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.

DeSplintroduction.

photo credit: Peter Williams, aka P-dubs

So. I said I was going to start a blog about something for awhile now. I took a good look at my life and realized that I basically do two things: write. and run. Luckily, someone then hit me over the head with a 2x4 because I never would've seen a running blog coming! From the likes of ME! Craziness!

So here's the thing: I'm not going to bore you with details of my training plan... mainly due to the fact that I don't have one, per say. Fuck. You know what my original plan was this year? To run a couple marathons and my first 50k. Interesting, because I'm running 100 miles in two months. How did that happen? I don't know. Someone sent me a link, probably.

INSTEAD, I'm going to attempt to entertain you with the weird ass shit that occurs either legitimately, or in my brain as I push my body to the limits in my quest for.... well, I don't really know what I am on a quest for, but yes. It is extreme. For example, today me and my friend P-dubs ran into this guy they call Pine Tar out in La Jolla Valley. He sewed this mask out of the same material he used to sew his own tent... when he solo-hiked 800 miles of the PCT. Pretty fucking legit, if you ask me.

"Hey, are you guys adventure runners?!" ~ Pine Tar

So that's it. Should you choose to read, I will make you laugh, I will make you cry and I will make you concerned for my sanity. And then I will agree with you. Additionally, I figured out how to hook up this twitter bullshit that all the kids are raving about, so my goal is to use it for race updates and stuff. Grandma: you can know that I am alive while running 100 miles in a desert without having to sign up for the face thing or bird thing or any of that jazz.

Good chat. Catch up on my evolution into ultrarunner via Epic Summer 2009 and check back on a semi-frequent basis for untimely and irregular posts. I'm just being honest here.

Mad Love.

Katie!

Projectile Puke and Rally!

Bulldog 50K Ultra

This is an example of a bulldog. Meet Stella. Awwwwww....

This is a demonstration of what happens when you try to control a bulldog. This WAS a cone fastened around Stella's neck to prevent her from ruining a set of stitches. This picture was sent to me the night before the race. Foreshadowing?????

Oh my. Oh MY.

The good news is that a 50k doesn't seem all that long to me anymore. The bad news is that I am a human, not a robot*, and therefore that whole me feeling fiiiine after a solid 50 mile performance turns out to be false. The fuck was I doing tempo runs 2 days after the hardest and longest I have ever run thus far in life? Jesus.

*alternately, Krogmann

In retrospect, I probably should have known something was up the week preceding this race, given that I was the most hungry and most tired person in greater Los Angeles County. Seriously. In one day, I ate 1 am donuts; 4 blueberry waffles and a banana; Souplantation buffet; AND sat in the all-you-can-eat section at Dodger Stadium. Holy, recovery mode, batman! When I wasn't eating, I was busy falling asleep at my computer roughly 2-7 times daily.

I probably also should have listened to those who expressed concern for me running a 50k only two weeks after a 50miler. I am NOT a seasoned ultrarunner and it will take time for me to be able to do back to back races like this. No, strike that. It will take time for me to do back to back races sucessfully. I understand this now.

Enter the 2009 Bulldog 50k Ultrarun. i.e. My first Ultramarathon, which ended up being my third. Confused? So am I.

Explanation: My original plan for 2009 was to run 4 marathons in my quest to run 30 before I'm 30; and hopefully complete my first Ultra in August in the form of Bulldog. Then, and only then would I consider running 50 miles early in 2010. And maybe I'd think about cracking 100 in 2011. Hmmm.... so in reality, I will actually have completed 4 ultras including 2 50ks, a 50 miler and a 100 MILER; three road marathons, a handful of halves or shorter races and lest we not forget that starting this summer I run at least one marathon distance training run most every week... sometimes two... oftentimes back to back on sat/sun. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?????

I don't know, but it is awesome.

What was NOT awesome was Bulldog. So let me get back to that...

I slept alright on Friday and ate my normal breakfast. I had a nice drive with P-dubs in the Jeep, listening to my kick ass playlist and my normal coffee and sugar. I drank a normal amount of water. I went to the bathroom a normal amount of times. I felt altogether...normal.

The race started and I took off with P-Dubs and Kate, my normal training partners. The pace was normal. FUCK, EVERYTHING WAS NORMAL!!!

Kate took off when a chick in tiny shorts caught up to us, but I decided to stay conservative and save it for the climb. Since that's what I normally do. Sure enough, I got to Bulldog and as I began steadily running the steep climb I could see myself catching back up to Kate and Booty Shorts. Good. I did the right thing.

Then I did the wrong thing and decided to eat some Honey Stingers. Hmmm... that doesn't seem right.... And then the Honey Stingers were donated to nature. This was not normal. But I did feel better, so I kept moving up the climb. Badass Bev caught up to me and we joked a bit about her being an 'old' beast of a climber and me being a downhill animal with youngster legs not made of balsa wood. Accordingly, I took off when we reached the summit and this is to be considered the one time in the entire history of the race that I was semi-enjoying myself. I credit that largely to the random mix I had kicking of Vampire Weekend, MGMT, Coldplay and old-school No Doubt, Tragic Kingdom-style. As per usual, I passed a slew of folks on the downhill (including Micro Minis) despite the rumbling in my stomach. As I rolled into the aid station, I realized it had been quite some time and that I should probably try to eat something. Pretzels seemed like a good idea.

Pretzels were a very bad idea. About four minutes later, pretzels were covering the side of the trail. Ok, here's where I started to realize things were not necessarily "good." Two hours into this thing, I had kept 0 calories down and my legs were well aware of this fact. Before I knew it, I had cruised through the halfway point and headed up for my second loop. I had yet to hit my happy place, which normally dominates all trail runs and trail races entered by me. Bulldog loomed ahead and I knew I had to get some glycogen into my system if I was going to make it up the second time. Maybe a .... Powerbar?

Nope.

And that one was projectile. Ok, SHIT. Yes. Yes, I am miserable. And now I am walking. Additionally I am getting passed by a bunch of people that by the looks of them have no business passing me. This officially sucks. Wait, I need to puke again...

This. Is. Not. Good. Just make it to the aid station, Katie. Maybe they have a solution. The aid station's solution is Coke. Coke is not a valid solution. At this point, I have become increasingly unsure of my ability to run 9 more miles with thousands more feet of climbing on a completely depleted and dehydrated system, and honestly, I was seriously entertaining thoughts of my first DNF. Miss Erin Chavin, running her first Ultra, caught up to me here looking happy and strong. I think her positive energy rubbed off on me a little and I decided to keep running.

My stomach also decided to keep wretching. I tried some cola gel blasts, my last resort, on the downhill this time - thinking the combination of the food item that NEVER fails me and the easier exertion may do the trick. If the trick is more projectile vomiting, then yes, I did succeed. By now, I have tears in my eyes, it is hot as hell and I can't remember feeling more miserable ever in life. Now here's the really fucked up part...

I was smiling. I don't know if it was mid-hurl or while I was wiping my face to the disgusted onlooks of other runners - but at some point I just accepted what was happening. I knew there would be times in my future that I was going to feel much worse than this and be in much more dire situations. With the shit I've been planning, we're talking 10-20 times worse at LEAST. I chose this. And while I realized I couldn't control what was happening to me physically, I was still in control of mentally staying in the game. So I enjoyed that misery. Every last drop of it.

By the time I got into the last aid station, I was shaking badly. My legs were cramping, my arms were spasming and I was struggling to maintain form. I had missed a turn at one point too, tacking on an extra half mile or so and really pissing me off. Oh and my foot felt like it was broken which was also great. (Did I fail to mention the case of peroneal tendonitis... resulting from the achilles tendonitis... as a result of the quadriceps tendonitis? DAMN YOU THREE WEEKS OF ANGRY RUNNING!!!) I was an absolute wreck and these folks at the aid station knew it. This woman made me drink some unholy union of rehydration salts and warm-ish gatorade which tastes similar to what I imagine rabie-infested bull piss would taste like. Can bulls even get rabies? I don't know but that shit's not staying down.

Two minutes later, without breaking stride, I reenacted a scene from the Exorcist. Linda Blair, you now have NOTHING on me. This, of course, initiated riotous laughter on my part... mainly because it was at this juncture in my life that I realized how insane this whole thing is. I felt TERRIBLE, I was having trouble even walking at this point, I still had a mountain to make it over and there was no way in hell I was stopping. In the grand scheme of things, this race meant nothing. But on that day at that time, it meant everything to me. Finishing this stupid piece of shit devil of a run became the most important thing EVER.

So I did just that. Fin.

VITALS:

Let's just put it this way... my 50k split at Headlands was faster.

Mr. Garmin says 7,066' of climbing, but he chose to work whenever he pleased - website says 8,000. Also, I think the course was a little short.

If you want legitimate results you can Google that shit. No way am I providing you with a direct link to my failures.

Meanwhile, in the opposite of failure category....

Mad props go to Dom for winning the whole fucking thing, Kate for a giant PR/2nd in our age group, P-Dubs for a PR, Bev for winning her division, Erin and Julie for completing their first Ultra, Jessica for rocking her very first trail race, Jimmy for being Jimmy and Peter B and Ali for dissipating the extreme failure cloud I had rocking when I went into work. That shit is SCARY.