Part 2 DirtyGirlZ100 Epic Adventure - Into the Desert

May 8, 2013, 10:04 pm

≫ Next: Part 3 DirtyGirlZ100 Epic Adventure - Race Day

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Because every good story has a part about whiskey.
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Destination Zion finally reached! Woohoo!! You just don't know how good it felt to have our tent set up and the miles (of car driving anyway) behind us. Since we had arrived somewhat late-ish we decided to grab a bite to eat at the Pizza and Noodle Restaurant. And since we traded having a campfire for food we were happy to see heaters on the patio. So, so happy. No really. So VERY happy.

Heater Love. Don't ask.

So with bellies full of grub we drove back to the campground to open the mystery box that was gifted to Maggie by our fellow Folsom Trail Runner and friend, Matt. Not only is Matt one of the coolest guys to hang out and run with, he was our official DirtyGirlZ crew member in spirit. Not being able to join us due to familial obligations (but really? What guy would be brave enough to join five crazy bitches to run stupid fucking miles in the desert - most of whom which were on, going to be on, or just had finished their periods - Answer: Nosmart guy.)

So to say Matt was there in spirit was appropriate. Especially once we opened the box.

Matt totally hooked us up with some serious celebratory libations! He had packed a favorite "spirit" for every crew member. There was beer, whiskey, wine, mead... oh... and Gu. Cuz what better to pair a fine wine or whiskey with than... um... Gu. But it was running theme and I suppose he needed to throw some sort of "nutrition" in there. Matt, if you're reading this post...DUDE. YOU ARE AWESOME! THANK YOU, FROM ALL OF US!

So a sip of whiskey and a gaze at the stars later we were in our beds snoozing away. Sorta. At least for the most part. Until my and Charito's air mattress decided to deflate halfway and force us together like a human taco. But it was a cold night (there was frost all over everything the next morning) and as long as neither of us sleepily mistook the other for their spouse it was all good. I should say Charito is a great spooner. Girl's got spooning skilz!

So day one came as fast as it went and we all woke up the next morning to... FIRE. 

No the campground hadn't burnt down. Apparently Charito and Kristina were the early birds who drove to the store to buy some firewood to make a fire which burned REAL fast so they had to go scouting for other people's leftovers. Yeah. You so much as loaded your car with an ice chest and those girls were standing over your campsite like salivating hyenas ready to steal your wood. They were all business. They even stole the embers from one campsite.

Stealing wood. Apparently Kristina's sticks qualify as "wood."

Those girls have some serious boyscout skilz!

It was time to get rolling. We had some scouting of our own to do that day and were checking into a hotel room for a little pre-race comfort. Our plan: To find the aid stations in broad daylight so there would be no question as to directions even when it got dark. We also needed to know how far apart the aid stations were and how long it took to get from one to the next in case Mags needed us to meet her at an unexpected stop.

But first we all needed coffee. Jen was in charge of bringing the Starbucks Via.

Apparently, Jen was working on her sleeping-while-standing-up skill. She was scheduled to pace Mags through part of the night. It's always good to have well prepared pacers. 

Chillin in the mornin with coffee.

Maggie being her adorable self.

Chillin in an epic place.

So we packed up the car and made sure we had plenty of hydration options...

...and headed off to check Maggie into the hotel while we researched and scouted the course...

Maps. Maps. Maps. Turns out asking a local for directions is a little more effective.

I was designated driver on scout day. I ignore all crazy bitches in the backseat.

 Distracted by pretty flowers.

Oh lookie! There's a steep cliff off the side of a mesa!

Let's pretend to jump off!

We did plenty of driving that day... but we still had to get back to pick up Maggie to head over to bib pickup. 

Charito documenting all papers in transit.

"THE PAPER" - ETAs of Maggie's best guesstimates for times at each aid station. Little did we know that this little paper would be talked about so much at the Smithsonian Flat water station.

We would be passing by one of the aid stations on the way to bib pickup which turned out to be my favorite aid station of all on course. Whiskey Town Aid. Awwwwwyeah. I don't have any good pics of this place in daylight but it was like Disneyland... for alcoholics... or people who have really funky, rad taste like me. Ha!

On our way to bib pickup we spotted some people riding their horses on the edge of the mesas. Words or pictures can't possibly describe how beautiful that place was.

Bib pickup was just a show up and leave event. No orientation. No hub-nubbing, not that we had anyone to hub-nub with except maybe Shacky and Vanessa who I was hoping to see. They were running the 100 miler as well but were short pacers. It was great seeing fellow blogger/runner buddies out there. 

Mags got a slice of free pizza, we drove back to the Noodle and Pizza restaurant where she picked up dinner #2 (Damn! That girl can eat! Which was a good thing since loading up for this race would be important) then the rest of the crew went out to Thai food while Maggie crammed for her morning hundo exam. Really. We came back to papers and gear all strewn about on her hotel bed. It was like 9pm so we decided to go chill in the hot-tub so that Mags could get herself all sorted for the race.

Then it was lights out.

And then lights back on at 4:45am. We had less than an hour to get Mags to the start line.

To be continued...
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Majority of the photos in this post are courtesy of Charito, Jen, Maggie and Kristina.

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Part 3 DirtyGirlZ100 Epic Adventure - Race Day

May 25, 2013, 12:59 pm

≫ Next: Born To Run Ultra 2013 - Ultra Training

≪ Previous: Part 2 DirtyGirlZ100 Epic Adventure - Into the Desert

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That's our girl, right in front.

Because every good story is a long ass story...
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I think we were all plagued by dreams that we would be late in getting Maggie to the start line of her first 100. I'm not sure I could only allow myself 45 minutes to an hour to get ready on any race day let alone a hundred miler race day. Bad things tend to happen when I'm stressed and doing things last minute. But not Maggie. She prefers to sleep in as much as possible come race days or run days. I get that. Especially if you've been up late cramming for your hundo exam - jotting down notes about elevation charts, figuring out pace/time estimates and arrivals at aid stations, making sure everything is organized in the right bag for the crew. Really. Maggie was extra deliberate about making sure that the crew wasn't flailing about trying to find her shit when she needed it. In fact, she wanted to make sure we were comfortable, happy, and taken care of. Yup. Moms never cease to be moms no matter who they're around. She even insisted that we just drop her off at the start line and then go back to sleep or hang out by the pool. But who could do that when there was a hundred miler going on in some of the most beautiful terrain in the country and our DirtyGirl was running it?

So we packed up the Highlander with ALL of our stuff (we would be dropping off our luggage at our post race hotel.) OK. Now you're probably wondering why the hell we didn't just stay at the pre-race hotel for post race recovery.Welllllll...the priority for post race was to make sure the hotel was within post hundo stumbling distance of the after race party which was to be held at a local brew pub. Seriously. We had every intention of milking every single last second of celebration out of this race if Maggie finished (or even if she didn't). We were already proud of her for having the guts to sign up and go for it and we were all gonna celebrate that shit!

We left the hotel with literally 20 minutes to spare to get to race start. I must have been driving at least 85mph. We pulled up with screeching wheels and kicked her ass out of the car to go find the start line.

After the "weigh in"- which turned out to be for nothing more than your own curiosity - Mags hunted down the race director for a photo-op. Apparently he's a busy man the morning of a race. Go figure. It doesn't stop Mags from trying to photo bomb him at every opportunity.

Matt Gunn is actually the guy in the yellow. That happy man behind Maggie who talks with his hands must be having a hard time communicating with those handhelds interrupting his every word.

Finally, Maggie gets a chance to stand next to the man himself. Apparently she's trying to impress him with her banana. Matt likes chicks who can "guy it out" for his races so the banana move is a brilliant one.

One last adjustment of her headlamp.... WAIT!! Where's the banana??

Oh phew. There it is. Because its not official race start unless there's at least one chick holding a banana in her hand.

Then the clock started counting down and everything went ultra silent like everybody was getting their game on. I was thinking this shit is WAY too serious. OK.Yeah.These people are going to be running a hundred miles, but they've got a while until they're in full zombie mode. They need to chillax. I was just so excited for Maggie I couldn't contain myself so I whooped it up and screamed loudly "Go MAGGIE!!! LLLICK IT!!"A few laughs and snickers followed and the tension cracked wide open.

Then they were off.

Bye Mags! See you at... um... what was the first aid station again?

Zion 100 Race start

Well...anyhoo... we knew we didn't need to be wherever we needed to be until Maggie had ran about 50k so we figured we had time to check our things into the the next night's hotel. So we drove back into town, got ourselves breakfast, unloaded our things at the next hotel and were shocked to find that our hotel room wasn't confirmed and they had no name down for us.

What???

We failed to tell them we meant for the following night and that we were living/sleeping out of our car for the next 24 hours. We were relieved to find out that we were indeed confirmed and they could hold our things overnight until the following day.

After a short trip to the grocery store we head back over to the course to do some last minute aid station scouting and meet Maggie at the Grafton Aid Station at her estimated time of 11:45. Or was that the estimated time for the Goosebump Aid Station? Either way... we were meeting Mags soon.

Aid Station scouting before sunrise.

Stopping for pictures.

There's just no way to capture the beauty of a sunrise.

I can't even count how many times we stopped the car to get out and see elk running or wild horses feeding or just to feel the peace of the sun rising. We couldn't help ourselves.

But it was getting time to eventually head over to Grafton Aid (otherwise known as The G Spot Aid Station). Hmmmmm. Seemed like a perfectly fine aid station to spend a little quality time at. In fact I might not mind spending a little extra time here, which we did. We happened to miscalculate Maggie's ETA just a tad after deciding to skip meeting her at the harder to reach Goosebump Aid.

MacGyver Kristina

But it was all good. I killed time by talking to a fellow member of the Barefoot Runners Society, Rick Whitelaw, who happened to be working that aid station and also happened to know who I was. He even proceeded to call me a "celebrity" of sorts (hopefully of the barefoot running sorts and not of the I-found-some-pivate-home-video-of-you-on-the-internet sorts.) He asked me to sign his BRS shirt so I'm pretty sure I'm of the barefoot running celebrity sorts. Well... maybe. I didn't ask if he read my blog which isn't too far off of the I-found-some-pivate-home-video-of-you-on-the-internet sorts.

While I'm busying myself signing shirts, our own Kristina is busying herself with her serious MacGyver skilz by rebuilding her running shoes from scratch with just a roll of duct tape. Yeah. Those were some kick-ass ultra shoes once she got her hands on some duct tape.

The ultimate ultra shoes

Now I know Kristina's secret to being so fast. Girl's got the best ultra shoes on the planet!

After a couple hours we finally see our girl coming. Charito and Kristina were waiting for her down the road.

"We like our runs long and hard"

She's here!

Checking to see how she's doing.

Maggie had originally thought she might want to do the first 100k solo and made it clear to all her crew/pacers that we weren't to get our panties in a bunch over this fact. This might mean that some of us wouldn't get to run at all, but Maggie called all the shots on which pacers she wanted to run with and where. She had a relatively good idea where each of us fit into her strategy to complete this race.

The DirtyGirlZ100 Crew

In my opinion, this transparency is one of the best things Mags could do as a runner for her crew. She wasn't catering to anyone else's needs or desires to run or otherwise. If she needed you, you needed to be there, and if she wanted you to back off, you needed to be OK with that too. Luckily, our crew is pretty hardy and doesn't get their panties in a bunch easily, which is what, I think, made this trip such a success. Unlike other possible situations where a bunch of girls who don't know each other very well spend 5 days together in close quarters, this adventure was drama-free! Those girls were awesome!

As it turned out, Maggie was ready for a pacer by the time she got to Grafton Aid and Charito was ready to run so they didn't stay long and headed down the hill to Smithsonian Butte for another hot out and back along the mesa. 

The rest of us hopped into the car, blasted some Styx SUPER LOUD with windows wide open (the ipod was stuck on "Come Sail Away with Me") and cheered every runner on that we passed as we drove down the steep, rutted out, one-way-only road towards Smithsonian Butte. Our DirtyGirlz reputation being formed by our liveliness and (maybe somewhat annoying) willingness to be everyone's cheerleader. We were a very happy crew to say the least.

Charito pacing Maggie

At the bottom of the hill Maggie came back in with Charito and it was time for the climb back up and out of the canyon. I would be pacing Maggie for that part. Maggie came into the Smithsonian Butte water station a little perturbed that we hadn't paid closer attention to her ETAs. We had arrived at Grafton Aid WAY too early. She didn't like the fact that we had to wait around for her. She really wanted this trip to be enjoyable in every way for everyone and it seemed that waiting around for her made her slightly uncomfortable. 

She came into the water station with one thing on her mind: THE PAPER.

Me and Mags heading out for our climb  to the top of Goosebump.

Yup. The paper that had all her ETAs on it. She was certain she got the times a lot closer than what we had arrived at. She did. I could tell she was a little out of sorts about that. I tried to reassure Maggie that we were all good now that we saw her and we had a better idea of where she was going to be. So while our discussion ensued Kristina attempted to offer a brilliant and diplomatic peace offering - peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I don't think we ate any, but apparently her subtle mediation worked. The "Paper" discussion was dropped as quickly as it began.

By around mile 45 or so it was my turn to pace. Running the sun down with Maggie was my favorite part of the entire adventure. My pacing section was not only beautiful and enjoyable, but Maggie was in good spirits (when is that girl not??) and happily moving forward. Well... happily moving forward until...

...we got lost.

Taking a break at Grafton Aid.

And apparently we weren't the only ones. But, eventually we found our way back onto trail and arrived back at the G-Spot and then it was onwards back up towards Goosebump Aid.

Maggie wasn't feeling much like eating so I suggested she have some soup at the next aid station and made her take it with her. She did amazing balancing a cup of soup in one hand while cautiously ascending the side of the steep, scree-ridden mesa. I was seriously impressed.






Apparently I missed out on the dance party that happened spontaneously while I was pacing. Yeah. We do that. You didn't know Zion 100 is just one big dance party?
 

Gettin down with their bad selves. Dance!

DirtyGirlZ Dance party

The official DirtyGrilZ100 vehicle

Maggie and I pulled into the last aid station just a moment after the sun had set. My running term was officially over. I handed Mags off to Jen who would be pacing her out and around Guacamole mesa - a place, according to Jen, something akin to the surface of the moon. I told them I hoped they had chips and salsa waiting for them at the next aid station.

Jen's turn to pace...

Maggie was still in great spirits when I left her around mile 62 and from what I could tell she pretty much stayed that way for the remainder of the race. When I asked her how she managed to stay positive for the duration she casually replied that it doesn't help to be negative. She was doing what she had to do which meant she had to stay positive even when things got hard.

Which they did.

Maggie's period hit her hard during the hardest part of this race. (Just so you know, she talked about this challenge during her podcast intereview with Eric Schranz from Ultra Runner Podcast.) As someone who's had debilitating cramping during her period, I have serious respect for every woman ultra runner and their ability to "guy it out"(a phrase accidentally used by race director Matt Gunn himself in an email to Maggie about her "cycle issues" during the race.) He meant to say "gut it out," but we all agreed that "guy it out" was funny and backwardly appropriate because we all know that women who have to endure this kind of menstrual shit during a 100 miler are WAY tougher than any guy. Its a fucking fact, folks. Really. No man will EVER know the aching, sometimes piercing pain a woman endures once a month just for the privilege of enduring ten times that much during the birthing process. And many of us train and run through that shit because we have to. Sometimes its impossible to avoid. We suck it up and choke back the cramps (or just take loads of meds) just so we can function. Ok. Rant over. Now, the back story on that email correspondence is that Maggie, possibly interested in running The Bryce 100 now, requested that Matt please not schedule any of his races during her period again. That's our Mags. I think she needs a sticker for that one too.

So while Jen was running with Mags we drove back to the start line where we could borrow a picnic table to set up our stove. Then Kristina and Charito worked on taping up Kristina's shoes for her final pacing section while I passed out, face crammed into the back seat of the Highlander and got some shut eye. I was out cold only to wake up briefly for some soup.

Next thing I remember Charito and Kristina are back in the car and Charito's driving over to to where the smell of whiskey and a nice warm camp fire lured me outside the car to hang with the dudes at the Whiskey Town Aid Station.

Whiskey Town Aid Station

To say this aid station is eccentric would be a serious understatement. You have to be there to believe it. Every level of "hydration" imaginable could be found there - though, I questioned the runner who, after 85-90 miles, would partake in jello shots especially after hearing from the guys around the campfire (seasoned mountain bikers who maintain the trail up there) describe the upcoming Flying Monkey trail that the runners would be experiencing on the next section. Apparently the Flying Monkey was a short exposed section of trail requiring a bit of a jump to a rope line to pull yourself up to the trail above. Or at least that was the gist of what I got from the guys.

So when we saw Maggie coming in we let her fuel up and get herself sorted (it was already pretty cold and windy) and then I told her to take her time on the next section because from what I heard its a pretty gnarly section. She'd done her homework though and she was prepared for it.

Our last aid station before the finish line was a drive in the dark up to Smith Mesa which I was half awake for. Jen, Charito and I checked into the aid station and told the guys that if Mags arrived to tell her we were there. Then we all passed out.

I literally woke up three minutes before I saw Kristina tapping on the window. Mags was here!! By this time she was probably at her lowest. She was literally falling asleep while running, she was freezing cold and looked pretty spent. But she had just a relatively short (um... maybe not for someone who's just run 93 miles) distance to go. We all agreed that after her out-and-back around Smith Mesa with Kristina she should warm up and take a nap.

Maggie fueling up before the final 5 miles. This pic was shot right before Mag's little "finishing the race dance"

She climbed into the car after the short two miles and was sawing logs almost the moment her head hit the headrest. We set the alarm for 20 minutes, but Mags woke herself up in about 15 and you would have thought she had slept all night.

Holy crap!!! After seeing Mags transformation, we were all sold on the power of the power nap! Girl snapped out of the passenger seat, ate some soup, then started dancing to Stevie Wonder blaring from the car. Yeah. Talk about inspiring. It was mile 95-something (but probably more according to the heated Zion facebook thread that Maggie started before the race.)

Maggie only had about 5 miles left and it was all downhill (which as it turns out was brutalizing, according to Maggie).

That video was shot right after Maggie pounced awake ready to roll...

We all hopped back into the car re-energized by Maggie's upcoming finish. Charito dropped Jen and I off at the end of the road where Maggie would be finishing her last two miles and then dropped the car off at the finish line to run back up to meet us so we could all pace Maggie for the last two miles.

Waiting for Maggie. She was coming from the top of the Mesa.

Maggie's coming!

Kristina and Maggie arrive!

"WTF?? I had to run down that shit? Thank God its mostly flat here on out."

Another album cover shot. DirtyGirlZ in back in black. In the desert of Zion.

So we took our time finishing out the last couple miles. We were so proud of our girl...

Stopping to pose for a timed group shot near the finish.

But little did we know the race wasn't done.

About a half mile from the finish line one of the girls looks behind her and shouts...

"WHERE DID THOSE GIRLS COME FROM??!!"

Sure enough there were two girls about 50 yards behind Maggie eyeing the finish line. Anyone who knows Maggie knows she's downright competitive. She ran a smartly, conservative race for her first 100 but there was no way in hell she was going to let those girl's pass her before the finish line.

Since I was in charge of getting shots of her coming into the finish, I knew she would be kicking it into high gear with whatever she had left so I wanted to get far enough in front of her to get pics.

So we all start running like we stole something. Including Mags. She's hauling ass!! Even on the uphills!

Hauling ass at the end.

Maggie at the finish line!

Maggie finishing her first 100!

Maggie finished her first hundo in about 27 hours and 26 minutes. But there was just one more thing she needed to do to make this race official.

Run that extra .3 miles at the end.

Which she did.

The extra .3 miles for an official 100 miler.

Picking her buckle.

DirtyGirlZ at the finish line.

I couldn't help but still crew Mags even after she crossed the finish line so I made sure to grab an extra beer for her to enjoy after we got back to the hotel.

We all recovered in the hotel for a few hours with food and sleep... and then headed over to the post race party...

 ...which as you can tell was rockin! Um... yeah... I think maybe twelve people showed up. Go figure after a hundred mile race. But the DirtyGirlZ were ready to party. All we needed was a shitload of food, some beer, some whiskey, and our game was back on!

We got free CDs from the band Erik the Red.

Maggie woke up early the next day ready to go for a mountain bike ride so Kristina and I joined her. Later on that day we all went exploring in Zion National Park hiking up through the river and having a blast.

Before we left for another ultra driving adventure back to California, Mags and I bought friendship bracelets for all the DirtyGirlZ to remember our trip by.

Wonder Twin powers, ACTIVATE!!!

So the trip was a success!! We had a great time and Mags not only completed her first hundred miler but she did it with flying colors. I heard several people ask at the finish line if "THAT girl, Kelly Maggie ever finished the race..." Apparently there were a few doubters.

But if they knew her, they would have known better.

Maggie is my inspiration. There's no doubt about that. Since I've met her I've been amazed by her strength and abilities. I'm looking forward to her pacing me, in turn, at my hundred miler, Pine To Palm, come September. I could use some of her wisdom. She's nothing short of "fiyah!"
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Born To Run Ultra 2013 - Ultra Training

June 2, 2013, 10:48 am

≫ Next: Creative Rebellion - Limited Edition Zaps Threads Tees

≪ Previous: Part 3 DirtyGirlZ100 Epic Adventure - Race Day

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Pretty much the theme of the weekend.

At first I thought the two words BEER and MILE sounded fun when put together, but trust me, those two words are best kept separate. And if they are ever to be used in one sentence then the sentence should look something like this:

Run a mile and then relax with a few beers.

Which is the way it should be. Or in my case replace the beer with a few shots of whiskey (and we're talking the quality stuff folks not the nasty JD or Fireball crap) because I'm learning that beer compromises all my efforts to achieve a tight tummy (and to run without... well... the "runs" the next day). 

On your mark...

I have been officially schooled by the Born To Run Ultra Marathon Beer Mile.

Honestly, I seriously doubted my ability to down 4 beers within any kind of respectable (or un-respectable for that matter) mile time in the first place let alone try to chug one then run a quarter mile, then chug and repeat for the full mile. A mile is just a short flash unless my belly is full of beer. Then it feels like a fucking ultra. But not the enjoyable kind. My belly got more and more bloated with every jarring step. I imagined the beer in there frothing and bubbling up my esophagus (I may have belched a little louder than normal on my way to the quarter mile cone.) And trust me. This was NOT comfortable. My stomach felt like an inflated gaseous mass. Yeah. If you tossed me in a lake I would have been a human buoy. I openly admit I'm a beer mile pussy.

I was lucky though. I wasn't the one who puked.

But we had all been sworn in with the Beer Mile version of Caballo Blanco's pre-race oath that if we "... get hurt, puke, or die it's our own damn fault..." so that dude who puked owned it. And he finished. RESPECT.

My friend Alex and I chugging. (Photo courtesy Patrick Sweeney)

I, on the other hand, cheated. I'm not a cheater, but it was either cheat or puke and I hate puking so I coerced my buddy Alex to drink two of my four beers and run the mile with me. Actually, he didn't need coercing and he drank up the two beers like a beer mile pro, but neither of us felt right accepting the awesomely cool finisher's medals - a bright plastic sand shovel amulet necklace made with love by Patrick Sweeney himself.

So I finished the mile, but only drank two beers.

Windy day at the Zaps Threads Booth (Photo courtesy Patrick Sweeney)

Unfortunately, only two beers was all I needed to make my ultramarathon the next day slightly difficult because you see... prior to the beer mile I was randomly offering free shots with a shirt purchase at my Zaps Threads booth and a few of those shots somehow ended up in my belly. Hey. I had a few days of chillaxing to do and it was quality whiskey - the blended scotch Monkey Shoulder kind. But, once the beer mile started, my running was less than stellar. I wasn't exactly to the point of stumbling, but I certainly wasn't paying attention to where I was stepping. I landed hard on a sharpish, largish rock in my Lunas and my left foot paid a heavy price.

Friends Larry Gassan, Darkling Thrush, Mike Miller, Tracy Longacre, Patrick Sweeney, Tyler Clemens and Alex Haler.

So I knew the 50k the next day would be interesting. My midfoot was clearly bruised and it hurt just to walk on it.

But I was on the starting line shortly after the gunshots went off and the loud mariachi music echoed through camp. I was ready to run. I chalk everything up these days to ultra training. If I can't run 30 miles on a bruised midfoot how in the hell do I expect to survive a brutal hundred miler? Here was an opportunity to see how much pain I could suck up and run through. It was also an opportunity to find ways to cope.

I was only mildly uncomfortable in my Merrell Mix Masters for the first ten miles. The last twenty-one were a bitch. The pain was sharp and piercing like someone was slicing my foot through the pads at the bottom. By mile 15 I had seriously altered my running form so that I was intentionally heel striking. This not only brought on the pain from my neuroma (although it could have been aggravated by the impact of the rock), but my knees had started aching as well due to my fabulously poor form.

Yay.

So when I came through the timing arch on my last ten mile lap I decided to stop at the car to find the shoe inserts that I had the uncanny forethought to bring. Mind you I was already wearing the inserts that came with my Merrell Mix Masters, but I thought that if I ever needed extra cushion it might be helpful to add the extra inserts from the Saucony's I bought (but don't wear because I feel unsafe in them.)

Friends Caity and Tracy hangin at the finish line.

So that's what I did. It was a strategy that allowed me to fix my running form and land on my midfoot again relieving my aching knees, but there was no question that my left foot was toast. The pain was a lot to manage at that point. 

That's when something odd happened. I think my brain was all "Bitch! You're not listening to me so I'm gonna just shut the fuck up now!!" and then the pain sorta went away. Well... it went away for a little while and then it would pipe up every now and then REAL LOUD and then go all silent again - coming and going in waves. Other than my foot screaming to be amputated at random intervals I felt really strong during this race and was even running some of the hills and feeling pretty energized the whole way.

And then, apparently feeling a brief reprieval from the pain in my foot, I did something I don't normally do...


I got competitive.

Yeah. I don't know what happened. That's not me, and regardless, that's not what this race is about. I don't know if I was just inspired by my friend Maggie's first hundo or if I was just feeling sassy or if maybe the whole foot thing put my brain into survival-get-the-fuck-outa-dodge mode, but when I pulled into that last aid station (The Barbie Aid Station) there were about three girls there who I assumed were running the 50k. I don't normally pay attention to who's where, when, and whether I can beat them, but I flashed back to my old high school cross country days and when I left that aid station just behind those girls I made sure to keep them at a pacing distance so that I could strategically pass them when I felt it was the right time.

It was a slight uphill climb out of the Barbie aid station before the dirt road t-boned into a straightaway with about two miles left to go before the finish line timing arch. I still had a short 1/2 mile out-and-back to do once I hit the arch, but I was close enough to finishing I could taste it. So I passed the girls on the last little hump of the uphill just before the straightaway and tried to pick up my pace as much as I could all the while my foot bitch-slapped me into a failed submission. I wasn't taking any crap from a fucked up left foot no matter how much it hurt. Ultra training.

When I got to the timing arch I still had a mile to go, but my brain was distracted. My foot hurt so bad all I could think about was that pool of cool water the Luna guys were dipping their feet in near the Luna booth. I was so distracted by fantasies of soaking my aching foot in a cool pool that I completely forgot about the last out-and-back I had to do before finishing. I started to find the pool.

Then my friend Caity McCardell yells to me "Krista! Aren't you going to finish the race?!"

"OH SHIT!"

I looked up the trail and there they are. The girls I had just passed were now about a quarter mile ahead of me. FUUUUUUCK. What a stupid girl I was!!! Why spend all that extra energy to suffer on a throbbing, useless, stump of a foot, to pass those girls at the end of my race just to finish behind them? Oh fuck no. THAT'S not going to happen.

Finishing.

I paid. But I wasn't about to let those girls stay ahead of me into the finish line. So I turn around and bail outa the finish line area in a near sprint. Well... with as much sprint as I had in me after 30 some odd miles... in pain. I kept thinking to myself... "time trial pace and I can beat those bitches!" To say I was focused is an understatement.

I finally caught up to them at the half mile turn-around mark. After that, I ran as fast as I could passing them and even "chicking" a couple guys on the way to the finish (one guy totally cheered me on) all the while my calves and quads had started doing their phantom cramping bit where they aren't painfully locking up yet but instead just giving me quiet fair warning they are about to shut me down. I backed off only slightly - mostly ignoring their annoying pleas and finishing in 5:38:18.

Then I went and sold some shirts. (You'll have to check those out in my next post.)

So it was another amazing year at the Born To Run Ultra Marathon. Words can't even begin to describe how much I love this race (wrecked foot, beer mile, and all) You can read more about the race vibe from last year's post, but if you only run one race this is the race to run. The people and the experience are beyond cool. Jeff Zahn from Gorilla Filmworks captures the essence of what this race is about in this beautifully crafted video... watch to the VERY end. The best part. Ha!



I plan to make this race a tradition and hope to be running and vending my shirts there again next year.
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Creative Rebellion - Limited Edition Zaps Threads Tees

June 12, 2013, 1:58 pm

≫ Next: Tahoe Flume Trail Running

≪ Previous: Born To Run Ultra 2013 - Ultra Training

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The new Zaps Threads Transcend Tee

When I was about five years old my parents wouldn't let me draw on the walls in the house. The only place where I could draw on the walls was my own bedroom (which was actually a pretty cool rule). I tried to follow my parent's rules but confining my art to my bedroom must have been a little stifling. I branched out... to the living room, laundry room, hallways, kitchen, garage, and left my mark on the walls anyway. These weren't elaborate pieces of art by any means. There were no puppies, suns, or rainbows. In fact there was not even one happy face. The only mark I left was an itty, bitty, letter "k" written in pencil. It was a sorta quiet rebellion, but one that I took full ownership for. Even today, if I'm gonna fuck up, rebel, or do the wrong thing, I'm gonna own it. Its what makes me, me. I might not be loud about it, but you'll know because I'll tell you. I'm not perfect, but I have integrity.

 

Apparently I've passed my genes down.

So when I started designing my Zaps Threads shirts, my first design (The BFR Fiyah! Tee) had my signature on it - an itty, bitty "k" dotted in the artwork itself. It seemed appropriate for the first design and was probably born from some of the same stifling feelings I felt as a child having to stay "within boundaries" because, you see... Zaps Threads was like drawing on the walls of the living room in my parents house.

The economy took its toll on our business about five or six years ago and shifted our work in such a way that being a full time mom and working for our design business was just not possible. I had to choose. But everyone knows that trying to choose between your passion and your family is a total lose-lose situation. If you have no room to explore your passion its hard to be a good parent or spouse. The decision to leave our business not knowing if I would ever be able to come back was a tough one. The learning curve was just so steep.

So I chose to be a full time mom.

The Original Barefoot Runner Tee Design with the itty, bitty "k"

Ugggh.

Don't get me wrong. I love my boys with every cell in my body. Its just that without a way to express my creativity I was starting to feel stifled, smothered, and a bit rebellious. I took up barefoot running as a way to get back into running to help alleviate some of that tension, and although it led me back to my passion for running it wasn't enough.

So I started blogging as a way to express my frustrations, failures, successes, and as a way to hold myself accountable for my transition to barefoot. But as it turns out, this blog has become another creative space; a way for me to express so much more, in my own voice, with my own language and as a way for me to put myself out there, raw and exposed... and to own that.

But, art and design is also my passion and to live without it is like living numb.

Zaps Threads pinup girl original tee.

So when I could squeeze it in, I started designing shirts and my little, ol, graphic tee biz was born.

Its not much, but it makes me happy. Between that and running I'm in my happy space again and it feels good. And now that the kids are in school full time I'm back to work as well.

So to combine my passions at The 2013 Born To Run Ultra Marathon, was a blast. I was so stoked to vend there this year. I had my Zaps Threads booth set up with shirts for sale for men and women. I picked out two of my most popular designs and revealed a third design, The Transcend Tee, while I was there. I was shocked to discover that people actually knew me, from either my blog or randomly running across Zaps Threads on the internet. Who knew? I haven't really done much to promote this little biz, but it felt good that my little bizniz was known in a tiny way.

The designs. My husband was kind enough to pose for these shots...

 The Transcend Tee

The Original BFR FIYAH! Tee

 

The Zombie Pacer Tee

Zaps Threads Booth at Born To Run Ultra Marathon

I was able to have all the shirts screen printed on quality cotton and was really happy with the results. I only print on shirts that I would personally wear and I'm picky about my shirts. I sold more than expected with the Transcend Tee (a graphic tee designed for ultra runners and endurance athletes) being the biggest seller. My original BFR Fiyah! Tee was a close second with my Zombie Pacer Tee coming in third. Each shirt sold for $20 and if you happened to buy one later in the day you probably got a free shot of whiskey with that shirt *wink*.

And each shirt had my itty, bitty signature "k" on it somewhere.

Orginal "Dirty Girl" Terry Hayes and Caleb Wilson

It was cool participating as part of the Born To Run Ultra community. Being so close to finish line hubbub meant that the Zaps Threads booth often became the hangout spot where I got to hang with friends, meet new people (I met the original Dirty Girl ultra runner who has probably been running since long before I was born - she was ADORABLE!!) and see people that I only see at these races every year, like friends Caleb Wilson, Patrick Sweeney, and Anthony Sanders, a Luna-wearing-Zaps-Threads-sporting United States Marine who I ran with last year during my 100k.

Number 1 "Dirty Girl"

The only thing that was difficult about vending this year was the wind. It was a VERY windy weekend and I had to prop things on top of my shirts - bananas, apples, whiskey bottles - to keep them from blowing off the table. At one point my entire (staked down) pop-up flew over while I was getting dinner - luckily I have awesome friends who were able to help get it back up and sorted by the time I got back. But, I ended up closing up shop early on Saturday evening due to wind and other shenanigans, but I'm hoping that next year won't be hurricane season. Haha!

So I still have some of these quality limited edition tees left for sale with limited sizes and colors in stock.
 
I'm making them available through my blog for $22 plus shipping (domestic orders only). These particular tees are only available through me personally - so if you're interested in purchasing one of these special edition tees you'll have to fill out my form here on my blog (yeah... its old school pre-shopping-cart internet shopping at its best!) to find out if I have the size and color you want in stock. I'll accept payments through PayPal.

So this is what I got...

ZAPS THREADS MEN'S TEES
All men's tees are printed on the Next Level Brand t-shirt - A fitted men's tee made out of 60% Cotton Combed Cotton/ 40% Poly Jersey.
Neck: Set in Collar 1 x 1 Baby Rib with tear-away label.
Sizes available: M, L, XL

Men's Colors Available:

ZAPS THREADS WOMEN'S TEES
All women's tees are printed on the Bella Favorite Tee Brand t-shirt - A flattering, fitted style that's 100% combed ringspun cotton super soft baby jersey knit with short-sleeves and a longer body length. These shirts run slightly small.
Sizes available: M, L, XL

Women's Colors Available:

Tahoe Flume Trail Running

June 25, 2013, 10:12 am

≫ Next: Summer Antics

≪ Previous: Creative Rebellion - Limited Edition Zaps Threads Tees

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Eric, Maggie, Me and Ray (Photo taken by Eric Schranz on the Flume Trail)

Back in May I ran the Flume Trail up in Tahoe. Actually, it was my mother's day present. While most moms were getting a spa day I got a run day, which for me is almost as rare as a spa day. 

Ok. That's a bit of an exaggeration since the word "rare" is a drastic understatement in terms of spa days. I've never had a spa day.

So I met up with other running crazies - my friend Maggie, Eric Schranz (from Ultrarunner Podcast) and fellow artist/runner Ray Rios to carpool up to Incline Village, Tahoe. We parked near the Tunnel Creek Cafe and ran about 3 miles up - in this case "up" really means UP -  Tunnel Creek road to the Flume trail. The flume is a portion of the trail that I never got to see last year while crewing for Jesse Scott at the Tahoe Rim 100 cuz we were too busy running up and down Tunnel Creek to crew Jesse. Little did I know I was so close to some fun trail that had some incredible views. 

Se ran along the edge of the flume for about 5 miles while the scenery went off. SERIOUSLY. WENT. OFF. Like this dream...

except this running was for real.

and this...

Photos courtesy Eric Schranz and Ray Rios - the only people with cameras that day.

I'm still not quite sure how those boys managed to get their asses on the trail that day seeing as it was Mother's Day and all, but I wasn't questioning their tactics. I was just enjoying my get-outa-dodge-free card. Afterall, The Flume trail is a trail that my husband has talked passionately about on his mountain biking adventures and I was looking forward to seeing the best parts of the trail, which oddly enough included this:

That's a toilet seat shaped piece of granite, by the way. And... um... I was eating my sandwich and demonstrating its useability for giants or people who prefer to squat on the toilet instead of sit - like my kids. 

I will admit. I was feeling a little mischievous that day... and I may (or may not have) thrown a snowball or two at Eric while he was running. Throwing shit at people I barely know is my other hobby.

Wha? A snowball in my hand? I don't know what you are talking about.

And as always Maggie and I had to demonstrate our jumping on snow skilz...

While Ray Rios demonstrated his chimney climbing skilz at some old cabin remnants near Marmot Lake...

all the while Eric Schranz demonstrated his tick crushing abilities...

This was shot BEFORE he crushed the tick. With that look of disgust on Eric's face that tick shoulda seen it comin'.

Then we headed back down the mountain for some grub and it was then that my right achilles decided to poke me with its pangs of angst. It wasn't too bad, but enough that I decided to back off my downhill pace to give it some slack. It was a good thing. I managed to keep it from bitch slapping me, but it was clearly aggravated when we stopped for lunch.

So its been a little more than a month and my achilles has still been giving me grief and getting progressively more sore. Ok. I'll admit that pushing it with the 10k time trial several weeks ago was not the best of decisions.

So I've been adjusting my training at the gym, laying off the running (a little), rolling, rolling and rolling, and lastly using some questionable but effective prison-style tactics (don't ask) to speed the healing process along. I'm hoping this achilles stuff will be on the mend soon. Apparently, once its better I need to work on my running mechanics to make sure I'm deloading the tension in the tendon which I have a tendency to neglect on a regular basis.

It's killing me to lay off the running, but I'm hoping that I'll have time to make up for it before my 100. Luckily my training at the gym is a strong substitute for running but when the trails call me and I can't go it makes me very sad.

But I'm so glad I got to run the Flume even though it was my downfall. Next time I'll know better.
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Summer Antics

July 15, 2013, 11:21 am

≫ Next: Fuck The Krista Who Gives a Fuck

≪ Previous: Tahoe Flume Trail Running

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Seriously. He can abduct me any time...

Jeez, Krista, you haven't written in your blog for over three weeks. Have you...
 
a. Been held captive by a tribe of chimps wearing pants and carrying sharp sticks?

b. Been abducted by aliens disguised as Brad Pit and Matt Damon? (I don't give a shit if they're from another planet if they look like Brad Pitt or Matt Damon I will succumb to their every sample.)
 
c. Are you on the floor of your gym and can't get up? 
 
d. All of the above 


If this were an S.A.T. question test professionals would suggest that if you aren't sure of the answer then your best choice is C. So lets go with that. 

Its C then. Although, I think I'll fantasize about B for a while...

Anyway... I've been pretty wrapped up in my training lately (as well as other fun stuff). I don't post my workovers anymore because frankly I forget what I do every day at the gym... hey... that's what happens when I deprive my brain of oxygen for more than five minutes. Every once in a while I'll take a picture of my day's punishment on the board like this:

Yeah. As soon as I saw the board that day I have to say I was a little disappointed. All I saw were the first three movements - the progressive deadlifts totally didn't register in my head - and I turned to Seth and flippantly responded "That's it?"

Sumo deadlifts at The Ranch Athletics

I think I saw a flash of evil pass over his face. Then Seth says "Yup. That's it."

I had never done a progressive deadlift before so I had no clue.

Just for the record I will NEVER again look at the board and say "Is that it?" They are preparing me for the ultra of my life and the dial has been torqued to the "its gonna hurt" zone.

I started at 3 reps in one minute with something like 95lbs on the bar. It seemed easy enough. Kinda like the first couple miles of an ultra. Then things got harder all over but also my hands and I could actually feel the blisters on the grips of my palms thin out, then stretch, and finallytear. Ow.

My record!

As it turns out I ended up lifting something like 23,750 lbs in 20 minutes. Frankly, I had no idea if that was a lot (someone has probably already beat my record) but it felt like a ton. Apparently, it was way more than that. Ha!

It was hard to lift after my hands were destroyed, but I guess if it doesn't hurt then I am not properly simulating hundo circumstances. Although,  I'm not sure how I'd end up with torn blisters on the grips of my hands during a hundo unless I was completely inept at carrying my handhelds (which for me isn't a stretch). It is, however, perfectly possible my knees could in fact look like this at some point during a hundred...
 
Yeah. That was two days after I had done 100 ab rollouts on astro-turf and forgot to put some sort of cushioning between my knees and the floor. I can tell you that the pain from astro-turf knee burn is not nearly as painful while you're doing it as it is trying to bend your knees two days later. 

Or rolling over in bed.

Or accidentally jabbing it again with the corner of a small whiteboard. 

See that fresh round hole on the right one? Yeah. That's a fresh jab. I'm sure the word "fuck" was launched shortly thereafter along with wimpering and more swearing. I'm such a pussy.

But hey. At least I got to finish my rollouts unlike the kettlebell snatches which Coach Rick fired me from just before I was about to smash my head in. Yeah. That would be REALLY bad.

But even still with all my questionable coordination in the gym you'll be happy to know I haven't hit my head with a jumprope yet since I've been training at The Ranch. Sadly, my coaches were looking forward to seeing that spectacle in person. I still have yet to deliver.

So it seems after pushing prowlers, pulling sleds, and following the torture guidance of some pretty awesome coaches I've gotten stronger.

Apparently I found my happy place.

I'm almost there.

At this point I feel like I'm about 70% there. Physically, I'm stronger than I was six months ago but its the mental stuff I struggle with. Usually the physical barrier comes first then it knocks down my confidence. If I can build myself up physically, I'm better off mentally. Confidence has always been a struggle with me. Too often I associate it with pride. I always feel that the moment I admit I'm good at something I will instantly be humbled by it. Athletic karma is a bitch and I've always paid her a high price. 

So outside my training I'm trying to relax, enjoy, and get some perspective on things. I recently went for a ride with my husband during our annual trip to Napa for a client dinner which was super fun - well at least after a brief near-death moment in which I came nearly inches of being wiped off the road by a semi. Its nice to take a break from the craziness of kids and work and get some quality peace time in.

Got the road ALL to myself

Client hosted dinner at the winery

But no vacation is complete without licking something...

or chickens with knives...

and no summer can ever be complete without kayaking or henna...

My Mehndi Dragon

Belly art

Drawing on friends

So if you're wondering why I haven't been writing, now you know. Summer fun = less blogging. But don't worry, I haven't left the blogsphere - or at least they haven't kicked me out yet. I'm hoping that in the weeks to come I will be back to writing about more running antics. Luckily I've managed to squeeze in a run here and there lately to test my achilles which is still giving me angst but who knows what kind of bloggable (or non-bloggable) fun might happen during summer vacation. Stay tuned...

Run out near Foresthill Bridge

Running with my FTR peeps/Dirty Girls

Fuck The Krista Who Gives a Fuck

July 26, 2013, 8:28 am

≫ Next: Time for Another Hoorag Giveaway!

≪ Previous: Summer Antics

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Wearing a bikini at Donner Lake.

I caught myself in a "what other people think" spiral the other day. I really hate when I do that. Its totally unhealthy and disparaging, and frankly, I'm a little disappointed that I let those thoughts control me. That kind of thinking often tries to dominate the most menial of my decision making. Those thoughts make me wanna punch myself in the face Fight Club style. I usually put up a good fight though and lately I've been the champion of a few, but sadly... sometimes... they win.

So what was the stupid task that triggered this whole in-head drama? 

I decided to change my profile pic on facebook. 

Yup. 

Stupid, huh? Here's what that stupid conversation looked like in my head...


Krista Who Gives a FuckI wanna update my Facebook page profile. Our vacay at Donner was so nice and relaxing. Those would be good.

Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckI love that shot from that little summit above the train tunnel. That would make a great cover photo.

Krista Who Gives a FuckHmmmm. I need a matching profile pic to go with that.

Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckThe pic Patrick took of me when I wasn't looking is a good match. I love the lake with the mountains in the background. I look so relaxed. It captured the moment so beautifully.

Krista Who Gives a FuckBut my ass is showing in that pic.

Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckWho gives a shit about your ass. Use the pic. It shows how perfect the day was. You were so happy to be there at the lake, feeling the sun on your body, enjoying watching the boys play in the water. Besides, you have a nice ass.


Krista Who Gives a FuckYeah. But my ass cheeks are totally hanging outside my bikini and the sun is totally hitting it so that it's the "focal point." Damn. That would be a nice shot if it weren't for my ass (or my stupid broad shoulders for that matter). Plus I could be opening myself up to a whole heap of lecherous comments.


Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckGirl. GET OVER IT.


Krista Who Gives a FuckIf I use that pic as my profile people are going to think I'm a narcissistic little bitch or I'm trolling for men or I'm just fishing for attention.


Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckDo I have to slap you?!!! Fuck what other people think. That photo captures the memory so succinctly. Stop giving a shit so much. Its just a goddamn photo.


Krista Who Gives a FuckAlright. I'll use the pic. But I'm gonna crop it so that my ass isn't showing.

Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckWhatever. Jeez. You're a serious head case. Get some help, girl.

 (one minute later...)


Krista Who Gives a FuckHoly crap! Facebook wouldn't let me crop the picture how I want and it uploaded instantly!! Now everyone's gonna see my ass on facebook! *sigh*. Shit. And now I have to keep it cuz someone's probably already saw it. If I take it off now people are going to think I'm self conscious about my body, which I'm not... well... not really. At least I didn't think I was so much anymore.. er... maybe a little. Fuck.


Krista Who Doesn't Give a FuckHahaha! I totally wanna high five Facebook right now. Nicely played. Bitch has to get over it now.

Yeah. That conversation is for real. I'm over it now, but you know the sucky part about that? It still happens a lot. I've been working hard to eliminate it, and most of the time I do, but there are times when it just takes over. I feel so trapped in my head when I do that. Not only do I feel trapped but I feel like I'm not being truly me.

You know the other ridiculous part about this whole thing? I walked around all day in that bathing suit without worrying about people staring at my ass. In fact, I didn't even think twice about wearing a bikini that day. So why did I get all weirded out about using that pic on my facebook profile?

I don't know.

Maybe its for some of the same reasons this chick feels self conscious about mountain biking or rock climbing in just a sports bra and booty shorts.
 
Maybe it was because the beach at the lake was a safe and controlled environment where it was socially acceptable to wander about in as little clothing as possible. Nobody stared. Well... it wasn't obvious anyway. No one accused me of trolling for men. No one attacked me out of nowhere. I felt perfectly safe. I didn't care if men looked at me and saw sex. I didn't care if women looked at me and saw a narcissistic little bitch. I was comfortable that day in my own body.

I would have to agree with the author in the article above when she says that women shouldn't have to

 "...choose between being respected as an athlete (or artist, or thinker, or professional, for that matter) and being sexy." 

But, who defines those boundaries? Can't we be sexy and still be an athlete, or artist, or thinker, or professional regardless of whether others see us only for one or the other? Its up to us as individuals to define those lines for ourselves. Or maybe we define that there are no lines at all. Maybe we just decide not to give a fuck and just... be.  And if the stupid conversation isn't going on in our heads we are empowered with the gift of being ourselves for ourselves and not for anybody else. If we are constantly asking what other people think then we've just locked ourselves up in other-people's-opinion jail. We become what other people think.

But the whole "women as sexual objects of desire" issue baffles me. On one hand, I recognize that if I post a pic of me wearing a bikini some of my men friends on facebook might look at that picture and find it a turn-on. Their primal, male instincts kick in and they get all fired up and think about sex. On the other hand, don't men think about sex a lot of the time anyway? Lets face it. Testosterone is a powerful thing. Its also a normal male thing and, as I'm learning, is a good thing for us females too in terms of sexual desire. I think most women who train the way I do will probably agree. But that's a post for another day. *wink*

Seth put up a quote on the board at the gym the other day. It reads:

"Don't let other people's opinions become your reality."

Isn't that the truth.

So why should I care when a guy sees the sun shining on parts of my body that don't see the light of day so much and has a normal male response to that?

The answer is in order to feel good about myself and not be self conscious I shouldn't care.

And what about the women who's opinions I worry so much about? Why is that so important to me? 

Because I want those women to like me. 

I know from experience this isn't possible, especially with women. As a woman who has had more guy friends than girl friends all my life I've learned that women are WAY more judgmental than men are. The sad fact is that women sometimes dislike other women for lots of stupid reasons. She's prettier. She's smarter. She's got her shit together. I can't control how other women think and I would suspect many of the judgments come from a place of their own insecurities.

But what I DO have control over is who I am as an individual. I have the power to be my true authentic self unaffected by the opinions of those around me, including my friends, family, the public masses and even the media. Those people don't live in my head, feel my pain, or take pride in my accomplishments. Fuck their opinions. They don't elevate me and they certainly don't define me. 

So fuck the Krista Who Gives a Fuck. 

I refuse to become a person who has built her personality on the foundation of other people's perspectives. That foundation is not my own. It would be a shame to live life with someone else's opinions in my head - someone else's judgements, attitudes, and convictions - because from there I may never get the chance to see the world from my own extraordinary view. 

Fuck that shit.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Time for Another Hoorag Giveaway!

August 5, 2013, 8:37 am

≫ Next: HooRag Yo!

≪ Previous: Fuck The Krista Who Gives a Fuck

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Alrighty then... are you ready for another giveaway?

The Buff. Also otherwise known as a Hoorag. On occasion it's found as a swag freebie in our race bags. Most runners have no clue what to do with this random piece of fabric.

Wear it on your head?

Yup.

Wear it around your neck?

 That too.

Wear it as a totally inappropriate hoochie dress? 

Um. Maybe not such a good idea. One word. Chafing. Besides, unless you happen to earn a living wearing clothing that barely covers your love taco I would suggest you use it in less extreme ways. But come to think of it... paired with some killer thigh high, patent leather boots I'm sure it makes a pretty sassy accessory for prostitutes.

But, I happen to wear my buff mostly around my waist like this...

I use it to carry my phone, keys, small flashlights, sunglasses, peanut butter sandwiches, handi-wipes or whatever I happen to need on the trail at any given time. People are always surprised to find out how well the buff works despite its being folded and open on the top. It fits so snugly around your waist that nothing falls out. NOTHING. I've sprinted with my buff on carrying my phone and it never moved, bounced, or fell out.

I'm telling you, this thing is GENIUS! And you might also wanna know that I have no affiliation whatsoever with any companies who produce this brilliant piece of fabric. Really. Its so simple you could probably make one yourself, granted you could find the right sized knit fabric. I would encourage you to do so too. Or... you could just enter my giveaway. *wink*

So... you want one?

I've got two pink/white Hoorags left to give away. Sorry, the black and blue ones are gone...

...and no... these aren't the hoochie dress length ones, girls, so if you're going to wear it as a cheap and dirty substitute for clothing there's probably only enough fabric to cover either your coochie or your hooters. Pick one. But please... try and keep it tasteful and don't send me pictures.

But, in order to enter I have another favor to ask again.

I need you to like Seth and Rick's gym on Facebook. The Ranch Athletics. These guys are freakin awesome!! And although they've been up and running for several months now they could use a little more exposure.

If you're a local runner or athlete (Sacramento area) and have had constant injuries or just want to be faster, or stronger, or train for something bigger or harder they are The Dudes. Seriously. Word is getting out about this gym. They have their shit together and they specialize in athletes. Oh and they will work their own asses off for you. I know this because that's what they've been doing for me for the past couple years or so (before they even opened their training facility). And trust me. I'm not easy to train. Before meeting Seth, I would have never dreamed of signing up for a hundred miler. In fact, a half marathon scared me. I didn't have the strength, the endurance, the confidence or the guts to even attempt an ultra. And I was always injured and had a myriad of foot and hip problems. I was such a mess.

Boy. I've come a long way.

These guys will train you. You, your body, your mind, your confidence. 

All of it.

And they're really good guys.

I know I talk a lot about them and I hope it doesn't sound over-gushing cuz I really hate gush. If there's anything I hate its syrupy compliments and butt-kissing. I won't go on about something unless its genuine and I believe in it. So you know these guys are for real.

Here are the "official" rules:
1) Go like Hoo-rag on Facebook (if you haven't already).

2) Go like The Ranch Athletics on Facebook.

3) Come back here and leave a comment and tell me what your next athletic (or non-athletic) goal in life is.


That's it! Then check back here for the winners which I will pick in about a week or so. Good luck!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

---

HooRag Yo!

August 13, 2013, 11:22 am

≫ Next: Purveyors of Pain - Gettin My Shit Worked Out

≪ Previous: Time for Another Hoorag Giveaway!

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Fuck all the flim flam and lets get down to bizness...
CONGRATULATIONS Trail Mama and Dolphyngyrl!!! You won the last of my HooRags!!

Email me your address so I can ship these to you.

Purveyors of Pain - Gettin My Shit Worked Out

August 19, 2013, 10:50 am

≫ Next: 100 MILES. KILL THE BITCH.

≪ Previous: HooRag Yo!

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WARNING: This post is NOT about cute kitties massaging each other.

I had never met this man in my life. He was an older gentleman with a quiet voice and happy eyes. A very paternal figure with a comforting presence. I had no idea how much pain he was about to inflict on me. 

I was naked and lying on the table staring at the vintage PBR mural on the wall, draped in tension, exposed and vulnerable and before I knew it I was screaming obscenities. Really. And it was LOUD. And HOLY CRAP it was painful. 

Dude was digging fists, knuckles and elbows into my body like it was a fucking martial art. He mashed areas of my body no masseur would ever dare to touch. He started with my glutes, crushing his entire body weight into my ass cheek with his fist. Then when he found the knot - OH HOLY FUCK!!!! Here we go... 

...the knot moved off his knuckle but he catches it with his fist until he has it pinned and then...

"OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!! OH FUCKING HELL MAKE IT STOP!! FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!"

Yeah. I was writhing in pain, screaming loudly, starting to sweat and trying to wiggle out of his grip but he has me pinned to the bed with two hands now and he's working my left ass cheek like its a full on boxing match.

Then a reprieve.

I hear a whisper near my ear "You can try, but you can't escape..."

I'm breathing hard. Like I've just ran a 6 minute mile. 

Then out of the corner of my eye I see him over to my right. His body is positioned like he's about to push start a car - both hands in front of him, strong stance and then...

"OH JEEZUZ!! MUUUUTHER FUUUUUUUUCKER!!!"

Yeah. This ritual was repeated on my quads, my hamstrings (OH FUCK MY HAMSTRINGS!!!) my calves, the bottoms of my feet and then my hips. He also worked some stuff out of my back, shoulders, and forearms.

After about an hour of this my entire body was buzzing like I was drunk, I was sweating, and I had this intense desire to devour a foot-long sandwich. WTF?

There were no scented candles, no hot stones, no footbaths, no aromatherapy. This place and these therapists are all bizness.

But I knew that going in. They are the infamous Monsters of Massage located in Newcastle, CA. They are the massage pros for the pros and they will deliver. Holy fuck will they deliver. Their specialty is endurance athletes. They have a wall of finish line photos of their clients after their 100s or 50s and they are the premiere masseurs for the internationally known Western States Endurance Run.

And so far they have gotten shit worked out that I've had for years like the knot monster I dealt with way back in September 2010. Yeah. I gave up on that one a long time ago, but I clearly needed to get that taken care of.

I think these "massages" along with all the other stuff I've been doing at The Ranch Athleticshas helped my achilles dramatically. In fact, I was able to do an easy 4.7 mile trail run last Saturday, another easy 4 miler with hills on Wednesday and another very flat 4 miler pushing my pace down to 8:15min/mile on Friday. Today (Sunday) I managed a few hill repeats and if it weren't for the smoke in the air (sadly the fire in Foresthill is burning up part of the Western States trails) I would have done more and tried to push even harder. But, even though each day has been progressively better on my achilles I'm still a little gun shy so I'm being extra careful.

I have another sports massage planned for next Wednesday - this time at the spa - a birthday present and much needed break from The Monsters although it might feel more like a tickle after being subjected to Monster's pain therapy which I go back in for in a couple weeks. But despite my lack of running (what's new?) I'm feeling even stronger and more solid on the hills.

My mental training seems to be working as well. I'm not so worried about this race as much as I was before and I'm even more convinced that I can slay this beast. But the fact remains (as it did with my 100k) that I've never ran that distance before on that difficult of a course and with this kind of training so until I get out there and run it I won't know what I'm capable of. 

Still... I'm feeling strong and think I can do this. But if I'm gonna get my ass to that finish line I've got to maintain this mental attitude which isn't easy for me. My head is my worst enemy, but I'm killing it now and I think that's gonna be what's gonna get me to this finish line four weeks from now.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

100 MILES. KILL THE BITCH.

September 10, 2013, 8:12 am

≫ Next: Pine To Palm 100 - September 14, 2013

≪ Previous: Purveyors of Pain - Gettin My Shit Worked Out

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Hundo prep. My cheat sheet.

She's curled up on the ground and I'm kicking the shit out of her. Yeah... and she sobs every now and then but mostly she's quiet. Then I step on her and pin her head to the ground. I tell her she's not allowed to speak to me ever again. That she needs to keep her fucking mouth shut. I tell her she will never EVER get in my way again and if she even so much as whispers I will be on her, shoving my fist in her gut and wrenching her to the ground. I'm done with her. She can die now.

She doubts me. A lot of people do. Even people very close to me doubt me. Despite the fact that I'm stronger than I ever have been in my life. Despite the fact that I know I have the capacity to endure. Despite the fact that I have persevered through pain and distance before. Despite the fact that the trail runner inside me is clawing to climb up mountains and run steep descents. Yeah. I haven't been running mountains lately (except small mileage in my valley's steeps and canyons and that descent on the Flume Trail which jacked up my achilles), but these three facts remain now: I'm solid. I'm strong. I'm ready.

I CAN DO THIS.

I WILL SHOW HER.

That little bitch in my head will only hold me back and keep me from achieving a goal that could possibly teach me something about myself. So I'm killing her. She has no right to be in my head right now and regardless of what she thinks I have every right to be on that starting line come Saturday.

So while I'm focusing on mostly mobility and the last of my speedwork/interval running this past week I've been in the process of killing a part of myself. Its a weird transformation since I'm literally visualizing myself lying on the ground in a violent heap of suffering - on the edge of death or unconsciousness. But the me that's on the ground is a fucking pussy and she bleeds self-doubt, fear, and negativity. She tries to control me. I want to show her that I won't tolerate her shit-talking anymore. I won't let her build nests of worry in my head anymore. She will not control me. She will no longer tell me what I can and can't do.

I'm just hoping she's not as strong as I am right now. Its gonna be one hell of a fight if that's the case.

It's obvious that my physical challenges are no longer my only challenges for this upcoming 100 miler. The physical challenges are in some ways easier to deal with. I can work a calf knot out. I can even run an ultra on bruised and aching feet if I have to, I've done it before, but its really hard to battle the doubt and the head games I play with myself. So I'm using the only tools I've got - to visualize my crossing the finish line and cramming that little bitch's face into the ground. My mantra: To conquer and dominate. Not only this course, but the little bitch in my head. Right now, I can't imagine anything less if I'm going to finish this thing.

(Drop bags and gear.) Don't be fooled. This is a highly organized pile of shit.

So in preparation for this mental battle and adventure, I'm in ultra-planning mode. My husband tells me I'm nesting. Yeah. I guess I kinda am. I've mapped out my most conservative section times in order to make the cut-toffs. I've been compiling gear/food lists and tracking weather for weeks now. I've even developed a Google Earth tour of the entire race course which I "virtually" run on a regular basis. Preparation is my weapon. Because this unknown vortex leaves behind the debris of questioning and self doubt, and makes that little bitch all giddy. For some reason, preparation makes her go away. So that's what I'm doing.

That's what I've been doing all along. For over a year now - with my training. But still... the unknown distance is scary and whether my training will translate is even scarier. But that's that little bitch talking to me again. She always says I can't do this without running long slow distance. Without putting in the back-to-backs. Without putting time on my feet. I'm surrounded by runners who will tell me the same. I can't do this because I don't train the way they do. How can lifting weights, pushing prowlers, and pulling sleds make me capable of finishing a hundred mile race? Not just any hundred miler, but a truly challenging hundred miler?

But then I look back on my running accomplishments - my first trail marathon, my first ultra, my 100k. Every single one of those races was finished and completed with my strength and conditioning training. Not for one of those did I ever go out and run more than 20 miles a week. Hell, I probably never ran more than 10 miles a week and sometimes not more than 5. My strength and conditioning was enough (and in some cases) more than I needed. 

That little bitch...

But, I have a deep respect for hundred milers. I realize that as the miles increase exponentially, experience becomes your biggest asset. THAT, is the one thing that I may be seriously lacking. As we all know, anything can happen the longer you are on the trail. I will concede that my experience map may in fact, be missing. Looks like I will have to learn a thing or two during this hundred miler.

A learning experience and the unknown.

Funny... as scary as it is... I embrace that shit!

BRING. IT. ON.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Pine To Palm 100 - September 14, 2013

September 23, 2013, 8:29 am

≫ Next: Getting Back To Training

≪ Previous: 100 MILES. KILL THE BITCH.

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Smiling on the trail. The beauty of the Siskiyous.

My crew said I had been closing down aid stations all day since they saw me at Squaw Lakes. Left behind me was a wake of bodies wrapped in space blankets lying on the ground waiting to be taken off course. I was the closer for very aid station. It seemed weird to me at the time that I was always DFL because I remember passing people. In fact, I passed about seven guys coming over Stein Butte. A few of those guys were in pretty bad shape. They had run out of water on a hot and exposed section of the ridge before they got to the aid station. In fact, we all anticipated that aid station being A LOT closer. If I had water to share with them I would have, but as it turns out my hydration pack was empty as well and I still had another tough climb ahead of me and a couple miles to go before I got a refill. Yeah. That was pretty rough and it took a lot out of me.

I had done my homework. I knew this was a tough course with some technical sections and some long climbs. Out of 160 people registered only 120 were on the starting line at Pine To Palm 100 miler on September 14, 2013. So 40 people dropped even before getting to the starting line. According to realendurance.com this race was ranked slightly harder than Western States, Tahoe Rim Trail, and Leadville. I knew it wasn't going to be a cake walk, but I have a tendency to make things out to be much harder in my head than they actually are in reality so I figured this race was one of those races.

Um. NO. I was sorely mistaken.

This race was more relentless and sadistic than I could ever imagine.

But it was also more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed. But, I wasn't there to pick flowers in the Siskiyous (well... only if I had the time to spare, which I didn't). I was there to step up to a challenge and learn a thing or two about my limits and potential as an ultrarunner. I was stepping into the unknown. A dark and floating space of questions I've had for myself might finally be answered. Do I have what it takes to finish a challenging 100 miler? How far will my body let me go? Am I strong enough? Is my mind strong enough? Is my strength training and low mileage running enough? I was ready to be schooled in what was to be, for me, the ultimate test of ultras.

I learned a lot.

I learned the importance of a really great crew for one. Really. I had the absolute best crew EVER. Not only were they organized and on top of things but they had the best attitude and sense of fun than any other crew at that race. But, you kind of have to. I honestly think its harder to crew a race than to run it, although, this was a hard race to run which made my crew that much more valuable and me, ever so much more grateful.

They weren't your typical ho hum crew...

...my crew had some hardcore enthusiasm!

Yeah. That guy in the front? That would be my husband. He was my biggest cheerleader for this race. Little did I know all of them would be my cheerleaders for the full 100 miles. Literally.

My friend/coach Rick waiting for me at Applegate Resevoir.

Maggie, Patrick, Rick, Matt - THE BEST CREW EVER!!!

Oh... and it got better... later on they broke out the party hats and disco lights. My husband even ran with me to the top of one of the peaks dressed in a leisure suit, mirrored-ball bike helmut and playing disco music all the way up while feeding me chocolate covered espresso beans.

Gettin' their party on!

Dance party in the ultra van!

So picking the perfect crew turned out to be a success from the beginning. This group motivated and supported me the whole way even going so far as to "moon" me just to snap me out of my slightly fatigued state around mile 60. Yeah. They knew that a glimpse of ass crack in the moonlight was just enough to get me giggling and moving again. They know me so well.

And they were already crewing me before the race even started. I don't know how many times they ran back to the car at the pre-race orientation and medical check-in to get a pen, or tape, or the camera, or some other random item. They were already trying to "save" my legs for race day.

Me and Mags at pre-race orientation and check-in.

Drop bags.

I even discovered a use for all those nifty zippered plastic bags my bedsheets always came in. Yeah. Don't ask me why I saved them, but they just looked like too much plastic to throw into the landfill. I found out they make an excellent drop bag. One quick look and I can see everything inside.

 I was not shy about representing my favorite gym and coaches at the Ranch Athletics. Afterall, weren't all those people there to see the gun show?

Dun, Dun, Dun... what DOES she weigh? 118lbs.

We were a little bit like the naughty kids in the back of the class goofing off while the teacher is talking and then skipping out of class early. We missed the bit about all the important safety and medical issues. Oh well... they didn't need to remind me. I prefer the Born To Run motto anyway - "If I get hurt, lost, or die... its my own damn fault." But, I was promptly reminded by Matt on his pacing leg with me that I can also still sue for negligence. Apparently, he was a little less than impressed with the "safety" of the trail conditions. Oh well... falling to my death might get me to the bottom of the mountain faster and being jabbed in the eye by a random tree limb would... um... just plain hurt. But whatevs...

 ... so we had to bail to go shove some food into our faces... oh and the crew needed to drink some beer. Afterall, we WERE in Oregon, home to some pretty cool breweries. I, on the other hand, was still respecting the training and my upcoming race so I was off the wagon (or on it - I just never know how that works.)

Drink up Pat, Mags and Matt!

A big fat burger was totally on the menu.

How does an ultra-runner eat before a 100 mile race? They EAT BIG!

The DirtyGirlZ were with me in "spirits." Love those girls!!!

I can't remember the last time my belly felt that full. I felt like I just ate a basketball. But I was loading up on race fuel and a burger and fries has never done me wrong pre-race, so that's what I had. And it was delicious!


Then it was off to hotel to get to bed... um... early?? Well, not before I opened my care packages anyway. One from the DirtyGirlZ and one from my friend Monica who also trains at The Ranch. 

I got post-race celebratory libations from the DirtyGirlZ including some tootsie roll pops to "LICKIT!..."

I got a Marines Hoorag!! Thank you Monica!

... and a gold and red Marines Hoorag from my friend Monica at The Ranch. Monica was running the Headlands 50 miler that same weekend and we intended to both sport our Marines Hoorags at our races - in honor of our coaches at The Ranch Athletics who are both former Marines and happen to be two of the greatest guys we know.




But sleep was not easy for me which is unusual even for race day. But this wasn't a typical race for me. I was anticipating an adventure. I was anticipating a challenge.

I was anticipating sleep. Maybe a little too much cuz I only got two hours. Uggh.

Oh well...Lets get this all night party started, right? Oh wait, wasn't I already up all night? Shit. This isn't starting well. But I was awake and ready to roll at 4:15am.

Gotta love how there always has to be a banana on the start line. Mags was holding hers at her hundo when she met race director, Matt Gunn and I was rockin' the banana buff. I did eventually actually eat mine, however.

Race Director Hal Koerner

Hal made some inaudible announcements and then everyone starting moving forward. Slowly. Uphill. But before I knew it everybody started running uphill and passing me. I'm thinking to myself, did I sign up for a 100 miler or a 50k? What's up with that? I decided not to follow the rabbits and take my time. I had mapped out my sections times and I had plenty of time to meet my first target. So I hung back and chatted with a 100 miler newbie and a guy who had attempted it last year but ended up dropping. I figured he had experience and if he was taking it slow, then so would I.


Greyback Mountain Summit - Race start-10 Miles
My plan (and some advice from my friend Monica, an experienced ultrarunner) - I was going to make sure the first third was effortless (HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!) and the second third was work, and the final third I was going to push with everything I had. Not sure it was totally possible to do "effortless" on those trails, but whatever. I had a plan.

Greyback Mountain Summit - Jump!! The only and last shot before my crew took my phone away. Ha!

I ended up falling in pace with a couple other runners Derrick Kleiner of Grants Pass, Oregon and Jean-michel Fouard from Washington State on the long climb up the mountain. We exchanged formal/informal greetings, interests, hobbies, kids names, favorite race food, favorite alcoholic beverage, and random trail knowledge. Derrick and I even started on a slightly tongue-and-cheek collaborative ultra-running handbook together. All I remember from that handbook is Derrick's awesome contribution with the phrase "Hogs starve, but pigs eat." Don't ask me what that was about. Dude was chock-full of all sorts of fascinating information. He also knew the trails we were running like the back of his hand. He also knew I was a leo and that I don't drink wine. Weird.


Greyback Mtn Summit to Seattle Bar/Applegate Reservoir - Miles 10-28
I arrived at the first cutoff with close to an hour to spare. My left knee/IT band had started to feel a little aggravated by the first steep downhill so I was forced to pay attention. This was one of my biggest fears. Its always the hilly and steep races that aggravate that shit. It concerned me that this was happening so early in the race. I was hoping more walk breaks might force it to go away.

At Seattle Bar my crew got me in and out of there like a seasoned Nascar pit crew. Seriously. They had their shit together. I was refueling and popping blisters (which I would later discover was a futile attempt at prevention).

Coming into Seattle Bar at about 28 miles. Me and my new buddy Derrick who ran with me for about 40 miles.

The Ranch Athletics - Ultra Pit Crew.

Chipmunk cheeks. Shoving food in my face for storage.

 

Heading up to Stein Butte

Stein Butte to Squaw Lakes - Mile 28-40
What can I say? This was a bitch and probably the toughest of sections to endure. I had my trail running fiyah on by this point (funny how miles 30-50 was my section of mojo at my 100k too) and was super motivated to climb this part. I was moving at a pretty consistent and solid pace. It was a beautiful climb at first on switchbacks through a forest, but it quickly became exposed and hot. I passed a few runners on this section. One runner followed close behind me. I was on fire, but apparently he was struggling. He told me he dropped after Stein Butte last year and he was thinking of dropping again at the same point this time. He was in a really bad place. When he asked me if I thought I was going to finish I belted out...

Recovery from Stein Butte

"FUCK YEAH I'm going to finish!"

Then I picked up my pace and dropped "Debbie Downer." I'm sorry he was in a low spot, but I couldn't let that shit take me down. It was permeating and I was facing a really difficult section with the heat and exposure up on the ridgeline. I needed every ounce of positive energy I had to endure the next few miles. 

I started the climb with a full hydration pack and thought that it would be plenty of water to get me to the next aid station which I assumed was only 5 miles into the climb. Apparently it was more like 8 miles and that last bit was HARD. HOT. AND EXPOSED.

Squaw Lakes

This is where the carnage piled up on the trail. Strong runners were pulled over to the side of the trail wilted and defeated and completely out of water. The hard part about running out of water is that it becomes a deluge of crappiness. You can no longer eat because it makes you thirsty and you can't get your electrolytes S-caps or otherwise. Its a snowball effect. Luckily, I don't think I was in as bad a shape as some of those guys because I have a tendency to drink less than I should so I probably went for fewer miles without water than most of those guys. It was sad though. I saw crew people running down the trail from the aid station bringing water to their runners. And the time wasted to recover from that completely destroyed time goals and cutoffs for most of those runners who were trying to run a conservative first third of the race. I know it destroyed my times and put me back more than it should.

But it wasn't just the water fiasco that set me back. The downhill off of Stein Butte was STEEP and GNARLY. It was some serious steep elevation change on single track powder-like dirt that dropped off into an abyss of trees on the left side that had me taking it really easy on this part so as to not aggravate my already stressed IT band or run out of control to my death below. Unfortunately, I overcompensated on my right side which I paid for later.

I made it into the aid station and around Squaw Lakes within an hour of the time cutoff which was 6:30pm but I ended up staying a little longer here to refuel - hell, it was dinner time!! My body needed calories, fat and protein. I ended up leaving this aid station a little later than anticipated with what seemed like a dozen bodies of burnt runners still on the ground around me. I assumed all those people were dropping. They weren't moving.

Squaw Lakes to Hanley Gap/Squaw Peak - Mile 42-50
We left Squaw Lakes at 6:24pm. My friend Matt "unofficially" paced me for this section. The best way to describe most of this section was boring and relentless. We incessantly climbed uphill on steep road and unmaintained single track through French Gulch Divide and on up to Squaw Peak. But Matt never fails to entertain me, or I never fail to entertain Matt (I'm really not sure which it is) so this section was tolerable. Nature called for a short pee break on this section and although I had mastered my peeing-while-standing-up-in-compression-shorts skills, I was getting a little tired and the "wiggle and shake" I normally do at the end to keep from dripping all over myself was a little weak. I remember telling Matt shortly after that stop that I might have to remove my panties due to some chafing issues I was having. His reaction was stellar. I could tell he wasn't sure how to react to a comment like that. If you pace me you've got to be prepared for anything. I'm not shy about telling you how it is. If I need to take care of something you'll hear about it. Luckily the chafing issue resolved itself and we were able to divert an awkward moment. I think Matt was relieved.

Hanley Gap/Squaw Peak - Mile 50-52
Capture the Flag by 9:30pm

Maggie Glo Bug

I arrived at the base of Squaw Peak around 8:50pm. In order to meet the new time cutoff here by 9:30pm I had to make a climb to the top of Squaw Peak, get a flag and bring it back down to the aid station. To be honest, I wasn't sure whether I would make it in time. It was another relentless uphill one mile up and then back down. If my (now right knee) hadn't started bothering me I would have been confident I'd make the cutoff. But the downhill hurt and I knew my pace would be slow.

My husband joined me for this climb, bringing some chill "forward movement" music with him on a little portable speaker. My climb to the top was unbroken, focused and silent as I power-hiked as fast as I could pinning it all the way to the top to get that flag. I tried to run as much as I could back down taking super short, half skipping, half hobbling walk breaks every now and then to relieve my aching knee.

It was 9:25pm by the time I got down. I made the time cutoff but it was close. I got the last of the soup at this aid station. No broth. Just noodles. That's all you get when you're DFL.

But I got to continue on.


Squaw Peak to Squaw Creek Gap and on to Dutchman Peak - Mile 52-65

Matt - Ready for sleep after pacing me.

There was more relentless uphill to endure coming out of Squaw Peak but to be honest, if it hadn't been for my mechanical issues with the inside of my right knee (a pain that was beginning to radiate into my hip now) I felt little fatigue and overall felt really strong. My achilles issues never once piped up and my quads were still strong and stable. I guess I was expecting a little soreness in my achilles and my quads to be a little wobbly after all that climbing, but I was shocked to discover that those never became an issue at all.

After a small reprieve of flatish downhill Matt and I met the sweepers and ran with them for a bit. Its always eery to know the sweepers have caught up with you but they were cool folks and a welcome change on the monotonous trail. Patrick and Rick surprised me by running down the trail to greet me a few miles before the Squaw Creek Gap aid station. I stopped just long enough to shove my face full of more soup and some turkey meat and then Matt and I were on our way to the top of Dutchman Peak - another looooong, incessant, and grueling climb in the dark.

Dutchman Peak - Mile 65-67
Last cutoff before finish 2:00am
At mile 65 we arrived at Dutchman Peak. I instinctively knew I was close to the cutoff at 2am but I refused to look at my watch. I was going to push with all I had and pin it to the top regardless of time. This may be the end of my adventure and I was planning on ending strong. I could see the headlamps of the other runners checking in and I could hear the music blaring, but the peak still seemed SO FAR AWAY.

"I don't know if I will make it. " I said to Pat while taking a short break to massage the muscle on the inside of my right knee. I refused to look at my watch.

"Eat another espresso bean. Now." Pat said to me. He put a handful in my pocket right before the climb and had been directing me to eat them at timed intervals on the way up.

"We're going to do this. You get it Krista!!" He says.

I'm power-hiking uphill as fast as my legs will take me. The peak is still SO FAR AWAY.

Pat Dressed in disco suit and mirrored helmut mixing my applesauce and protein powder.

I finally look at my watch. Its says 1:55am. My shoulders drop. I'm feeling defeated. I'm weighing in my head whether its really worth it to keep going if I know I won't make it. But something in me can't stop. I want to keep going. Pat encourages me to continue so I keep pinning it. Pedal to the metal. Runners are passing me coming down from Dutchman and encouraging me to continue on. I was envious that they had already made it. I'm still focused. Still pinning it, but I'm starting to feel a pang of regret. 

Finally I get close to the top and kick it into a full on sprint up the hill hoping I've made it.

The guy at the top had a regretful look on his face. Oh fuck.

"Its 2:01 am. You missed the cutoff. We have to ask you to leave the course. Race rules. Its for your own safety."

The look on my face must have been very sad. A woman at the top yells out "You really need to hand them tissues when you tell them that."

My stomach flipped. Wha??? Really? Are you serious??? I missed it by one fucking minute??!!!

"But I worked so hard to get here!" I said.

I fucking could't believe it. I worked hard not only from the start of the race to meet each time cutoff, but I've dedicated more than a year of training to reach this moment - and to have missed it by only a minute! I looked at my watch. It said 2:00am. But the official time was actually 2:01am. I stood there. Frozen.

A guy in a green jacket comes running down from the aid table and stands square in front of me.

"I just saw you come up that hill and you look stronger than most of the guys we just told to go on so I'm going to let you continue. But, you can't stop for anything. You have to keep moving. You get what you need here and you take it with you, but you can't stop. What do you need?"

"I need soup." I say.

So I walk up to the table and as he's pouring my soup I'm a little concerned that I might risk aid stations closing before I get there. So I ask him. He was honest with me.

"Yes. You might not have aid which is why you need to keep moving." He says.

Alrighty then. With soup in hand and a newfound motivation to pass up some runners Pat and I head down the hill. I'm spilling my soup so Pat tells me once I'm out of eye shot of the guys at the top to just stop and take a minute to drink it up. I stop, guzzle the broth and greedily shove a fistful of noodles in my mouth. We run down the hill while Pat is pulling a loaf of banana bread out of my pack and feeding me huge chunks while running. I felt stronger than ever. I was on my way to finish this beast of a course and kill the bitch once and forever.

Dutchman Peak to Long John Saddle - Mile 67- 75

Rick - Ready to pace me.

Rick had found a random spot at the top of the hill near the crew area at Dutchman Peak where he was checking the Ultralive feed to see if I made it to the top by the cutoff. Apparently, he was refreshing his phone every 5 minutes, but his phone died before he could get results. I think he knew right away once he saw me and Pat coming down the mountain that we were good to go. He was ready to pace me. Maggie was getting me warmed up (it was a bit chilly on the peak and I was starting to shiver). Within minutes the crew had me in my warm clothes and had swapped out my headlamp. Pat mixed up my concoction of applesauce and protein powder. They refilled my pack with more chocolate covered espresso beans, I ate my applesauce and Rick and I were on our way.

Within what seemed like a half hour we had already passed about 4 guys on the trail. I felt relieved. At least the sweepers weren't at my heels now. I wasn't DFL for the first time since Squaw Lakes. It felt good.

Getting ready for the next section.

This section was pretty fun to run at first (which I did in spurts until I needed to stop to massage my knee every so often). The trail eventually became questionably narrow singletrack and, in some parts, hugged what felt like a sliver of the mountain's edge dropping off into steep black on our left side for miles. Oddly enough, I was relieved to be running this part at night even with my fatigue biting into my own sense of balance. I only saw the portion of the trail lit up by my headlamp and flashlight and never had any clue as to how far down to the bottom it was should my footing give way on that part. There were only a few gnarly slippery spots that Rick pointed out to me as we made our way along.

And the best part was when we came into a clearing in the middle of a meadow on the side of the mountain and Rick says to me "Kill your flashlight and turn off your lamp."

So I did.

We stood there under what seemed like an upside down city of stars. Holy crap it was beautiful! I can't remember a time when I've seen so many stars, if ever. It was an amazing feeling to have come so far and I was feeling more uplifted by the beauty of the course even at night.

We arrived at Long John Saddle during the early darkness of the morning just before dawn. It often felt like I was the only one on course while running so I was always surprised to see runners at the aid stations. The runners at Long John Saddle were sleeping and sitting in chairs looking half human and zombie-like. A couple pacers were standing around the heat lamps and staring off into oblivion.

I really don't remember eating much here. I remember sitting down, fatigue beginning to set in. Pat told me to get warm and then nap for 10 minutes. One of the runners woke from his nap and the cot was free. I snuggled under a couple wool blankets and faded in and out not really ever dropping off at all before my ten minute nap was up.

After I awoke, Rick taped up my right knee in an attempt to lessen the pain. I took a few more minutes to myself to try and gather my strength for the next section. I remember asking the woman next to me (she was pacing the zombie guy on the cot) how many miles were left. 

"There's about 26 miles left, but its REALLY HARD and REALLY TECHNICAL." She emphasized "hard" and "technical" and all of a sudden I felt myself questioning my ability to handle the next few miles with my knee and right hip in so much pain.

"So... are there anymore crewable points after this?" I said. I knew the answer to this question was "no." I guess I was grasping at straws trying to find reasons and ways to bail out should I need to. I was starting to feel incapable of moving forward knowing how painful it was to run downhill. And I knew, except for the climbing up to the last peak at Wagner Butte, there would be a LOT of downhill. I could feel doubt trying to settle into my brain.

Still sitting in the chair I looked to my left side and there was Maggie crouching next to my chair looking up at me. She had just awoke from a nap in the van to come over and check up on me. She hadn't heard what the pacer said about the hard and technical trail, but she heard the doubt in my voice when I asked about whether there were any other crewable aid stations.

Maggie looked me in the eyes. "Krista. YOU CAN DO THIS." She said. It was obvious by the look on her face that she totally believed in me and my abilities to get through the last 26 miles and to finish this race even when I had serious doubts about it myself. I could tell she believed in me.

That was all I needed. It was enough to snap me out of my questioning and doubt and forget everything that pacer said and just focus on the next section ahead of me which turned out to be a mostly runnable, gentle downhill section to the base of the next climb. Wagner Butte.


Wagner Butte Trailhead to the top of Wagner Butte - Mile 80-85
Capture the Flag.

On our way to Wagner Butte.

Mags and I left Long John Saddle just as the sun was rising. It was a pretty easy 6 mile section of gravel road to the Wagner Butte Trailhead. I managed to run a good portion of most of this, although at a pretty slow pace (I was losing the range of motion in my right leg and hip.) Eventually the sweeper caught up to us... again. But, I was happy to be on trail to Wagner, a destination I had looked forward to seeing in person after seeing the rocky crags in Google Earth. I knew it was going to be a treat.

At the base of the trailhead Mags and I got into my drop bag and applied what sunscreen I had and fueled up at the aid station. It was straight uphill for another 5 miles. Some of this was unmaintained/overgrown singletrack trail taking us through multiple ecosystems, marshes, forests and ridgelines and ending up at a rocky crag outcrop which we had to boulder up to retrieve a flag. The trail was stunning. The views were breathtaking.

Still moving...

I was in a lot of pain at this point and my running had pretty much degenerated into a fast walk, but the distraction of the views was enough to keep me happy all the way to the top.

The last climb up Wagner Butte.

Mile 80 something and I look it.

Climbing through tall grass.

The beauty of the terrain.

A burrito break.

Beauty worth the pain of getting there.

A little bouldering to the top at mile 85.

Meeting other runners at the top.

Me and Mags at the top of Wagner Butte!

Capturing the flag at the top.

360 degree views from Wagner Butte.

Signing the summit register.

Wagner Butte to Road 2060  and on to the finish- Miles 85-100.5
It was slow going back down Wagner and down to the road. The trail coming down from Wagner is just as I was told... steep and technical. And it HURT. I could no longer put weight on my right leg on the downhills. I was trying every possible option to cope with the pain. Running/walking with a wider stance. Turning my right foot inwards (which seemed to help but was unsustainable) Hopping, skipping, gentle striking. I tried everything. 

Mags coming down from Wagner Butte.

Steep trail. Thankfully this obstacle was removed.

I even tried medicating which I vehemently avoid when doing ultras. I don't like covering up the pain with ibuprofen just to push through. If I have to push through pain then I've clearly gone too far. But a 100 miler is extreme. I had no doubt there would be pain. I had no doubt I would have to push through. I held out as long as I possibly could without medicating myself to cope. When I finally gave in and took about 800mg it did almost next to nothing to deaden the pain that was radiating into my hip with a deep achy and sporadically jabby feeling. Oh well. All I could do at that point was keep moving. 

Deep in my pain cave.

The only thing keeping me motivated at that point was the finish line... and funny enough... half a burrito that I found in my pocket at mile 90. It was like Christmas!! Although, the quiche I had at that aid station was good too, that burrito (which I think Mags had made for me for dinner the day before) truly hit the spot! Hahaha! Who'da thought?

My cheerleader husband.

The guys cheering and running me in.

 

Me and Mags coming into the finish.

I was following Maggie once we hit the road and the finish still felt like a long ways off. I kept thinking I was seeing containers of water with red spickets just off the road... and tables with sparkly trail markers tied to them. Apparently, I was hallucinating. 


On the way to the finish... Matt, Rick, and Pat met us about 5 miles up the trail to run with me into the finish line. Seeing the guys gave me such a huge boost! I knew I was close to finishing. It was already midday and I was ready to be done. I picked up my walking pace (walking was all I could do at that point) and kept it pretty consistent until just before the finish line when I managed to gimpily run into the finish. I did it. I killed the bitch in 32 hours 57 minutes 19 seconds. 120 people started. 79 finished. I was number 79. They even interviewed me for the local paperbecauseI came in last place. Ha! Check out the last paragraph. Hahahaha! But that course was tough. I'll take last place because at least it means I finished.

Fuck yeah!!!

Trying to run strong into the finish.

I did it!!

The crew - Both Mags and I with our hundo buckles.

So was my strength training and low mileage running enough to get me through this hundred miler?
 
Absolutely! In fact, I would say it nailed it!

Mechanical issues aside (by the way.... my IT band on my left leg was completely fine after Stein Butte... go figure.) if I had to judge my training and preparedness for this race I would say it was spot on.

I WAS solid. I WAS strong. And I had the conditioning needed to finish this race. I was so ready when I stood on that starting line. Had I not had my typical problems (I will continue to work on my tight hip flexors, IT band, and other problem areas through mobility & flexibility work) I could have completed this race strong and in a much shorter time than I did. But a hundred miles is extreme. Had I been doing long slow distance running and back-to-backs before this race I may have never made it to the start line at all. But, I was amazed at how good and strong I felt throughout the race despite my hip and knee pain. Take that pain away and I would have TOTALLY ROCKED IT!

Thank you so much Seth and Rick!! I will never doubt your training again!

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Getting Back To Training

October 22, 2013, 4:21 pm

≫ Next: High-Five Yourself. You Just Got Out Of Bed.

≪ Previous: Pine To Palm 100 - September 14, 2013

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Runners post ultra mobility session at The Ranch Athletics. (Ok... so this might have been more of a girls chat session.)

I haven't ran a lick since The Pine To Palm 100, but I was back to my training a week after the race doing mostly rehab mobility work. I've been slowly getting range of motion back in my right knee. Along with that I've been growing back the skin on my heels, losing a few toenails, and, what seems like at a snail's pace, getting my general strength back. It was a tough first three weeks though. I struggled to do even three pull-ups two weeks post race. THREE PULLUPS. And my pushups were weak. Yeah. That was totally lame.

To be honest, that really pissed me off.

But, I'm over it.

Things are getting better and my body is finally getting back to normal. I'm getting back to feeling strong again and despite this really horrible picture of my "man" feet (yes... they are a bit hobbit-like - who knew they were that hairy?) my feet are back to normal too - well, sort of. They've been peeling all over, but really they don't look this bad in real life. Flash photography always makes things look nightmarish. That's my excuse anyway and I'm sticking to it.

Ugly feet.

So life is getting back to normal. I can focus on things other than that "big looming hundo." Speaking of that big hundo... I managed to create a Google Earth Tour of my REALLY ROUGH estimate of the course. It is not exact by any stretch of the imagination but you can get an idea as to the terrain and elevation with it here. Hopefully it works. Check out my tour below: (UPDATE - apparently my lame ass tour isn't working. Yeah. I'll get on that.)


 


And... I'm beginning my winter addiction again. In fact, today was the kickoff.

Yup. I'm back to baking.

Awwwwyeah. Snickerdoodles.

Paleoish Snickerdoodles

What is it with the word snickerdoodle anyway? It always makes me giggle. For the very tasty recipe you'll need to check out my favorite gluten-free website. I used butter instead of vegan shortening because I can't stand shortening of any kind, but that's just me. Feel free to use the shortening. I WILL say the butter makes those cookies the "real deal" for me and SO SO tasty. Yum!


So really there's not much happening on the post hundo home front now. Well, except for maybe a lot of instagramming art series of toy soldiers, bathtubs, and well... I'll just let your imagination wander. I added a link to my "Ultrasaucy" Instagram pics here on my blog (check to the right below my RunSmiley badge). "Ultrasaucy" is a variation of my real nickname (Saucy McRib) which was given to me by my beloved coaches at The Ranch Athletics who laughed when they heard me refer to my abs as my "ribs" one day. Yeah. I continue to entertain them. But really, I thought those bumps were rib bones. Who knew? Now that I've been informed they just call me Saucy for short.

As far as running goes, I'm not even sure what my next goal will be. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to travel to the Copper Canyons down in Mexico to run in the Caballo Blanco Ultramarathon but that requires cash which I don't have a lot of right now, so that possibility may have to wait another year. Other than that you can bet I will be at Born To Run Ultramarathon down in Los Olivos again next year and I have my eyes on another "party where a race breaks out" called the Lost Sierra Endurance Runs up in Graeagle. Other than that who knows what kind of shenanigans I will be up to!
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High-Five Yourself. You Just Got Out Of Bed.

November 1, 2013, 3:59 pm

≫ Next: I Love You Dad - Life's Ultra

≪ Previous: Getting Back To Training

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Even cougars need a little motivation sometimes.

I was thinking the other day - maybe a little too much. I was thinking that pretty much every tiny thing we do each and every day requires some sort of motivation. Am I right? If we couldn't motivate ourselves to take care of our daily shit the entire world would be populated by a bunch of couch slacking losers. Really.

EVERYTHING we do - every simple, boring, stressful, easy, stupid, big, small, tedious, difficult or fun task requires us to get off our asses to do.  Ok... with the exception of activities which we literally have to sit on our asses to do and may not have total control over like, well, pooping. Yeah. I said that. Pooping. That shit is controlled by its own processes. Literally. The only motivation you need is to find a toilet.

But really, when it comes down to it even dragging your ass out of bed in the morning requires some level of motivation. Some of us are better at this than others but I have yet to meet a person who hasn't dragged their ass out of bed. No really. It's pretty much like everyone I see every day has achieved the goal of dragging their ass out of bed at some point during that day. Right? I don't doubt that there are probably people who hit the snooze button ten or twelve times or who still have yet to drag their ass out of bed, but if people like that exist then I probably haven't met them because their ass is still in bed. Follow? And I've met a lot of people... soooo...

I was thinking... what if we applied the drag-your-ass-outa-bed-motivational-theory to other things in life? We could achieve so much!! In fact, it would be hard NOT to achieve every single goal we have some reasonable control over. Fitness and athletic goals are prime for this theory. Why? Because they involve a personal choice about something we have the power to control. What we do with our bodies. How we move. How we train. How we eat.

For those of us who have managed to escape the seductive post alarm lure (or for some of us post snooze alarm lure) of a pre-warmed bed we should high-five ourselves. I just did.

But in order to implement the drag-your-ass-outa-bed-motivational-theory to our fitness and athletic goals its important to find out what exactly motivates us to do anything. Understanding what motivates us might help us achieve our goals. Then maybe we can apply this to other aspects of our life.

So what is it exactly that motivates you to get your ass out of bed in the morning? Is it a reward? Is it a fear? Is it because the person next to you just kicked your ass out of bed? If you just got kicked out of bed you need some serious internal motivation, man. Do me a favor. Work on that. You might need medication.

I can say that, for me, coffee usually lures me out of bed in the morning. So does the thought (or smell) of bacon for breakfast, or because I have to pee, or because if I don't get out of bed a little someone will probably be screaming "MOM!" or lifting my eyelids with their crusted oatmeal fingers to see if I'm awake. Frankly, I'd rather not have to deal with oatmeal bits in my eye at 7am so yeah... maybe I fear oatmeal encrusted eyeballs and that's why I get my ass out of bed. But in the end one final fact remains: I GET MY ASS OUT OF BED. EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY.

Amazing.

So maybe you just discovered that there's a cute chick or totally hot guy who works at the cafe that happens to be at the end of your running route. Or maybe there's a rock that's perfect for climbing or jumping off into a river along the trail. Or maybe you just found the perfect mix of music to run or hike to. You just found a little motivation. But, let's face it. Even the most committed of us go through cycles where we have little to no motivation. So how do we find the motivation to run, or train, or even eat better day in and day out?

Here are a few things that help me stay motivated especially when I was training for my 100 miler.

1. Make yourself a priority - Moms, I know this one feels like a bottomless pit of impossibility but hear me out. If you don't make yourself a priority nobody else will. Period. Understand that sometimes in order to be a good mom or spouse or significant other you need to fulfill your passion. Your passion and achieving your goals are what make you awesome. If you neglect that part of you it will be obvious to those around you. Bitterness is not sexy nor is it nurturing. Find a balance but make sure to stoke your own fiyah!
2. Get together with people - Friends who share our passions or train the way we do keep us accountable and are fun to hang out with. It's one of the reasons I love The Ranch Athletics so much. The people there are like my family. They train the way I do and they push themselves hard. Sometimes all I need is to see someone else digging deep to be inspired. Find people who like to push themselves and train with them. Support and encourage each other. Celebrate each other's accomplishments.
3. Give yourself permission to take it easy - Don't feel like going for a run? Think you're too sore for training? Are you making stupid excuses? Something is better than nothing. Get off your ass and go do it, but tell yourself it's just going to be a light day. Whenever I do this I almost always end up pushing myself anyway, but there are times when I don't. That's OK too. Getting off my ass and DOING is far better than not getting off my ass at all. Even a day dedicated to foam rolling, flexibility, and mobility work is a day well spent in my opinion.
4. Continually remind yourself of your goal - I had to remind myself that every time I pushed myself just a little bit harder during my training or running it was going to make running 100 miles just a little bit easier. There were times my coaches would scream "100 miles!!" during a workout and it would help me focus and push a little harder. There were also times I had to remind myself that I would rather run a hundred miles than do 300 fucking burpees. Burpees suck.
5. DON'T GIVE UP - Maybe your current motivation isn't working anymore. Change it up. You love to run trails but don't feel like running? Find a local coffee shop or breakfast place to run to then stop in for your favorite cup of coffee or meet your family there for breakfast.
6. Monitor your negative thinking - Ok. Three words. KILL. THE. BITCH. She doesn't belong in your head and she WILL take you down. Your negative thoughts DO affect your performance AND your motivation. Trust me. I have experience with this. If you want to achieve something you have to convince yourself you can and then shut the negative thinking the fuck up. You have to be your own ultra peppy cheerleader in your own head during training because that's the only cheering section that will get your ass motivated and make you work hard.
7. Reward yourself with ritual - I live for a long hot bath after every hard workout. Not only is it good for my muscles, but it's so rewarding after a hard training session. Looking forward to the post hard work reward is often my biggest motivation. Be sure the reward won't sabotage your hard work though. For example, I've replaced post workout beer carbs with my hot baths. I would also suggest you not include and entire package of oreos as your post training reward. That's just fucking gluttony. Don't be stupid.
8. Know the difference between true burnout and laziness - Motivation comes and goes. Sometimes we burn out and need to take a break. Recognize the difference between true burnout and laziness. True burnout or over training is when we've worked our asses off so much that we've lost interest, motivation and depleted our bodies of important resources. You might feel lethargic or fatigued or lack strength. You might even be turning down sex (GASP!!) or struggle with insomnia. Often times that's our body's way of saying "Yo Bro!!! Simmer down with the training now!" Learn to balance your training with deload weeks or days off to get your body and mind back in balance so burnout doesn't happen and you can consistently stay motivated.

Above all, be honest with yourself and don't cheat yourself. If you're making shitty excuses every single day to not get off your ass and run or bike or train or do whatever it is you love doing to stay fit then reconsider your passion. Find that thing that makes you love living and get off your ass and do it.

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I Love You Dad - Life's Ultra

November 2, 2013, 5:10 pm

≫ Next: My OCCD Problem and Recipe Sharing

≪ Previous: High-Five Yourself. You Just Got Out Of Bed.

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Relentless forward movement. Take the challenge one step at a time. Make small goals. Breathe. Little did I know how literally I would be taking my own ultra advice again less than two months after my first hundred miler. But this time I'm not the one running the ultra.

My dad is.

And its not an "ultra" in the running sense of the word. In fact, a hundred miler would be easy compared to the challenge that my dad and our family is enduring right now at this very moment.

About two weeks ago, my dad underwent a stem cell transplant in hopes of being able to extend his life after being diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma (a rare blood cancer) just a little over a year ago. He weighed his risks, his age, and his health and got the OK from his doctors to do this procedure. A gambler by nature and a very bright man he took a calculated risk. He knew what he was laying on the table when he decided to go through with this.

Today he is in MSICU in critical condition.

Fighting for his life.

His lungs are failing him. He has serious inflammation which the doctors are still trying to find the source of. So far they haven't been able to grow the results they were expecting from different lung cultures. His lung sacs are filling with fluid and he is in an induced coma-like state and breathing on a ventilator.

Its been almost a week since my dad went into ICU and about three days since he last spoke to me in a conscious state. His breathing was extremely labored like he was running at race pace, but he had some energy to speak in very small spurts between hefty sucks of air. My most recent memory of him conscious was him trying to smile at my mom and mimic kisses with his pale chapped lips.

He's not gone, but we miss him terribly.

I'm trying to be the rock for my mom and brother right now. I'm the medical information secretary and translator keeping track of dad's daily vitals, stats, regimines... and progress. If there is any. I'm trying to hold the family together by keeping them informed and pulling them in for reality checks every now and then. My job is not easy.

My life right now is a pair of dice which has been shoved in a jar, shook up violently, and rolled out. I'm never sure if it will be a high day or a low day. My routine which used to consist of making school lunches, going to work, attending soccer gamess, school functions and the gym has been chopped up and rearranged into blocks of hospital visits with my dad, overly-diligent hand washing and "gowning up" (gowns, masks, gloves), phone calls and texts to family and friends, meetings with doctors, and when I can manage, a tiny bit of work done via my laptop on the chair just outside of the Medical Surgical Intensive Care Unit. 

I never know how long my day will be or how much sleep I will get, but the one thing that is helping me get through this is my ultra training...

Relentless forward movement. Take this challenge one step at a time. Get to the end of each day, refuel, and move on. Visualize and breathe. Kill the bitch in my head, keep it together and stay strong for my mom, my brother and most importantly... my dad.

I'm trying to stay positive and at times distracted so that I'm able to cope. I will get through this. WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS.

I have to keep telling myself there's a finish line. My family will make it there eventually. 

I just hope we make it there with dad.

I LOVE YOU DAD!! Remember... Relentless forward progress. Get better. Stay strong and fight as long as it takes to get to the finish. You have an ultra in you. You can do this. YOU WILL DO THIS. 

JUST BREATHE.

Your loving daughter,
Krista
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My OCCD Problem and Recipe Sharing

March 4, 2013, 1:17 pm

≫ Next: My Last Goodbye

≪ Previous: I Love You Dad - Life's Ultra

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Frozen Chocolate Chippers don't last long in our house.

Some readers of my blog may already know I tried the Paleo Diet a couple years ago (if ya'll are still reading my blog, cuz honestly I hear crickets around here these days - but they're cute little chirpy crickets so I'll write with their background noise any day and just pretend people read whatever the fuck I write about.)

So yeah... I tried the Paleo Diet a couple years back and for the most part it kinda stuck. I suspect that like most diets (I don't have any other diet to compare it to) it was a bit of a struggle in the beginning but it allowed me to try a new way of eating and adopt some new habits and behaviors. I say that I stuck with it "for the most part" because I wouldn't consider myself strict Paleo. I never gave up alcohol, I enjoy a smudge of butter on my paleo pancakes, and chocolate is still my nemesis. You might also catch me on a rare occasion eating a bagel and egg sandwich or a steaming bowl of chili and I often throw in the proverbial Paleo towel before long races for the sole purpose of loading my body up on fuel. But for 80-90% of the time I generally avoid bread, pasta, cereals, grains, cheese, corn, beans and even milk. I was such a milk whore before trying Paleo and I've stunned myself that I've managed to drop the habit. Instead of drinking 3-4 glasses a day I have a small pour in my coffee most mornings.

Over the last couple years I've been scouring the web for some killer paleo recipes. I don't know why it was so hard to find gluten-free substitute recipes in the beginning, but after getting a good grasp of the paleo cooking "basics" I was able to start experimenting on my own. My cooking and baking quickly turned into a bit of an obsession (I briefly wrote abut it here). I refer to it as my OCCD (Obsessive Compulsive Cooking Disorder). Better that than crack, right?

The one thing I've discovered about most paleo and gluten free recipes is how simplistic they are. Paleo and gluten-free recipes have few ingredients, but its the WAY those ingredients are used that makes the difference. For instance, the difference between a heavy bready pancake and a lighter, crispy waffle is in how you use the eggs. The pancakes call for two beaten eggs and the waffle uses egg white whipped with a frenzy. 

Paleo or not, here's my advice if you wanna make cookies like grandma used to. Chuck that electric mixer out the window, ladies. Our great frontier ancestors never used a mixer, milked their own cows and carried 50 fucking pounds of hay daily. Those women were core and probably in better shape than some of us AND their cookies were devine. Why? No other cookie compares to a cookie whose batter was mixed with an old fashioned wooden spoon or whisk. The texture of the cookies is WAY better, but you have to pick the recipe carefully. In my cooking observations I've found that recipes like the Real Deal Chocolate Chippers below utilize honey (or some other viscous ingredient) that aids in creaming those first ingredients by hand the best. I'm not a fan of a truckload of sugar in my cookies so I've experimented with reducing the amount of honey and found that as long as there's just enough to help emulsify and combine the other ingredients you're good. During my pre-paleo days I would have added vegetable oil to do this, but I find honey works just as well (applesauce...not so much) AND you get a great upper body workout. Get a big ass bowl, place it in your lap and do 10 reps (stirs) with each hand. Feel the burn. Boom. That's your arm WOD for the day. Then get busy baking.

Here's a small collection of my favorite recipes:

Paleo Lasagna - This recipe is a bit time consuming and has parmasan cheese in it which can be left out, but it is WAY better than the old boring frozen lasagna we used to have from time to time. I'm considering using less parmasan in the bechamel topping and substituting with almond flour.

The best Eggs Benedict and Waffle Recipe by far - I will often make the waffles and freeze them, then pop them in the toaster and eat them with berries or eggs and veggies for breakfast. You can also experiment with the waffles adding your own savory mixes if you like.

Paleo Tacos - One of the first recipes I tried and even the kids loved it. They loved it so much they prefer to eat tacos with hearts of romaine now. How's that for success?

Bacon Wrapped Dates - only one of the best appetizers I've ever tried and another kid favorite! A little time consuming, though. Leave out the almonds to save time.

Puerto Rican Beef- Another easy recipe that can be used countless of ways for leftovers. In paleo burritos (check out this paleo Tortilla recipe) or a breakfast omelette with some fresh avacado. YUM! I like to serve it on top of cooked butternut squash that has just a smidge of coconut sugar and (if you wanna get real naughty) add some butter mixed in.

The Perfect Paleo Biscuit - I've been eating Paleo long enough that I crave something... well... biscuity every now and then. The saddest thing about this recipe is it doesn't quite yield enough biscuits. I prefer to bake them in muffin tins, freeze them, and then eat them for breakfast or lunch with grilled onions, bacon, avacado and a little salsa.

Sauteed Cauliflower - I've never been a huge fan of cauliflower, but after it kept showing up in my CSA box I had to find some way to eat it. I was SUPER delighted with this recipe and I feel a kindred spirit with the bloggers. I subscribed to those mother fuckers quicker than a video porn addict with free unlimited high speed web access.

Real Deal Chocolate Chip Recipe - Ok. I will admit to using raw sugar instead of coconut sugar and butter instead of coconut oil, but this recipe has been the closest I've been able to find to my pre-paleo cookie craving. I used to have a staple recipe I would bake and freeze on a regular basis to put in the kids' lunches and have for dessert. Lately I've experimented with doubling this recipe and reducing the amount of sugar.

Gingerbread- I love gingerbread, but I like it only mildly sweet and I found this recipe is perfect for the holidays and my tastebuds.

Here's a few of my own recipes:

Dinosaur Kale with Creamy Avacado Dressing
Cut a nicely ripened avacado in half and scoop the fresh avacado meat intoa bowl with your lettuce. Drizzle with a little fresh lemon juice, cracked pepper and sea salt. Mash the avacado into the lettuce driving and smearing it in. Then toss in onions, peppers, pepitas and roasted coconut. I like to make this salad using Lacinato Kale (or dinosaur Kale) and will sometimes add hard-boiled egg, chicken, or sausage to it.

Homemade Dijon Marinade and Dressing
Forgive me, I don't measure so you may have to adjust the measurements to your taste:
• 2-3 TBLS Olive Oil
• Half a lemon freshly squeezed
• 1 TSP Dijon mustard
• Sea Salt and Pepper to taste
• 1 TSP cumin
• 1 TBLS Coconut sugar

Whisk ingredients together and adjust for taste. I usually use this with chicken and raw veggies like beets, carrots, onions and mushrooms, but I have used it as a marinade for baked Salmon as well. My kids love it. It also makes a great dressing for broccoli salad.

Paleo Pumpkin Protein Pancakes
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 CUP almond butter
• 1/2 CUP applesauce
• 1 scoop SFH Pure Whey Protein  
• 1/4 CUP Canned or fresh pumpkin pureé
• 1 TSP cinnamon
• 1 TSP pumpkin pie spice 

Mix well and cook on medium high like regular pancakes. 

So there you go... Hope you find something new to add to your cooking repertoire regardless of whether you're gluten-free or not. Enjoy!! 
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My Last Goodbye

November 24, 2013, 10:19 am

≫ Next: Getting My Shit Back Together

≪ Previous: My OCCD Problem and Recipe Sharing

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Barry Mayfield (Papa Bear) The best Dad and Grandfather EVER.

When I was ten I went away to summer camp for the first time. I took the first intrepid steps onto the school bus and waved goodbye to my parents as I watched them from the window. I remember coming home and couldn't wait to tell them all about my experiences. It was the best week of my entire kid life.

Then when I was fifteen I got a job as a camp counselor for that same camp. My parents would drive me to where the buses would leave every weekend. I waved goodbye just like I did when I was ten. Eventually, I was driving myself to the departure lot, leaving every monday and spending entire weeks during the summers working as a counselor - hiking, swimming, backpacking and rock climbing in the Sierra Nevada every single week until I was in my early twenties. I hugged and kissed my mom and dad and said goodbye week after week, and just like when I was ten, I was excited to tell them all about my adventures on my return, what life lessons I had learned, the people that I connected with and all the fun I had.

Then when I was eighteen, my parents helped move me into my first dorm room at San Jose State University. After all my furniture was unloaded, delivered, and arranged in my room (a shitload of crap that required multiple trips up nine floors in the elevators on my dad's trusty hand truck with the big ass wheels) and after a quick lunch with a short trip to the grocery store to stock my dorm fridge I stood there on the front steps of Joe West Hall feeling terribly abandoned and scared while at the same time buzzing with the energy of my first taste of true independence. I remember my dad waving goodbye to me as they drove out of the dorm parking lot. I think my mom was crying.

Then there was the time I moved to Europe, taking my first red eye international flight on my way to Sheffield, England when I was twenty-three years old. I was almost late for my flight at the airport because I spent too long at the restaurant in the terminal saying goodbye to my parents. I remember arriving back home at the SFO terminal twenty-five pounds heavier (a result of spending the semester drinking abroad) and not recognizing my dad through a newly grown, bushy, white beard standing in front of me and my mom who had lost all the weight I had gained. It took us all double takes to recognize each other. We hugged and laughed at the visible irony of our reunion.

There were so many goodbyes we said throughout the years, but every goodbye was reconciled with a big hug and a kiss hello to tell about my travels, encounters, adventures and people I had met.

All except for one goodbye.

A week ago I gave my last goodbye. It was the hardest goodbye of them all.

I said goodbye to my dad. My sweet, sweet dad.

It was my dad's hope that this stem cell transplant could give him another 7-10 years of life and possible remission from his Multiple Myeloma. He knew the risks but he was in good health and the strongest he's been since his last chemo treatment months ago. The doctors gave him the greenlight to go ahead with the procedure.

But a clusterfuck of complications and a roller coaster ride in hell later we all came together at his bedside in the MSICU at the hospital - my mom, my brother, and I - together, ready with breaking hearts to make the hardest decision we will probably ever make in our adult lives...to take my dad off the ventilator and pull the tubes that had been suspending his life in his own barely living, barely breathing nightmare.

Yeah. To say that was hard is an understatement.

That was hard as fuck.

But it was just as hard to let him suffer.

The nurses agreed not to touch the ventilator until we were ready. You could tell part of us didn't want to let go when we were spending a little extra time taking a lunch in the cafeteria downstairs while the nurses put in the order for the morphine drip that would be dad's last comfort cocktail. But honestly, I couldn't stand to wait and leave him suspended in torment for one second longer.

A conversation with my brother.

My biggest fear was his fear. I didn't want him to be afraid. I didn't want him to be alone during death.

My dad had been breathing like he'd been running an ultra for the past 21 days and his body was so fatigued it was failing him. He even managed to tell us he was ready to throw in the towel in his own words at one point when the doctors had briefly taken him off the ventilator - a futile attempt at testing whether his lungs were capable of doing their job.


He said he was trying to figure things out. He was gasping in between words. When one of the nurses asked him what he was trying to figure out he said...

"I'm trying to figure out a way to die so my family can go home."

I can honestly say that those words induced a real physical reaction in my gut and my heart - kinda like when you hear a really low base sound on a sub woofer and it shakes you on the inside - and the emotion that followed was an instinctual denial that my father didn't just say that. It made me so very sad to hear him say he wanted to die. I could literally feel my heart breaking at that very moment.

But he did want to die...and he was ready.

My last picture of my dad.

As he was in and out of heavy sedation it was hard to capture a glimpse of awareness in my dad's eyes during the last few days. When he looked at me as I stood in front of his bed it was as if his spirit was already gone and there was an eerie far away glaze over his eyes like he saw right through me or had no idea I was there.

But I think I saw a few moments of consciousness during the window between his sedation and morphine induced state just before the doctors had begun to slowly turn down the ventilator to help him let go on his own.

I saw a flash of fear - or maybe it was sadness - followed by thin streams of tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes and I recognized a few extra quivers in his chin. I touched my dad's forehead with my ungloved hand and kissed him on the cheek with my unmasked face. I was relieved the gowning up ritual was ignored and I could finally touch my father, snuggle up into his perspiring neck and hold his bruised and swollen hands with my own flesh. I had been so afraid to touch him the weeks prior during his neutropenic state out of fear of passing along an unknown virus. Even the smallest of germs could compromise his recovery. Turns out the smallest of germs were the least of our worries.

It's possible he realized what was happening when we told him we were there to help him let go if that was what he needed to do. My brother led my dad through a visualization that took my dad down an elevator where the chaos of the world disappeared and he walked along a beach hearing the crashing of the waves and the peace of the ocean. My dad's eyes were transfixed on my brother's face - my brother, red faced with tears and intensely filled with emotion telling him he himself was created in the eyes of my father, his living mirror of which he will continue to live his life in such a way that my father would be proud of him.

It was a deeply moving and haunting interaction between my brother and my father - a relationship that was already being healed from a rocky past just before my father had gone into the hospital.

While my brother verbally reminisced and my mom talked sweetly to my dad about how he was a wonderful father and husband, I found myself empty and paralyzed. My mind and body went dark and I receded with it. I couldn't even begin to extract any semblance of thought about what was happening at that moment. I couldn't remember one memory I had with my dad. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to say to him except "I love you." I was completely vacant. I wanted so bad to just crawl up onto the hospital bed and snuggle up to my dad and fall asleep with him... but there were tubes, IVs, electrodes like barbed wire blocking me from getting close. So I stood by his side in my hollow space - eyes closed, holding his hand.

Jeez, I must have stood there for what felt like hours. Present but emotionally absent. Not being able to give anything.

And then I found myself crying. It was fragmented though and it came in spurts but it was a relief.

Death happened relatively quickly once my dad was off the ventilator. We had been standing at his bedside for a total of four hours. He died at almost exactly 7pm on Saturday November 16. He always was a very precise man.

This is a post with a quote from my facebook status that I posted last Sunday after his passing:

Those that knew him knew an amazing man - a beautiful, loving, caring, giving man with a great sense of humor and a love for good beer. Dad - I'm so proud to be your daughter. You will be missed terribly. It was a long and arduous journey to the end, but you endured and fought for life like a champ. Please rest now and breathe easy my dad and if they have good beer where you are, drink a couple pints for me. Love you.

The numbness has crept back into my heart and I'm trying to distract myself these days, but yesterday Patrick and I met up with my brother and took a few moments to remember a wonderful man.

Last night we drank a Troubadour Belgian Ale in honor of my dad. He will be greatly missed.

Cheers Dad. I love you so.

Getting My Shit Back Together

December 8, 2013, 1:17 pm

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≪ Previous: My Last Goodbye

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Box squats at The Ranch Athletics Photo courtesy Seth Kotelnicki

It snowed in the valley yesterday. It gets cold up here in Northern California during the winter, but snow hitting the valley floor is a real treat - a tiny miracle. I remember it happening only a handful of times growing up here as a kid. Yesterday, the snow melted almost instantly after touching down, but it landed on the tongues of the kids playing in the court and I knew something was up when I heard the screams of excitement outside.

That was super cool.

I'll think of it as my dad's gift to his grandsons this holiday season.

I miss him terribly, but am coping.

Just having my outlet at The Ranch Athletics has been huge. My strength is slowly coming back from a heavy place. I've felt so weak for the past four weeks. I wasn't sleeping well, my eating was crap and every time I worked out it felt like a complete fail. Everything was crushing, tough, and exhausting.

But, the last four days I've slept pretty well and I've gotten back on track with my eating post Thanksgiving. I'm starting to feel a new normal.

My last workout felt like my strongest one in weeks - heavy deadlifts, tabata squats, prowler sprints with wall sits, and tabata push-ups. It took about ten minutes for the burning in my quads to simmer down - a real sign that my body is coming back and I'm able to push a little more.

And I loved the prowler pushes we did last Wednesday night. It was kinda hard to do them without exorcising my demons. A great way to get my aggression out...


 

I've felt a little lost lately, not just because of losing my dad, but from the lack of goals in my life right now. I've been in survival mode for the past four weeks just trying to hold together our family, help my mom out, host Thanksgiving dinner, maintain normal for my boys - oh - and get my car fixed.

My sad van.

Yeah. I got rear-ended by some mother fucker on the freeway on my way home from the hospital back in the beginning of November. As if I didn't have enough stress in my life at that time.

It was a big fucking test of life's emergency broadcast system.

I got that signal loud and clear. Thanks life. Can we go back to our regular scheduled programming now?

Goals.

Yeah. I need that. And a little motivation right now. Not sure where things are headed for me in the coming months.

I was eyeing this race - The Tahoe 200 - but at $850 for registration I can't even fathom signing up. Its definitely a rich man's race and I certainly am not a bottomless pit of money right now, so... something like that is going to have to wait until I win the lottery. I'd rather spend my money on something like the Copper Canyons which I also can't afford until life allows me to save a little more. But, a runner can dream, right?

At any rate, I want my future races to be adventures anyway, which apparently aren't cheap if I want any semblance of aid or support.

Which is why I will still be signing up for Born To Run Ultra Marathon again this year. A race near and dear to my heart, and if Luis lets me, a place to hang with some cool folks and vend my Zaps Threads shirts. If you visit my shop online, you'll see some shirts I've been designing for fellow runners for various races, but I intend to do a few more of my own designs here soon and have them printed for the upcoming Born To Run Ultra. I'd appreciate feedback if you have any on what types of designs or shirts you'd like to see. I got a lot of requests for more women's tanks last year so I will probably do a run of those this year. I'm feeling inspired again by my stupid running endeavors so I will probably be doing a stupid running series or something like that.

Or not. 

We'll see. Life is a little muddled right now. I need some time to organize my thoughts and get my shit together. I'll keep ya'll posted on that.

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24 Hour Countdown T & A

December 24, 2013, 10:36 am

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≪ Previous: Getting My Shit Back Together

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WARNING:This post may not be suitable for all audiences.If you've ever read my blog, you won't be surprised by this, but I have to launch advisories every time I overshare. So... yeah... this post has a tiny bit of oversharing in it. Mostly in the form of pictures displaying partial nudity but all in the spirit of spontaneity and fun. That means this is not porn or smut. Sorry to disappoint but there are no triple X's here. Not even double X or single X. Ok maybe a tiny bit of single X if you stretch your imagination enough, but that being said if you think the randomness below is juvenile, stupid, questionable, crass, delinquent, the by-product of demon worship, inappropriate, or deviant behavior then you should have stopped reading four sentences ago.

But if you got this far chances are you're still here.

In that case...let me tell you about some fun I had a few weekends back.

The hubs and I got to spend a little time sans the kids. We dropped the kids off at the grandparents, visited for a bit, then got the hell outa dodge. As soon as we got in the car our time was ticking away. T-minus 24 hours and counting. GO!!

We had plans. LOTS of plans on how to spend the next 24 hours.

Holy crap was it a beautiful day!

OH THE VIEWS!

Trailhead

We had planned to do a small hike up Donner Peak. We packed our snacks, water, and snowshoes and began our trek.

Hiking up Donner Peak

Just me and the hubs

We climbed the switchbacks at the beginning of the hike in our boots but later put on snowshoes to climb the steeper parts.

Just a little steeper.

We took a few pictures along the way because how can you not when your surroundings are as incredible as this?

Wait! Was that a bare ass I saw? Maybe I should take a closer look...

Yup. It blended into the surroundings so well I almost missed it!

And that finger in the shot above it just makes for the perfect composition. Damn I'm a good photographer.

Then we came upon the trail marker that marks the part of the Emigrant Trail the Donner party used during their trek through the badass wintery Sierra Mountains in 1846.

Damn finger

My ancestors were here.

Pat's good at inspiring the crazy in me. We were feeling a little rowdy on the trail.

There's a devil on my shoulder.

 

Eventually, we had to take the snowshoes off again to do a little rock scrambling to the top. But the excitement of getting to the top got to me and I couldn't control the urge to take more than just my snowshoes off.

Pointing to my lumpy boob pocket

Oh yeah...wait for it...

My tiny tangy temptations

I think its just awesome sexy how Saucy McRibs and long underwear go so well together. Don't you think?

We had some serious fun on that hike. We even raced in the snowshoes.



Then it was off to meet up with my friend Pablo (the ax murder from this post), drink a beer, have a sausage (I've never tasted pheasant before), see his new baby, go to a party...

The shotski

Licking Fireball icicles

... spend the night on the lake and wake up to this gorgeous scene...

Grab some coffee...

Pre coffee Pat

Post coffee Pat

...get some breakfast, pick up the kids and head home.


Whew! All done in less than 24 hours. BOOM!


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New Year's Un-goals

January 12, 2014, 12:33 pm

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Where can I find me a tiny sexy lasso?

New year resolutions... fuck that shit. Not that I'm against making goals or resolutin' anything, but sometimes I think there's a step missing in the whole new year resolution process. You know? Like how'd those last year's resolutions work out for ya? Did you lose the weight? Did you eat better? Did you get more organized? Cuz I'm pretty sure there's human nature involved and when that happens it's likely we will forget all about those resolutions by the end of February.

Am I right? Statistically, only about 8% of those people who make resolutions keep them. Just walk into your local, big-ass-machine-bloated-everyone-and-their-brother's gym in March or April and you'll see tumbleweeds and hear crickets which will be a long cry from the January and February you-gotta-park-the-car-out-in-china-gym because everybody and their BFF needs to get their sweat on. 

So glad I don't have to fight those New Year gym crowds anymore. My gym is a whole different monster now. Having a gym where people are committed 100% of the time makes a HUGE difference for me. It's pretty cool seeing everyone grow stronger, get faster, and achieve their goals as a group. It's awe inspiring sometimes. 

But speaking of goals and resolutions...honestly, reflection seems like a better tool for me. I like to look back and see what I have accomplished because well... lets be honest... I'm not really a new year resolutions kinda girl. I'm more of a freestyle goal setter. In fact, I wouldn't even call it goal setting. I'm sure it drives my coaches crazy, but I prefer to learn from the un-goals that I might have inadvertently achieved throughout the course of a year. Un-goals? Yeah. They're the ones that were never goals in the first place, but maybe a small "hey...maybe I'll try this" that transformed into a serious achievement. Yeah. Kinda like my running, my training and my confidence.

My running goal was never to be an ultra runner. Ten miles was a LONG run to me only three years ago. I just wanted to be able to run more than two miles - without pain. That was my goal. Well that turned into something completely different. Who'd a' ever thought I'd run a hundred miler outa that goal? Not me.

And my training... I never had a goal to deadlift 235lbs, bench press 85lbs, or box jump just 2 inches shy of the tallest box in the gym. You won't find those goals on my resolutions list. If you know me, then you know that I don't count ANYTHING in the gym. Not even what I'm lifting or jumping. Because what I know might stop me - well that, and the stupid fact that I can't count when I'm working hard. Seriously, though, me and my limits are on a need-to-know basis. The only time I ever need to know how much weight was on the bar is AFTER I've lifted that shit. For me, sometimes setting goals is like setting limits. I prefer not to know what my limits are. What if there are no limits?

And a sad but true fact for me is that I have way more confidence at fourty-something than I ever did at twenty-something. Confidence would have NEVER been on my resolutions list, but when I was young I didn't need confidence. I thought I was plenty confident. Ironically maybe that was the reality of my youth - to be overly confident that I was confident. I realized that confidence has only been a recent achievement of mine after watching one of those short Ted Talks for Life Hackers videos. It was a talk that Amy Cuddy did on power poses and body language.

Power poses are positions you can put your body in (think the Wonder Woman pose) that literally reconfigures our brains and body chemistry in ways that may make us more assertive, confident, relaxed, risk tolerant, and fearless. Seriously. Standing like Wonder Woman for two minutes can increase your testosterone levels up to 20% and lower the stress hormone cortisol.

My default Wonder Woman Power Pose. This was shot a couple days before the Pine to Palm 100 miler. Confidence!!!

Funny thing I noticed is... what's my default favorite standing position lately? It's the high power Wonder Woman pose. And as superficial as this sounds, I owe this new pose and my increased confidence to my training and my diet. I feel better about my body image these days and for me, the Wonder Woman power pose feels like a natural way to just stand around. Little did I know that my default body language clearly reveals my newfound confidence. I had no idea it was changing my body chemistry too.

Hmmmm. Looks like I will be testing the power pose theory right before lifting heavy.

But "creating" confidence with power poses aside, I have to wonder if confidence is a genetic gift that I wasn't born with and have had to create myself. Some scientists believe confidence is in our DNA and when I look at my oldest son I will vehemently agree. He's been confident since he was born. So much so he was leaping off of the top of jungle gyms confident he knew how to slide down the pole and jumping into pools because "he KNEW he could swim" long before he had the actual skills to do those things. His confidence is what helped him learn to ride a bike just two weeks after his 3rd birthday and had him taking 1st place in the kid's summer series mountain bike races last year. This kid is fearless and I believe his confidence has everything to do with that.

My youngest, however got his mama's genes, but I'm hoping he will learn confidence the way I have and challenge himself through life. I just hope he doesn't have to wait as long as I did.

So I have no clue what kind of goals I will accomplish in 2014. It seems I'm constantly improving, getting faster and stronger (although the last few months have set me back a LOT).

One of my Newest Limited Edition Zaps Threads shirt designs which will be available at Born To Run Ultras 2014.

Right now my brain is on fire with my Zaps Threads business and I will be expanding my ideas beyond shirts (think: The Zaps Threads Lounge Experience) at The Born To Run Ultras this year. I'm having a lot of fun creating some new designs for the upcoming event - old school gaming meets Ultra Running - and coming up with ideas for hosting a chill "zone." Yeah. I know. It sounds a little Burning Man-ish, but should be a LOT of fun to do! I can't wait!

Also I will be hosting another Hoo-Rag and Zaps Threads Tee Giveaway soon so keep your eyes peeled for those.
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