Let me start this off by saying; San Francisco has an outrageous amount of stairs. Like a lot. I found myself frustrated as I huffed and puffed up part of the Dipsea trail to catch Rudy the weekend before The North Face Championships (TNF) in San Francisco. How the heck Alex Varner ran the whole thing 4 times sub 8 minute/mile pace, I have not a clue. Beast. “At least I know I won’t be running this part of the race!” I thought. I couldn’t mentally get over the difficulty of running these stairs and I had been in SF for 4 days! Where was the top floor? It was like a never ending staircase, except you wouldn’t end upstairs and be able to crawl into a comfy bed or hot shower, you would have to continue running for over 20 miles. I don’t care how ludicrous this logic sounds, it made me laugh, and honestly that is how I managed the stairs on race day with a smile on my face. Anyways, the race weekend came so quickly and soon I found myself loopy at 3:30a.m. happily drinking a large coffee and jamming to some obnoxious rap songs en route to the race. I was excited. Sure, I was ready to race; but I was more excited for all of my friends who were also running and how many familiar faces I would see throughout the course. Finally, I said goodbye to my rock star crew of 1, Mr. Rudy Rutemiller, and I scurried over to the elite wave, turned on my headlamp, and we were off! Running through the dark, early-morning is a surreal experience. It almost made me feel ninja-like. Sneaking through the dark made the time fly by. I took the first section of the race rather easy, absolutely forcing myself to eat, with a goal of making sure I felt good going into the second half. About 13 miles in, and nearing the top of a coastal ridge, I suddenly found myself looking back at the most incredible sunrise I have ever witnessed. “Guys, we have to stop and turn back around and run up the other way to see the sunrise better!” I exclaimed to a couple of runners nearby. I got a polite giggle, and 2 annoyed stares as I laughed and ran away, with the occasional “Woop!!” up the climb. Some joined in on my madness, others did not. Sometimes I wonder if I am too weird for this sport. Or maybe I'm just not very funny. The next thing I hear is, “Yeah, Big Girl!!” I looked up to see Kelsie laughing at me as I trotted up the hill. I gave her an evil eye, she knew I hated that nickname, but I couldn’t help but laugh and be grateful to see her. She was awesome throughout the whole race. With the sun up and calories in my stomach I was feeling great and keeping a steady, but not overwhelmingly fast pace when I caught up to Larisa Dannis. I awkwardly said I knew of her through Rudy and some SFRC people and she surprisingly was not creeped out and responded well and we got to run some of the next miles together and chat away. I love chatting and running. Finally, we were at the mile 22 turn-around to go down to Stinson Beach and I knew I would see Rudy there! I went into the Stinson Beach aid station at mile 28 with intentions of changing out of my shoes. I had underestimated the miles on my old Helios SR going into the race and ended up repping a brand spanking new pair for the race. My feet were a little unhappy to say the least. But running into the aid station with Amanda Basham, an ex-Portlandian and runner friend, I was feeling good. I decided that my feet would probably hurt regardless of what shoes I put on at this point, and told Rudy that I was going to keep them on. It was probably a good decision, but who knows. After grabbing some gels, and a lot of words of encouragement, I left smiling, knowing that the Dipsea climb was next. I slowly found myself catching a lot of people and rounding out the women’s top 10. As the later miles came I continued to feel good and rolled into mile 44 with the 7th place female. Rudy was stoked and told me to "Go get her." I snagged a last minute kiss (aww), and we started the final big climb of the day. After the first bit, she turned on a second gear and scooted ahead. We passed the 6th place female, which then put me into 7th and I was stoked. "Maybe I can catch 6th on the down hill," I thought. The final 5k I held ~6:40min/mile, but still didn’t catch her! She earned that spot, woof. I crossed the finish line to crazy cheers from Rudy, Alex Varner,and Kelsie Clausen, among other crazy cool people, and couldn’t keep the giant smile from sprawling across my face. My immediate thoughts upon crossing the finish line: 1. That was amazing. 2. I did not fall once. 3. Ouch I had finished 7th female in 7:42, a little faster than I thought I could, with a smile on my face and so much gratitude for the experience. It was one of the best weekends of my life, every aid station was stocked with someone I knew, the scenery was amazing, and even my monkeys Ed and Kyle met me at the finish to congratulate me. It is race weekends like this that solidify the fact that I will never not see myself immersed in the ultra and trail running world. The sense of community is amazing, and I cannot wait to see what the future may hold! Thank you to La Sportiva and Bobo’s Oat bars for your support. And thank you to everyone on the course who brought a laugh or smile to my face, Rudy, my Trail Monkeyz- Ed and Kyle for making my training for this much more enjoyable, and all of you who believe in me. Happy running everyone!
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So you all are probably wondering, “What has Keely been doing since White River back in July?!” Or maybe that thought has never actually crossed your mind.. Nonetheless, I am here to give you all a little update! White River was my Welcome to the PNW, Keel! – House-warming gift to myself. I figured that I wouldn’t be doing many races over the following weeks/months since they would be filled with my new job, apartment searching, and various trips I had planned. I was wrong. First of all, my new job is awesome. And it allows for optimal training by providing me with a multitude of running buddies, top-notch training facilities, and many opportunities to get a work out in. Just my second week in, I was told that I would be racing the Bowerman 5k. Yes, you read that correctly, a 5k. Ha. So, I added in some speed work sessions to attempt to prep for this “race.” I laced up my shoes and took off at a little under a 6:00/mile pace, holding back so I didn’t “blow up” before it was over. However, with a mile left, I found myself feeling good, and trailing a boy who looked to be about 10 years old. “There is no way I am losing to a child!” I yelled in my mind. And at that very second, he pulled off to the side, hands on knees, defeated. After pausing to see if he was okay, I zoomed on with a secret fist pump of success in my mind, and finished fast in 18:29. I was pumped; everything is a PR when it is your first race at that distance, and it was over so fast! Running fast hurts, but it’s still fun and a totally different beast than an ultra. The following weekend, I went back to what I knew, and made a trip to Ashland, OR to preview the Pine 2 Palm 100 course with Rudy. 47 miles and >13,000’ of climbing over two days in the middle of nowhere was exactly what I needed. And I returned to work on Monday grinning as I told people about my crazy weekend. That grin soon turned to panic, when I was asked last minute to cover for a girl on the Bowerman Track Club’s Co-ed Hood 2 Coast Relay (The Tarahumara) team that weekend. Not knowing how to say no to the BTC, I found myself typing back Sure, count me in!!! Shit. I just need to run ~ 6:00/mile for 17 miles, split over 3 legs, how hard could that be?? I would soon find out. After hardly running during the week trying to recover from my huge weekend, I felt somewhat fresh come Friday evening. Hood 2 Coast was amazing. I love relay events, it takes me back to my team sports days, where your pain is irrelevant in sake of the team. My first leg started around 8 pm Friday night and I hit about 6:07 pace for 5.5 miles. Success!! Then, after massages (yes, we had a masseuse) and food, it was 3 am, a complete downpour, and time for leg 2! I couldn’t see anything except a couple feet ahead of my stride, so I took it easy for the 1.5 mile hill, and then just bombed the following 6 miles downhill at a 6:00 mile, until I met my fellow drenched teammate and handed off the baton. 2 legs down 1 to go! Wahoo! Little did we know that the storm was just getting started. We pulled up to the final exchange slightly delusional, on caffeine withdrawal, and a little cranky. After 3 of our runners gained some of lead back, I got the baton at 8 am, with a 5-minute deficit to our competition, a 45-mile per hour head wind and a 3.5-mile “easy” leg. I have never worked so hard for a 7-minute mile in my entire life. I handed off the baton to my overly eager teammate and wished him luck. He ended up killing it, making up all of the time, and adding 5 minutes to our lead with only one runner left. We ended up winning the relay for the Co-ed division, averaging about 6:07 minutes per mile over ~200 miles. My teammates were beasts!! And then I slept for about 14 hours. Following these two crazy weekends, I finally got to “take it easy” around the Grand Tetons, and backpack for a couple of days. It was absolutely incredible. You are surrounded by menacing mountains and loads of wildlife. I will definitely go back for some cool run-venturing in the future. The Tetons made me miss Boulder and its amazing mountains a lot. A couple of weekends later, I was running through Ashland again, during the day with a killer group of guys, and in the middle of the night with Rudy as he finished out the final miles of his race. He kicked butt and pushed through a crazy hot Pine to Palm and finished another 100 miles. I am always in awe of the perseverance of these finishes. Since then, I have been exploring the Gorge and the amazing trails around Portland and the PNW. I found myself signing up for TNF championships in December and have been training with that race in mind. But most importantly I have just been running happy and with great friends to keep it entertaining and challenging. I have been having good training weekends lately and recently ran end-to-end of the Wildwood trail in Forest Park in Portland with a bunch of amazing people. Then ran a funny Halloween half marathon road race on Sunday and ended up pulling out the Win! It felt great to get some turn over on the leggies after such a big day on Saturday. This past weekend I went on a road trip with Rudy to visit my friend Denise and explore Bend, OR for the first time and was absolutely blown away! Running is back to being one of the more important things in my life. I can honestly say that I have been absolutely loving my life over the past months, and can’t wait to have more adventures and race more this winter and spring! I have TNF 50 coming up and am excited to be traveling to another race! I love the people you get to meet in the ultra running community. Happy running, ya’ll. On July 9th I found myself staring at my computer screen thinking, “What on Earth did I just do.” Ultrasignup had just informed me that I was officially registered for the White River 50 on July 25th. After my unlucky and mentally taxing races this spring into early summer, I had told myself I wouldn’t race until I was ready. That didn’t last very long.. But I had such an amazing running week and weekend, so obviously my next free minute was consumed by looking for races near my future-home. What better way to welcome myself to the Pacific Northwest than to run a beautiful race and meet other crazy trail runners? I pushed the nervousness behind me as I road-tripped for the next week and had the most eye-opening running stretch I have ever had. I started off running around Colorado’s Indian Peak Wilderness and Continental Divide with some of my best friends and then set out towards San Francisco, where I explored the beachy trails for a couple of days. The weekend before the race, I was running on top of a volcano in Lassen National Park. My life was unreal. Running was such an adventure, and I loved it. Race dayI had no expectations going into the race. That was a big change of mentality from the previous races I had recently run. Instead of thinking of the race as something I had to compete at, I was gabbing with all of the other runners, thinking only of the adventure I was to set out on over the course of the next morning. It was in the 50s and raining, and would continue throughout the day. For some reason this made me more happy than not, it had been a scorcher back in Portland, and the coolness was refreshing. After my mandatory cup o’ joe, lacing up my rather new Helios SR, (my favorite shoe, ever) and hurriedly throwing my jacket to Dave Horton, the race started, and I found myself grinning ear to ear and trotting along at a very enjoyable pace. For those of you who don’t know the White River 50 course; it consists of two reallllyyy long climbs, and two reallllly long descents. And it also consists of some angry bees. After maybe 2 miles, us middle pack folk running in a group, got stung by a string of disturbed bees. I exclaimed, “Ooouuuch! If that doesn’t put hair on your chest!” (At this point no one was awake enough to laugh at my joke). So silently on we went. My goal for the first climb was to make myself eat and run rather conservatively so I could actually run the second climb. I ran the first climb with a super cool woman I had met the night before named Trisha Steidle and we settled into a very good chug up the climb. Towards the top I scooted around her with another guy who was part of our pain train, and kept on running at a nice consistent pace. We got towards the top and I saw Ulie (Trisha’s husband, whom I also had the pleasure of meeting the night before) and he informed me that I was only 4 minutes behind the leader and about 2 minutes behind the 2nd and 3rd place girls. Although I was a little shocked, I hadn’t thought I was running too hard, I still didn’t make it my goal to catch them. I got to the aid station at the top and was informed that they were all within a couple of minutes. I felt great, grabbed some gels, and bounded outta there. As the trail leveled out and was more runnable with rolling hills I found my stride and caught the 3rd place lady, Alicia, and ran with her for a little until we caught the 2nd place girl. We ran in a little pack for a good 4-5 miles, which was awesome. I never ran with fellow ladies in a race before, the conversation was awesome and the reaction from the runners we were passing on the out-n-back was equally as cool. “Girl power!” “You go girls, go catch her!” The next 7 miles were all a curvy, low-grade downhill, so it was time to fly. We took it rather easy, and finally I broke ahead a little bit and ran into the first place girl, who was also named Alicia, and who also resembled the other Alicia a little bit. Weird.. we'll blame the the sugar depleted mind. We all ran into the aid station before the next climb together. I ran in and was informed that I had blood all the way down my leg, I looked down and was shocked. “I barely fell!” But “barely falling” in my book is in fact still falling. I told them to ignore it, it would be fine, and then I told Eric (one of the RDs) that I actually wanted another climb. I felt great. I popped half of my Bobo's oat bar (these things rule) into my mouth, and ran out of that aid station pretty fast along a flat windy single track to the base of the next climb, and when I looked back, I was shocked to see no one at all. I decided to not let myself hike the first 2 miles of the climb, so I set out at a slow jog and made it to the next aid station pretty quickly. I picked up a fellow 23- year old at the aid station and we ran together for the next 5 miles to the top of the mountain! We pushed each other along at a respectable, but definitely not blazing fast pace, and soon we saw a sign for a half-mile to the top. I got to the top, was told I was in first, grabbed a couple gels, and set out on the road at about a 6:40/mile pace. This road reminded me of my first 50 at the Tussey MountainBack because you could just let loose and run fast. About half way down, the infamous Dave Horton passed me in his car. “You look strong, girl!” He is an awesome guy, and always managed to put a dorky smile on my face whenever I saw him during the race. He caught back up with me on his way down, and told me I had a substantial lead. He then continued to try and take my photo and chat the next couple of minutes. The one thing he said that stood out the most was, “Are you having fun on this downhill, girl?” I nodded and laughed. I was. A lot of fun. It was incredible. I kept running at a pretty quick clip until the end of the descent, where I caught an 18-year-old guy running his first ultra! He was killing it! We ran together for a little until the aid station, where he zoomed through and I stopped to grab some water and gels. With around 6 miles left, I thought it would be pretty runnable and I could sneak in close to sub 8 hours (I had 41 minutes). However, the first mile of the final stretch made me realize that I had no chance to reach sub 8 hours, so I should just enjoy it. That section was beautiful. Everything was covered in lichens and moss, resulting in a beautiful, vibrantly green, rain-forest-like section. We all know looks can be deceiving, as this was also the hardest part of the race. It consists of a super windy single track with tiny climbs and descents that don’t let your rather trashed legs get into any sort of rhythm. Aesthetically pleasing, sure, but man that hurt like hell. But everything comes to an end, and after another somersault-fall in the dirt, I soon found myself running down the final tiny stretch of road towards the finish line. With a grin on my face, and “Don’t you dare fall in front of all of these people,” running through my mind, I crossed the finish line in 8:20. I immediately received hugs from the RD’s and Dave Horton, and never felt more at home. My bunkmate had rallied and finished second about 6 minutes after me! And my fellow La Sportiva Teammate, Nicola Gildersleeve finished in third! After some goofy photos, I decided to tend to my rock, dirt, and tree filled knee wound. As I stumbled towards the health tent, Kurt, the Scott rep, said, “You were so fun to watch, you were such a ball of joy entering the aid stations, with a smile across your entire face.” I immediately stopped and looked at him with a stupid grin across my face and thanked him immensely. That is exactly who I want to be. It was then that I realized that I was happy the ENTIRE race. I loved all of the people I met and the runners that joined me for part of the journey. It was such an adventure, and by keeping my mind free and clear, I had ran my way to a victory. Losing your mind to the trail and just moving through the wilderness is almost primitive, yet exhilarating. Although a lot of runners say you learn the most from races that go horribly. I think you can also learn from those that go well. You not only get to see your potential and strengths, but how far you have come from your last race. I want to continue to improve my ability to run happy, and be that girl with the obnoxious grin on her face while running into an aid station oblivious to the gnarly battle wound on her knee. I cannot thank John Wallace, Scott McCubrey, Eric Sach, Dave Horton, and all of the other wonderful people that helped put on the White River 50. It was an amazing course with extremely well staffed and organized aid stations. The White River 50 was the best welcome to the North West that I could have asked for. Needless to say, I look forward to racing up in Washington again. And I can never thank La Sportiva enough for the amazing product and continued support! Cheers! Gear worn:
Food/calories consumed: (this is always fun)
"Sh!*!" "Keely, you are such a stupid klutz." "D@mn!t, you suck, this race is as good as over." At mile 3 of the Rothrock 30k, one of my beloved, gnarly trail races from back east, my brain was in negative-thought overdrive. I had just sprained my ankle, badly, and it was not going away. I was angry. This was supposed to be my race, I was overly prepared, super pumped to be back home, and ready to race again. Or so I thought. But here I was, barely 30 minutes into the race, and completely hating both myself and my surroundings. Then, about a mile later, I started laughing. What was I doing? Sure, I wasn't going to break any records gimping the downhills as I could feel my ankle swelling through my shoe, but that was going to have to be okay, I was running through the dense, beautiful forests of my homeland, it was not the end of the world. I thought my DNF at Lake Sonoma in April, (due to another freakish, shoulder dislocation, injury) would have humbled me. It didn't. Suffering through Rothrock did. Sometimes I forget that before I ever had any desire to run hard, be competitive, and win, my only goal was to run happy. It is easy to get wrapped up in the numbers, paces, and rankings and forget about the real reason we all crazily run trails to begin with. I looked around and really soaked in the beauty of the trail. There was no reason to call myself names and ruin the experience being angry. The race was not over just because I hurt myself. I decided to make the most of it, say something positive to everyone who passed me, especially on the downhills (since I had to awkwardly hop/gimp those to avoid searing pain), and smile at every aid station volunteer. I was going to appreciate this race for what it was, I was not going to let negative thoughts ruin this race for me, and I was not going to dwell on what time I was going to miss or who I was going to lose to. As I was gimping along, I remembered what my friend Rudy had said in his last blog post. He emphasized that all you can do is to do your very best for that particular day. And today, gimping the downs and sucking up the pain until the finish was the best I could do, and that was okay. And for once in my life, I believed it was okay. Toward the end of the race, I gained some momentum after a lot of climbing sections, since that hurt my foot a little less, and was happy to be able to move a little faster than previously. I finished slowly down the decent I typically fly down and I ran the last little section before the finish next to my dad, who was concerned as ever, but happy that he could jog my pace for once. I was happily telling him about my ankle, not because it no longer hurt, but because I finally accepted my fate and was just happy to be running and finishing what I started. As I hobbled into the finish line with a time of 2:11 and maybe 6th female, I couldn't help but laugh in delight at my unlucky circumstance and my ability to finish the race. Sometimes when we find ourselves too absorbed with the little things, we miss the bigger picture: why we run in the first place. Sometimes we have to remember to stop and smell the roses, or in my case, the mountain laurels that are oh so present in the beautiful Pennsylvania. I can't thank my sponsor La Sportiva enough for allowing me to travel home for this wonderful race. As well as the incredible race hosts Craig Fleming and his wife. I truly appreciate the PA trail community's continued support through my running career. I can't wait to see where my running continues to take me and what limits I continue to surpass. But most of all, I look forward to truly appreciating running again, as Rothrock helped me rekindle my run-mance fire again. But for now, I am just waiting for my kankle to become an ankle again so I can get out and enjoy the trails! The Wednesday evening before my weekend race in Moab I found myself in the supine position, watching as little tiny needles were being jabbed into my calves, feet, and hips. What is this blasphemy you may ask? Acupuncture. I had sprained my ankle pretty badly on a crazy long trail run a couple of weeks prior, and continually twisted it throughout those two weeks until Tuesday, I actually twisted it and fell, while standing on a perfectly flat sidewalk. I figured that this was not a good sign the week before a trail race, so I became desperate. A lot of my friends in the Rocky Mountain Runners had gone to Boulder AcuSport before and highly recommended it, and I was toying with the idea for the past week. That fall on sidewalk, was even rare for someone who falls all of the time (me) and I was desperate for sort of relief and stability in that darn ankle, so I scheduled a session Although I only really had time for one session before the race, I wasn’t sure how much it would help. Although it was a rather weird experience, that I definitely wont mind undergoing again, it definitely helped. A lot. My swelling went down, stiffness reduced, and *spoiler alert* during the race I only twisted it ONCE! Thank you so much Ginna, at Boulder Acusport! I recommend her to everyone, she knows runners because she is a runner :) Now on to the race. Me and my friend, Guy (that is his name), (he is also a guy), drove up Thursday and got to Moab in the evening. After running around the town very repetitively trying to find 4 miles, we met up with my friend Jim (another runner) and set up camp for the night. Now, I am EXTREMELY new to all of this crazy outdoor camping/living stuff. So I thought I was prepared with a couple of blankets and a lot of clothing. False. The desert gets COLD at night. Needless to say, I think I slept about 3 hours that night. Oops. The next day was beautiful. We cooked some breakfast and then went around and explored the trails for a slow, steep 6 miles. It is incredible running in Moab, I love it. Next time I am going without a race so I can explore like crazy for a couple of days. After getting some more grub and grabbing some showers, we went to packet pick up. Packet pick up was like any other packet pickup, except we got these awesome trucker hats. I am a true Colorado-ian now J Going into this race, I knew I wasn’t quite fit enough to contend for a top spot, but my goal was to use this as a “long run” in my prep for Lake Sonoma 50 in April. The race started in some pretty chilly temps, but ‘twas still acceptable to race in shorts and a tank. I forgot to ditch my La Sportiva wind breaker jacket at the start, so with 15 seconds left till the “gun” I sprinted back to the drop bag station and searched like a bat out of hell for Guys bag. With no luck, and the racers running off, I quickly handed it to a lady who looked promising, and bounded away. Great start to a race. Not. The first 18-20 miles or so were extremely fast and runnable. Running through these I was pretty confident in my pace and my ability to hold it (8:15s ) for the whole race. Boy was I wrong. That second half of the race was brutal! It went from runnable tight packed dirt mixed with slab rock to rolling slab rock and sandy hills. And to add to my already dehydrated, delusional self, the trails got extremely confusing. At mile 21 I twisted my ankle. Boo. And then proceeded to fall in front of some 33k-runners. Ha! The third place girl caught me around here and we ran together at mile 23 or so past our RMR cheering squad and continued to run closely together until the 28 -mile aid station. I figured I would just gut it out on the down hills, since she was a monster on the ups, and try and close the gap at the end. But the oh-so-similar red mounds had other plans for me. I left the 28th aid station with a fellow crazie and was chatting away admiring the scenery when we suddenly found ourselves having run into an impassible ravine. Was this now an obstacle course? I saw no ropes. And no others runners. Or pink flags. We were pretty off course, and it took us about 6 minutes to run back to where the VERY OBVIOUS turn up the last dirt hill was. Dang it. At this point, I knew I wouldn’t catch the third place female, so I just trotted through a bearable pace and hung on through the final 5 miles of very gradual, sandy, descent. I finished 4th female, in 5 hours and 10 minutes, absolutely covered in salt, water, and sand. Not my ideal finish or time, but I was okay with it. Only room for improvement from here! But I was immediately handed a pint glass, so that made everything okay. Beer time! I really need to work on my hydration and nutrition in races like these. The desert dehydrates you like crazy! Aye! But that is the fun with ultrarunning, you are constantly learning. My brand new La Sportiva Helios SR were incredible! I didn’t think that the original Helios could get much better, but they have done it. They were sticky and perfect for the slick rock and light enough to run fast in! The new lacing system cinches them closer to your foot and the rock plate gives your feet a little more protection from the pounding in long race. I absolutely love them!! Congrats to Ashley, Kerrie, and Malory, for killing the woman's field, way to represent the Rocky Mountain Runners!! Thank you La Sportiva, all of my friends who joined me during this weekend, and Race Director, Chris Martinez, for letting me in the race so late and putting on a great event! I love Moab and I will be back!! 50 miles is a rather daunting distance. After I completed my first 50 miler last fall my cousin had exclaimed, “I get tired driving 50 miles!” I remember thinking at the time that he had a pretty good point, driving 50 miles definitely isn’t something I like doing. Am I saying that I may prefer to run 50 miles than to drive it? I think so. A lot can happen in a 50 mile race, but sitting and waiting in bumper to bumper traffic definitely isn’t one of them. Although there may be parts of the race where you feel like you are “crawling,” running 50 miles is much better than a car ride. A 50 mile race takes your through a wave of emotions, it brings on feelings of delirium, fascination, anger, pain, and most importantly pure joy. You will learn things about yourself and you will feel unimaginable things. And no matter how hard you prepare for a 50, it will still hurt, it will definitely still hurt. Going into JFK I may have forgotten how much 50 miles does in fact, hurt. “I’ve done a 50 mile race before, therefore this one will definitely be easier than my first one!” These were my thoughts going into the race with hopes of breaking 7 hours and dropping into the 6 hour and 30 minute time zone. Based on my increase in preparation this time around, I was pretty confident that I would hit my goals. Heck, there was no way this one would hurt as bad as my first one did, right? My training in Boulder, CO had gone extremely well for the past 5 weeks since I had moved there. The endless trail system and vast mountains made it easy to find difficult terrain to tackle everyday, and I was hitting more mileage than I ever had before in my life. So, being the novice runner, let alone, ultrarunner that I am, I was pretty confident going into this race. The race started in downtown Boonsboro, where over 1,000 runners were shivering in the balmy 18-degree temperature. La Sportiva had given me some awesome warm weather gear, so I felt pretty good at the start. I was extremely excited for the beginning climbs that would lead us to the Appalachian Trail. I knew that the climb (about 1100 feet in four miles) wouldn’t be too difficult, and since it was the only way to get to the trail, I was eager to tackle it. The gun went off and the front crew was off. I stayed back in the second pack, next to the eventual overall winner, and felt comfortable hitting around 7:20 min/miles for the first 4 miles leading up to the trail. Once we hit the trail I couldn’t stop grinning. I am such a “trailnerd” that I couldn’t help myself, the Appalachian trail was a beautiful, dense, runnable single track, and I never wanted it to end. About an hour in I decided that it was now “warm” enough to ditch the gloves and I quickly shoved them into my pocket and zipped it up. Since it was still below 20 degrees, about 20 minutes later I realized that I could no longer feel my thumbs and frantically tried to get my gloves back out and on. But my zipper, which was now covered in spilled frozen water from my bottle, had other plans and wouldn’t budge. So I covered my hands as best as I could and mustered on. Then coming up on mile 11, my clumsy self, re-sprained my ankle, and had to take a couple of minutes to walk it out. But an ankle is an ankle, and I ignored it and started running again. To my disappointment, after only a little over 2 hours I was done with the beautiful trail. After the trail came the first spectator area and my far from smooth, shoe change. My parents, my sister, and my roommate were all waiting for me as I emerged first female out of the woods. My parents did as they were instructed, had my shoes unlaced, a Lara bar opened, and were ready to help. However, with too many people handing me things, telling me things, racers passing me, and my numb hands’ inability to assist in anyway, that shoe change was not my greatest idea. Needless to say, next time I will keep my superb Helios on the entire race. Then came the toe path, the same relentlessly flat, hard, path for 30 miles. Eek. Here was where I had planned to drop the pace to a 7:20/mile for a good portion of the race. After the first mile and a half, the second place lady passed me, and went on to run a phenomenal time! I couldn’t find my stride and after only about 4 miles at a good clip I soon found myself in a constant mental battle to hold an 8-8:20 min/mile. I am not sure what went wrong, whether it was the pressure of holding a certain pace, or my legs inability to find their natural, faster stride, but I struggled through this section from the very beginning. My first 50 mile race was the Tussey Mountainback, which had areas for your crew to see you every 4-5 miles. The motivation and goofiness of my crew at those areas definitely helped me avoid a good amount of dark mental places. However, at this race, I only got to see my crew at mile 28 and 36, and I was not handling the time in between very well. Sure, the views got me excited at some times, but mentally I couldn’t find my happy place for the second half of this race. That is when I started to slow down and doubt my talent and preparation. In the late 30 miles, I met a fellow runner who was also struggling mentally. We ran together for quite awhile and it definitely helped the both of us a lot. A 50 is tough, and if you can share the struggle with someone else, it always helps. We both got quite the enjoyment out of a random fan pedaling down the path with a giant speaker. Music always brings a smile to my face and air drumming to the hands. ‘Twas great. One great thing about the JFK race, like many other ultra races, was the crowd and aid station support. Every time I entered an aid station there was countless amounts of options, smiling faces, and words of encouragement. I really cant express the level of gratitude I have towards the people who dedicated so much of their time to this race. The volunteers are what make the race doable. Thank you so much! Finally, coming down the home stretch, which consists of hilly roads winding through the countryside, I got passed by the second place female. Mentally I wasn’t able to sprint the last 5k to overtake her and angrily struggled on. I eventually made it to the finish line, sprinting as fast as I could as I saw my friends, to finish in 7 hours and 14 minutes, third place female, and 29th overall. Even though this was a way slower time and lower place than I had wanted, it brought to light a lot of flaws that I can work on and improve for my next race. Having a bad race only makes us stronger and I know that mentally I have never felt stronger as I think about how poorly the race went, how well I still finished, what I could have done differently, and how well I can improve in my future races. As I gimped around the auditorium waiting n the award ceremony, I had never felt as at home as I did being surrounded by so many fellow crazy runners, as well as my friends and family who have provided me with continued support towards my crazy dreams. I wouldn’t be where I am today without my support crew. As I chatted with many of the racers, I relished in the fact that everyone was there to find their own running place, whether it be in the front of the pack or the back, we were all chasing the same thing. We are in search of that place where nothing else matters except the sound of our own breathing as we prove to ourselves that we can do whatever we put our minds to. Limping up to the podium as the baby of the champions, I realized that I have so many years ahead of me, and that one day I can be the one being helped onto the dangerously high first place step of that podium. Thank you to my sponsors La Sportiva, and Ultraspire, as well as my support crew, the race directors, the volunteers, and that guy on the musical bike around mile 38.
Happy running all! Overall race usage: Shoes worn: La Sportiva Helios and Mizuno Evo Levitas Clothing flaunted: La Sportiva Libra jacket, windblocker headband, technical racing team hoodie, and Crux tights. My sisters touch screen-friendly gloves Feetures merino wool socks Accessories used: Ultraspire Alpha Race Vest Peppers Polarized Sunglasses (awesome) Calories consumed: 4 power bar double latte gels 2 strawberry banana Gus ¼ banana a couple nibbles of a lara bar (the rest was probably eaten by a squirrel on the trail since I threw it) 4 oz of Starbucks coffee random swigs of electrolyte drinks and cola at aid stations 2 M&Ms *Note : This is by no means what anyone should do, as I am still working on my nutrition and just barbarically grab food towards the end of races “Maybe I should crawl.” “Yea, crawl! That’s a great idea.” “I feel like an awkwardly proportioned child” “Oh gosh, what if I put my hand on a snake or a spider.” “No more crawling.” This would be my conversation with myself come mile 24 of this grueling “marathon.” The Call of the Wilds Marathon was put on in accordance with the first annual Easter States 100 miler. They started 2 hours apart at the beautiful Little Pine State Park in Pine Creek, PA and followed the same ~17 miles at the beginning of each. The race was hosted by the insane Central PA TrailDawgs, and offered the same great atmosphere, goodie bags, and trails that have come to be associated with this group of race directors. The night before the race, the runners were allowed to camp at Little Pine free of charge, so we took advantage of this. However, being in the middle of no where, there was absolutely no cell phone service, and me being the “never on time” person that I am got there late Friday night, and could not find my camping mates for a good 2 hours. There I was, night before a race, stumbling around the campground with a headlamp, sleeping bag, and 3 duffle bags in hand, trying to whisper “Jo” to the surrounding dark tents, with hopes of finding her and not waking any of the runners who had already turned in for the night. After deciding that I would be better off sleeping in my car than continuing to tramp through the camp, I found her putting a tent up in the dark, in a restricted zone, and laughingly assisted her with the not so easy task of moving the tent and rebuilding it in the dark. We were in the wild, ‘twas a perfect start for a weekend in the woods. That’s what I had hoped. However, my back is not as big of a fan of the grand outdoors (aka the rocky ground) as I am, so I woke up at 4:30 am feeling like there was no way I was going to be able to sit up, let alone run. Needless to say, I made it to the start, after a cup o’ coffee from McConnesls Country Store (who opened wayyy early for us crazy runners, thank you!) and a couple bananas, I was good to go! The race started on the road, and we took off at a pretty speedy clip for the first mile. I wanted to make sure I was ahead of a majority of the field in the beginning just because of the difficulty of passing on a single-track trail. After the first mile, the next 3 miles blew by pretty quickly, and then it was hill number one. Let the hiking commence. I got passed by a beast of a woman hiking up that hill, whose name I now know as Sheryl Wheeler, with her yelling back “You’ll catch me in a little, you’re younger than I am!” I am probably the youngest in the field, so I take her word for it, and carry on up the hill. The top of this hill had an incredible view, covered in fog it looked like we were on top of the world (photo taken from Call of the Wilds Facebook page). The course was like this for the most part. A slightly slanted, very runnable section for a couple of miles, a beast of a hill, a deceivingly short runnable section at the top, and a beast of a down hill. The aid stations were great. The people were so very supportive and extremely enthusiastic. I loved it. At the 3rd aid station I saw an old athletic trainer from high school who asked me how I felt, and how my ankles had been holding up since high school (I was always the girl in the ankle brace). I had to unfortunately admit to spraining my ankle on the trail only a couple miles before that aid station. To which he merely snickered and looked at me sympathetically. I was fine, I carried on. The course was pretty technical and difficult to this point, but nothing some mindless banter with other runners couldn’t stifle. However, come mile 22, where there was supposed to be the worst hill of the course, everyone was getting antsy waiting for it to show its face. It didn’t come until mile 24, right after the final aid station. Let me tell you, it was not worth the wait. No one chatted on this hill, no one was smiling. It was roughly .8 miles of over 1200 feet of climbing, and was a rocky road/trail that went straight up the mountain. Aka: You could see everyone struggling above you, and realize that you have WAY more to go. This was where I decided to crawl. It definitely was one of my better decisions, the steepness and length of the hill, made climbing very tiresome, and the crawling, although I looked like an awkwardly lanky baby, was extremely helpful and relieved my overworked muscles for a couple of seconds. I wish I could say I I looked as cute as this baby does crawling.. (http://www.colourbox.com/preview/3211409-150307-baby-crawling-isolated-on-white-background.jpg) After this hill, which honestly took a very long time, it was a pretty runnable course until the finish. The final down hills were more painful at this point than the up hills due to my beaten up toes, but I was able to maintain a quick, bounding type run down them. I avoided the giant pile of rattlesnakes near the end thanks to the wonderful volunteer who was guarding them and secretly taking their picture, and used this burst of scaredy-cat adrenaline to sprint it in to the finish. (picture courtesy of Call of the Wilds Facebook page) However, I wasn't too graceful, because as I was coming down the last downhill which was a nice loose dirt path (maybe .1 miles from the finish) I fell.. What else is new? I have never gone an entire race without falling, and I apparently am not starting anytime soon. I came out of the woods, after the lady directing people publically announced my fall to the spectators on the street, to find my dad standing there laughing, knowing it had to be me. I don’t remember what I was staring at when I crossed the finish. But it must have been interesting enough to make me forget to smile. Rule #1: make sure to pose and look good for your finishing photo (said none ever). I finished in 5 hours and 48 minutes. Much longer than I had thought the “marathon” (around 29 miles) would take me. I snagged 6th place overall, and 1st place female. Most importantly, I earned the winner’s axe. A nifty engraved axe given to the winners of both races. My mom commented on the goofiness of the prize, I just laughed, she doesn’t understand. This prize is awesome. But I don’t expect her to understand since I don’t quite understand why I choose to do this stuff sometimes either. The race was incredible. Aside from making my feet look a little more beat up than usual, and taking my dignity as I crawled up that final ascent, this race was awesome, with amazing volunteers , and great chatters. I recommend this to anyone who wants a real test of trail running, mental perserverance, and breathtaking scenery.
Thank you to my sponsor and co-host of the race, La Sportiva, for the awesome Vertical K trail shoes, and racing tank. Those shoes never fail to amaze me. Till my next adventure, keep to the trails folks, maybe you'll find them as enticing as I do. :) Wow, has it been awhile since I posted in this blog (not that anyone reads it anyways :P). Well, here is an update on my running adventures since my first ultra debut back in November! I raced my first road marathon as an “Elite” in March! Me being the running nerd I am, scheduled it for my senior year “spring break…” AKA: I chose running over drinking, dancing, tanning, and getting into countless shenanigans with my friends at some beach house they had rented.. My friends still don’t quite understand my priorities.. neither do I. The weekend was really fun, riding around VA with my three good friends and my cousin. The Shamrock Marathon staff was incredible and had a pretty tasty selection of food the night before for all of the elite runners. The pasta was out in less than 2 minutes, you should see some of these skinny people eat, holy cow (literally). Race morning came around and it was around 40 degrees at the start, and VERY windy. The start was exciting, being up front with all of the speed demons. So exciting that I ran my first mile in 5:55. That was too fast. I am not a speed demon. Then for the first half of the race it was easy to average a slightly faster than goal pace. Not too many chit chatters near the front of the pack, so I was rather lonely. But coming through the half way point I got to see all of my screaming friends, and I felt pretty good. I wish I could say the same for the second half. Coming from State College, PA, this was one of the most deceptively windy races I have ever ran. I found some fellow ultra runners around mile 15 and the banter with them made the wind not so bad from miles 15-20. However, eventually they went ahead a little way and eventually I was relatively alone again. I would be running and admiring the beautiful beach scenery and then WHAM, a pace slowing, slap in the face head wind would attack, needless to say, it became extremely annoying around miles 20-22. However, as with all races, nothing is perfect, and I still managed a 3:03, a tad slower than I had hoped, but I was happy with it regardless. Stopping after the finish line was definitely the worst part, I was gimping around to all of the “free food, drinks, gear” tables, and snagged three bananas and gave some “gluten-filled” goodies to my friends. I am never too hungry after a long run. My friend was scolding me to atleast eat one of the many bananas I had smuggled:P. All in all, the Shamrock Marathon was great fun, a very wise choice for my Spring break outing, and a race I wouldn’t mind returning to next year! AKA to me: Race chat, fellow running enthusiasts, and early nights in > a week filled of craziness with my friends on Spring break. I am not sure any mathematician would agree with that statement.. Till next time, Happy Trails :) The Tussey MOUTnBACK was my first 50-miler. Honestly, I couldn’t have picked a more enjoyable chunk of mountain to spend 7 hours exploring. With the support of the other ultra runners, members of the Nittany Valley Running Club (NVRC), and my slightly obnoxious crew, it flew by.
To start off, one of the perks of going to college only 10 minutes away meant that I had an obnoxiously decorated SUV driven by a crew of my 4 best friends. Not only did they make it more enjoyable, but they kept a smile on my face, managed to keep me somewhat nourished throughout the race, and spread my name to the other runners as “Keen the Machine,” or the girl with the music blaring crew At the start, I bid a "see you in 11 miles” fairwell, and awkwardly stood near the pack of obviously veteraned ultrarunners, some of which I recognized from countless social media forums. As Mike Casper, race director and running-buddy from the area, made his final announcement, I couldn’t wipe the childish grin off of my face. I was relishing in the moment. And then we were off. The first leg, a 5k with almost 900 feet of climbing, used to be one of my most dreaded hills of the course, but going into this race, I knew that I could hold a decent pace up it pretty easily. I figured this would put me a little behind the top women. At the top of the first leg, I finished a little slower than I had wanted, about 8:40 min/mile pace, but I didn’t see any other women within close proximity and I felt fine, so I didn’t let it affect me. I knew the next two legs, about 8 miles, were all down hill to TZ 3, where I would see my crew for the first time, so I just let myself resort to what felt good, about 7 min/mile pace, passing people and making up for lost ground from the first climb. I pulled into TZ 3 averaging about 7:45 min/mile pace or so, with a giant grin on my face. As a novice, inexperienced ultra runner, most noticeably on the nutrition front, I hadn’t consumed any calories, and would unfortunately refuse them at this TZ as well. Had I known the awful deficit I would face around 32 miles, I would have been eating a couple hundred calories every hour, regardless of my “not hungry” state of mind and stomach. A couple of the guys I chatted with over the next couple of miles were pretty shocked when I told them that it was my first ultra, and they were extremely helpful with some advice on nutrition and hydration. It was during legs 4 and 5 (miles 11-20) that I realized that I was absolutely in love with the ultra running atmosphere. A good chat is always high in my books, but good chats while running in a 50-mile race, let alone a National Championship race, are insurmountable. I easily hit the 20 mile mark averaging 7:30min/mile pace, finally ate some banana, a GU, and donned my Nathan hydration pack that had a couple GUs for the unnerving climb that lie ahead. Even though I felt as if I were barely moving up that 1,300 foot monster of a hill-y leg, I passed a lot of people. Then, after meeting with my astonished looking crew and being forced to swallow some coconut oil and honey, I took the next four miles easily until mile thirty, hitting the marathon marker around 3:22, PRing my previous official marathon time by over 10 minutes, woop woop!. I hit mile 30 averaging about 7:45 pace over all, feeling decent, but the point of exhaustion and nutrient depletion was right around the corner. Coming into the TZ around mile 33, my crew informed me that “I didn’t look too hott,” and boy, did I know it. I was exhausted and running on nothing. The countless miles of ignoring food and water, hit me full in the face, and I found myself starving, but unable to get much food down. I took the next leg pretty slow, trying to walk and eat as much as my stomach and body would allow. Here is where my pace started to drop, which is what I had accounted for going into the race with some speed. During these miles I faced a pretty challenging mental battle, one in which I mistook a tree for a black bear, (my first hallucination of my running career!!!), but I inevitably fought on. I maintained a steady slow, jog, until leg 11, where what were previously easy training hills, became seemingly impossible hills that I unfortunately walked. Finally, I came to the final leg, one I had ran countless times. Four miles, slightly down hill, all the way to the finish. Piece of CAKE. By this time, the quick relay runners had caught up to me, and I had a lot of fans who had learned my name and were chearing me on. I saw a lot of my NVRC running buddies who were as optimistic and encouraging as always, although slightly surprised to see me sitting in 2nd place, cheering for me as well. I felt great mentally, however my legs were playing a game of their own, and I ran what seemed like the longest four miles of my life. However, crossing the finish line to my best friends and an ever-so- encouraging community of runners, let the pain in my legs and feet vanish. (for the time).. I cannot put the sense of joy and accomplishment I felt after crossing the finish line into words. However, I know that it is a feeling that I will continue to search for as I progress as a runner. I never imagined placing 2nd in a USA National Championship for my first 50 mile race, and I am excited for what the future holds. Until then I will run on, in search of my very own running place. |
Keely HenningerPortland, OR Archives
February 2021
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