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Ghost Train 2018: Living to run another day

25 Oct

“The real purpose of running isn’t to win a race, it’s to test the limits of the human heart.” ~ Bill Bowerman

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This past weekend I attempted my second hundred mile race at Ghost Train Ultras in Brookline, NH.  Although my fitness and mental game were at their peaks, I had an injury going in that I knew could potentially wreck my day (or night, as it were).  However, I’ve learned that sometimes even though things don’t go quite as you planned, things turn out even better than you expected.

I arrived at Camp Tevya with my crew extraordinaire  (Brad and Carolynn) and fellow runners Liz, Kim, Laura, and Mike.  We had managed to get our primo spot and were getting everything laid out as we awaited the start of the race.  A neighbor came over and told us that someone else had told her to make sure she set up next to us, as my crew chief was awesome at taking care of feet.  Apparently our reputation precedes us!!  We got everything set up and finished getting geared up to take off at the sound of the Yeti yell.

the gang before

I had decided to forego my run/walk strategy in favor of just running until I couldn’t run anymore.  It had worked well for me this past summer at the VT100k, as I had figured out the the walking is what caused me so much foot pain.  With that in mind, I settled into a relatively easy pace and ran most of the first 7.5 miles with my friend Peggy, who was attempting her first hundo finish.  What I love most about this race is the social aspect of it all.  You can run in your own head if you like, but if you prefer to chat while you run, well, this race gives you the option for both.

I had scarfed down some chow at the Milford aid station and was heading back to Camp Tevya when I heard a familiar voice.  Familiar as in “haven’t I heard that voice on TV before?”  As I approached the individual belonging to said voice I asked, “Are you Tim?”  He turned to me with a raised eyebrow and said, “yes….”.  Don’t worry, dude, I’m not a stalker.  OK, maybe I am just a little.  I told him how his name had come up on FB  as a recommended friend (we have a few common connections) and told him that I remembered him as the human sacrifice from the Barkley.  He chuckled and said, “geez, I’m never living that down.”  I took a quick selfie as I figured he would soon leave me in the dust, but as it turns out we were pretty well matched for pace at that stage in the race.  We ran the incoming 7.5 miles together, chatting about races and how we got into running.  The time flew and before I knew it we had arrived back in camp.  Thanks, Tim, for getting me a segment PR and my fastest loop ever at Ghost Train.

I had chosen to change my shirt and socks each time I came in to Camp Tevya because again, it had served me well in Vermont.  I sat down to change socks and realized I had a blister brewing.  It was way too early in the race for this nonsense, but given the fact that my gait was altered due to the injury, it was an evil that needed to be addressed.  Brad quickly patched me up, and I had some food and Coke, geared back up, and headed back for loop 2.

Mindy Randall

I realized that the pace I ran for the first loop was not going to be sustainable, so I slowed considerably the second time out.  I was still moving well, eating and drinking plenty, and having a blast.  I leapfrogged Mike and Tim a couple of times, saw Liz and Kim and Laura in passing, and enjoyed the cool weather and the New England October scenery.  At this point, there was still no doubt in my mind that I would finish the hundred.  I blazed into the Milford aid station, crammed more goodies down (hard-boiled eggs, avocado wraps, and bacon – OH MY!!!) and then shot back over the bridge and onto the trail south.

Steve jackson 2

This was where I’d made a crucial mistake last year.  At the 30 mile mark I had not thought to put on warmer clothes and I paid the price by not being able to warm up the whole night.  That would not happen this year.  I again changed shirt and socks (and yet another blister had to be lanced and patched) and threw on a pair of warm pants.  I headed back out on the trail, this time with Brad in tow.  We covered miles 30-45 pretty well, and I know I ran way more during these miles than I had last year.  I still felt pretty strong and was continuing to eat and drink well, although I did notice that my mouth and throat seemed a bit dry.  This had happened last year, too, but much further into the race.  I didn’t pay much attention to this nuisance and just keep trucking along.  It was starting to get dark and it was very cool to see the new lights in the tunnel.  The volunteers had pulled out all the stops with decorations this year.  I hope they know how much we appreciated their efforts to make the trail as entertaining as possible.

Steve jackson

Back at Camp Tevya, I had Brad check out my injured foot.  It was beginning to feel bruised and I was getting a burning sensation after running for 5-10 minutes.  It would resolve itself after walking for a few minutes but I really didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole if I didn’t have to.  He couldn’t find anything but we patched the area anyway, thinking maybe a deep blister was brewing.  I was still moving along pretty well and was happy to now have Amy Rusiecki as my pacer for the next 30 miles.  I planned to pick her brain clean of whatever ultra knowledge she had while she pushed me forward towards the 75 mile mark.

Miles 45-60 passed much the same way, although I slowed considerably after leaving the Milford aid station.  Amy passed the time by telling me stories of her first 100 and meeting her husband Brian (B-Dog to his friends and competitors, as I found out).  It was so much fun running with her, and she took amazing care of me.  Even though I was hurting and slowing down I still had a smile on my face and was in really good spirits.  I was still on top of my fueling and hydration, and other than screaming quads and that nagging foot issue, I was jonesing to keep pressing on.  I tried to do the math in my head to figure out how I measured up to last year’s efforts, but runner brain took over and I quickly gave up.  Just keep swimming, I thought.

Coming into camp this time was a very different experience.  The world was (mostly) quiet and it was dark, with many runners of the shorter distances now sleeping and the finish line party subdued.  We looped through the covered bridge, across the start/finish mat, and back to my crew.  It was at this point that the very slightest notion of not finishing crept into my head.  The pain in my foot was multiplying and now showing up as compensatory pain behind my knee, in my hamstring, and the right quad was really sore, as it had taken the brunt of unloading the left foot with every stride.  I sat down for probably 20 minutes this time, eating noodles, getting my feet checked, and drinking down another Coke.  I added more warm clothing, changed the batteries in my fading headlamp, and Amy and I headed back out into the dark.

I made it most of the way to Milford before my foot gave up completely.  I was now reduced to just walking and it was taking its toll on all the joints in both feet, and the right leg was now almost useless for doing anything but moseying along on the flat.  The hill and the stairs were brutal.  Any uneven ground sent my foot into spasms.  We got to Milford and I sat by the fire with my feet up on the woodpile while Amy filled my pack and brought me food.  I had maintained a good mental outlook for 67.5 miles, but now I gave in to the emotions.  Amy dragged me out of the aid station and soon after we got back to the trail, she pulled out the big guns.  I had had my students write me notes for my crew to read to me when the shit hit the fan, and that time had come.

Steve Edwards

She read me the first few and my emotions just came crashing in.  All I could think about was letting those kids down.  I tried to summon up the strength to push those thoughts out of my mind.  A mile or so down the trail, she read me a few more.  When the tears came again, Amy asked me to tell her about the students who had written the notes.  I know she was trying to help me get my mind right again, but I had already given in.  The pain in my foot wasn’t likely to get any better.  The compensatory pain in other areas of my body would also continue to get worse, and I thought about what kind of damage I could be doing.  I already had my qualifying race for Vermont, so I had nothing to prove here.  I gave a voice to my concerns and we spent a few miles talking through my decision.  The more I thought about dropping, the better I felt.  Emotionally I was disappointed, but physically all I felt was relief.  We got back to camp and as we passed my crew spot, I looked at Brad and said “we need to have a conversation.”  Amy and I made our way through camp and across the 75 mile mat.  We got back to our crew and Brad sat me down to take a look at my feet.  Although he couldn’t see anything, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t imagine shuffling another 25 miles.  Just as that thought made its way out of my mouth, the wind and rain started.  That was the definitive moment for me.  I looked at Amy and said “can you go tell the timer that I’m done?”  And with that, my ride on the Ghost Train came to an end.  And I didn’t regret it one bit.  The only regret I have is that I didn’t get any photos together with my awesome crew.  I guess some things get forgotten when you try to run a hundred miles.  Couldn’t expect Amy to take any pics with her “I’m stuck in the 80s” flip phone.

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The wind and rain continued to increase as we packed up and headed back to the hotel.  Just before I collapsed into bed for some sleep, I checked out my foot in the harsh light of day.  It seems that the painful culprit was a large blood blister growing under the callus that had built up on the outside of my foot, evidence of me landing heavily on the outside of the instep.  At least now I had an answer.  When I woke up late that afternoon, I had pizza delivered to the hotel, opened a beer, and indulged in Gilmore Girls reruns on Netflix until I flamed out again around 11pm.

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I won’t be returning to this race in 2019, as I plan to do the VT100.  I’ll take what I learned from my 20 hours on the train and hopefully be at 100% and ready to tackle my dream race.  After having done the 100k option a few times now, its time to put the big girl pants on and step up to the plate.  As always, there are too many people to thank for all their help…all my running buddies, my crew Brad and Carolynn, and my pacer Amy.  Most of all I need to thank my incredible husband, Joe, for being endlessly supportive and never letting me give less than my best.

PS: I checked the results and I finished 8th overall, 2nd female in the 75 mile division.  Not to mention that I got to share some of the trail with not one, but TWO Barkley veterans.  Silver lining?

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When your best is just barely good enough. (Ghost Train 100 mile endurance run)

29 Oct

“To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.”

~ Steve Prefontaine

 

Pre has been an idol of mine since I started running. Maybe it was because he was a bullied, scrappy kid like I was. Or maybe it was because we shared the same birthday. Whatever the reason, whenever I run I think of Pre; but it wasn’t until I attempted my first 100 miler that his words really meant something to me.

The Ghost Train Trail Races are held at the end of October at Camp Tevya in New Hampshire. This seemed like a good venue for a first 100, considering the mostly flat terrain and the out-and-back course. Laura and I arrived on Friday in Nashua to check into our motel for the weekend, and it became clear very quickly that we probably weren’t staying at the Ritz. After meeting with our crew to set up our camp, we headed out to dinner and then back to the motel. We were awoken not once, not twice, but three times during the night by the, um, colorful clientele. Loud exhausts, drunken screaming matches in the parking lot, and yowling cats (yes, apparently someone living at the motel had a cat that wanted to be let into the room at 4am) all added up to not much sleep. Oh well – who sleeps well the night before a race anyway?

Brad and Carolynn picked us up early Saturday morning and we headed off to the race venue. They had picked out the BEST site…right next to an outbuilding that apparently had outside electrical outlets. This meant that we could have lights and boil water for food during the night. Perfect!! We had picked up our packets the night before and dropped off our bags at the Milford aid station, so all we had to do was wait for the race start. It was such a low-key, friendly atmosphere that I really didn’t feel nervous at all. It would be fun to get out on the course.

The YETI yell went off at 9:01am, and we were off down the trail. The plan was to do a 5:1 run/walk ratio until we couldn’t do that anymore. The trail was a mix of single track, old railroad bed, and a little bit of road. It went through people’s backyards, by picturesque ponds, and over a nice little technical hill that was just enough to keep it interesting. We also had to navigate a steep set of stairs and a tunnel under the highway. Not bad for the first few times, but obviously these little landmarks were going to be tough in the later miles.

   

The first 30 miles went by so fast that I don’t actually remember much about them – except for coconut bra guy. At first I thought I was already hallucinating, but no – I wasn’t. We laughed, got a photo taken with him to prove that we weren’t hallucinating, and started on the return trip to Camp Tevya.

When we arrived back at Camp Tevya at the 30-mile mark we were able to pick up Brad for his first 15 miles of pacing duty. The first 7.5 miles we kept up the 5:1 ratio but on the way back to camp we had to reduce that to running every other run segment. Clearly reality had started to set in, as well as fatigue. It was going to be a long night. It was at this point that I lost Laura, as she was starting to have blister issues. Brad texted ahead to Carolynn that we were two miles out and asked her to get some noodles ready. I was getting cold and the hot food would hopefully help me feel a bit better.

 

I left Camp Tevya with Jamie (who was doing her first 7.5 miles of pacing), leaving Laura with Brad to address her blisters. It was getting dark and colder and I hadn’t put on enough clothing, so all I wanted to do was get to the other aid station and my drop bag. Jamie took off her long sleeve and put it over me, and I felt bad but she assured me that she was ok. When we arrived at the aid station I added more layers of clothes and filled my camp cup with coffee, planning to walk the next couple of miles (which included the hill) and sip some hot coffee. I told Autumn of this plan, as she would be doing the next 7.5 miles with me. She kept me laughing when I hit my low points and kept me moving when I wanted to stop.

 

We had passed Laura on the out and back and discovered that she was moving well and not very far behind us. We arrived back at Camp Tevya and now it was my turn to have a blister taken care of. While Brad dealt with bandaging my foot, Laura arrived and I was happy to see that we’d be able to go back out together. We had run so many training miles together that it just didn’t seem right for us not to finish this race side by side. She waited while I finished up changing socks and getting some food, and we headed back out on the trail with Brad (now doing his second 15 miles of pacing).

The wheels had seriously come off the bus by now. We were 60 miles in and about to enter uncharted waters. It had been dark for hours, we were cold and tired, and there wasn’t much running involved. One foot in front of the other was all I could muster, and it was frustrating to have each mile take so long to pass by. I felt like we were getting nowhere fast, but I just couldn’t run anymore. I had succeeded in shutting out the demons for 60 miles, but they finally got a voice. I started saying how done I was, how hard this was, and how much I wanted to stop. It was WAY too early for that, but I couldn’t help it. What kept me going was remembering that I had so many people supporting me and tracking me, and letting them down was not an option.

 

Earlier in the day I had seen Amy Rusiecki on the trail and she had given me a big hug and told me to never give up. It did my heart good to see her again, this time volunteering at the Milford aid station. We were at mile 67.5 and all I wanted to do was sit by the fire and get off my aching feet. She listened to me whine, filled my cup with coffee, and sent me back out on the trail. I knew she was right to do that, but at that moment I hated her just a little bit. The good news was that this was the last leg we’d be doing in the dark. OK, I could deal with that. It has to get better in the daylight.

Arriving back at Camp Tevya and mile 75, we took some time to rest and eat. It was so cold. I kept thinking that I just wanted to be warm again. I had known that this was going to be hard, but it was still so much more difficult that I had ever imagined. I saw other people suffering out there too, so I knew we weren’t alone. We passed a guy dressed as Fred Flintstone several times, and each time his “yabba dabba do” got weaker and weaker. He was clearly having a really hard time. We cheering him on each time we saw him. It’s amazing how a bunch of strangers become like family when you are going through the same ups and down together.

 

We left Camp Tevya with Jamie on our last full out and back, and it was starting to get light out. Our spirits were lifted slightly by this, but I was still in a very low point. We had been walking for 15 miles, and it didn’t feel like that was going to change. I was exhausted, freezing, and my feet were throbbing. Luckily I had only the one blister (a small silver lining). I was well-fed and well-hydrated and amazingly alert, but I still didn’t want to walk anymore. Again, the thought of everyone tracking me made me leave the comfort of camp and go back out onto the trail.

As we approached the Milford aid station, Jamie said Autumn had texted her and told her she had hot chocolate for us. Nectar of the gods, as far as I was concerned. Amy was still at the aid station so of course she wouldn’t let me stay by the fire and enjoy the warmth. I hated her a little bit less this time; maybe because it was light out, maybe because we were headed back over that dreaded hill for the last time – whatever the reason, I knew that she did the right thing by encouraging us to keep moving. We shuffled back out of the aid station with Autumn and our hot chocolate and headed for home once more.

 

Carolynn was our pacer for the last 10 miles, and she was ready to go when we arrived back at camp. I didn’t want to spend any time here at all because my motivation to continue was seriously flagging and I knew if I didn’t just go back out there, I might not go at all. I shed most of the layers I had put on during the night, refilled my water, and we left camp. Brad decided to go with us as well (I think he realized that both Laura and I were completely shattered and Carolynn might need backup on the trail).

 

It was shortly after that that Brad got a text from my husband, Joe. He had been unable to come up due to work issues, but now had decided to make the two-hour drive from CT to see us finish. Brad assured him that he would arrive in time because we had been reduced to 20-minute miles. The thought of seeing Joe at the finish is the one thing that kept my feet moving for those last 10 miles. I wanted nothing more to do with the trail, the race, my food – I just wanted to stop. It was the most hollow feeling I’d ever experienced. Even at the turnaround mile 95, I felt like those last five miles might as well have been a thousand. I began to understand how people can drop at mile 95, or even 97. The slow pace of our footsteps made those miles drag on for what seemed like hours. Not even the knowledge that we had turned around for the last time that day helped get me out of that low.

I don’t think I let myself believe I would finish until my feet hit the pavement of Camp Tevya for the last time. We had less than a mile to go, and my feet had been screaming for almost 40 miles. I looked at Laura and told her that I thought this would be my first finish line walk. My feet hurt so bad that the pavement was just excruciating. As we approached our camp, I saw Joe and heard everyone cheering for us. My eyes filled with tears and I said “not yet. We haven’t finished yet. Everyone has to finish with us.” So Brad, Carolynn, Jamie, and Autumn joined our little caravan as we headed for the last time through the covered bridge and to the finish line.

We hit the little covered bridge and had 500 meters to the finish. Suddenly nothing hurt anymore. I swear my feet didn’t even hit the ground. Laura and I picked up the pace and we sprinted towards the finish line. I saw 29:03 on the clock as I mustered everything I had left and jumped over the timing mat, smiling like I’d just conquered the world. Holy shit, I thought. I freaking did it. The tears came as my husband handed me my buckle. Ghost Train 100 mile finisher, it read.

We went back to our camp and finally sat down for celebratory beers and to get off our poor feet. About 15 minutes after we finished, we saw our buddy Fred (who is really Benjamin Manning) pop out of the woods and onto the pavement. We gave him a standing ovation as he passed us, and hollered out our best yabba dabba do. So glad to see him make it after all the suffering he’d been though as well.

 

It really does take a village. None of this is accomplished on our own. I had the support of Honey Stinger (my fuel of choice in between the bacon and sweet potatoes of the aid stations).  I had the most supportive and unbelievably crazy training partners (thank you Laura L, Laura B, Crutch, Donnie, Liz, Beth, Nancy, Eric, Jamie, Autumn, Courtney, Tracy and countless others). I had the best crew EVER (my deepest, most heartfelt thanks to Brad, Carolynn, Jamie and Autumn for keeping me going and for mostly ignoring my shenanigans). And of course, I could never ever have done this without my awesome husband Joe, who not only continues to support this crazy journey I’ve chosen for myself, but who also continues to surprise me by showing up unexpectedly – usually when I need it the most.

 

I learned so much about myself in those twenty-nine hours and three minutes that I was on the Ghost Train trail. It wasn’t always fun, but it was a blast. I dredged up amounts of perseverance that I never thought I had. And at the end of the day, I gave nothing less than my best to this race. I hope I made you proud, Pre.

TARC Summer Classic (or my version of the Amazing Race)

14 Aug

“Keep close to Nature’s heart…and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods.  Wash your spirit clean.” ~ John Muir

 

The Trail Animals Running Club Summer Classic was held in Medfield, MA on August 12, 2017. I had signed up for the 50k as a way to get in a long supported training run in preparation for my first 100 miler (Ghost Train!!) and see some new trails. My longtime training partner Laura had originally signed up for the 40M but I convinced her to drop to the 50k so we could run it together and enjoy the trail. Misery loves company, right?

TARC summer classic pre race

The weather stalking began earlier in the week and it looked like we were in for a wet run. Fine with me, as this would cut down on the heat and the bugs. We knew that this race has had some issues with bees and I was not interested in dealing with bee stings during a long day (not to mention that Laura is allergic). As the week progressed, the weather forecast didn’t change so we felt confident that this would not be a problem.

 

Laura and I, along with our friend Caitlin, arrived at our host Eric’s house Friday night. Seemed like a good plan, considering he lived the closest to the race venue. After a dinner of Subway grinders (yes I know, not the healthiest but it was easy and seriously – who wants to cook the night before an ultra??) and watching the end of an awesome classic movie, Eric headed to bed and left us girls to hold court in the living room. It was like a high school slumber party. Probably not the best idea before running 31 miles, but it was so much fun. I highly recommend it.

 

The alarm went off way too early on Saturday morning, giving us girls only about 3 hours of sleep. After coffee and a small breakfast we headed off to Medfield in the rain. Shortly after arriving at the race venue the rain stopped and we were able to get our drop bags ready and to the start line while staying fairly dry. After a quick briefing by RD Jeff Dixon, we were off like a herd of turtles, ready for the day.

 

The plan was to run very easy for the whole 31 miles, and we stuck to it right from the beginning. When we stopped to walk the first hill, we had to move aside to let a group of runners go by and we learned that two of those runners were doing their first trail race. They had registered not realized that the 50k was trail, not road. Oh boy, I thought. They are in for a tough day. We continued with our run/walk pattern, keeping the heart rate way down, and just enjoying being together in the woods.

 

TARC Summer Classic 2017
(photo courtesy of Mike Kenney)

We were part way through the first of three ten-mile laps when I spotted something up the trail. I’m always nervous in the woods, especially these days with all the bear and coyote sightings. Hoping it was nothing we slowed down but continued at an easy jog. As we got closer I realized we were blessed with a once in a lifetime experience. A rare sighting of a legend. I managed to get a quick picture before he darted back off down the trail.

TARC summer classic Yeti

We finished the first loop in 2:50. Our goal was to stay under 9 hours, so this was perfect. So far, the trail had been fairly easy. A little hillier than expected, a little more technical than expected, but the challenge was fun and the trail was well marked and we were having a blast. We filled up on snacks and soda at the aid station, topped off our water, and started out on loop two.

 

This loop was pretty uneventful. We knew it would be the toughest one mentally so we just walked and ran and chatted about life. When we reached the lookout on this loop, there were hikers there also enjoying the view. One of them offered to take a photo of us and we quickly agreed. Preserving memories is so important to me, as we sometimes forget details during those long miles. After chatting with them for a few minutes we continued on our way, and the rest of the loop went by in a blur.

TARC summer classic 12

Coming in to the start/finish area for the second time was awesome. We had walked in the first time, trying to be conservative. This time we came jogging in and got a cheer from the volunteers. It’s such a lift to the spirit to hear people whistling, clapping and yelling for you. In most sporting events, only the winners get this. In running, even the final runners get the same enthusiastic greeting. Its one of the reasons I love this sport. We finished this lap in 3:02. A little bit slower than the first (which is to be expected) but still in the ballpark of consistency.

(photos courtesy of Edith Dixon)

We headed out on our final lap feeling pretty good. Yes we were tired, but it was satisfying to know that we would be running the technical parts and climbing the hills for the last time that day. So far everything had gone according to our plan, which is a rare thing in ultras. We were eating well, staying hydrated, keeping the heart rate down, and had managed to stay on our feet. In this last loop I did have one slip on a wet bridge and went down, but sustained no injuries. I consider that a huge win.

 

A lot of the trails are two-way traffic and it was so fun to see other runners, especially the leaders, so many times during the day. Getting encouragement from those other runners (and giving it back in kind) helps to cement the trail family. We passed one girl who was having a very hard time and we spent a few minutes walking and chatting with her. As we starting running again, Laura heard her start sobbing and it broke my heart. I understand the struggle out there on the trail – I’ve been there many times.   I hoped she would pull out of her low and start to feel better.

(photos courtesy of Laura Bachiochi)

We arrived at aid station 7 (mile 25 for us, mile 28 for the 40 milers) still feeling pretty good. By chance we got there at the same time as Caitlin and Eric and we took a few minutes to catch up and see how everyone’s races were going. At that moment, the solitary runner we had passed a mile or so back arrived, and we all cheered loudly for her. She seemed in good spirits and I hoped that we had helped her just a little. At this point the two trail virgins came into the aid station behind us. We found out that they had taken a very long rest break at the start/finish area. They looked super strong and we thought they were pretty lucky considering they’d come into an event completely unprepared for the challenge. After a few more moments of snacking and talking, Laura and I headed off in one direction and Eric and Caitlin in the other.

TARC summer classic 13

About a mile down the trail we caught back up to the two runners. They seemed to be ok despite just standing in the middle of the trail, so we kept on going. Taking advantage of the relatively flat, buffed out section, we ran as strong as we could without depleting ourselves for the final miles.

 

As we entered the last half-mile, we decided that we’d walk until we hit the last corner and then run the finish. We were both getting pretty fatigued and had been doing nothing more than shuffling for the last 5 or 6 miles. Somewhere during those last miles we had had a conversation about how much the brain acts as a governor, conserving your energy and giving you the impression that you are more tired than you really are. Little did we know how prophetic that conversation would be.

 

You can really smell the barn when you crest a steep little hill and see the algae covered pond. At this point you are about a quarter mile from the finish, and we were very eager to be there but seemingly unable to do more than a halting, staggering jog over the rocky, rooty terrain. We navigated the steep downhill and began walking around the pond and towards the finish line. A few seconds later we heard whooping from behind and we turned to see the two trail newbies, cresting that same little hill. I became a split personality in an instant. While I was so glad to see them finish and I was super happy they came through the race uninjured and looking strong, I just couldn’t let them finish ahead of us. I looked at Laura and said “oh HELL no”, and took off like I’d been shot out of a cannon with Laura hot on my heels.

 

When we rounded the last corner and came into sight of the finish, the volunteers went nuts. It was the fastest quarter mile of our entire race and we were just flying. After being careful all day long, and thinking we were so done-in, it felt amazing to be going that fast. We crossed the finish line in 8:56. The two trail newbies came in a few minutes after us, and we all exchanged high fives and congratulations. If it hadn’t been for their arrival at the top of that hill when they did, we wouldn’t have broken our nine-hour goal. I was glad to see them finish their first ultra, and I was glad they had gotten us to our goal, but I was especially glad because we were all still smiling.

TARC summer classic post race

A big thank you to all the Trail Animals for putting on such a great race. What a fun group of people!!! From the race director to the aid station volunteers to the photographers out on the course, there was never a time when we were not greeted with smiles, encouragement, and laughter. I’ll be sure to be back next year, hoping for another legendary sighting.