JJ100 - LAP 4: This really isn't all that bad.

Trick or treat, bitches! I’m back and you LOVE it! I was in excellent spirits coming back into the main checkpoint and happy to see my friends, but mostly ice. Again, I reloaded with more salt stick, more body glide, more sunscreen* and oh my god more GU. Soaked my skull head band (I'm legit.) in some cold water and man did that feel glorious. I took a moment to bend over a bit to stretch my lower back and suddenly realized how ungodly hot it was.

*another Headlands lesson. Scroll down and reference the Jamaican version of myself here.

“it’s gonna get even hotter.” Thanks Jimmy. (photo cred: Mira)

Again, I hit a low point coming out of the Jeadquarters, and again I just focused on its inevitable passing and the pending sunset. Just some more hours and some more miles. Forward progress. Relentless.

I saw P-Dubs heading in to the aid station and he definitely looked worse than I was feeling. Yep... sooner or later I’d feel like that too and I knew it. We’d all have our moments on this day. There was no escaping them. Kate was in her sixties hipster loop and seeing her and Skelley really brightened my spirits. I could feel how truly excited mi Kate was for how strong I was running and I let that feed me. It’s amazing the strength that encouragement can bring… when it is genuine. That’s Kate. It fed me right into Pink Steel a mile or so later coming round the bend in her pink tutu. Everyone was all smiles – so they were either feeling great or they had me seriously fooled.

I rolled into Jackass Junction at somewhere around 10 ½ hours and guess what? I finally peed. Glory Glory Hallelujah… I’m not unknowingly dying of dehydration. I was really proud of myself for the next couple miles.

The next cool thing that happened was I hit mile 50. Why is this so cool, you ask? Well because up until this point I have never ran one step over 50 miles. Now, every step I took would be farther than I had ever gone… harder than I had ever worked… longer than I had ever run.

Relentless.

Typical shot of me at any point in the day. Apparently, I think running in a desert is fun. (photo cred: Tammy Parliment Massie)

Around mile 60 I began to feel some pain in my pinky toes – it basically felt like I was running on top of them. Also noteworthy was the fact that they felt about twice the size as normal. Bilsters, probably. Yep, definitely blisters. This made me realize that I had never switched out of my Defeet compression socks and into toe-saving injinjis as originally planned. (Which was why I wanted these). Which made me realize that I never had any Achilles issues like normal, which was why I chose to wear the compression socks in the first place. Which in turn made me realize somewhere over the last 20 miles or so my IT band just stopped hurting. Which obviously meant that the blisters too would cease to be a problem as well if I just kept running. I like this plan: run to make new things hurt so that other things stop hurting. Word.

And just like that, the painted desert sunset was upon me. I was working my way through the middle part of the course, ipod blaring some fantastic jams featuring me on back-up. The blistering heat had begun to subside and my skin happily bathed in the beautiful pink light of the setting sun. ‘Twas if my iPod knew (not that I am surprised given that it is an Apple product)… Coldplay’s “Message” strung up as I watched the light dance off the red rocks surrounding the desert floor. My mind wandered to the last time I watched the sun fade away to that very song – against the backdrop of Yosemite’s Half Dome after my first “ultra weekend.” Guys, I’m going to be honest here: I shed a few tears. First time I cried today, and it had nothing to do with pain… only joy and complete and utter happiness for where I was and the choices that led me here. Both physically, and in life in general. I thought about that first voyage into the unknown – when for no particular reason I decided to run 31 miles up in the mountains just because it was my birthday and I felt like it. I thought about my first official ultra; the roaring thunderstorm that shook the forest floor and made me feel more alive than I’ve felt in years. I remembered flying down the single track above the fog of the Marin Headlands; I remembered breaking down and sobbing in a valley in the San Gabriels. I recalled all of the places my feet had carried me this summer in preparation for this day – trekking through the historic western states course, running under waterfalls in Yosemite, momentary pauses at the top of westridge as the cardboard cutout city peeked above the watercolored clouds, headlamp-less adventures far above the sparkling lights of LA, a hot, steamy morning running along the riverbed where I grew up and first fell in love with the sport …. this is what my life is made of. Too, I remembered the injuries, the anger and the emotional ups and downs of a confusing, trying and totally necessary summer. The pain and the heartache I ran out of me. Out here in the clean and crisp air of forgiveness I was at peace with it all and I was overwhelmed with what I’d become. Somehow, I like myself better.

The word you are looking for is "whoa." (photo cred: Peter Birney)

I ran with my thoughts and Gwen Stefani for awhile, feeling lighter and more able than I expected at 60 some odd miles. Whatever. Let’s go with it. I began to seriously worry about Dom (nursing an ankle injury sustained the same morning I was attacked by the tiger) when I didn’t see him where I had expected…. and then didn’t see him for another 4 miles. But right as twilight set in, I saw the yellow Moeben’s cresting a hill and a smile so big it was visible from 100 meters away. A much needed hug and a renewed spark in his eye let me know that he was going to finish. I never worried about Dom again.*

*Not that I needed to in the first place - the kid is made of nails.

Low point #3 came a few miles out from the Jeadquarters. It was dark and I stumbled a bit coming down the rocky section which threw my rhythm all off. I felt remarkably good for having run 61 miles. Felt remarkably bad for still having 40 to go. I was beginning to hurt all over, I was tired and I couldn’t hold back the whimpers. I was okay, but my body was starting to retaliate.

Things are about to get weird... (photo cred: Peter Birney).

JJ100 - LAP 3: If you freeze water, it tastes good.

Came rolling back into the Jeadquarters in a 50k PR and that instantly seemed like a bad idea. Interesante. Regardless, I reloaded on salt stick, filled my pockets with what I thought was enough GU, more body glide*, and decided to take my ipod out for a spin.

*the chaffing I experienced at Headlands was other-worldly. This will NOT happen again.

Oops, left the ipod on the table. Whatever. Time to fucking run.

Checking in with Coach Jimmy before I go save the world. BLAMO! (photo cred: Peter Birney).

Okay, so here’s the thing about dressing as Batman for Halloween:

#1. It requires me wearing all black.

#2. On this given Halloween I happen to be running 100 miles.

#3. The location of said run is in the middle of a DESERT.

You do the math.

Exhibit A. (photo cred: Will LaFollette).

Needless to say, the “climb” out of the Jeadquarters was brutal in the heat. This shall henceforth be considered my first low point of the race. What this entailed exactly is me feeling pretty damn terrible no matter if I walked or ran or hiked or backwards hiked – so obviously, I just ran. The good news was that the millions ‘o GU started to taste like liquid hot magma down my throat which of course was both awesome and delicious. Like, picture taking generic cake icing – you know not the shit your grandma makes, but the slightly metallic tasting kind from Smart “n Final-type establishments – wrapping it in tin foil and then setting it out on the blacktop for the duration of a hot and steamy summer afternoon in say, Houston, Texas. Then eat it. And wash it down with hot ass Gatorade. Repeat 30 TIMES. The interesting thing here was that I was 100% positive that the feeling would pass and eventually I'd feel all special inside again. Even if that took until sunset – and sunset would be on the next loop! Remarkably, 5-6 hours really didn’t seem all that far away.

In retrospect, that makes me want to tell myself to shut up.

Be it known that the ice (per Krobot) at Coyote Camp saved me. Now the thing about ice is that I was previously unaware of its association with witchcraft and other such sorcery. Make no mistake, that shit brought me back from the dead and I don’t care what devil’s play was involved. Maybe I’m a zombie now, I don’t know…. Actually that makes a lot of sense…. Anyway, from then on out it was all about living GU to hot ass GU – aid station to aid station. Because aid station meant ice. And holy crap, I love ice.

The ominous shadow of Batman. (Photo cred: Mira).

JJ100 - LAP 2: I really should have peed by now.

Trick or treat, bitches. (photo cred: Mira).

I came into the Jeadquarters all smiles and feeling absolutely great. I switched outta the fleece moebens and into the nylon, grabbed the sunglasses, reapplied the glide (thank you Jesus), sprayed down with the sunscreen I forgot in the AM and OUT. There would be no time wasted in aid stations today.

The desert heat began to rise and I knew I needed to slow down a bit on this lap. (Vinnie Torres – how many times did you tell me to stay conservative throughout the day so I could run at night? That was what, like 17 facebook posts?) I momentarily panicked as my stomach wretched while eating yet another Vanilla GU, now conveniently baked by my black Moeben pocket. However, I remembered the Slagel-fly told me to ginger it up at the very first hint of stomach issues, so I popped some in pill form stat. I never had another GI issue the entire race.

Panic #2 set in as my right IT started flaring up out of the gate. It’s been 20 miles, WTF? It’s going to be a looooong day if that shit doesn’t subside. Like, NOW. I don’t remember a whole lot from the rest of the loop other than how good I felt otherwise. And how much I loved that middle rolling section. And how much said section was going to suck in about 10 hours. I caught up to mi chica Diana Treister and ran with her on and off for most of the day which was bueno. But I had lost all my other homies… which begged the question, was I going too fast??? Ah, fuck it. I was having FUN. My only real concern was why I hadn’t peed yet.

JJ100 - LAP 1: Less Too Fast than Expected

They asked me to use my legal name.

Once again, somebody sent me a link. And once again I’m standing on a starting line about to face the hardest thing I’ve ever done. How I got here, I’m not quite sure other than it involved some intense training, a lot of Gatorade* and a Civic. And here I am.

*Yes, I use Gatorade. Get over it.

5…. 4…. 3….. 2….. 1…. CRACK!

I crossed the starting line arm-in-arm with the Kates and took off into the dark, cold Arizona desert. I was calm, my mind was quiet; echoing the stillness of the landscape. I mean really, what do I have to be nervous about? I’m not going to WIN the thing for chrissakes – Abbs has got that one all sewn up. (I know!) Not really understanding what I had gotten myself into, today was less about a “race” and more about an “exercise in survival.” Just call me Bear Grylls – wait until the part where I drink my own urine. No. No, that didn’t happen. Anyway, Guillaume caught up right out of the gate and as we talked I looked down and realized we had picked up the pace quite a bit. (side note: The last time I saw G, I was half-dead sleeping on a bench at PMSP. Oh wow, that was less than two weeks ago). I slowed down, let G go and fully expected team Kate to catch back up. But I never ran with them again after the first 2 minutes. The dark really wasn’t all that dark and I was sad because I wanted to use my Bat Signal. Oh yeah, did I fail to mention I ran 100 miles dressed as Batman? Well, I did. Peow. Peow.

Dananananananana - nananananananana.... BATMAN! -GIRL! -WOMAN! -PERSON! (ask me how many times i heard THAT song). (photo cred: Will LaFollette).

During the first loop I focused on not running too fast. That sounds ridiculous, but seriously – do you have any idea how slow an 11 minute mile is? And do you have any idea how long it seems to run 100 miles at that pace and SLOWER? Yuck. I reluctantly strapped on my Garmin and anytime it clocked below 10 minute mile pace, I put on the breaks. Unless I was going down a "hill." (quotations will be removed on subsequent laps). Anything’s fair game if I’m going downhill. I also got this word in my head maybe 45 minutes into the thing… and that word stuck with me throughout the day, into the night, the next morning… and it’s still swirling around up there now. My mantra.

Relentless.

Before long, I caught up to P-Dubs, gave him an ass slap (this is typical, don’t worry) and we ran the rolling section together (middle 5 miles, my fave). Again, I got into a conversation with one of many freaking crazy but totally awesome dudes and pulled away, fully expecting him to catch back up. I never ran with Peter again either. That sucks because he is entertaining as hell.

Finding my stride...

Today, I felt the strength in my legs; the power at my feet.

I felt the wind in my hair, the calm of the quiet morning.

My pace quickened.

I felt the frenetic energy of internal struggle; I felt my mind go blank.

I felt the chill in the air; the end to a summer of many trials and many miles.

My breath, deliberate.

Today I felt the rhythm of the world flying by; I felt the anger and frustration melt.

I felt the love in my heart.

I felt the joy in my soul.

Today, I ran with reckless abandon.

Today, I lived.

Dear Everyone: I'm back.

I don't even LIKE cream in my coffee!

Uhhhh.. are you okay?

Oh my god I just fell asleep in line at Whole Foods.

It's 2:30 on a Wednesday afternoon and I'm standing in line waiting for a sandwich I don't want to eat. Well, actually I was standing - that is, until I decided it was a good time to catch some shut eye and fell into the coffee bar. I'm not hungry. I'm obviously tired. I'm freezing even though it's 95 degrees outside because I can't regulate my body temperature. My everything hurts. I look terrible.

No. No, I'm not okay. Bitch, I just fell into table of assorted creamers. But thank-you for asking!

In summation, I feel like total shit.

But you know what I don't feel like?

Doing anything! Not even running. Especially not running. I'll pause here for dramatic gasps and looks of general confusion, shock, horror and complete aghast-ness.

I'm late for every morning workout. I suffer through them and speed home after to try and get an extra 40 minutes of sleep in before work - which is made possible in part by not showering. I pound tea and coffee all day to keep from falling asleep at the computer, or at the wheel... or at local organic grocers. Then I go "run" which I now view as torture - after which my stomach immediately begins to wretch from the caffeine and the lunch I skipped while unknowingly working through my break. I go home with terrible stomach cramps, hop on skype and sit through hours of graphics discussion with a web team in India... all the while staring at all of my shit and telling it to pack itself via mind beams. (I'm moving. Ack).

Guys I'm not complaining. What's happening here is a complete and total meltdown and honestly, I'm not the least bit surprised. I expected this. What I didn't expect is just how bad it would get. Let me just put this out there: I fucking hate running right now. I mean, I like the idea of running, but ask me to do it and thanks, but I'll pass. But I don't pass and instead continue to force myself out the door with the highest of hopes that at some point along the run at some abstract mile I will start to feel better. Normal.

But it never comes.

Instead I watch people pass me, as my legs are unable to respond. My quads lock, my breath is short, I struggle to hold a 7:30 pace. Welcome to every day of my current life! Every single run I come to the brink of completely breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably, which of course would be fun for everybody. Sitting in my car in the dark of morning, tears streaming down my face knowing that I have to get out and run is a thrice occuring scenario.

This is what it feels like to train for 100 miles. This is where I find my breaking point. This is evidence of a summer well spent.

THIS is beautiful.

Things my mom would tell me not to do...

On Saturday morning, I got into a car with a complete stranger and drove 6.5 hours to a remote desert in Arizona to run all night on the Javelina course. Now, I realize how this may sound but seriously, do you think I didn't complete a facebook check? Friends with two of my friends = legit. Plus, it pretty much takes all your crazy to want to run 100 miles in a desert, so there's no reserves left for things like axe murdering, kidnapping, et. al.

Guys, excellent decisions are my forté.

I started running at 6pm after eating fresh, and figured I'd do 2 or 3 loops. Yes, I tried to go the wrong way two times on a trail that is impossible to get lost on. THERE IS ONE TRAIL. FOLLOW IT. I just really wanted to get extra soft sand running in and get cut to shit by some desert shrubs. Whatever, check this out:

Now you want to come run in a desert don't you?

I figured each 15.5 mile loop would take me about 3.5-4 hours. I was wrong. I came rolling back to the Jeadquarters at 2:40. I chilled for a bit, ate some things and took off counter-clockwise. I did not, however, refill my pack with delicious and refreshing H2O. This was particularly great when, 6 miles into the loop, I grabbed the tube and nothing came out. Bone. Dry. However, I reasoned that I could run 9.5 miles with no water so I kept pressing forward. No water meant no salt pills and not much food, so my left calf decided to start cramping like a bitch. It hurt much worse to walk... plus walking means more time until I get water, so I ran it in for a 50k right under 6 hours.

Well, shit - now I HAVE to run another loop. The night's only half over. At this rate I'm going to have to run two more loops and I don't see ANY reason to run 62 miles tonight. So I took about a 10 minute break to rehydrate, switch shoes, Golden Sunshine my calf up, get Golden Sunshine in my eyes, drink some Mountain Dew AND REFILL MY PACK. Then I started running clockwise again. Loop, loop, loop it up!

It was past midnight at this point, and that meant that it was way past my bedtime. I know, I know, I am the coolest. Accordingly, I got pretty sleepy and though my body felt alright I actually began resting my eyes a little while running. Fortunately, where the Mountain Dew failed me, extreme jelly beans did not. I only bought them because they said EXTREME! but now I understand. Holy shit.

I passed people coming in from loop 2 sporadically for about 5 miles... and then there was nothing. Here is where the realizations started happening:

#1. I am out in the middle of nowhere completely alone. If I take a wrong turn, I am feasibly going to die out here. I am bizarrely okay with this.

#2. Why the hell am I doing this? No seriously... why am I out here? Why am I running? Why do I feel compelled to do things like this? It makes no sense.

#3. This is some Mothman Prophecies shit.

#4. This definitely calls for some Pink Floyd.

#5. This one's good. Now, I was used to seeing about 4 or 5 people begin to pass me in the opposite direction as I got closer to the Jeadquarters. This was not happening. I got within 2 miles and legitimately started to freak out that everyone was gone. My only logical reasoning was that a crazy serial killer had descended upon the aid station, brutally murdering everyone there and everyone who came running in. I decided that I would approach carefully and quietly until I could discern that there were live people that weren't murderers at base camp. Messed up, right?

I learned back at camp that a) there were no crazed killers; and b) pretty much everyone had stopped at loop 2. I considered running another lap for about 2 seconds but chose a fig newton and a chair when I found out NO ONE was running a fourth and that the race directors were playing Bags. Then I was informed there was a shower and yes, yes, I was done. I had to wait for said shower, so I laid down on the ground and played with desert mice. I tried to feed them a cola gel blast but they weren't having it.

All said and done, we got in the car around 4:45am and headed back to LA. In a subsequent email between my girl Kate and the RD, it was noted how crazy I was for driving that far immediately after running 47 miles overnight. I find this hilarious because had I continued to run for 6.5 hours, no one would have said a thing. But DRIVING 6.5 hours??? That shit is INSANE!

Now, without further adeiu, I present to you my full-on course report. This is for all my homegirls and homies running the race and anyone else who's curious about the Javelina. Check it:

That's it people. One trail. Pemberton. Fîn.

First of all, the course is 100% runnable. I would liken the loop to Sullivan Canyon - very gradual up then gradual down. The "hilly" section begins about 5 miles into the clockwise loop and lasts for about 5 miles. It's basically a bunch of undulating small rollers that I actually found nice. I would not define anything on this course as a "climb."

This puppy shows 3 loops: clockwise, counter-clockwise, clockwise again. Alternately, it looks like the back of a Stegosaurus.

The long dark lines across the course are not shadows, but rather slabs of wood. It took me roughly 7 hours and 30 toe stubs to realize this. Actually, the wood is a good way to make sure you didn't veer off the trail....

Speaking of which, you will not get lost. I mean, I definitely tried to twice on my first loop but I figured some shit out. There is really only one deep sandy wash and that's towards the beginning of the clockwise loop. From then on, you only cross the washes - if you find yourself in a mass of soft sand for more than 2 or 3 steps, you probably went the wrong way. Bushwhacking through spiny shrubbery will also be a good indicator.

Which brings me to my next point: for the love of god, stay to the middle of the trail. There are spiny ass bushes on the sides and they will tear your shit up. My legs are a mess. Some of these spinies are poisonous , so I'm told, and if they barb you and stay in your skin; you may end up with goiter-hand. It happened to Ted.

Javelinas are real, and not just mythical cartoon characters. I saw one and I was not impressed.

The trail is not technical and there are few rocks. I only stumbled like 2 or 20 times. There is one downhill section when you are coming counterclockwise that's kind of rocky (i.e. the best part) but other than that you don't need much fancy footwork.

Shoes: I tried 2 laps in trails, 1 in road. Verdict: it doesn't matter. The road shoes felt nice, just because it was a fresh pair of kicks. My Xodus (Xodi?) are super light for trail shoes so I didn't notice much of a difference. I would say just go as light as possible.

You are going to drink a lot more water, et. al. than you think. It is dry as fuck out there and even at night I was going through almost 2 full liters per 15.5 mile lap.

If you haven't tried the new Sport Beans EXTREME!, they are the jam. Caffeinated jelly beans? Say no more... I am in.

If you are worried about the loop situation being boring, let me put your mind at ease. It would not matter if it was point-to-point or 100 loops - it all looks the same anyway, so I would suggest just developing a love for cacti and dry brush over the next month and a half.

If you prefer trees, you are going to be horribly disappointed. Sorry. It is a fucking desert, remember?? Accordingly there are no shade providers and I imagine it will be hot as balls out there in the middle of the afternoon. I wonder if "naked" counts as a legitimate costume?

I didn't use a light at all. This is partially because my flashlight fell out of my pack and is now lost, and also because I didn't need it. Once the moon came up, I was golden and actually surprised to see so many people with headlamps. There's an hour or so period when the moon is coming up from behind the mountains (the ones you don't get to run up) that it's pretty dark and you might want a light. I just bummed off some guy instead.

All and all, this is going to be a very fast course. With our AC training, team Coyote should dominate this shit. The biggest problem is going to be not going out too fast (Do I need to mention names here?) and remembering to stay conservative throughout the heat of the day. The course won't make you walk, so you've got to make yourself.

I plan to follow my own advice... that is, unless someone tries to lap me. Then I'll just run until I puke. And then I'll run/puke until I keel over and die.

Oh, and here's this, in case you want to size up your competition.