I dood it!

To quote J.

I ran 32 miles today.  And when I say ran, I mean ran.  Not terribly fast (about a 10-minute pace for half, about a 13 minute pace for the other half) - finished in 6 hours.  But I didn't walk.  At all.

And now I am tired.  I'll change this post to a race report here in a while after all the results come in.  But for now, know that I did it and am still alive.

*UPDATE: Race report below*

The weather was questionable when I rolled out of bed at 4:45 Saturday morning to pull on some clothes and drive the more-than-an-hour trip up to Yellow Springs for the race.  I packed a bag that allowed for just about every possible weather condition, and multiple changes for some.  I did NOT want a clothing issue to be the reason for a DNF.  I was a little scared that I wouldn't manage the distance, I felt like I'd be faking it at best, so I considered not starting.

But that's just not how I function.  I said I would do it, so I set out to do it or die trying.

Let me just say that John Bryan state park is awesome in any case, but in early spring - and with this one having been so warm - it was BEAUTIFULLY green and flowery.  The trail system is really well maintained, and the race director did an awesome job of routing us on it - you'd have had to try pretty hard to get lost.  The rain held off for almost the whole race (I got rained on for about 5 miles of it - which, considering the percentage, is not bad), and we even got peeks of blue sky.

The aid stations were spaced perfectly - for me, at least.  The life squad guys were never more than 3 miles from us at any point on the loop.  And as to food, water, etc., I didn't need to carry anything with me, they had them manned to a T and stocked with more variety than I would have tried to eat.  I used mostly pretzel rods, gels, gatorade, and water - though I did try some fruit snacks (disastrously - my throat closed up on them) and even had a couple bites of an apple.  I know that they say ultramarathoners have stomachs of steel, but I just don't.  I mean, I think I probably handle taking food in while running better than the average joe runner, but I've got nothing on the guys that eat pizza and chili and stuff while they're trucking along.  The only picture of me this race shows just how hard it is for me to make myself eat on the trail - check out my face!  Almost suffering to get that gel down.  :-)

The course being a loop was a nice security blanket for me, it made me feel less like I was going to die out in the woods without anyone knowing it.  And I could swap out clothes and shoes.  In true runner-craziness fashion, the loop was this lolling, gently-rolling and gradually downward-sloping path that dropped down to the river at just over halfway through.  Then a stretch of REALLY TECHNICAL (here read: lots of roots, big boulder-y rocks sticking up like the earth's bones were trying to reach through, cliff faces, gravelly riverbed that at one point was within inches of the river itself, thank-goodness-it's-flat-cause-there's-no-running-fast-on-this, obstacle course-like running) trail.  I was grateful for it, because the lateral motion gave my muscles a break from my robotic running form.  The back-and-forth felt super nice every time through.  And it made the trail different each loop because I looked up at different points - which was nice.  And finish off with two really steep climbs - a set of old stone steps and a hill, both of which had their fair share of fallen trees to navigate.  True distance runner mentality to go "Yes!  The hill!  Bust up it then I'm DONE!", right?

I ran part of the first loop with a lady named Holly - I recognized her because I'd read her race report online.  I was trying to not go out too fast and kill myself (I train at shorter distances at about a 9- or 9:30 pace; nothing doing me trying for THAT for 32 miles), she helped me get off to a good start.  We had a nice chat and then either she dropped back or I stepped up.  Then I chatted in the rocky section with a guy who told me that by his GPS we were keeping a 9:40 pace.  Right.  I slowed down, I knew there'd be no keeping it up.

As I came out of the first loop I ditched my jacket.  At the shelter I saw this guy with some awesome huaraches, and said something to him about them - we struck up a conversation about everything from barefoot running to raw foods and veganism to natural childbirth and non-traditional/non-gender-based parenting arrangements.  Needless to say, the second loop FLEW by!  I liked Randy a lot.  I was planning on using my Vibrams for the last loop, he convinced me to go for it for the last half.  When we got to the shelter I switched shoes, but I took off before he was ready to get moving again.

Going into the third loop I was SO GLAD I listened to Randy's advice - the foot pain I was wrestling with went away completely.  I ran most of the loop alone, though there were Boy Scouts (one of whom was serenading runners with a ukelele) all along the trail, which made for some fun banter.  I did sort of leapfrog through the end of the third loop with a lady named Linda.  I thought she was inspiring, the 50k was a training run for her - she runs 100-mile races.  *sigh*  Someday when my kids are big, maybe.  She and I were built similarly (petite and short) - but she was probably 5-10 pounds lighter than me.  My thick thighs and runner butt, mostly.  At the end of the race in the parking lot, she complimented me for my methodical pace.  I liked the compliment.

The last loop I ran in almost complete solitude - leapfrogged with Linda a tiny bit and then talked with another lady (whose name I didn't catch, she was just running two of the loops to run with her husband so I can't even take a guess from the results), but by the time we went through the aid station Linda was away and gone and I had left the other lady behind.  The rain that had been threatening finally let loose, and I had to talk myself into not going back the mile to the aid station.  Once I got back into the woods I was chilled to the point of having cold hands, but I talked myself into keeping moving.  The mental battle was something fierce - I've not talked myself through something like that since childbirth.  I was methodically counting steps, keeping my breathing measured and regular, calculating distances and times out in my head.  By the time I got to the climbs the last two times I was ready to walk - but I made myself keep to at least a shuffle because I knew the end was around the corner, literally.

I expected to be in serious pain at the end of the race - I was after Tecumseh.  This race, not so much.  I WAS freezing (the rain was in loop 4), but I bounced over to my bag, stripped off wet layers in favor of dry socks (NO SHOES over them) and T-shirt, and huddled by the fire that the WONDERFUL volunteers had going in the shelter.  I've never been so glad to see a heat source.  I can also say the only time I was more glad to see my Dad was when I got home from my mission - then cause I missed him, this time because he had my kids and a bag with dry sweats and sports bra and a hooded sweatshirt and some converse in it.

All told, I was okay!  At mile 24 I was on pace to beat my previous marathon best by about 15 minutes - and then I kept going for another 6 miles, ha ha!  I was the 6th woman to finish, the other four women under 30 who even attempted the race, I beat.

No major stiffness (though some minor ankle pains in BOTH ankles next day), just some aches in my back and shoulders.  I also felt pretty unbalanced stomach-wise, but some of the other runners suggested caffeinated pop and sodium would fix it.  So on the way home I grabbed a Dr. Pepper and a bag of pretzel rods.  I was in fine shape by the time we got home, even ate some pizza before bed.

It was a great race.  And now I might have to run another one.

But that's no surprise, is it?