I've written a lot about the mental hurdles you have to get over to run races, especially long distance races. Not surprisingly the most common response I get when I mention running a marathon or an ultra marathon is "I could never do it". But you can! I was just talking with a friend about running and why I've always believed anyone could run. As well documented in "Born To Run" (the infamous book that convinced me I should try a 100 miler and a blog) humans are built to run. We were built to chase prey over long distances. What changed? Well we don't have to chase our prey, we don't even have to drive for prepackaged prey someone will drive it to you. We also have a lot of pavement which is just not really great on your body. We made shoes to help, but for anyone who's done a road marathon and a trail marathon you can tell pretty quickly when you have to walk down stairs the day after.
Part of the challenge of running long distance races is convincing your brain, tainted by society, that you can do it. I remember the first time I ran 10 miles, the first time I reached double digit miles. I couldn't believe it had happened and how easy it actually was. And after that, every run that came next; 13 miles, 18 miles, 26.2 miles, 50 miles wasn't impossible. You really do have to just do it and experience that you can do it and there you are. A lot of races are run with doubt. Doubt that you can finish, keep going, get over that next hill. A lot of races are also lost by poor training and injury. But you'd be surprised by how many times just thinking "I can't" gets in the way of finishing, and even more so, signing up for a race.
After I finished my first marathon I felt like I could do it again. After I finished my first 50 miler I know I could probably do anything as long as I didn't mind getting sick after. That's the belief that carried me through the Salida Race Through Time Half Marathon this March. That race was my first long distance trail race in I think 2012. I was terrified the night before. Wrong Way Ryan can attest to that. While him and the Bearded Wonder were out getting beers, I was laying in my bed obsessing over the race map. And I had trained for that race. I had done everything right. Fast forward to this March I "trained" with almost zero trail miles, drank beers with everyone the night before, and just sort of showed up and did it. I did it because the doing 13.1 miles wasn't the hard part. I knew I could do it, I had done it. I also knew I couldn't do it as fast as I wanted to so I paced accordingly.
It's that thinking that's gotten me pretty sloppy at training.
So part of this adventure right now is improving the other parts of racing. My brain is fantastically equipped to complete impossible tasks. My legs, not so much. So my mental hurdle is picking a training run over happy hour and running even if it's a league night. Or in the case of this past week, going on a run after happy hour. That was rough, so many burps. I have to get over the mental hurdle of missing social engagements and pushing myself along with frisbee. I'd love to see a running book dedicated to FOMO.
Here's how I did this week:
Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday
Plan: rest 3m 5m pace 3m rest 8m cross
Actual: 3.26m 2m 3.36m 5.53m Rest! 8.33m
Total: 22.38m
I ran on a rest day, Monday's are good nights for me to run because I don't have frisbee league so I think I'll likely continue with running on Mondays. I only did 2 miles Tuesday because it was frisbee league. I wore my garmin watch and it gave me 2 miles of running during one game. I consider that sort of pace work because it's a lot of sprinting. Wednesday was after a happy hour so I'm glad I at least got a run in. Thursday was a great hike. Hiking up hill is sprinting in disguise so I think that was a good alternative. Friday I actually rested! Saturday I did a long road run, it wasn't as fast as I want it to be so I'm hoping my times start to get better. Which I know means actually doing the pace runs. Sunday is cross training so I think I'll do a hike and/or some strength training.
So week one was ok. I got in more miles than required so I am glad I took one rest day. Hurdle of week 1 is over and I think I did ok. Maybe I manufactured a way to get over that hurdle in a non-traditional way, but considering where I've been I'm pleased.
Showing posts with label 100 miler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 100 miler. Show all posts
Saturday, July 6, 2019
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Shouting through an open window
As I'm one to do, I was listening to a podcast on a recent run. Due to some glitches with my itunes account and a slow reorganizing of my room I didn't have my normal WWDTM podcast to rely on so I switched to Radiolab for my quick run around Wash Park. Typically Radiolab, This American Life, and Risk are saved for longer runs when I really need the motivation to pound the pavement in my now familiar neighborhood. It was one of their update podcasts so I assumed it would be shorter, perhaps with not much new material. I was wrong.
The recent podcast "Update: New Normal"from October 19, 2015 looked back at their podcast "Normalcy" from, I believe, 5 or 6 years ago. In the intro story Jad Abumrad brings up an antedote written in the New York Times by Martin Bunzel a philosphy professor. As an 18 year old, Mr. Bunzel over hears something on a plane in 1966 regarding race. He remarks that given the particular time period, 1966, the man who made the comment was in an interesting spot. Had he said it a few years earlier it would have been common place, had he said it a few years later it would have been intolerable. However the time he said it America was on the cusp of change, a grey area. Mr. Bunzel said it was as if the man was "shouting through an open window between worlds".
There are a lot of points in our lives where we feel we are between worlds. When you transition from high school to college, when you transition from college to the "real world", when you get married/divorced, etc. These are pretty big worlds to transition between and are a lot more obvious to chart and see. What's more nuanced are those smaller shifts in the world and in your life. These shifts may take a long time to recognize, if at all. You may be shouting between two worlds and not even realize it.
Spare me the groans for a moment, but the best comparison I can think of is dating. No not Tinder, Tinder is it's own potentially interesting blog post related to running at a later date. What it feels like is that grey area where you have a friend and a great friendship and everythings fine, but there's maybe a possibility for a new type of relationship with that person. You can sense that things will change with this person but you don't know how. Will our story be the next big Hollywood RomCom or will we be a cringe worthy memory? I'm not talking about the actual shift, when that change happens. That's usually a pretty obvious time marker. What I'm talking about are those moments before that shift that actions and reactions (the shouts) that signify what everyone hates: the grey area. An innocent text here, a chance meeting of just the two of you there. A few years prior it may have meant nothing and in a few years after it might mean lot more but for now that "hi (and emoji?)" is a shout through an open window between two worlds.
I'm feeling that way about ultimate frisbee and running right now. I'm super excited about my upcoming race (and slightly terrified). I also got super excited about ultimate this past season with women's masters and RUA. Now, coming off the high of a big Harvest Moon Championship (Christmas Town!) and the thought of "what am I going to do December 6th?"
My current friendship with ultimate and running has been figuring out how to do both (logistically and physically). I love how things are right now but I can sense a shift coming. We've been making due with some tweaks here and there but it's been working for the most part. A few years ago I thought I made that leap when I quit competitive women's frisbee and started setting my sights on ultra running. And up until this year I would have thought my shout was the Molly Brown end of season party and my "roast" to Lauren Boyle. I snuck in a little line in my poem to her about running and that was it...ultimate and I were more just friends and ultra running and I were going to fall in love.
I've grown a lot as a runner since then. Conquering my first 50 miler was a big piece of that, but so was learning a new way to train and prepare my body for this type of work. I came off this summer healthy and relatively unscathed. I signed up for a 50 miler in December and began setting my sights for 2016 and a possible push for a 100 miler.
I've also grown a lot as an ultimate frisbee player. There was Master's Nationals with Jezebel. A semi-finals appearance was awesome but more exciting were the awesome ladies and the laid back fun of playing ultimate for just that reason; fun with friends. There was MHU league with Shiny Happy People and Part Time Models. There was RUA and regionals. At the end of regionals this year, sitting in a circle with my team, all I could think about was how much fun I had playing and how much more I felt like I grew into myself as a player this year. The timid, always worried about making a mistake women's player got out of my head and the ultimate player started to take control. I felt a passion for a sport that wasn't out of fear of failure for the first time in a long time.
The interesting part about the New York Times story is that shift, that shout between two worlds, was only really identifiable when that shout reaches the new world and you're in it. I don't know if that new world will be all ultimate or all running or a new hybrid of both or even neither. The ground is shifting beneath my feet.
The recent podcast "Update: New Normal"from October 19, 2015 looked back at their podcast "Normalcy" from, I believe, 5 or 6 years ago. In the intro story Jad Abumrad brings up an antedote written in the New York Times by Martin Bunzel a philosphy professor. As an 18 year old, Mr. Bunzel over hears something on a plane in 1966 regarding race. He remarks that given the particular time period, 1966, the man who made the comment was in an interesting spot. Had he said it a few years earlier it would have been common place, had he said it a few years later it would have been intolerable. However the time he said it America was on the cusp of change, a grey area. Mr. Bunzel said it was as if the man was "shouting through an open window between worlds".
There are a lot of points in our lives where we feel we are between worlds. When you transition from high school to college, when you transition from college to the "real world", when you get married/divorced, etc. These are pretty big worlds to transition between and are a lot more obvious to chart and see. What's more nuanced are those smaller shifts in the world and in your life. These shifts may take a long time to recognize, if at all. You may be shouting between two worlds and not even realize it.
Spare me the groans for a moment, but the best comparison I can think of is dating. No not Tinder, Tinder is it's own potentially interesting blog post related to running at a later date. What it feels like is that grey area where you have a friend and a great friendship and everythings fine, but there's maybe a possibility for a new type of relationship with that person. You can sense that things will change with this person but you don't know how. Will our story be the next big Hollywood RomCom or will we be a cringe worthy memory? I'm not talking about the actual shift, when that change happens. That's usually a pretty obvious time marker. What I'm talking about are those moments before that shift that actions and reactions (the shouts) that signify what everyone hates: the grey area. An innocent text here, a chance meeting of just the two of you there. A few years prior it may have meant nothing and in a few years after it might mean lot more but for now that "hi (and emoji?)" is a shout through an open window between two worlds.
 |
| Harvest Moon 2015 Champs! |
My current friendship with ultimate and running has been figuring out how to do both (logistically and physically). I love how things are right now but I can sense a shift coming. We've been making due with some tweaks here and there but it's been working for the most part. A few years ago I thought I made that leap when I quit competitive women's frisbee and started setting my sights on ultra running. And up until this year I would have thought my shout was the Molly Brown end of season party and my "roast" to Lauren Boyle. I snuck in a little line in my poem to her about running and that was it...ultimate and I were more just friends and ultra running and I were going to fall in love.
I've grown a lot as a runner since then. Conquering my first 50 miler was a big piece of that, but so was learning a new way to train and prepare my body for this type of work. I came off this summer healthy and relatively unscathed. I signed up for a 50 miler in December and began setting my sights for 2016 and a possible push for a 100 miler.
I've also grown a lot as an ultimate frisbee player. There was Master's Nationals with Jezebel. A semi-finals appearance was awesome but more exciting were the awesome ladies and the laid back fun of playing ultimate for just that reason; fun with friends. There was MHU league with Shiny Happy People and Part Time Models. There was RUA and regionals. At the end of regionals this year, sitting in a circle with my team, all I could think about was how much fun I had playing and how much more I felt like I grew into myself as a player this year. The timid, always worried about making a mistake women's player got out of my head and the ultimate player started to take control. I felt a passion for a sport that wasn't out of fear of failure for the first time in a long time.
The interesting part about the New York Times story is that shift, that shout between two worlds, was only really identifiable when that shout reaches the new world and you're in it. I don't know if that new world will be all ultimate or all running or a new hybrid of both or even neither. The ground is shifting beneath my feet.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
running without a rope
*I had a really hard time with this post. It's been rewritten so many times I finally just decided to throw it out there.
Molly Brown spent a lot of time on the mental game of Ultimate. To help we asked Scott Gurst to give occasional talks to our team about training your mind. I love all of his talks, I've heard a lot of them several times, yet each time I find something new to ponder or implement in my life; both in ultimate and beyond. One of his talks is about fear and "climbing without a rope" and it seems even more relevant to me at this stage in my running career and life.
In rock climbing there's a style of climbing called "free soloing". It basically means you climb without the aid of a rope. If you want a more in depth description you can google-fu it. There is no room for error, all you can do is climb up. If you read impressions from free climbers you'll hear similar assessments of the challenges. The difficulty is not the physical challenge of climbing, but the mental difficulty of staying focused. With a rope you have something to catch you, a safety net in case things go wrong. What do you do when that net is gone?
Running solo is less risky than free-soloing but there are more similarities then you would expect. I think one of the biggest ones is the idea of letting go and just running. It's easy, especially when you're feeling fatigued or frustrated during a race, to stop the free rhythm of running and focus on everything else. You start to think about your past training, your food intake, your pace, your clothing choice, how long you've been running, how much longer you will have to continue running. While there is a time and a place for some thought (nutrition, pace, and clothing), the rest is stuff you cannot change and therefore need to push it out of your head. It's really hard to stay focused and not let your mind wander to things that hint at failure. You can't worry about your training because you're there, you're running. The best thing you can do is just keep running. If you don't just believe you'll be able to run uphill forever then it's easy to just want to give up on running that hill in the first place.
Another similarity I see is the concept of being solo. Running, in itself, is a solo event. It makes sense, your mode of transport is you. If someone is carrying you, it's not really running. Do they have marathon piggy-back races? But many runners will tell you that the act of running is often a very social experience. We depend on each other for motivation, for intel on trail conditions, or for an extra gu when we've run out. Although we runners pride ourselves in the self-propelled nature of our sport, running solo is often a scary thing.
I start running, really running, 8 years ago. For the entire time I've had the same running partner. Having someone else to depend on to make decisions on where to run, what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, even what shoe to buy was a pretty secure rope and safety net. Someone to complain about the weather to, to share in the misery with, to celebrate a good run with, and to drink a beer post run with. If I failed it wasn't really my fault since I didn't make any decisions without his input. If we got lost on a trail I had someone to blame. I didn't have to just go out and run and see what happened, I depended on a safety net to guide me to what I needed to do. It was really nice to not have to make decisions, all I had to do was show up. It was also nice to know there was someone right there who know exactly what you were going through. Plus, everyone knows a celebratory beer tastes much sweeter with friends. Now that I'm running without a rope I have to make all the decisions.
Ok, I admit, that sounds a little overly dramatic. Yes I can still ask people about trails, I can still go running with people, I can probably still bum food off of people if need be. But there is a sense of loneliness when you start venturing out on runs on your own. You lose that safety net and it's easy to say no to a challenging run or route. A safety net, which could be a running partner or even a familiar route/trail, allows us to stop focusing on our individual goal and the motivation to challenge ourselves can be lost. I was in charge of my own training now, coupled with a race distance that is completely new to me, so I had to figure out on my own how to approach it. It is way too easy to bail out and skip a new run or a new running partner. But I didn't sign up for a race to bail out, I signed up to work towards running 100 miles.
So how do we move forward? How do we run without a rope? Scott Gurst shared another important piece of advice during this talk, borrowed for the author/athlete John Bringham. Bringham wrote a book called "The Accidental Athlete" and in it he wrote:
"We never know what is going to be our last best day. the race that turns out to be our last best day can't be recognized in the moment, it can be seen only in retrospect."
You never new what race will be your best, your peak, until after it's happened. If we continue to run and train with a bail out, a rope, we might never reach our goal and run the risk of looking back at our running career with a lot of missed chances. This doesn't mean go out and try to win every trail run and race, but if you move forward always thinking that you can save it for the next run or the next race, there might not be one. Maybe you'll get hurt, maybe life will happen and you can't sign up for a race. I look back at my ultimate career and wonder was 2012 my last best chance at a nationals title? I probably won't know that for another few years, but I want to do whatever I can to not wonder that about running.
Looking at my training as an opportunity to put it all out for the next race, so if it is my last best chance, I know I put it all out there. This helps overcome the fear of failure or the unknown. If Quad Rock is my last best chance to run that race well, then I'm going to put in the work leading up to it. That means planning on some good hard trail runs to get ready for it, packing my own food, bringing my own water, and double tying my own trail shoes. Luckily I know there will be some awesome people at the finish line ready to imbibe in that celebratory beer with me.
Was 2013 my last best chance for ultra running? I don't think so. I've just dipped my toe into this field and I'm excited about all the strides I've made thus far. It's scary to go at it alone without a veteran ultra runner by my side all the time, but sometimes that rope can also be a weight that holds you back from your real potential. The weight has been shed, the rope is gone, whether I was ready for it or not and there's no where to go but up.
Molly Brown spent a lot of time on the mental game of Ultimate. To help we asked Scott Gurst to give occasional talks to our team about training your mind. I love all of his talks, I've heard a lot of them several times, yet each time I find something new to ponder or implement in my life; both in ultimate and beyond. One of his talks is about fear and "climbing without a rope" and it seems even more relevant to me at this stage in my running career and life.
 |
| sometimes ropes are helpful when river crossing |
In rock climbing there's a style of climbing called "free soloing". It basically means you climb without the aid of a rope. If you want a more in depth description you can google-fu it. There is no room for error, all you can do is climb up. If you read impressions from free climbers you'll hear similar assessments of the challenges. The difficulty is not the physical challenge of climbing, but the mental difficulty of staying focused. With a rope you have something to catch you, a safety net in case things go wrong. What do you do when that net is gone?
Running solo is less risky than free-soloing but there are more similarities then you would expect. I think one of the biggest ones is the idea of letting go and just running. It's easy, especially when you're feeling fatigued or frustrated during a race, to stop the free rhythm of running and focus on everything else. You start to think about your past training, your food intake, your pace, your clothing choice, how long you've been running, how much longer you will have to continue running. While there is a time and a place for some thought (nutrition, pace, and clothing), the rest is stuff you cannot change and therefore need to push it out of your head. It's really hard to stay focused and not let your mind wander to things that hint at failure. You can't worry about your training because you're there, you're running. The best thing you can do is just keep running. If you don't just believe you'll be able to run uphill forever then it's easy to just want to give up on running that hill in the first place.
Another similarity I see is the concept of being solo. Running, in itself, is a solo event. It makes sense, your mode of transport is you. If someone is carrying you, it's not really running. Do they have marathon piggy-back races? But many runners will tell you that the act of running is often a very social experience. We depend on each other for motivation, for intel on trail conditions, or for an extra gu when we've run out. Although we runners pride ourselves in the self-propelled nature of our sport, running solo is often a scary thing.
 |
| Not piggy back, but I doubt Eric would have carried me around the whole tournament |
Ok, I admit, that sounds a little overly dramatic. Yes I can still ask people about trails, I can still go running with people, I can probably still bum food off of people if need be. But there is a sense of loneliness when you start venturing out on runs on your own. You lose that safety net and it's easy to say no to a challenging run or route. A safety net, which could be a running partner or even a familiar route/trail, allows us to stop focusing on our individual goal and the motivation to challenge ourselves can be lost. I was in charge of my own training now, coupled with a race distance that is completely new to me, so I had to figure out on my own how to approach it. It is way too easy to bail out and skip a new run or a new running partner. But I didn't sign up for a race to bail out, I signed up to work towards running 100 miles.
So how do we move forward? How do we run without a rope? Scott Gurst shared another important piece of advice during this talk, borrowed for the author/athlete John Bringham. Bringham wrote a book called "The Accidental Athlete" and in it he wrote:
"We never know what is going to be our last best day. the race that turns out to be our last best day can't be recognized in the moment, it can be seen only in retrospect."
You never new what race will be your best, your peak, until after it's happened. If we continue to run and train with a bail out, a rope, we might never reach our goal and run the risk of looking back at our running career with a lot of missed chances. This doesn't mean go out and try to win every trail run and race, but if you move forward always thinking that you can save it for the next run or the next race, there might not be one. Maybe you'll get hurt, maybe life will happen and you can't sign up for a race. I look back at my ultimate career and wonder was 2012 my last best chance at a nationals title? I probably won't know that for another few years, but I want to do whatever I can to not wonder that about running.
Looking at my training as an opportunity to put it all out for the next race, so if it is my last best chance, I know I put it all out there. This helps overcome the fear of failure or the unknown. If Quad Rock is my last best chance to run that race well, then I'm going to put in the work leading up to it. That means planning on some good hard trail runs to get ready for it, packing my own food, bringing my own water, and double tying my own trail shoes. Luckily I know there will be some awesome people at the finish line ready to imbibe in that celebratory beer with me.
Was 2013 my last best chance for ultra running? I don't think so. I've just dipped my toe into this field and I'm excited about all the strides I've made thus far. It's scary to go at it alone without a veteran ultra runner by my side all the time, but sometimes that rope can also be a weight that holds you back from your real potential. The weight has been shed, the rope is gone, whether I was ready for it or not and there's no where to go but up.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Local man gets lost in woods, runs 100 miles
Besides running races I also love to help out at races. Whether it is the aid station at the North Fork 50 or cheering on runners like Jeremiah in races. At the end of June I was fortunate enough to crew for Jeremiah in his first 100 mile race in the Black Hills of South Dakota. We had a great group of pacers and all around crewers for the race so first off THANK YOU to Tower, Donnie, Cassidy, and Hannah for not only keeping Jeremiah going but also helping me be the best support I could be.
If you've never crewed before it's a neat experience that takes some prep work that you have to be willing to throw out as soon as something changes with your runner. Here's my guide to being a good pacer,crew member with some "what to do better next time" advice.
1. Let your runner dictate what he/she needs before, during, and after the race
Anyone training for a race whether it is a half marathon or a 100 miler has a lot of their own preparation to do. There's the training part, but there's also the figuring out fueling and clothing, researching the course and the weather. Jeremiah had a unique problem in the previous two years of the race had pretty much every possible weather you can think of. It's best to trust that your runner has planned out what he/she needs and it's your job to remind them that it's there (extra shoes, long sleeve shirt, various snacks).
2. Except when you have to make the runner do what he/she needs to do
In retrospect I should have pushed the sit down/rest/recover piece more. Since this was Jeremiah's first 100miler we were all learning what to do and he was learning what to do and not do. The last 17 or so miles of the race were pretty tough according to the bearded wonder. He struggled with fatigue (he said he was "sleep running" for awhile) and really nasty blisters. As I noticed some of the other runners come through aide stations and there were two women who made an impact. First of all, they spent almost the entire race slowly catching up to Jeremiah (one was running the other was a pacer). They eventually passed him at the second to last crewed aide station. Her crew made her sit down at every aide station, brought her food, and provided changes in clothing.
Jeremiah's a little stubborn and when he's feeling good he likes to keep going and pushing. He's been pretty remarkable in running through most of anything so it was pretty easy to believe him that he didn't need to stop and he could just keep pushing through. It's hard to think that didn't catch up to him at the end. I also feel like I should have pushed for a shoe change much earlier. He finally changed at mile 94, probably a good 30 miles past when we could have addressed and stopped some of the major blisters that definitely impacted his ability to run.
3. Try and sleep
Try, but you're probably not going to sleep much. I had a chart of expected times at each aide station so the most I could get was 30min here/1hr there. It's was rough, but not as rough as Jeremiah had it. I say try and sleep because unless you have Beth making up a comfy bed in the back of her Prius you might just fall asleep in your chair at the aide station (which I did despite there being a bed in the Prius).
4. Bring Friends
Having friends around at each aide station made it so much better! Kudos to Hannah for keeping me company for most of the evening. We even managed to catch a blue grass concert in Nemo with the four-wheel festival and acquired a new favorite party song called Parking Lot Party. I didn't think I needed it, but it was really nice to just have people there with you as you try to prepare for your runner and then have your runner blow through the aide station so quickly you didn't even finish throwing away the old gu packets. A big kudos to Beth who drove me around all night and made me eat food. Otherwise I would have missed pacing the last 5 miles.
5. Have fun
I know, pretty generic, but you're going to be out in the woods for 27+ hours so you might as well have fun. You especially need to find fun if you're the last pacer because your runner is probably just going to want to stick his/her head down and finish. Don't get me wrong, Jeremiah was great the last 5 miles, I couldn't believe he was still running after I saw what his toes looked like. But he was having a hard time finding the fun in the last stretch so I figured as long as I kept moving he'd keep moving too and to keep moving I had to find joy in things. I got to see an amazing view of Sterling, we got to pass through some cow herds, I got to wisely convince Jeremiah not to eat a jolly rancher he found on the trail...etc.
All in all it was a great race and I was so proud to watch Jeremiah run through the last stretch to finish and get his belt buckle. It strengthened my reserve to sign up for a 100 miler in the next couple of years and I can't wait to crew/pace again.
If you've never crewed before it's a neat experience that takes some prep work that you have to be willing to throw out as soon as something changes with your runner. Here's my guide to being a good pacer,crew member with some "what to do better next time" advice.
1. Let your runner dictate what he/she needs before, during, and after the race
Anyone training for a race whether it is a half marathon or a 100 miler has a lot of their own preparation to do. There's the training part, but there's also the figuring out fueling and clothing, researching the course and the weather. Jeremiah had a unique problem in the previous two years of the race had pretty much every possible weather you can think of. It's best to trust that your runner has planned out what he/she needs and it's your job to remind them that it's there (extra shoes, long sleeve shirt, various snacks).
2. Except when you have to make the runner do what he/she needs to do
In retrospect I should have pushed the sit down/rest/recover piece more. Since this was Jeremiah's first 100miler we were all learning what to do and he was learning what to do and not do. The last 17 or so miles of the race were pretty tough according to the bearded wonder. He struggled with fatigue (he said he was "sleep running" for awhile) and really nasty blisters. As I noticed some of the other runners come through aide stations and there were two women who made an impact. First of all, they spent almost the entire race slowly catching up to Jeremiah (one was running the other was a pacer). They eventually passed him at the second to last crewed aide station. Her crew made her sit down at every aide station, brought her food, and provided changes in clothing.
Jeremiah's a little stubborn and when he's feeling good he likes to keep going and pushing. He's been pretty remarkable in running through most of anything so it was pretty easy to believe him that he didn't need to stop and he could just keep pushing through. It's hard to think that didn't catch up to him at the end. I also feel like I should have pushed for a shoe change much earlier. He finally changed at mile 94, probably a good 30 miles past when we could have addressed and stopped some of the major blisters that definitely impacted his ability to run.
3. Try and sleep
Try, but you're probably not going to sleep much. I had a chart of expected times at each aide station so the most I could get was 30min here/1hr there. It's was rough, but not as rough as Jeremiah had it. I say try and sleep because unless you have Beth making up a comfy bed in the back of her Prius you might just fall asleep in your chair at the aide station (which I did despite there being a bed in the Prius).
4. Bring Friends
Having friends around at each aide station made it so much better! Kudos to Hannah for keeping me company for most of the evening. We even managed to catch a blue grass concert in Nemo with the four-wheel festival and acquired a new favorite party song called Parking Lot Party. I didn't think I needed it, but it was really nice to just have people there with you as you try to prepare for your runner and then have your runner blow through the aide station so quickly you didn't even finish throwing away the old gu packets. A big kudos to Beth who drove me around all night and made me eat food. Otherwise I would have missed pacing the last 5 miles.
5. Have fun
I know, pretty generic, but you're going to be out in the woods for 27+ hours so you might as well have fun. You especially need to find fun if you're the last pacer because your runner is probably just going to want to stick his/her head down and finish. Don't get me wrong, Jeremiah was great the last 5 miles, I couldn't believe he was still running after I saw what his toes looked like. But he was having a hard time finding the fun in the last stretch so I figured as long as I kept moving he'd keep moving too and to keep moving I had to find joy in things. I got to see an amazing view of Sterling, we got to pass through some cow herds, I got to wisely convince Jeremiah not to eat a jolly rancher he found on the trail...etc.
All in all it was a great race and I was so proud to watch Jeremiah run through the last stretch to finish and get his belt buckle. It strengthened my reserve to sign up for a 100 miler in the next couple of years and I can't wait to crew/pace again.
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