 15.

My race plan broke the race down into thirds and as the miles passed, my body started feeling the effects of the mercury rising and the sun beating down.  Here I was, in the second third of the race (and what would become the most difficult mentally and physically). My pace slowed, at times I didn’t even care if all I did was walk…..but, the words of coach Chris rang several times throughout those miles – be present, be tenacious, be grateful.  So, I did my best to shut out the pain, ignore the heat, enjoy the spectacular country views of Vermont, pick up a jog and just be thankful, be grateful that I am out here and able to do this.  Thoughts of my husband literally living in a recliner for 2 months last year, staring out the window at all the cyclists riding by on those sunny Summer days passed through my mind – heck, if that’s not motivation enough, not sure what is.  It was at mile 21 I caught up to this couple that I had seen throughout the day. I had a slight burst of energy and was a bit ahead of them keeping up my walk/jog the best I could thinking if I just stay ahead of or with them…..then I heard talk of her sub 6hr 30min goal and how that essentially wouldn’t be feasible at this point….I picked up my stride, picked up my walk/jog frequency…..and never saw those 2 again.  My last third was ahead of me.

At this point, I honestly don’t recall much of those next several miles – I remember thinking, wow, I’ve run further than I’ve run all year, oh hey, I’ve run more than a marathon and – does that say “WATER” (pointing to a help yourself hose)….uhhhh YES PLEASE!! Then I distinctly recall thinking, oh crap – when is the next aid station?  How much fluid do I have left?  Wow, this exposed stretch of road is REALLY hot, I’m tired of running on the road, and I just feel like I’m out here baking in the sun.  Then, like a mirage turned reality, I see Rebecca…..wait, what are YOU doing here?!

Last aid – 3 miles to go!

Mile 27.5 aid station.  Last friendly hugs, fill up on fluids and a quick douse under the hose……SEE YOU AT THE FINISH LINE!….I yell back.  Three miles, this is it, you can do this.

From where it came, I’m not sure.  Maybe because, well 3 miles can’t be that bad, or probably most likely, I just want to get out of this damned sun and get this race done!  I pushed ahead and next thing I knew I caught up to another couple of runners I had seen throughout the day – this woman who I saw was strong and keeping a decent pace and hours earlier had thought to myself “just keep her in sight”, and here I was latching on to this 5 person pace line, which she was leading.  This wasn’t going to be easy, but she was still walk/running and I told myself to just hang on for the ride.  I took a quick peek at my watch and realized we were on pace for a sub 6:30 finish.  I honestly couldn’t believe that this would be possible given the conditions of the day and knowing that I had fallen well behind my original goal pace.  But here was an opportunity presented right in front of me to set a new goal.  Even though the day may not evolve as expected, this doesn’t mean it’s not possible to re-set your goal for the day.  Lesson #2.

Two miles to go, I’m still holding on to the pace line.  One and a half miles to go – we pop out of the woods and the final stretch takes us back and forth and back and forth, continuously, as we wind our way across and down the mountainside.  Another quick peek at the watch – this is happening.  I’m MAKING it happen.  I am not letting myself cross that finish line with a ‘3’ as the second digit – I can see that finish line from a mile away!  I am literally willing myself down that mountainside, baking some more in the sun, running on legs that hurt and feet that are sore, but I don’t even care.  Nothing really matters right now because I am so damned determined and running as fast as my legs will allow.  Then I see the quarter mile sign and oh, there’s Terry on the bridge. I’m so excited I can’t stand it.

You’ve got this……JUST DON’T TRIP I’m telling myself as I flew those legs down that final uneven stretch and glanced up at the finish line clock….8:26 and change (the clock was 2 hours ahead).  A few strides later and………I did it! I crossed that finish line under 6:30……6 hours 27 minutes and change.


I pulled the quote at the start of this story from a recent blog post from my coach – how timely I thought because I could directly relate.  I certainly didn’t have power over the heat of that day, but the power over my mind did allow me to dig deep and find the strength that I needed to achieve an outcome of which I am very proud. Never underestimate the strength you hold within. Lesson #3.

Kudos also to my husband who achieved his goal of finishing a challenging 50k only 14 months after breaking his pelvis – thanks for being my training partner, I’m proud of you too!

50k Finishers!