The Running Community Suffers a Great Loss

Running is a solitary sport. It really is because no matter what happens, your brain is telling your body what to do. At the same time, running is a community sport. We choose to run together, whether it's to train or to race or just to pass the time because we spend hours running.

Honestly, the solitude of running is what drew me. I spend hours being "on" for my students and my family. When I was young, this gave me energy, but now it drains me, so I cherish my time alone. This does not mean that I don't like running with others; I really, really do. My fellow runners push me to limits I don't even think I'm capable of reaching (I'm thinking of you, Marta), and they force me to make an effort to be kind and sociable, even when I don't want to be either of those things. Also, when I can't possibly be kind or sociable, my runner friends are STILL running with me, despite the swearing and/or the silence (I'm thinking of you, Jenn and Renee).  I appreciate that.

Anyway, we all have our quirks and weirdness, and we learn to run with that.  Some people evolve as leaders in their weird running tribes, and that is what I want to write about today.  On Saturday the running community lost one of our greatest leaders, Steve Pierce, who died on the trails.  If you are reading this blog, chances are pretty good that you know Steve. Maybe he took your picture for a race; maybe he joked with you on a trail run.

I met Steve through his wife, Jenn Pierce, whom I consider to be a good friend. She and I ran with the Towpath Turtles, and during that time, Steve would take pictures (for free) at the races we entered. After Jenn and I spent time seeing each other off and on the trails once in a while, she suggested to me that I needed to switch to trails and run with her group. If you know me, you know that this wasn't an easy switch for me.  I started running with Crooked River Trail Runners, and that is where I connected with Steve. I have a few memories I would like to share.

I wrote about the Ragnar Trail Relays in West Virginia here. In the spot where I refer to real trail runners I would like to emulate, I was describing Steve. When I panicked (in a lightning storm) he was calm. When I threw a literal tantrum due to lack of coffee, he gently reminded me that we weren't in real trail running circumstances, and real trail runners wouldn't throw tantrums. He didn't say these words; he lived them, and I took notice. I decided I wanted to be a better trail runner; I wanted to be more like Steve.

When I joined the Crooked River Trail Runners, I was nervous. I have a big ego, and I don't like to compete for attention. I also don't like to be in last place. Steve understood this, and he always welcomed me. We often had beers and/or food after the run, and Steve included everyone. This was particularly important to me when I ran the Christmas Lights Run with CRTR for the first time. There was a post to meet at a certain bar after the run, but I was nervous about being left out, so I posted, "What if certain runners (not me) are afraid of sitting there alone?"  Steve responded right away: "Hypothetical nervous runners should remember that their friend Steve is there, and he would never allow someone to be all alone."

Steve took many, many race pictures, all for free. If you were lucky enough to get him to take a picture on your phone, you got a freebie: a Steve Selfie:

Imagine looking for your group pic in your phone and finding this!

I took lots of pictures for social media on my runs, and Steve was present for many of them. The problem is that I am a lousy photographer, and somehow I often cut out Steve in our pictures, and if he was in my pictures, I didn't tag him. I honestly don't know why, but it became a joke. For example, one night we were in a local bar after a run, and I didn't tag him, and he told me he felt like chopped liver. I responded that it was probably because he was so grumpy in the picture:

Steve is on the far left staring into his beer. Seriously. Be happy.

Another time I took a picture after a run, and he wasn't in it, so he complained. I decided to take a picture of just the two of us, and he wasn't happy with that either, so he did this:

Who is that guy? Why is he avoiding me?

I want to share one last story: I had recently "friended" someone who had views that were drastically different from mine. I had looked at his/her social media posts and I was worried that we would not be able to get along. Steve set me straight in two minutes. He asked me, "You friended him/her, so he/she can see your posts, too, right?" Well, yes. "Ok, well do you think he/she is equally worried about getting along with you?" Ummmmm. . .yes.  Thank you.

I could talk forever about Steve, but I want to just emphasize that he was kind, gentle, funny, and incredibly cool.  Everyone, I mean EVERYONE in the running community loved him.  How could we not?

Steve leaves behind a family: his wife Jenn, his daughter Maddie, and his son Riley. If the spirit moves you, can you donate to help them during this time of crisis?

Click here to donate to the gofundme account for the Pierce family. 

I hate to take this back to me, but I have to (because the thing about me is that everything is about me). My father died of a heart transplant (Jenn and Steve were with me at the Ragnar Relay when he had the transplant and I was frantic). I knew that he was going to die pretty soon, regardless of whether the transplant worked or not.  You may or may not have read the posts I wrote around my father's death that addressed my difficulty to openly grieve. Please know, if you see me, that I am not unfeeling (something of which I've been accused). I have a difficult time dealing with my emotions, but like everyone, once I wear myself out, it will hit me.

Steve should have had more time. It's so unfair. Peeps, if you have ANY uncertainty about your heart at all, get some tests. I did. You mean something huge to many people; make sure you stay around as long as you can.

As for Steve, the only thing I can think is that he has progressed to the ultimate trail. I only hope that I am a good enough runner and person to run on the trail he has saved for me.

Jenn, I love you. Steve, I loved you.

Peeps, tell the people you cherish that you love them.

Peeps, I love you, and I appreciate you.

Run Happy.

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Running a Marathon is Like. . .

The Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon is my fourth marathon, and it's the second time I've run the Cleveland full. I feel like I am still a newbie when it comes to marathons although I have officially run more marathons than some "real" runners I know.

I love the marathon; I hate the marathon. Much of this has to do with me personally, and this post is where I might try to sort it all out.

I have known intense pain in my life: 1) the birth of my first child and my second child and 2) when I  broke my right foot. Both times I knew that something in my body wasn't right, and my mind could not just ignore or correct it. The four times that I have run a marathon and the one time I ran a trail ultra relay have also met those criteria.

I have written that I did not have a runner's high after I ran the marathon. In fact, if you read all my other posts about running a marathon, like here and here and here, you will see that I have never felt good when I finished a marathon. On the contrary, I almost always feel powerful and happy when I finish a half marathon. I think I can pinpoint the reason for this; it is all due to time. You see, it took me more time to run any one of my marathons than it took for me to birth BOTH of my children.  Together.

Punkin and Butterbean

Akron Marathon. It took me longer to finish this than to birth BOTH Punkin and Butterbean.

So what? you ask. What does this have to do with anything?

Well, I think it has to do with our relationship to pain. For both of my children, although I was in labor for days before entering the hospital, I did not feel extreme pain until my water broke, and that was minutes before I actually delivered. (Here is my gratuitous bragging: My daughter took five pushes; my son took 3.) When I finished delivery for both, I was ecstatic as a result of adrenalin, endorphins, a beautiful baby to hold, and various drugs being pumped into my body to compensate for my pain. I distinctly remember saying to my sister-in-law after my daughter's birth, "God, I could kick down a tree right now! I am SO POWERFUL!!!"

This is EXACTLY how I look when I feel like I could kick down a tree.  I did NOT look like that after  birthing Punkin and Butterbean, though. Or this morning. Or, well. . . at all, actually.

I repeat that any one of my marathons took longer than it took to birth both of my children TOGETHER. So, let's take it back to pain management. Many people run long distances with the promise of the "runner's high." I am one of the lucky people who almost always experiences that high after the second mile. Here is the problem with a marathon or ultra-marathon distance: The endorphins and the adrenalin go directly toward your will to survive this run. They no longer make you high; you don't even feel good. Their only purpose is to get you to the finish because you are out there so f-cking long.

As I ran three marathons before the 2018 Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, I knew that I would not necessarily be a happy runner for this race. I was worried because I was running with Marta, who is possibly the kindest woman I know, who signed up for the race to RUN WITH ME, and whose feelings I did not want to destroy around mile 18. I decided that the best strategy for this race would be steadiness: no highs, no lows. I didn't want to be elated at mile 15 only to decide to list everything I hate about life and people two miles later.

I wasn't pleasant to be around Saturday, when I took a few pictures with Marta and her mother at the expo. I was less pleasant to be around at dinner with Marta and her mother on Saturday evening after my volunteer shift. I was trying to fake some happy excitement at the starting line on Sunday morning. The truth is that I was just trying to hold on to some human decency at that point.

I think I did pretty well. Marta is a fabulous running partner; when I wanted to talk, she listened. When I wanted to listen, she talked. When I wanted to be left alone, she left me alone. And after all that, she even agreed to train with me on my long runs for the upcoming Burning River.

We ran with Kelly and Carolyn on Sunday. Notice my smile? It's before we started.

I'm still smiling after 18 miles. Actually,  I think I'm squinting because we are facing the sun. I dunno.

So, I guess my next goal is going to be to try to feel better at the finish line. This means I may have to figure out how my head deals with pain that lasts more than two hours. Or it could mean that I develop super-powers which enable me to finish a marathon in two hours or less.  Either way.

Whatever your relationship is to pain-management, I hope you (at some time) run happy, Peeps!

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Product Review: Knuckle Lights

Sixty- one percent of my mileage happens when the sun (as well as everyone else) is asleep.  Most of my weekly runs are before 5:30 AM.  I know my neighborhood quite well, potholes and all, and I mostly run on sidewalks, so for a while I ran without a headlamp, even though I own one.

And then I met Elf-on-a-Bike.

It was a guy, dressed as an elf, on a bike, at 4:30 in the morning.

Thank GOD it wasn't this kind of elf.

 I had just rounded a corner, and he was in front of me. He started yelling at me. I was wearing earbuds, and I took them out, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. He circled me a few times and then left. Needless to say, I ran the rest of that route at tempo run pace.

I've seen Elf-on-a-Bike a few times since then, but he doesn't circle me on the bike anymore, although he still sometimes yells at me. He doesn't always dress as an elf either, although he always wears the elf hat.

Anyway, this incident made me think that a light might be a good idea.

There are actually quite a few runners in my neighborhood. During prime training season, I might see 5 or more runners along my route, even at 4:30 AM.  Until Elf-Guy, it didn't occur to me that lights might be beneficial, both for showing myself to other runners way ahead of our encounter and to see runners around me.  Of course lights are good to see the ground on which you run. I do have some potholes around my neighborhood, so lights are definitely beneficial to me.

The other circumstance in which I definitely need lights is during trail running at night.  The first night trail run for me was in 2015 for Ragnar WV Appalachians. That night I fell in love with night trail running, with the help of rechargeable Knuckle Lights. The problem I have with the rechargeable lights are pretty much the same problem I have with my headlamp and my watch: I forget to recharge them.  It's very annoying to realize 15 minutes before your night run that you forgot to charge your lights.

This is where the battery-run Knuckle Lights come in. The company offered me a set of Knuckle Lights in exchange for an honest review, and that is exactly what you will all get.

First, the lights come in four colors: black, grey, pink, and blue. I asked the company to surprise me, and I got black lights.

Here is some more specific information from the webpage:

Knuckle Lights are designed to be worn on the front of your hands, in a perfect position to light your path and be seen on your next walk or run in the dark. Knuckle Lights Original includes:

• 150 TOTAL LUMENS — The LED pattern is a wide flood beam, putting out light in all directions, providing a steady, even light in front of you that does not bounce, even with your arms moving.
• 2 LIGHTS PER SET — The units are held comfortably on your hands with soft silicone straps. The straps are easily adjusted to fit any size hand and even over gloves. The units are almost unnoticeable at less than 3 ounces each.
• 3 POWER SETTINGS — High, Low and Blinking.
• BATTERIES INCLUDED —  Each unit operates on 2 X AAA batteries
• BATTERY LIFE — 20+ Hours on High Power | 40+ Hours on Low Power | 50+ Hours on Blinking.
• WEATHERPROOF — The units can be used in any type of weather and will not leak or fail.

They cost $39.99 plus delivery.

I would have to say that these lights are worth the price. I have worn the original lights for at least 5 hour-long night runs, and they do not seem to be fading yet, a problem I often have with the rechargeable lights. I like the adjustable strap that fits to my hands so that I don't have to actually hold the lights. In fact, I feel like I carry myself in better form when the lights are strapped to my hands because I hold them in the correct running position and I don't squeeze my fists at all.

Even though my arms move when I run, the lights don't bounce or move from steady shining on the road/path before me. I feel that they are perfect for my morning road runs because not only can I see and be seen, but I feel like the lights would be a helpful weapon in case Elf-on-a-Bike ever feels aggressive towards me.

As for trail runs, I find that I need both a headlamp and Knuckle Lights to see where I am running. Keep in mind that most trail runners I know use one or the other, and that may be because they are younger than me. I am very paranoid about tripping on roots or rocks, so I feel the need for both a headlamp and Knucklelights on the trail.

In any case, I am very happy for my lights. They help me to run safer both in the morning on the sidewalks and at night on the trails.  I like seeing where I am going, and I think that Knucklelights are an easy way to do that.

As for Elf-on-a-Bike, he had better not stop around me. Those Knucklelights can also be a handy tool for my protection.

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Ode to the Goddesses

 Burning River is a 100-mile race basically in my backyard. It is a big deal. I've volunteered for it the first two years I was aware of it, and I have run the 8-person relay for it in the last two years. Last week's post is about my experience on Leg 5 of the 8-person relay for the Mother Runners.

This week I want to write about my training. I firmly believe that when I commit to a race, I need to be completely prepared for that race. This means that after running the Cleveland Marathon I decided to stay at the 16 mile long run until Burning River so that I didn't lose any fitness along the way. It just seemed silly to start over only to increase again.

This is EXACTLY how I look when I have to start over again with training. Haha! Just kidding. That is Sisyphus. My  shoulders don't look that good.

I also trained for the race by running with the Burning River Goddesses. They are a group that trains together for Burning River, but I have found that they are more than a training group.  Bear with some sentimentality for a minute (Oh--just shut the hell up. I'm never emotional. Just deal with my feelings for once).

Here is a tissue to deal with my issue.

When my regular training partner dropped me like a hot rock (is that even a saying?), the Goddesses picked me up. Jenn and I have run together when I've done trails; we also ran Ragnar together two years in a row. She told me I had to run with the Goddesses, and she promised that they would help me train for the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, even though they don't like non-trail routes.

Jenn after our Ragnar Ultra in WV

 I was really feeling low, and they stepped in and pretended that there is nothing wrong with me (even though deep down I feel like there is). They saw me through my 20-miler before the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, and let me tell you, I was SCARED TO DEATH about running that alone. They were supportive and accepting and amazing.

My joke with the Goddesses is that each run is a venture into something vaguely illegal. I've decided that I'm going to train my kids to bail me out of jail if the need arises on a Goddess run. No, I'm not going to elaborate on this.

My runs with the Goddesses have taken place on just about every trail in Merriman Valley and just about every hour of the day or night. We have run on flat surfaces like the Towpath and death-hills like Candy-Ass Mountain.  We have run at 7 am and at midnight. The Goddesses are everywhere at every time.  They are incredible.

One day Jenn posted about these super-cool hoodies on the Goddess web page. I wanted a hoodie, but I didn't want to infringe on the group, so I asked if I could buy one even though I wasn't running Burning River with the group. The positive responses were overwhelming; some Goddesses informed me that I was already a Goddess, and I gratefully bought a Goddess hoodie.

The night before the race, I met with the Mother Runners for the pasta dinner. Marta from the BR Goddesses had texted me and said she would be there for a drink after the packet pick up. I found her in the bar, and she was so kind and encouraging. She even gave me a magnet and a body marker (which was the gift for all Goddesses at their dinner). I was touched. It's difficult for me to feel like I belong anywhere, and Marta has definitely made the effort to include me every step of the way. At that point I knew that I wasn't running with a Goddess bib, but I was running with a Goddess spirit, and it gave me strength and confidence.

Marta and I ran the Medina Half Marathon together.

We also drank beer together.

What does it matter how outsiders treat you when you know you are a Goddess?

This is my ode to you, Goddesses.  You are strong and amazing, and the added bonus is that you are kind. Thank you, and here's to many more trails and many more beers.


Reminder: The early prices for the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon race series will go away in a few days. Register now!

Who makes you realize that you are a badass?  I hope you have a group like the Goddesses, and more importantly, I hope you make someone else feel that way. As always, I hope you Run Happy, Peeps!

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Payday 2016

It's payday, Peeps!

Not my work-payday (although it is actually my work payday), what I mean is that today is the day I pay myself for all the miles and races I ran. I started this about three years ago when I got the idea from another blogger, and I think it's a big motivation for me.  How does it work?

First, I take the total number of miles run this year (tracked on Daily Mile): 1379. Not too shabby, huh? My goal was 1500, but I had to stop running early this year due to some minor surgery last week.  Nevertheless, I'll take it.

Next, I subtract the number of racing miles I ran this year: 122.

1379-122= 1157

Ok, I decided this year to pay myself $.50/mile for non racing miles and $1.00 per mile for racing miles.  I also award myself $5.00 for each PR, and this year I had four of them.

Here is what I have so far:

Non-racing miles: 1157 x .50 = $578.50

Racing miles = $122

PRs: $20

So,

$578.50 + $122 + $20 = $720.50

Seems like lot, right?  But wait!  I have to SUBTRACT racing fees.  Uh oh.

Racing fees: $475 (This is an estimate.  I should have kept a spreadsheet, but I AM AN ENGLISH TEACHER, NOT A MATH PERSON. STOP JUDGING ME!)

$720.50 - $475 = $245.50

Suh-weet!

What will I do with this money?  I have a special savings account that I keep for this purpose.  That money will fund my eventual running of the Paris Marathon!  Oui, oui, bebe!

This is EXACTLY how I will look in Paris!

If you are like me, and you need a boost that goes beyond kicking your own ass all the time, you might try paying yourself for your fitness.  Yes, I realize that you are paying yourself WITH YOUR OWN MONEY (as my brother helpfully pointed out to me as if I am an idiot-child), but again, if you are like me, you probably wouldn't put aside that amount of money for yourself without a good reason. Parents give their time, their money, and their energies to their families, but they rarely give to themselves without some prodding.  Consider me your cattle prod, Peeps (ummm. . .that doesn't sound right).

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN: you have my permission to reward yourself for taking care of you.  Find something you like: clothing, an outing with a friend, a luxury item, and work towards that goal. It helps on the days you don't want to get out of bed at 4:30 AM to do a tempo run. Well, usually it does.

Well, it has been a hell of a year.  I've accomplished so many running goals: Ragnar Trail Ultra, Burning River Relay, MY FIRST MARATHON (Akron Marathon).

I've run in hail, rain, sleet, snow, sunshine, and waterspouts, all in the same race (Cleveland Half Marathon). I've made new friends and kept the old (Cleveland Marathon Ambassadors).

It has been a great running year for me, and I am setting my sights high for 2017.  Stay in touch to read about my future goals (as soon as I can figure them out).  Until then, run happy, Peeps!

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Tryptophan Run

Last Sunday I ran off some Thanksgiving weekend irresponsible eating.  The Tryptophan Run, sponsored by Vertical Runner Hudson, is held the Sunday after Thanksgiving every year in Hudson.  The weather was perfect--not too cold and a bit sunny.

The Tryptophan works like this: There are three routes you can run in any combination during the two-hour run.  You drop a ticket with your name in a bucket for each mile of your run.  At the end of the run there is a drawing for cool prizes--t shirts, shoes, and race entries.  I didn't win anything, but I sure had fun.

My first fun surprise was my reunion with Joy, with whom I haven't run since our Ragnar Trail Appalachians race.  She messaged me the night before and said she was coming with me.  Yay! Here are some pictures of our running history in case you've forgotten:

We ran with Jen, and I was so happy because I haven't run with her in forever either.

Jen and I are at the Natatorium 5k here.

My second fun surprise was a playground on one of the routes.  We climbed up a cool rock wall and went down the slides:

Joy didn't get the memo that you aren't supposed to land on your dupa.

It was great to run nine miles with my peeps:

And I really appreciate the generosity of the businesses and race directors in our running community:

This is Jim Chaney, Race Director for the Pro Football Hall of Fame Marathon, Half-Marathon, and Relay.  He was offering STEEP discounts plus giveaway entries at the Tryptophan.  Check out this race, Peeps!  The swag is amazing and the event is a good time.

Seriously, Peeps, think about the local business owners when you do your holiday shopping this year.  Our money goes to people who in return support our community. I can't think of a better way to make a direct difference in our local economy.







I'll leave you with one last picture from my run this Sunday with Shelby and Mandy.  We ran on the Towpath, and we had a great conversation.

Post-run.  10 miles for me

The weather is starting to get cold, and I figure I have maybe one good long run left before I have to take a short hiatus for some minor surgery.  I'm sure you are eagerly anticipating how crabby I will be when I'm not running, since you remember how gracefully I waited out my broken foot a few years ago.   Get those runs in now while we aren't freezing our butts off.  Until then, run happy, Peeps!

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A Snapping Turtle Meaner than Me

Megan and I ran 13 miles on the Towpath last Sunday.  The weather was perfect, but the run seemed difficult because we were both wondering how we were going to DOUBLE that mileage and then add .2 FREAKING miles in a few weeks.  Shelby tells me not to think about it, but it's hard to turn off the crazy, you know what I'm saying?

The monster snapping turtle helped distract us from our angst:

Seriously, he was YUGE!

He was blocking half of the Towpath, and we were afraid to cross in front of him because snapping turtles have those long, snakelike necks AND we thought he might lunge for us.  It was an existential problem, too: Can I really run faster than a turtle?

I was too afraid to find out.

Then, a man ran past us, totally in the zone with his earbuds, didn't even look at the turtle, and ran right in front of him.  Nada.  He left with all his toes intact.  So, after some nervous squealing, we ran as fast as we could past the turtle.  He looked pissed, but he didn't try to bite us.

Stephani and Megan: 1, Turtle: 0

We began our run with members of TORN (The Ohio Runners Network), and I caught up with them at Szalay's later when I bought some corn.

Notice that I am the blogger, but I am the ONLY ONE who never knows where the camera is.

Other fun surprises:

My Ragnar belt buckle arrived!  It is so heavy!

Also, I know you never see me without a Bondi Band (Click here to order from them and use my code, TroubleRun, for a discount), so here is a recent picture when the Kabyle Chef actually took a night off and we had dinner out:

My hair is purplish-pink now!  I love it!

Speaking of dinner, I really need to regain control of my eating.  I've stopped my nightly glass of wine with dinner (since the Chef isn't there to enjoy it with me), but I've replaced it with ice cream.

Alas.

I fear the taper will not help this situation.

How is your taper going, Peeps?  Ready to kill anyone yet?  Have you eaten all your kids' candy bars?  No? Just me, huh?

Well, I hope you do better than I traditionally do.  Until then, run happy, Peeps!

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Race Recap: Ragnar Trail Relay Appalachians WV

Jen.  She talked me into this, and because of her strength, I completed the race.

Last year in June I ran as part of an 8-person team in the Ragnar Trail Relay Appalachians WV.  There were a few problems, which you can read about here.  I knew that I had to go back and take the whammy off the race, so when the organizers moved the race to August (to avoid the monsoons) I took that as a sign. With Jen's encouragement, I formed an ultra team, the Mudtastic Muthas.

Leigh.  So strong and steady. She is tiny but fierce.

Joy.  She gutted out 29 miles with almost no training.  What a badass!

Ragnar Trail Relays are a bit different than other relay races, and they are especially different from their road relays.  There are three loops: Green (3.5 miles, easy), Yellow (4.5 miles, medium difficulty), and Red (6.5 miles, also called Mother of Crack.  I kid you not.), and each team member takes turns running one of the loops until every team member has run each loop.  We signed up as a 4-member ultra team, so we had to run every loop twice.  We decided to do it by combining loops; for example, my schedule was as follows:

Leg 1: 9:30 AM.  Green + Yellow. 8 miles.

Wait for Joy, Leigh, and Jen to complete two loops each.

Leg 2: 7:30 PM.  Red + Green. 10 miles.

Wait for team members to rotate through the loops.

Leg 3: 8:00 AM. Yellow + Red. 11 miles.

Trail runners know that it takes longer to run trails, especially at night, and especially when there are lots of hills, and boy, were there hills.  So. Many. Hills. In theory we were all supposed to have trained for this, but life got in the way, and none of us felt as prepared as we could have been.  I was pretty confident after my Burning River Relay last week, but I soon learned that this was hubris.

I continued my tradition of idiocy by getting us lost on the way to the campsite.  Just like last year.  We didn't make it there until 9:30 PM, but luckily Jen and Leigh had staked out a good site for us.  They helped us pitch my GINORMOUS tent (which got us a few smirks from the people camping around us).  I don't care.  I love my tent palace.

My tent is the green one.  It looks smaller here, but believe me,  it's the Taj Majal of tents!

We drank a quick beer and then got to bed.  I had the first leg at 8:30 AM, and I wanted to be fresh for it.  At 7:30 AM the skies opened up, and the evil poured down, exactly like last year.  Freaking Ragnar.  Freaking West Virginia.  The storms delayed the race start times by a half hour, and then I managed to delay our start time by another half hour because I was required to watch the safety video before I left.  GRRRRR. (That is my bear impression.)

The first leg (Green + Yellow) was muggy but manageable.  I felt relaxed, and I was really glad that the trail wasn't trashed from the rain.  Running through riverbeds and knee-deep, sucking mud was not my idea of safety last year.  This year is gonna be GREAT, I thought.

My second leg (Red + Green) was at night, and I was really looking forward to it.  I purposely tried to schedule myself for the night run on the Red Loop because I was so horrible and freaked-out about it last year.  I even bought a new headlamp and knuckle lights.  For one glorious moment my knuckle lights lit up the trail, and then they dimmed to a faint glow so I STILL couldn't see a damn thing.  GRRRRR. Getting through the Green Loop that night took everything I had.  And then I had the melt-down.  After handing off my belt to Joy, I told Jen and Leigh (who were kind enough to see me in and send off Joy), "That's it.  I'm done.  I don't know why I thought I could do this.  I can't.  I'm not trained.  I'm not doing my last leg.  I can't.  You guys don't have to even do this anymore.  I'm sorry I brought you into this."

Ok, at least I didn't cry.  I was pretty negative, though.  Jen and Leigh just smiled and told me to stretch out, hydrate, and go to sleep.  They were kind enough to assure me that I didn't drag them there; they were crazy enough to sign up on their own. After they went to bed, I went to the bonfire and ate a smore, watched some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, cocooned myself in a hammock, and thought about my life.  Then I went back to the tent, changed, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

When Leigh woke me to tell me that Jen had left for her leg, I felt better.  I decided that if I didn't finish the race I would never forgive myself.  I reminded myself why I wanted to run this. I decided that I was going to finish and be a badass ultra runner. I ate some breakfast and let it digest, and when Jen came back in, I was waiting for her.

The last leg was hard.  And miserable. And pretty awful.  I had decided to run without music, so it took everything I had to keep the Voices at bay. I fell once, and my Garmin crapped out, but I did it.  I finished the relay.

This is EXACTLY how I look when I'm pleased that I finished the relay.  On a side note, look at the woman over my shoulder.  

Most disgusting photo-bomb ever.

When I left the transition tent, I walked to the nearest shady area (the Salomon's tent), and I burst into tears.  Relief? Pain? Exhaustion? Dehydration?  Yes to all of them.  Then I hosed off, changed my clothes, and ate some food.

Here are some thoughts on the race itself:

Good: Kudos to Ragnar for making some changes to the race.  August was hot, but it was better than the cold rains of June.  Also, the catering company did a great job, and there was plenty of decent coffee and hot chocolate for the whole race. This time the portapotties were emptied sooner, and we never ran out of water.  These were all deal-breakers for me, and Ragnar fixed the problems.

Sign in the middle of Ragnar Village

Better: We all agreed that finishing each loop by running through the ultra-runners' tent city was the best part of each run.  The runners there cheered on every single runner at any time, day or night.  It was really uplifting.  During my last loop, a whole line of ultra runners were handing out shots just before the finish.  I didn't indulge because I didn't want to throw up on one of those kind people.  There was another tent-full of runners who were handing out beer to finishers just before the chute.  I didn't take that either, but I wish I had.  Honestly, the thought of running through the ultra-village was what kept me going each time at the end.  They were awesome!

Also, apparently there was a fabulous laser show in the pine forest on the Yellow Loop at night.  I missed that, but Joy and Leigh said it was cool.

The Pine Forest of the Yellow Loop during the day.  Imagine this at night with a laser show and a disco ball.

Best: The best part is that I met my goals, and I did it with my friends.  Thank you Jen, Joy, and Leigh for running this race with me.  Thank you for encouraging me, and thank you for putting up with my bullshit.  I promise I will never ask you to do this again.  I've scratched that itch.

We are the Mudtastic Muthas, and we ROCK!!!

Now I'm going to find something even tougher and scarier for us to do.

This is EXACTLY how I look when I'm thinking of something tougher and scarier to do.

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Race Recap: Burning River 8-person 100 Mile Relay

I am writing this post with about three hours sleep.  Last night I ran Leg 7 of the Burning River Relay with the Mother Runners.  The 16.1 mile leg starts at Pine Hollow and finishes at Botzum.  There are lots of hills and stream crossings in between.  So. Many. Hills.

I met many of the Mother Runners at the pasta dinner on Friday night.  They were super-nice and supportive, but that didn't alleviate my anxiety about looking like a rookie.  The margaritas helped, though.

Mother Runners before dinner.  We look like this when we run, too.

Originally we had predicted the start time for my leg to be at 10:17 PM.  I like running at night, and I don't mind trail running at night, so I purposely chose this leg in the relay.  Well, things happen in trail races, and at midnight I was sitting in my car thinking about my life choices:

This is EXACTLY how I look at midnight when I am re-thinking my life choices.

Three of the Mother Runner teams had decided to run together, and this wasn't necessarily a comfort to me.  Could I keep up with these women?  What if I fell? What if I couldn't handle 16 trail miles?

I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself (I'm sure nobody has ever noticed this about me), and I often have to remind myself that NOBODY IS THINKING ABOUT ME AT ALL.  This often helps me to chill out and JUST DO IT.




At 1:00 AM, I was still waiting, and then the drama started: One of the three women with whom I was running Leg 7 lost her mind and punked out on the race.  Just handed me her bib and bailed.

WTF.

I had to text my team captain to let her know.  I felt terrible for her team because they had to take care of it, but my other Leg 7 partner Didi and I agreed that we were glad we wouldn't be running with her for 16.1 miles since she was a piece of work.

Leg 6 runners handed off to Didi and me around 1:10, and we were off.  Didi is just a damned kid, by the way, so I had to tell her to remember that I'm an old lady and rein it in somewhat. She was a fabulous running partner--very kind and very chill.  We kept each others' spirits up, and I think we were BADASSES.  The last 1.5 miles were on the road and Towpath, and we decided to pull out all the stops.  I'm really proud to say that I was running 9:17 miles at the end.  The runner's high was incredible; I think I could have done a few more miles.

This gave me a lot of confidence for my future Akron Marathon and more importantly for next week's Ragnar Trail Relay in West Virginia.  I've been dissecting the run, trying to figure out why I felt so good, and I think I've pinpointed three reasons:

1.  Freaking BADASS and awesomely-zen running partner.

2.  Temps were just right--mid fifties with low humidity.

3.  Since Saturday morning, I had not stopped stuffing my face.  Seriously, I ate EVERYTHING: pasta, zucchini, tomatoes, avocados, cucumbers, green beans, roasted turkey. . .also ice cream. I didn't manage to really take a good nap on Saturday, so I think the food carried me through.  I ate a few cookies and a small triangle of grilled cheese, and I drank ginger ale at the two aid stations, and that fueled me better than GU. I need to remember to eat more at Ragnar; I know I didn't fuel sufficiently last year.

Anyway, this was a wonderful experience, and if the Mother Runners invite me back, I intend to choose Leg 7 again. . .unless I decide to try for a 4-person relay.  What????

Thank you to all the volunteers in this race; you are the soul of the race, and I was so grateful for your cheerfulness (and ginger ale) in the wee hours of the morning.  Thank you to the Mother Runners for including me in this empowering experience.  Thank you Didi, for sticking with me.

To conclude, Peeps, I suggest you take my friend Shia LaBeouf's advice.  You may be surprised at what you can achieve.  Until then, run happy, Peeps!

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