If You Don't Like Your Life, Change It: Coburg 6hr 2014

Here I am two days on from the Coburg 6 Hour Track Championships and I feel like I'm struggling more with my blog post than with the race. Sitting down to type now, after scribbling down various thoughts over a couple days, I'm none the wiser as to what I'm about to write. Why is that, I ask myself?

I think it's because the story seems so undramatic. There was no big to-and-fro with another female racer, there was no terrible weather or bad race management, no bad lighting, no vomiting or bloodletting, no cries of agony or ambulances. There was just this little redhead going around and around and around. 187 times.

Unadjusted Garmin file - massive over-reading typical of track racing

A little redhead who planned this race a year ago, but gave up when Melbourne had a heat wave. Who burnt out late in 2013 and had some disastrous training weeks October through December, bottoming out one week with a measly 32k.

Seriously regrouping through January and February, both mentally and physically, I aimed for Coburg's 2014 event. The weather agreed, so I flew over east. Then around and around I went, taking a 125ml bottle of Perpetuem every 15 minutes from my crew, standing diligently within one metre of the crew table, abiding by IAU and AURA rules. It was a regimented and simple world broken down to counting laps: ensuring all early ones were about 1 minute 50 seconds and late ones were no more than 2 minutes each. Counting off 2 minutes at a time for 360 minutes. Time goes surprisingly quickly, actually.

Crew gets a rare moment free to snap a photo

Chapstick, 1min 50. Caffeine, 1min 50. Perp, 1min 50. See hot air balloons rising, 1min 50. Check form, adjust left wrist, 1min 50. Notice powerlines for first time, 1min 50. Hear birds chirping, 1min 50.

It was a race in which so little happened and as a consequence so much happened. I slept the night before better than I ever have pre-race. My heart rate was barely elevated with nerves. I didn't really hit the "business end" of the race until 4.5 hours in. I experienced a few funky nerve twitches through the left hip down to the top of foot (effects of repetitive running) and some quad fatigue and nasty calf tightness, but those things only registered at the "mild" discomfort level in my brain. The weather, especially by Perth standards, was downright cold (15 degrees) for the 6am start and didn't get uncomfortable until 10 am (21-24 degrees, which is certainly uncomfortable for me at race pace).

I had calculated I should be capable of somewhere between 72 - 74km, with 74 being on the end of the "perfect conditions" continuum. With disrupted training and a short lead-in time, I saw things as less than "perfect." I also developed a tight tib post before the race that was less than perfect. I'm a realist, not a pessimist.

Pre-race with Barry Loveday, amazing athlete, novice crew!

But in my favour were solid training sessions through January and early February and mental strength (really cutting down on the over-commitment thing). The realist put those into the equation, too.

And so, quietly, with just the timekeepers and their stopwatches clicking away, at 3 hours 55 minutes and 51 seconds, I surpassed the Australian W40 50k track record which belonged to Helen Stanger for 20 years. In fact, this time represented a PB for me at the 50k distance, whilst taking about 16 minutes off the record.

Perp, 1min 56 sec. Pour water over head, 1min 57 sec. Sponge, 1min 56 sec. Check form, adjust hips, 1min 56 sec. Word to crew as passing the table, "I'm going into the business end. Stay switched on!" 1hr 58 sec.

Rainbow light. Few will understand. That's okay.

20 minutes to go - time to push it out. So many cheered me on, and in turn, I tried to bring a few with me. "Come on, let's finish this thing!"

Then, "Bang." The gun sounded and I dropped my sandbag. Coincidentally beside my crew table. For a moment, I felt there would be tears, then they were gone. Barry went to check totals. 74.8k (still provisional at the time of writing) plus the distance to be measured from the start line to the crew table where I finished (provisional total 74.930km).

I had broken Helen's 20 year old AUS W40 track record of 69.400km (which I also broke at Moe in 2010 with 70.400km, but I wasn't an Aussie then. Now I have taken the pledge, even if my accent is still "Texan Irish.") I had reclaimed the CAN W40 record of 71.699km, set by Christine Torres in 2013, when she broke my 2010 record. I had broken the CAN Open record of 73.264km belonging to Ashley Evans, a 29 year old at the time, who set that benchmark 20 years ago.

Subsequently, I was told that I have run the third largest 6 hour distance in the Australian all time female track rankings, after Linda Meadows' incredible 78.742km and Lavinia Petrie's 76.042km.

Once, several years ago, I sat in a chair late at night, with a boyfriend passed out in a chair across the room. In dejected anger, I scrawled on a paper adjacent to me, "This is my #@*!$*# life." I went to bed. In the morning, I got up and walked past that paper. Written underneath it was, "So, change it!"

What good advice. We are, after all, the only ones who have the power to change our own lives.

Believe and You Will be Healed!

I have been meaning to finish my research into heat acclimation/acclimatisation and blog on that, but since we're so well and truly into summer here in Western Australia, with 10 days above 35 degrees in January, it seems a bit late!

Thus, it's more fitting to talk about ice baths! :-)

Or more appropriately, "cold water immersion" (CWI). I, myself, have had no less than three ice baths (CWI experiences) this week. Essential to me, as I've also just finished my highest mileage training week ever, hitting 165km + 4400m. Woohoo! Feeling good.

Canadian mountain rivers are NOT 14 degrees!

I've been aware of cold water recovery methods since I started running trails in 2006, watching my trail running buddies in Canada happily jumping into near-frozen streams in the mountains after long runs. A few years ago, I received a lovely phone call from a fellow who spent a lot of time helping Helen Stanger (AUS) train through her incredible ultra career. He asked, "Do you use ice baths for recovery?" and went on to state how important he felt they were for Helen. Last year, being "bathtub-less", I bought a large bin and started having some ice baths outside. I threw a thermometer into the water often, as I had it in my head that I should aim for 10-12 degrees.

But despite all the anecdotal reports from athletes raving about their love of ice baths, research has been quite contradictory. I decided to delve into it.

The main problem with the research is that it's all over the place. Immersion in water ranging from 0 degrees Celsius to 24 degrees Celsius. Full body immersion vs legs-only. Five minutes vs 20 minutes. Men vs women. Trained athletes vs novices. Winter swimmers vs rugby players. And test exercises that are commonly used as a way to measure "recovery" include eccentric muscle contractions with weight (e.g., using the quad). Hardly a practical application for most athletes. And these recovery "test" exercises are administered anywhere from 5 minutes after CWI to 24 hours after. No wonder we can't make sense of whether ice baths are good for us or not.

Pre-bathtub days, when I had to feed mossies, too

In one review (Beakley and Davison, 2009, Br J Sports Med, 44, 179-187), the authors report on what happens to our bodies when we immerse them in cold water. The stuff that's not so good - "cold shock." Increased heart rate, increased blood pressure, increased respiration, increased cortisol, decreased cerebral blood flow (a few people nearly passed out at 0 degrees), and oxidative stress. So why would we do it? Because the apparent benefits include vasoconstriction (constricting blood vessels), which should help remove metabolic waste from legs, decrease swelling/oedema and inflammation, and decrease muscle soreness. It reduces our core temperature, which gets us recovered and ready for exercise again sooner. Even the hydrostatic forces - the pressure of the water - pushes body fluid from the periphery to the core, which increases central blood volume. And cold water/ice has an analgesic effect. Who doesn't like a little numbing? :)

What I've taken from the research indicates this:

• Water temperature of approximately 12-14 degrees Celsius may be optimal. Colder, and anything approaching 0-5 degrees Celsius, induces too much stress. Just like most everything in life, moderation is key. Running is good, but too much running results in overtraining and injury. CWI is good, but too cold results in shock. One should not have a "shivering" response, as evidence indicates it's associated with free-radical production. 

• Immersion for 10-20 minutes appears optimal, at the temperature above.

• Training/racing should not be expected to be undertaken immediately afterwards, as cold muscles will have compromised contraction abilities and slow nerve conduction speeds (several studies had subjects "test" immediately after CWI). Core body temperature will naturally rise to baseline within 24 hours. It may be possible to speed this up with a warm shower (the idea of "contrast water therapy," which I won't go into).

Stream crossing mid-run. It really IS hard to move after this kind of CWI.

• Your belief in the power of CWI makes a difference. Cook and Beaven's (Br J Sports Med, 2013, 47, 705-709) novel study on CWI at 14 degrees for 15 minutes (vs other options) found that the rugby players who "liked" the ice bath had better sprint performance the next day than those who didn't. So, the ice bath helped, BUT believing in the ice bath appeared to help even more. Believe, and you will be healed! Use the placebo effect to your advantage, as it can also trigger your brain's "reward centre," which can then cause your body to dump some nice opioids into your system. Mmmmm, endogenous opioids....

• Immerse only over the hips. Do not immerse the "core" area including the major organs such as heart and lungs. There is no evidence of benefit to runners/athletes generally in doing this and it looks to bring more potential for harm/shock.

Finally, prepare adequate reading material, such as your favourite ultra running magazine, and ensure no small, impressionable children are nearby as you take that first step into the tub!

Climbing Out of a Hole and Up a Mountain

It's been so long since I've posted, I was torn by whether to write about the heat acclimation/acclimatisation research I've been reading about, or the ice bath research, or ... and then I thought I just need to start at the beginning.

Spider on trail, a common sight (see his back spikes?)

It seems like the beginning. It has nothing to do with the new year, per se, but it's almost like a new start, refreshing my connection with my blog and its readers. And I rather feel like I've just gone in a complete circle and am back at the beginning.

Although I've been blogging about my "over-lifing" injury since at least April 2013, I did not realise the extent I needed to go to get my act together. One of the problems with being focussed, determined, committed, organised, and efficient, is that everyone expects that and counts me as "totally able." Me included. It's a natural expectation, as I've been "totally able" much of my life. So, although I kept making passing comments like, "I don't think I can keep this up" or "I need to quit a few projects," I just received well-meaning advice along the lines of "I'm sure you can do it. You're very [smart/organised/efficient]." I don't blame anyone for that - it was truly encouraging advice. But I made the mistake of trying to believe it and digging a deeper hole for myself.

In April, I pushed some things off my plate, as I promised, but then brought more things back in to crowd what was still a full plate. I got another stomach ache ;) The mental stresses impacted my game at World 24 Hour, and although in 2013 I set 7 or 8 new CAN and AUS records, from 50 Mile to 24 Hour, I remain disappointed with the results, when the maths certainly showed I was capable of better (the maths didn't have a factor for poor mental state). It's not a "crushing" sort of disappointment and I am not looking for sympathy or reassurance. It's just my practical mind, looking objectively, and knowing what the potential was if I hadn't "over-lifed" incessantly.

I built a ladder to get out of my hole whilst overseas July-September. (It was a big hole, so it required a ladder). I had heaps of fun running new mountainous trails in Europe and Canada, with old and new friends alike, and with my amazing partner. We set goals to find foods to forage on every country's trails and to eat sandwiches on mountain summits. I had two very pleasing races, with a Swissalpine podium and Lost Soul Ultra 100 Miler course record. Irontrail in the middle was an excellent race and well organised and I still don't regret my decision to quit, as it just wasn't worth the maceration I was doing to my feet and the overall tendon/muscle/endocrine damage and resultant recovery time another 12-14 hours of hiking was going to cause. And I was done with hiking.

Running down around Walpole with the giant trees. In love with nature.

Back to Oz and ... whoops!

Ill-constructed ladder, made too quickly. No attention to detail. Top rung bust and down I toppled, back into the hole.

Write up and submit PhD (turned Masters of Philosophy). Move house, again, second time in 8 months. Take 4 home-based businesses along. Train. Race direct. See clients. Give presentations on things running. Take running trip with mates to Razorback ultra. Volunteer with AURA. Coach.

Hey, how did I get here again? Back in the hole; got some better tools. Made a better ladder. Out of hole.

Oh, look, there's a mountain. Damn. Spit the dummy. Tantrum. Okay, I know how to climb mountains and I have all the tools for that already. Sync my breath with my step. Look up. Agh, I can't even see the summit. Look down, breathe. Use the poles. It's hot. Take in water. Wave of nausea. Slow down and rest on a false summit. Get a glimpse of amazing view between the trees. Spectators cheer, "Hop Hop Hop! Bravo!" There, up ahead, it looks like the top. Can't be sure 'til I'm there and can see over the other side. But I know now that I can get there.

Yay (I think)! I finally have a home with a bathtub!

After six weeks of training weeks in the 30-60k range,except for the Razorback week, where I snuck (sneaked) in a bit more, I was able to get a couple weeks over 100k again, plus elevation. Ramping it up quickly is a risk, so I'm monitoring it very carefully and employing all the tactics (ice cup massage, ice bath, massage, sports chiro, Udo's Oil, good food, compression, roller...and tomorrow - needles for good measure).

2014 races/plans - I've signed up for the Coburg 6hr on 23 February, but not sure I'll be in 50k/6hr form in time. There's a lot of loss that's happened over a couple months. But having the goal is nice for my brain and if I'm not ready, I won't go. Or if I'm ready and the weather doesn't comply (as in 2013 - when I ended up running Perth 32 instead, and got that wonderful experience of chasing the lead bike). I've also signed up for the Sri Chinmoy 24hr in June in Sydney. I want to do a proper 24hr. This is a major goal for my year. Razorback Run 64km (the Vic alps trail event I did as a training run with mates in November) is on the radar for March 2014. Fastpacking 5 days in the Dolomites August 2014, roughly 30km +2000mtr/day with one change of clothes. That's one's pretty much non-negotiable :)

Bibbulmun track, south coast. Do I feel like 1000k again? Solo?

And then, there's this thing that keeps coming up.... FKT (Fastest Known Time) attempt on the Bibbulmun 1000k - self supported this time. April would be the month. Burn out makes a two week 1,000km solo slog through +20,000 metres of hills, marshes, ticks, flies, sand, and pea gravel with 12kg on my back sound oddly appealing. We'll see, won't we?

Next time, let's talk about that research!

Public Service Announcement

We interrupt this complete lack of posting for a brief word from our ultrarunner.

If you're not having fun, you're doing it wrong.

That's what I said at the race briefing for WA's first night trail race - the Perth Trail Series' Moon Shadow event just over a week ago. The comment was meant to remind people that if they were nervous and freaking out on the trails running at night (many for the first time), they should slow down and enjoy the sights - get the fun back.

Having fun. Razorback Run 64km on the Victorian high plains 30 Nov.

Turns out, this little statement is a perfect adage for life as well. And for much of the last year, I've been doing it wrong. Thus, this past 10 days has involved some more radical "quitting" and readjusting on my part. I've got a vision developing of the future I want to see in 2014 and I've not been creating it!

Fulfilling this vision, you will see a lot more of the blog again, complete with my old research analyses, race reports, reflections, tips, and such. But I have to package up a few other projects this month and send them on their way first.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled program. I hope it's not a repeat ;)

The Rest Month (Don't Try This at Home)

Prairie Mtn sunset with friends - the Leki poles in my pack, of course! ;)

After the Lost Soul Miler in early September, my plan was to keep running (or power slogging as need be) in the Canadian Rockies until leaving Canada. I thought the tendons and ligaments would be well due for a bit of repair time after the wonderful adventures of Swissalpine, Irontrail, and Lost Soul, but... I just HAD to squeeze out every last drop of alpine trail running goodness I could! Western Australia, I  love you, but your 200 metre pea gravel climbs just aren't the same as mountain running.

I took a few days off, then we ran/hiked up Prairie Mountain on Wednesday night (2210 metres). Saturday saw us on the spectacular Mt Bourgeau summit in Banff National Park at 2930 metres. It was only a week after the Miler, but I wasn't the only trail junkie with a problem - another girl in our group was just back from the Leadville Miler and with that had completed the Grand Slam. Then Monday we did a loop incorporating the North and South Buller Passes when a thunderstorm and hail came through - very exciting! And a good reminder why we need all that emergency gear in our packs! The rest of the week was rather tame, but then we were back out at the very famous Lake Louise, just west of Banff, for a tour of all the local trails, including some tea houses that date back to the early 1900s and Fairview Mountain (even with slightly foggy/snowy conditions, the views were still more than fair at 2744 metres).

On the way to Mt Bourgeau- the hangglider pilot looks for alt ways down

That left one day to recover and one more day to get out on the trails. Junction Mountain, a fire lookout at 2239 metres, was the final choice. Coincidentally, the only runner with a Tuesday off work I could talk into an outing was Dave Proctor, the bloke who won the men's division of the Lost Soul Miler. The two of us were a pair in recovery, that's for sure! I'm sure it was partly psychological, that my brain knew my legs were getting a break after that run, but I felt bagged! Yet it was still a glorious adventure, which started by fording the Sheep River (due to early season floods, the bridges were out in many areas of the backcountry). At the fire tower, we met the ranger woman, who had spent the season up there alone. The last person she'd seen had been a few weeks prior when she had a helicopter food drop - no one was coming in because the river was too high to ford. But we managed a late season attempt and though it was slightly intimidating for me (fast water to my thighs), a hand from Dave (much taller than I!) helped me get across before I was frozen numb! I have to take baby steps in swift and slippery conditions like that, so I don't lose my balance.

The Sheep River. More serious than it looks - at least at my size!

Back to merry old England, where autumn was in full swing. I pulled back the mileage, which wasn't hard, as I didn't feel like contending with the brambles and stinging nettles much, anyway. The sky was so low that I imagined it was like England tries to hug us with her skies, like a mother afraid we'll leave home! (As, in fact, many do leave that heavy, grey hug). The weekly mileage dropped to 48k, with just +1200m. 

And then another day of pseudo-altitude training on Emirates Air brought me back to Perth. My plan was to continue another three weeks of "relative" rest. In my head, I was thinking 50k/week was probably good. However, the reality was tougher to engineer! Just one run with mates on the weekend was giving me half my weekly distance. (Well, yes, you needn't point out that I should have been doing a shorter weekend run.) Add in a Wednesday night run and...well, that created a rather unbalanced "rest" of long runs combined with multiple days off. I do NOT recommend this! My body felt worse than ever. My back tightened up, my calves tightened up, and then I got a flu! My first flu ever. The flu wasn't bad, actually - it was kind of interesting. It was just an all-over muscle/joint ache, but my head was still clear. I learned that the muscle ache is theoretically caused by dehydration, brought about by fever. That made total sense, as when I woke up that day, my weight was down 800 grams from the morning before. I knew I hadn't calorie restricted by 3000 calories that day! So I gunned heaps of fluid all day and felt much better. The flu became a cold, but didn't stick around long. Not with my naps and cinnamon regime ;)

Don't be frightened, it's just a mulberry addiction. Anti-oxidants, you know.

And not long enough to make me miss out on WA's last rogaine of the season - the spring 12 hour. But how could I do a 12 hour event on a "rest" month? Hmmmm. Not easy, no, but I do like a challenge. So I paired up with a mate who had never run 12 hours straight before. I figured that would slow me down. And I picked the nastiest section of the mapped out area to start with, which I figured would be harder and keep the miles down. However, I didn't count on him being such a good navigator! Between us, we had pretty good luck finding the controls and managed to still net 54km + 850m with a lot of bush bashing.

And so, with that, I figured my ruse of a "rest month" was well and truly exposed and I might as well book my first brutal training session in 3.5 months. A few days ago I hit the gym for five rounds of pull-ups, push-ups, sit-ups, and squats with weight. The next day, I struggled to get out of bed and cursed Rolf when he made me laugh. Those abs have been tucked away nicely into a kilo of fat again and let me know they were none too pleased with the new agenda!

So what is the new agenda? Well, I think it starts off with the Narrabeen Allnighter. After a delicious season on the trails, I feel the siren call of some speedy road and track goals (well, speedy for an old lady like me!). With summer on its way (the flies blown in on the easterlies this week are portending - at least I think that's what it was when one went up my nose today on the trail!), it gets hard to find road and track races in Australia. It's not the season for speed - or exposure. It's the season to run trails, shaded in trees (you hope). Nonetheless, one of my current A goals is to run a sub 9hr 100km again. For anyone who is interested in the numbers, that's a Category B level with the International Association of Ultrarunners (IAU) and current AUS "A" qualifier for team placement. My last official 100km was my 8hr52 CAN W40 record from Coburg in 2011. And the World 100k Championship is in Latvia next August. That's interesting :)

I wonder if Latvians use cobblestones. I don't like cobblestones.

Narrabeen Allnighter is an overnight 12hr event near Sydney NSW, where I could get a 100km split recorded. The million dollar question is: Do I go hardest for the 100k and stop (reality is, I learned, that if you go your hardest for that, there's nothing left to continue with the 12hr)...or go "hard enough" with the 100k but keep enough in reserve to nut out the best 12hr possible?? I've never done an official 12hr (my best 12hr distance is 122.649km as part of the World 24hr this year). So, the 12hr challenge sounds like the more interesting, doesn't it? How far could I go?

Time to ramp up the mileage and see if the body agrees there will be a party on 4 January. Assuming the weather fairies also agree to provide a nice, mild night conducive for 12 hour running parties.

Lost Soul 100 Miler: Trading Fat for Age

Different choices from the start...hydration systems, use of poles....

A civilised race start - 8 am Friday. Forty-four Milers and 91 Century runners toed the line. The 50k runners (actually doing 54k) would start at 7 am Saturday. Showers and thunderstorms were in the forecast. Despite this race being in September (autumn), temperatures typically hit high 20s to low 30s. That's not the same as a Perth high 20s. High 20s Alberta feels the same as low 30s Perth. I don't know why. Maybe it's the stiff breeze that often accompanies a high 20s Perth day - rendering the "feels like" temperature lower. Maybe it has to do with the ozone layer.

In this race, forecast rain is NOT a good thing, though. The climbs in the coulees are STEEP. So steep that in 2008 when it rained, they had to call it off, mid event. The organisers' rain plan for this year was to move everyone to the "Pavan loop" (16k) to do repeat laps. That wasn't the Miler I wanted to run. And I sure as heck didn't want to get shifted to the "rain course" mid event.

We started under a clear sky, with showers expected after 2 pm.

One lap. Like an ECG with a flat line getting kicked going again.

My original calculations for this race, based on elevation and distances, came in around 21 hours. Nice, except that's the male course record (CR) time! I knew I was missing two key things - a heat factor and a grade factor. Midday heat would take a toll. And I'd been warned about the hills. They are short (compared to mountain climbs), but so steep in places that they are hikes up and toe-crushing, quad-destroying, sliding-on-the-butt downs. You don't easily get in a groove in this race. The flats are sometimes in long grass, marsh, soft riverbank sand or river rock, and freshly mown straw hummocks.

I revised my plan to 23 hours. The female CR (26h08) was held by Shelley Gellatly, a hardcore Yukon Arctic Ultra runner - she set it in 2007, the year I ran the 50k.

Out from the hills as I approach an aid station.

With the mix of Milers and Century runners starting, I lost track of how many were in front of me, but I started as lead woman with perhaps 10 men increasing the gap out front. Less than a km in, however, on a steep bitumen descent, a lean woman passed. I didn't catch her bib and didn't know which race she was in. But I was on a 4.28 pace and that seemed already rather quick for a Miler! At aid 1, I asked my partner-crew Rolf and he didn't know anything about her. He set out to find out, whilst I ran on. At aid 2, I still didn't know anything, but Rolf said, "She looks good, but that's not a 100 mile pace." Encouraging, but perhaps it was her 100 mile pace! At aid 3 I had my answer: 100k. We could tell by the bib numbers and shading.

Lap 1 heated up and we initiated the heat management strategies - including lots of cold water soaks and ice at the aid stations. I was running on Hammer Perpetuem caffe latte in a pancake batter mix, with pears as a fructose source to augment caloric needs. I swapped UltrAspire packs at each aid station, which held enough water for that leg. Caffeine pills were at hand, but I also used the option of Hammer Espresso gels, which had the perfect 50mg hits I needed to top up stores periodically.

Somewhere around the 40k mark, I came through an off leash dog park. The day before, recce'ing the aid stations (Rolf was going to be driving solo on the right (wrong) side of the road with "crazy" things like 4 way stops!), we'd seen a dog chase down a truck, biting at the tyres at 25kph. Scary as heck. It wasn't the same dog, but I was chased by one as I passed through and had another do the "dazed-dog-in-the-middle-of-the-trail" routine. I had to veer around him at the last minute. I like dogs a lot, but I was starting to dislike this park's dogs.

As I closed in on the completion of lap 1, I noted that I was going to bank an hour on my projected lap 1 time. I was going to come in under the female CR time for the 50k (5hr49). That sounded decidedly unwise. I pulled it back a few notches and told myself to get some recovery from the increasing heat of the day by bringing my heart rate down. I came through lap 1, ~54k, about 5hr54. It was just before 2 pm.  [For those who looked at online splits, several are completely wonky and I have no idea why.]The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and a short shower ensued. Then the sun came back with a vengeance. A scan of the horizon indicated there would be no more clouds for the afternoon. More heat management. The shower had soaked my feet and they couldn't dry due to narrow trails with long grasses throwing more water on them with each step. The bottoms of my feet started to macerate - I took an important 8 minute stop to apply Compeeds and change socks. The descents had become temporarily slick in the wet. I was chased by different dogs in the park.

Closer up view of our terrain - photo by Lynne Chisholm

Perhaps around the 75k mark, I came upon a woman from behind, moving with some pain evident. I was confused, as it wasn't the 100k female I knew was in front. Then she told me that there were 3 or 4 more women ahead. Okay, so where was the bus that everyone else got in?? How did I end up behind 5 women? Rolf solved the riddle later for me. The 100k runners skipped a 7k loop on their second lap, in order to keep their race to ~100k, rather than doing a double 54k. So several 100k runners, men and women, were now in front of me. I finished lap 2 (108k) just after dark, 1 hour ahead of my projected time.

Although my beautiful trail mates, my Leki poles, were packed, the course did not lend itself to their use. The trails in the hill sections were so narrow and filled with long grasses that they would have snagged heaps and slowed me down.

Lap 3 allowed a pacer. Thus, Rolf could run out further from the aid stations to meet me in each section. He was amazed by the steep coulees, with their sharp drops off one side and the long grasses and cactuses. There was a "whump" behind me as he fell off the trail. I couldn't look back, as I was too dizzy and feared I'd go over with him. Rule #71 of having a pacer is that the help only goes in one direction ;)

Superhero goggles on another night-originally meant for my watery eyes

Little flying bugs appeared in huge clouds in the afternoon. With sunglasses and a cap on, I could keep most out of my eyes and breathe in gasps through clenched teeth. After dark, I was thrilled I had my superhero horse jockey goggles to keep them (mostly) out. The bugs continued to appear in swarms all night, literally smacking me in the face, they were that big and thick.

But it wasn't all suffering :) I heard coyotes yipping, saw fish jumping in the river, and saw a roo. Okay, my brain told me it couldn't be a roo, but for the life of me those glowing eyes in the dark looked like a roo. A small, fat critter waddled off my path later - raccoon or skunk, perhaps. I came through the dog park one last time in the dark and cheered aloud that there were no nocturnal dog owners.

I developed a blister on the end of a toe that had nail damage from earlier in the season. I loaded 2Toms anti-blister powder into my socks in the hope it would prevent what I thought was going to be a problem toenail. Sure enough, descents became torturous. I had to will myself to start down each time I stood at the top of a hill. Amazing how blindingly painful a little blister can be. I kept expecting the sudden warmth of it popping in my shoe, but it never did. My banked hour was donated to a lousy toe blister. But worst of all was the realisation after the race...why didn't I stop and pop it?!? A 5 minute stop might have saved 30 minutes of slow descents. Ahhh, the clarity of a rested mind! I put this one in the "learnings" basket... don't expect a blister to pop of its own accord.

6 Years On - Trading "Fat" for "Old" ;-)

At 7.21 am Saturday morning, (23h21) - 21 minutes after the 50k got underway - I crossed the finish line, taking 2h45 off the female CR. My Canadian massage therapist, Dave Proctor, had come in a few hours ahead of me, narrowly missing the male CR. Rolf and I hugged and he thanked me, saying he couldn't have done it without me :)

Back in the hotel room, we collapsed - one on each of the two queen beds. I didn't have the energy to undress and shower yet and didn't want to get the communal bed stinky. We laid there in silence for a few minutes and then Rolf said it:

"First you were fat, now you're old."

And we both burst out laughing.

With the benefit of the finish line in the hotel parking lot, I was able to go out numerous times Saturday to cheer runners in. As the cut off approached (7 pm), I stiffly hobbled out onto the course to cheer those who toughed out another day (or a long 50k day) in the coulees. I felt a strange sort of angst, not knowing how many were out there and whether they could stay ahead of the sweep. I breathed a sigh of relief and cheered aloud for each one climbing that last hill home.

Three Times in One Day

In 2007 I did my first ultra - 50k in the coulees of southern Alberta. Dry, hot, rattlesnake country. Short, but very steep hills, totalling about +1300 metres.

Throwing bales (strength work) during the taper.

On Friday morning (that's Saturday at noon in Perth), I embark on their 100 Miler. That's three laps of the 50km (actually 53km) course. (For those who know me, you can see that I was initiated into "bonus k's" very early on!)

Somehow it seems ironic after all the things I've done that this is my first 100 Miler. Thrilled to be here for it, back to dance with my first love... three times! ;) Let's hope the romance doesn't wear off too quickly. Sometimes we remember those old flames with rose coloured glasses!

Possibly, there will be updates here http://racepro.ca/lsu/