Blood, Sweat, and (Near) Tears

Julie Treder's Psycho Wycho 50k Race Report:  

Brad and I took a road trip down to check out the trails at Wyandotte County Lake Park for the “Psycho Wyco” Run Toto Run 50K.  The website looked appealing, with a “no whiners need apply” feel to it… and I’ve never run in Kansas before – so why not give it a go!!

The only word we kept hearing pre-race is “screwed”.  People were hustling around to put screws in their shoes prior to the race.  BUT temps were expected to be in the mid-40s and there were also a good handful of people walking around in shorts… so who needs to put screws in their shoes if it will be that warm???  Brad was one of the people running in shorts and I haven’t run with screws all winter… so why should we start now?  Good decision or not… we’ll see!

The race consists of a 10.35 mile loop that us 50Kers do three times.  Shortly after 8AM, the 50K and 20-mile races started.  That meant a couple hundred people were off competing for a spot on the single-track trail a quarter mile ahead… bounding across this field of calf-deep snow of sand-like consistency.  Visions of the John Dick 50K floated through my head.  Can I deal with a race with this type of terrain a second weekend in a row???  Ugh!

Due to all the snow at the park, the trail was truly single-track.  Unless you wanted to trudge through deep snow to pass, you were in whatever position you were in once you hit the trail.  Not a lot of opportunities to pass, so there was a long line of runners zig-zagging through the woods.  Brad was able to hit the single-track quickly, so he had room to move.  I wasn’t as quick to hit the trail, so I was in the midst of a lengthy line of runners.  This was probably the best thing to happen to me, allowing me to get my running legs under me… and able to finish the race strong.

A few miles in, we hit the first aid station… and the curviest trail I have ever seen in my life.  Run five strides this way, turn left.  Six strides that way and turn right.  Repeat a couple dozen times.  I don’t think we ran more than 10 strides in one direction without some kind of turn.  It was crazy!

Just before the half-way point of the loop, you came out of the woods into what looked to be a lunar space.  A wide open expanse of snow.  No trees, no brush, just an open prairie of white.  Where the prairie inclined up and ended, the sky began.  It was such an unusual sight after running through tons of trees.  You had to run across this prairie (of deep snow!), then up this rock ledge to the third aid station.

After this aid station, you ran (or, if you were like me… walked!) up this long, steeper paved road for about a third of a mile.  This next trail section was a bit hairy at the start.  The next mile or so was where screws would have come in very handy.  Downhills, followed by hairpin turns covered in ice… not a good combination for non-traction shoes.  I did learn one thing.  Falling in snow?  Not so bad, given the extra layer to buffer the fall.  It was the ice-covered rocky, rooty section that made me the most nervous… but luckily there were trees to grab hold of to keep you upright.  You knew that once you made it to the bottom of a long, gradual decline that life would be good and the worries would be less.

Mile 6 is where the race took an unexpected turn for me.  Locked in within a group of runners, I was not paying too much attention to what was around me.  I was focused on the ground to make sure I would not slip off the trail.  Unbeknownst to me, all the runners in front of me ducked as they ran.  I didn’t… and ran smack-dab into a tree terribly placed at forehead level.  The impact was so hard, the runners behind me cringed in horror.  The good thing was I didn’t lose any teeth with the punch… the bad thing was I got a big knot on my forehead (which unfortunately, my hair does not cover!!) and a very bloody nose.  Blood and bruises everywhere… but no tears!!  Who said this is a non-contact sport?!?  A nice gentleman held up his race to make sure I was conscious and able to continue.  You gotta love this sport… nice people everywhere!!

The last five miles of the loop were marked in half mile increments.  This was good for me throughout the race, since I was feeling good… but could have been very demoralizing if I were having a bad race.  Ultras need to be broken up into segments to get through them… having half-mile markers out there seemed to make those last miles fly by.

You come down a nice hill into the finish-line area/aid station, load up on fluids… and hit the trail for loop two.  One of the nice things about loop two is that the temperature was rising, so all the sand-like snow on loop one was packed down pretty nicely at this point, so you could finally get some traction.  One of the bad things about loop two is that the warmth also softened some of the previously packed down snow… making the trail rather slick.  On some hills, you used the step-and-slide method… take a step and slide a few feet, another step and slide a few more feet.  You got down hills fairly quick that way, but for me, I typically just slid down the hills in the crab-like position.  Another bad thing was that more of the ice that was previously covered by snow, was now exposed… making some sections pretty treacherous.  Luckily, I made it through the loop on my feet… but, more importantly, without any more head trauma.

Loop three, I felt great.  My nose started bleeding and draining again, but my legs felt pretty strong.  The trail by loop three had deteriorated pretty badly.  Slush was the main form of trail for the majority of the loop.  If it wasn’t slush, it was soft snow that offered no traction.  Would screws have helped??  Who knows!  The downhills were made interesting by the soft snow, though.  Where I was able to maintain some balance and use my feet as skis and my fists as ski-poles to make it to the base of the hill… word had it that Brad wasn’t as lucky as he toppled to his butt at the top of the hill and proceeded to the bottom in the butt-as-sled method.  Where were the cameras for that???

The finish was great!  Downhill, through the finish chute, greeted by the race directors… pictures taken.  Salted over from all the sweat (temps reached 50!), bruised noggin, bloodied camelback vest, black and blue nose, but still smiling… I can only imagine the shot.  Great way to end this memorable adventure!  

Results are at:  http://kctrack.org/results/run-toto-run-50k-trail-run-psychowyco/

2011 John Dick Memorial 50k

Race Report:  From Race Director, Robert Wehner...

How are the conditions?  This was the one question on everyone’s mind, after a record setting blizzard blew through the mid-west a few days before the race.  Depending on where you were, 14” to 20”+ of fresh snow came down, whipped around by 40-50 mph wind gusts.  Snowmobiles out on the trails we use for the course started packing down the snow in the days before the race, but there was no way to know how the running would be on Saturday, February 5^th, for the 23^rd annual JD 50K.

By race day, the winds had died down, and with temps in the teens, the weather would not be an issue.  But the footing was another matter.  Within minutes of starting out, it became apparent that today was not going to be a PR day for anyone.  Despite the grooming done, there just had not been enough time and cold temps to firm up the snow.  There was no consistency in the footing, and at times you felt like you were just stumbling along trying to stay upright.

We all knew it was going to be a tough day, but it didn’t become apparent how tough it really was until one looks at the finish times.  Leading for most of the race, Albertus Rohling steadily pulled away from everyone, winning in 5:37:39.  This was the slowest winning time in the history of the race (by 40 minutes), and was an hour and 37 minutes slower than Albertus’ winning time in 2009.  This was the case for everyone, with finish times up to 2 hours slower (or more) than usual.

In the women’s race, Julie Treder ran steady all day, taking the lead half-way through the final lap and winning in 7:36:49 (13^th overall).  How tough the conditions were is also reflected in the finish rate.  While not everyone comes out intending to do the full 50k, the finish percentage is usually in the 70-75% range.  This was not to be a typical year however, and soon runners started to drop like flies.  In the end, out of 74 starters, 24 runners stuck it out and finished the full 50k, for a finish rate of only 32%.

Whether runners completed the course or not, everyone was welcomed back to the finish shelter, greeted by great volunteers, a warm fire, and plenty to eat and drink.  We also had a great crew manning the aid station, so despite the difficulties out on the course, smiles were plentiful.  Afterwards, I came up with another positive point from the race.  When I’m asked next year “How are the conditions?”, I’ll have a ready answer: “Better than they were in 2011!”

Robert Wehner, RD

John Dick Memorial 50k...Cobbie's Race Report...

There are several different ways that I've heard the footing during yesterday's John Dick Memorial Crusty 50k described.  Like running on baking soda.  Like wet sand after several horses trampled through it.  LIKE CRAP!!!  It definitely was more  sloppy than it was crusty. I started running an hour early just as the sun was coming up, because I predicted that I would be the slowest runner to finish, a prediction that came true.  Once again I wasn't well prepared for this effort, yet well enough that I knew I could finish in about 7.5 to 8 hours.  That prediction did not come true.  Judging by the fact that over two thirds of the field did not make it to the finish line, I was not alone in making erroneous predictions.

Consistency has been a problem for me since running the ice age 50 mile last year.  However, thanks to some new running friends I actually have run a fair amount over the last four weeks, averaging 20-30 miles a week.  Twenty miles a week isn't a lot, but enough for me to try my hand at a long run to gauge whether I should volunteer or participate.  I felt pretty good after churning out 21 miles at Lapham Peak, and so I pushed my chips onto the table: I was going to run and finish.

The early start was a good decision not just because it gave me a greater time cushion (volunteers should not have to wait just for one person), but also because it gave me a view of the trail before the other runners decimated it.  The trail was freshly groomed, and if you stuck to the sides and took small flat footed steps, you could stay on top of the snow.  However, the middle was soft, and your feet sunk in about 2 to 3 inches with every step.  As I made my way back from the first aid station, I noticed other runners passing me had numbers written on attached tags.  "Hey," I thought, "I got one of those... but what did I do with it?"  Left it back at the start is what I did with it!  At the second aid station they were just putting out drop bags.  Drop bags?  I thought we were headed to the start finish between laps?  Mistake number two.  See what happens when you assume?  Robert had offered to make sure I had gotten all the necessary information just before I headed out, and I had waved him away.  So after the first lap back to the start finish I went.  That stop was a long one:  text Joy, change shoes, change shirts, change jacket, put together a drop bag, grab food, put away head lamp, and.... go!

The second lap, was nothing like the first.

Short strides helped a lot on the straights. The down hills weren't bad---you only had to concentrate on keeping your feet under you.  For the uphills I found that a wide ape like waddle worked best.  By end of the second lap things were getting better again.  There were some places where people had packed the snow down to something that resembled a path---and then the snowmobiles came through.  I found that running the snowmobile ski tracks gave me more support, but others to whom I suggested this strategy to didn't seem very convinced.

The end of third lap was a mental challenge.  There were so many unanswered questions.  Was I fit enough to finish under these unexpected conditions?  Would I have enough time?  Was I going to stay warm enough?  Yet I knew that I was more than half way, and that all I had to do was hang tough and do two more laps.  Only two.  After singing "I got two more laps" to the tune of "I got sunshine" and they didn't seem so bad anymore.  I spent most of the 4th lap meticulously planning my last lap, every incline, every decline, and what nutrition I would need to get me to the end.  RD Robert Wehner seemed to be everywhere, and gave me encouragement that he was going to let me finish.  "Just keep moving, you can do it," he said, "and don't worry about time."  Robert's was one of the few faces I knew amongst the small batch of new faces that were still left on the trail during my fourth lap.  At the second aid station of the 4th lap came something that I hadn't planned for: HOT CHICKEN BROTH!  YUM!

After multiple laps of soft mushy snow, the final lap felt more like a victory lap, because I knew that there were no more laps to come.  I said goodbye to the landmarks I had met along the way, the roads, the amazing toadstool covered tree, and each and every little hill, incline, and decline.  At the final aid station I realized that if I hurried I might break 9 hours.  "Don't fall into the yellow snow," I heard behind me as I took off, almost falling into yellow snow.  I missed 8:59:59 by a couple of seconds, but that just meant I had several more seconds of fun than I otherwise would have had.

Cobbie 

LPTR Battle of the Skis...

Robert's Race Report...

No, this report isn’t about the upcoming cage match between Todd, Kevin, and Troy (though my money is on Troy; that guy just doesn’t go down!).  Last weekend a LPTR group again headed up to the UP for the Noquemanon ski marathon.  The Noque is a 50K point to point course from Ishpeming to Marquette, and our group included Ron Bero, Joel Lammers, Tony Cantrall, and Deb Vomhof.  For me, this was Noque number 13, but for Deb this was to be her first time on a rugged and challenging course.

A light snow fell Friday night, and on race morning there was about an inch or two of fresh snow on top of the groomed course.  This may not sound like a big deal, but remember those paper snowflakes you made as a kid?  They had lots of points and sharp edges, just like real flakes, which are not conducive to great glide.  This was going to add to the effort needed to reach the finish.

In addition to battling the fresh snow, all of us had to deal with the hundreds of other skiers on the course.  Passing in running races is nothing compared to trying to pass in a ski race.  Everyone has 2 long boards bound to their feet and long poles with sharp ends strapped to their hands; gets kind of hairy at times.

 I ended up doing a hard face plant on a downhill after knocking skis with someone.  At another point, Joel did a complete flip off of the trail, landing upright in the deeper snow in the woods.  Nicely done, but he ended up with a broken pole (ski pole that is).  When Ron came through the halfway point (where a shorter race starts), he was ambushed by a pack of classic skiers just starting out, and got spun around in the process.  I don’t have a total count, but I think Tony and Deb ended up getting dusted too.

Despite the challenges, we all made it to the finish line intact, although 10-15 minutes slower than last year.  Ron led the way with a 3:16, followed by me in 3:18, Joel in 3:25, Tony in 3:47, and Deb in 4:17.  Complete results can be found at www.noquemanon.com

Frozen Otter - 2011

Julie Treder's Race Report...

Decisions, decisions… Indulge in delicious foods and countless drinks around a nice, warm fire, surrounded by all your friends.  Kick back and cheer on the Packers along their road to the Super Bowl.  Or spend countless hours running through calf-deep snow in below zero temps for nothing more than personal satisfaction.   A normal person would obviously choose option 1 or 2.  Unfortunately, I’m not normal… and I went with option 3.

A little background on the Frozen Otter… this event is more of an adventure, than a race.  There are checkpoints along the way… manned spots every 8 miles and unmanned spots in between the manned stations.  You are required to carry a specific list of gear, for your own safety… shelter, cell phone, lighter, fire starter, extra set of clothes, emergency blanket, first aid kit, and headlamp/flashlight.  Being caught without any of the gear would cost you a 30-minute penalty.  The point of the race is to cover as much ground as you can in the least amount of time.  But to be counted as an official finisher, you have to make it back to the start/finish area under your own power.  You cover the whole Ice Age trail segment in the Northern Kettle Moraine area… starting at Butler Lake, doing a 30-mile out and back heading north, then, if you are signed up for the full distance, completing a 34-mile out and back to the south.

I have signed up for this race twice before, 2008 and 2010.  Always signed up for the full, 64-mile option… but always called it quits at the half distance.  In past years, my mind was never fully into the race (plus the 20 below wind chills made my decision to pull out a little easier in 2008!).  This year, my mind was all over completing this darn thing.  If I was going to miss the LPTR Christmas party AND the Packer game, I wasn’t going to run a measly 30 miles.  No way!!

This year, thankfully, I was joined by two others from the LPTR crowd… Brad and Aaron.  Misery LOVES company!!  But, not only were these two guys out there, but another familiar face was doing a training run at the same time, Pastor Kurt.  Perfect!

The full distance entrants were off at 10:10 on Saturday morning… let the fun begin.  There was a fresh snowfall from the night before, so the trails were covered in light, fluffy, calf-deep snow… with drifts up to your waist in spots.  It would be tough going, but the sun was shining, the trees were all blanketed in snow, and we all had lots of energy… so it was really enjoyable to run through this winter wonderland.  Brad, Kurt, and I had a great pace going.  Kurt packed inspirational messages in snow on trees for us along the way.  Someone even left a message for Brad and I in the snow at a road crossing, reading “Go Julie and B”… before running out of, ah, fluids (thanks Joel!!).  Things were going great!  We were running consistent splits along the way… averaging 4 miles per hour.  Heck, I even ate a whole pack of Clif Blocks on this loop.  When darkness fell, the moon was out and was so bright, you could see shadows reflected from the trees.  Beautiful sight!  I was still feeling strong back at Butler Lake.  Life is good!  Just change shoes and socks, put on an extra layer of clothes, pick up the headlamp, mix up a new batch of Gatorade in my Camelback… and I’m good to go for the next out and back!

Well, the second loop is where the problems start.  It’s dark by the time Brad and I get back to Butler Lake (around 6:20PM)… and the temperature is going down.  Silly me was futzing with my camelback at Butler Lake so long (cold hands don’t really work that well, I’ve learned), trying to refuel my Gatorade.  After finally getting everything all organized, I was off… but I forgot to do one important thing:  blow the fluids out of the tube of my Camelback to prevent freezing.  Five minutes out of the aid station, I try to take a swig… no luck.  Tube was frozen solid!  Brad had the same problem, himself.  Putting the Camelback underneath my jacket didn’t do the trick of thawing out the tube for me… but luckily it worked for Brad about halfway to the manned station.  All I had to do is make it to the next manned station to melt the ice chunk that formed in the tube, over the fire… 8 miles away.  That’s all I had to do.

Calories give you power.  Cold weather saps calories.  No calories, no power.  No power equals mental breakdown.  That 8-mile stretch was a LOOONG stretch for me.  I resorted to eating snow (I really didn’t care what color it was!)… and occasionally stealing a few sips from Brad’s working Camelback.  It’s one thing to not eat or drink because you aren’t hungry or thirsty… but it’s another thing to want to eat or drink, but nature is preventing you.  I was running out of steam, getting frustrated, hyperventilating a little bit… just breaking down.  It was a rough, rough section for me.  Luckily, 2 ½ hours later… we got to the aid station and I got what I needed – a working Camelback.  Gatorade never tasted so good… it was a relief to have the stuff flowing through my veins again.

The cold temps had definitely settled in.  We had gotten reports from volunteers that their thermometers had read 13 below.  13 frickin’ below!  Good thing for us there was no wind… otherwise it could have been pretty brutal.  It was cold enough for both Brad and I as it was.  Ice had formed on everything!  Eye lashes (me), facial hair (that would be Brad), face covers, everything.  Hands weren’t functioning.  (Good thing for volunteers and their ability to zipper up clothes.)  Toes were frozen, thanks to the umpteen hours of running on snow, in snow, and through snow.  Noses were frozen, because our masks weren’t staying up due to the weight of the ice constantly pulling them down.  It was just darn cold!

It was a real blessing to see the final manned aid station at Mauthe Lake.  Not only to come to civilization again and to know there was less than 8 miles to go of this event, but we also ran back into Aaron Schneider.  The LPTR contingent regrouped, thawed out, and were on our way back to Butler Lake and the finish line.

Knowing you can count down miles left in races on two hands is a mental boost for me… giving me a little extra bit of energy.  Brad and I took off with visions of huddling around a fire in our minds… ah, warmth!  This 8-mile segment which I just STRUGGLED through on the way out was MUCH more tolerable this time around.  I just couldn’t wait to finish!  Up hills, down hills, across meadows… we were moving (in my head anyways!).  You can only imagine the joy I felt as we came along the top of the hill heading into Butler Lake.  A weight was lifted off my shoulders as we descended the stairs… I finally finished this thing that has been looming over me for the past few years.  Brad and I crossed the finish line just prior to 6AM on Sunday morning… with an unofficial time of 19:47.  What a relief!!

Great race director and volunteers (how you can find people to give up their weekends to stand out in the freezing cold to wait on tired runners is amazing!!), the best burgers you can imagine at the finish line, amazingly tough course/conditions, excellent company.  If you are looking for a winter challenge in a beautiful location, this is the race for you!!

A Nutty New Year on Peanut Island

Mary Gorski's Race Report...


I have often wanted to do an "across the years" sort of race -- one that started on New Year's Eve and ran across into the new year.  When my friend Nikki Seger suggested that we join her at the inaugural Peanut Island run, it didn't take much to convince me.  Recently relocated to Florida, she hoped to entice a few friends from the north to visit.  The Li'l Mister and I, along with Bonnie Busch and her Li'l Mister, started to make plans.

We made those plans back in early fall.  At the time I had a bit of a nagging back-ham-hip thing going on that had brought my running to a halt.  It would be a couple of weeks before I was on my way to diagnosis and treatment.  "Sure, I'm not running at the moment, but whatever this is, it will clear up in plenty of time.  No problem! " I thought.

Eventually I learned why I felt like I had a Sports illustrated shoved into my butt cheek -- I had an SI joint dysfunction, along with a side serving of related maladies.  Gosh darn it, I had no idea that I even HAD an SJ joint!  So a bunch of PT work, massage, chiropractic whatnot  and their own side-servings of co-pays.  November 1 -- still no running.  But by Thanksgiving I was able to start -- ever so tentatively -- to lace up my shoes and do a bit of running.  It was truly something for which to be thankful!

Peanut Island was only a month out from my tentative return to running but it was the perfect format for runs of a tentative nature.  The course was a 1.25 (or so)-mile loop.  Do as many loops as you can in 24 hours.  As long as I did one loop, I will have done the run.  Even the Li'l Mister -- usually my personal sherpa and crew person -- signed on to do the race.

I had been bragging back home that we were going to Florida over New Year's.  "Enjoy the lousy weather of Wisconsin, I'm headed to the sunshine state!" I said.  And then I humbly ate my words as we touched down to an unseasonable cool front.  Florida news was filled with stories of freezing fruit and chilly tourists.  But Mother Nature smiled, and while temps weren't tropical, they did become pleasant -- 60s and 70s during the day.  Perfect running weather.

Our little gang caught the ferry for the short ride to Peanut Island on New Year's Eve morning.  To be honest, from shore the island didn't look like much, but as you got closer and the boat slid into a quiet cove, its beauty pops out.  Sandy beaches.  Manatees lounge under water by the pier.  Fish wander between them.

We hauled our load to race central and set up our tents.

Race packets were distributed in  burlap peanut bags.  There were a few serious runners, but most seemed to have a relaxed approach to the race.  In our group expectations were mainly unexpected.  One person had a significant health concern that had just come to light; others were tentatively testing mechanical rebuilding.  I had only been running a few weeks -- would I be able to do more than just  a few miles?  Would it be smart to even try?

We lined up at the start and RD Bob Becker sent us on our way.  During the next 15 minutes (or so) we'd tour the rest of the island on a cement-bricked beach path.  Pros of the path?  Easy footing, generally flat, lighted at night, beautiful views night and day, lots of bathrooms with REAL flushing toilets and the companionship of fellow runners.  The distance was perfect -- long enough for variety but short enough to always give you a feeling at the start of each loop that "I can muddle through another," regardless if you are feeling tip-top or not.

The downside of the path?  Those concrete bricks felt brutal after awhile.  I enjoy pavement runs but there was something about those bricks that made my feet feel like bricks themselves.  Soon after starting, my feet felt tight in their shoes.  I tried another pair.  Same hassle.  I'd only run-walked three hours and my feet were already out-growing the largest shoes I had.  A few others noted similar issues.

Nikki offered to lend me her larger shoes but I decided to just try going without shoe inserts and that did the trick.

Speaking of Nikki, one of the highlights of my race was having the opportunity to sing, banter and solve the problems of the world with her during most of my loops.  Dealing with a significant health issue, she wasn't sure what her capabilities would be on race weekend but she held up well, often leaving me behind for a loop as I lounged and re-grouped now and then.

She passed 50K, and then I did as well.  She passed 50 miles, and I did too.  I was ecstatic for both of us.  I didn't know how long I'd hold up and  had fully expected to spend most of the 24 hours cheering runners from the sidelines.  This was a wonderful surprise.  Nikki was tentative as well but moving strong.

Eventually, my body started to remind me that it hadn't been on its feet for hours on end in a very long time.  Back in September I had hoped to pass the 100-mile mark during the 24 hours.  Now, I was thinking that a 100 was still a do-able idea, but that I'd opt for the more frequently used metric system.

I passed the loop that gave me my 100K (actually, 101 or so) and sat down with Nikki to celebrate.  She had already surpassed my 100K by then and decided to continue to see what more she could do.  Away she went to pile on the miles.

Meanwhile, our friend Bonnie Busch was doggedly plowing through the course, loop after loop.  While many of us took some time at midnight to toast the new year with champagne and enjoy the fireworks of Palm Beach, Bonnie kept on running.  In the end, her determination paid off and not only did she surpass 100 by several miles, but took the woman's top spot in the last hour of the race.

The Li'l Mister enjoyed enough laps to tire out his feet and earn his sweatshirt.

Awards distributed, tents packed, and back to the ferry dock we headed.  We left the mainland in 2010 and returned in 2011.

What a fantastic event with fantastic friends.  Lots of international runners as well.  Thanks oodles to RD Bob Becker, his volunteers and race timing guru Mike Melton.  The final race results are up at:  http://www.peanutisland24.com/

A few photos of our little group are at:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=262909&id=780618499&l=d6827e5f37  Susan Donnelly also has some great pics at:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?fbid=1772641357389&id=1279942565&aid=101909

Happy New Year!

Hellgate 2010 - WWHD

Robert Wehner's race report...

WWHD?  What Would Helen Do!  These four words became my mantra later in the day at Hellgate, and helped me get my mojo back.

Last year I was having a good race, but was starting to struggle in the second to last section (the infamous “forever” section).  Helen Lavin popped up behind me at that point, took the lead, and helped pull me through.  She was running very strong, including some of the uphills, and eventually pulled away, going on to win the women’s division.

Before the start this year I was joking with Helen about when she was going to catch me this time.  She laughed and indicated that she wasn’t expecting to do as well this year, that she would be further behind me.  My training had gone well, and I had hopes of bettering my time from last year, which was a PR for me on this course.

For the first half of the race everything seemed to be going well.  I was a little behind my splits from last year, but wasn’t worried.  Halfway between AS 5 & 6, just as daylight was beginning to filter in, things started to go down hill though.  I’m still not sure why, but I was in a funk, and my paced slowed quite a bit.  I didn’t feel like eating anything at AS 6, and just passed through it to start the hardest section of the course.

Being on a long, tough section didn’t help my spirits any, and so the funk just got deeper. I started to throw my own little pity party (it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to), questioning everything about myself as a runner.  Maybe I’m no good at ultras, why am I doing them, blah, blah, blah.

Approaching AS 7 helped a little, as the toughest part of the course was done.  Getting some food down there also seemed to help, and so I started the long climb out of that AS to reach the zig-zag part of the course.  This section cuts along the side of the mountains, curving in and out (over and over and over again) with some up and down.  If you can get yourself moving, it’s possible to get in a good rhythm and make some time up here.

On the big climb up to AS 8, Chris, who was crewing for Helen was walking down, and he indicated that Helen was close by.  Sure enough, as I neared the top of the climb, there was Helen just 50 yards behind me.  After some good natured jawing, I yelled down to her that she was going to have to run the rest of this hill if she was going to catch me, and I took off running it in to AS 8.

There is a long, rough downhill after this AS until you hit the “forever” section, and I was able to let gravity do it’s job here.  After turning back onto the single-track trail, I started thinking about how to get through this section.  I thought about how Helen attacked it last year, even though she was hurting.  I thought about how Helen wasn’t as prepared this year, but she was still working hard (and was the lead female runner!).  If she was struggling, she didn’t let it show.  Helen would just smile and keep laughing with that lovely Celtic lilt in her voice.

And so the mantra took shape: WWHD!  Every obstacle in this section, every rock, root, or hill was an opportunity to ask what would Helen do here.  She would run this hill, she would push this section, she would attack the trail.  I completed this section faster than ever before, and approached AS 9 feeling like the runner I wanted to be.

From AS 9 to the finish is simple: 3 miles up, then 3.5 miles down; grind it all the way up, and then hold on to your undies going down.  As I passed the 1-mile to go mark, another runner appeared ahead of me.  As I got closer, I saw it was David Ruttum, a friend and former Wisconsinite (and winner of this years Old Dominion 100).  So we fell in together and covered the last half-mile to the finish line, crossing in 13:48:28.  This was a little slower than last year, but covering the last third of the course faster than ever before made for a sweet finish.  Thanks Helen, and congrats on another win!

Bonus Feature

A staple of David Horton’s races is the “Best Blood” award.  Over the years he’s seen a lot of blood, but this years HG100 had the distinction of having the “Best Blood Ever”.  Dr. George Wortley put together a video of the race, and you can see the award winner near the end of his clip:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAQ0m5vKSj0