The Magical DNF

So, spoiler alert:  I DNF’ed my 60k last weekend.  Let’s talk about it.


The race was the third in the Capt’n Karl’s night race series which is at a different location every month, this one at Colorado Bend State Park in Texas.  I’d heard tons of great things about the course and the park itself, so when I was trying to decide which of the four races to do the 60k instead of 30k, I thought this one would be my best choice.  My coach told me that since I was training for Cactus Rose 50 miler, doing the 30k series would be the best training but I kind of wanted to do at least one longer race this summer.  So I signed up for the 60k, thinking that if I didn’t feel up for it beforehand or if my coach strongly suggested against it, I could just drop to the 30k.



So Friday evening me, my husband, and two friends drove up to the park to camp.  We spent the next day at the swimming hole, wandering the park checking out where the aid stations were, and hiking to Gorman Falls.  (I have no idea why I took zero pictures almost all weekend.  The park is really awesome and I really missed some great opportunities for photos.  So hopefully you’re not in this for the photos…)  A few weeks before the race, I reached out to the race director as a Ragnar Ambassador to see if we could help man the aid stations with Ragnar volunteers, and my two friends and husband were awesome enough to tag along to help us accomplish just that (a third came separate on Saturday).  Manning the aid stations at these events is challenging work, and I’m sure this was especially applicable to my two friends who had never done this kind of aid station work before.  Huge thanks to everyone I know who came out to help – I know I’ve thanked you in person already but I seriously don’t think it could be said enough.



So with my friends and husband off to their respective jobs, I headed to the start/finish all by myself after a day of hiking and unsuccessful sweaty napping in the 100+ degree heat, feeling thoroughly unprepared for 37 miles.  Truthfully, my race had unravelled days before we even arrived at the park – my indecisiveness on running the 60k made it less of a thing I was going to do and more of a choice between two races that I hadn’t yet chosen.  In my mind it hadn’t really changed much even after I started running – though I was wearing a 60k bib, I kind of still hadn’t decided to run the damn race.  No doubt in my mind that this was my undoing.


First forty-five minutes or so of the race was super crowded and uphill –  most people running and hiking a comfortable pace preparing for the 37 miles many of them had ahead of them.  The beginning of the course was probably the toughest in my opinion – it’s all uphill for about three miles (more or less) to the first aid station.  The rest of the course I can’t say was particularly hilly, just technical in that there were tons of rocks and lots of tricky footing (which I kind of love).  I blew through the first aid station where my husband and our friend were, stopping briefly for ice and that’s all.  Since the single-track course was so packed at that point, the first aid station was pretty overwhelmed and so I didn’t really feel like stopping in the midst of all the chaos.  I carried my bladder with me similar to what I did at Muleshoe this time (about two-thirds filled with ice water), so I didn’t really need water or anything quite yet.


Honestly, I can’t remember a point in the course where things became particularly bad for me.  I remember distinctly coming through Windmill aid station (about mile 8) and my friend asking me how I was doing.  Automatically, “Not awesome” just spilled out of my mouth.  He asked me if I was “just not feeling it” and I didn’t hesitate to agree.  I had some struggles coming through the Gorman Falls aid station (about mile 10.5) with pain and a growing sense of fatigue (this was there before the race even started) but certainly nothing that can touch the amount of pain I’ve experienced in previous races.



I was very fortunate to meet a few of my fellow Lone Star Spartans at the Gorman Falls aid station, one of whom was the LSS Team Captain Paul.  I lollygagged quite a bit at this aid station, chatting with the volunteers (one of of whom was Team RWB and the other a Rockhopper friend who was kind enough to come out to replace a no-show volunteer) and thanking them for coming out.   I dubiously choked down a tropical Hammer Gel (never had Hammer before, don’t bother lecturing me because I did it already!) and took off, catching up with Paul a few minutes later.  He had recognized me from Facebook and we chatted about Ragnar for quite a while (six LSS teams signed up right now – holy crap).  Paul had eaten an unholy amount of salt earlier in the race and was having a pretty hard time, so I stopped and walked with him for a while.  I wasn’t feeling too terrible here (again, not sure if I ever did) but it was honestly nice to have some company in the dark – I hadn’t seen anyone I knew since briefly being passed by my coach’s husband at mile 6.5 or so.


Eventually I left Paul behind as we started to come up on the last aid station.  Right around then is where the wheels started to visibly come off.  Without Paul to distract me I started to become more and more aware of how run-down I felt by the time I got to the last aid station (which is just a second go-through of the first aid station – the last part of the course is just the first three miles run in reverse back to the start/finish).  My husband was still working the aid station and him and my friend greeted me way more enthusiastically than I was in the mood for at the time (cranky cranky) and I immediately proceeded to just plop down into a chair and ponder all the dumb reasons I had decided to run 37 miles in the middle of the night.  I took my New Balance 1010v2 shoes off and replaced them with my Altra Lone Peaks, had some short conversation with my husband, and then eventually decided to head out to the start/finish.  My husband called out “I love you!” – immediately followed by a “Do you tell all the racers you love them?” from a random racer passing through – and I headed down into what I thought was going to be an easy downhill to the finish.


This turned out to seriously be the most frustrating part of the course.  It is the first 2.9 of the course as well as the last, so 60k runners coming out for their second loop are crossing your path the whole way down.  I eventually started feeling like I was stopping every other minute for people coming uphill.  (This is obviously an exaggeration brought on by my increasingly disgruntled state of mind…)  I was lucky enough to see some people I knew at this point:  shout out to first place 60k female, the consistently awesome Julie, and her pacer Edward, who greeted me with a “Hey, Brittany!” so chipper it could only have come from a pacer only just starting his duties.  I turned off my headlamp a few miles before hitting the last aid station because I had a massive headache that was only growing worse with every minute.  I brought a small flashlight just in case, and it served me well for a while…then on the last flat stretch mysteriously died.  I ran the last half a mile or so to the start/finish with no lights, just me and the light of the supermoon.


I didn’t really feel much of anything when I saw the start/finish.  I didn’t feel any relief at all.  I walked up to the aid station and didn’t really get any acknowledgement at all from anyone behind the table, so I just looked around numbly for a moment and then laid on the ground by the medical tent.  Lying there on the ground, I suddenly became incredibly overwhelmed by everything.  Overwhelmed by running a second loop, by even having ran one loop in the first place, by the pain in my hips and knee, by my pounding migraine, my vague sense of nausea, basically everything I had resolved to push out of my mind at the beginning of the race.  I started to think about my friends at the aid stations and what they would say if I dropped.  I started to wonder what I would think of myself if I dropped.


Basically I just laid on the ground for what seemed like forever and cried a bit until someone happened to wander by and ask me if I was okay.  I was completely drained at this point and really could not think of anything to tell them.  I felt disoriented and every simple question she asked me involved a superfluous amount of effort.  If there was any doubt in my mind at this point that I was not heading out for a second loop, it pretty much vanished at this point.  I just knew it was what had to be done, and my brain wasn’t functioning well enough to tell me exactly why – and for some reason that just made everything that much worse.  I felt like I was quitting for no reason.  Was I injured?  Not really.  I had clearly aggravated a knee/IT band/something problem I’d been off and on having  for a while.  But probably not injured, per se.  I wasn’t laid up with heat exhaustion like so many others were at this point in the race (102 degrees in the shade at race start – maybe spending all day hiking around in 100+ degree weather was unwise?).  If you had asked me “Why are you quitting?” at that point in the race, I absolutely could not have told you why.


There were lots of waterworks over this, I’m not going to even begin to bullshit anyone.  I have never DNF’ed a race before (those of you who said I didn’t DNF, I “still ran the 30k” can kindly take that excuse elsewhere) and though I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that would never happen to me, I was still wholly unprepared for it.  I felt like a failure and then some.  A few people eventually came up to me and tried to console me with the standard “You can’t win them all” or”It happens every now and again” type of speech, but I couldn’t even begin to accept this kind of thing.  While completely true, it all sounded so trite to me at the moment.  I couldn’t accept it and the fact that I couldn’t accept it was upsetting me on top of that.  Basically, I was a hot mess.


Eventually Joe (the race director for Tejas Trails, who helps put on the Capt’n Karl’s series) was headed up to one of the aid stations to break down and agreed to give me a ride up to the aid station where my husband was.  By then it was about 2:30 in the morning, and I’d had a bit of time to settle down at this point (so his mere mentioning of my DNF didn’t send me into a pitiful weep-fest right off the bat, basically).  He asked me what happened, and I gave him the short version.  Nonchalant as can be, “Well, that happens.” like it was no big deal.  (Second spoiler alert:  It wasn’t.)  He explained to me that sometimes it’s good to fail, because if you never fail then you get all cocky.  That it’s good to fall down sometimes, as long as you remember that the most important part is to get back up.


Writing all that down seems so corny.  But, well…nobody can deny that shit is true.  I got all that self-pity crap out of the way and eventually moved on.  I stayed with my husband and worked the aid station until shut-down at 6 a.m, and then we headed home later that morning after another slightly unsuccessful sweaty nap.  Admittedly I did not deal well with all the “What happened?” questions that followed, but that’s mostly out of the way now.  I returned home a bit more humbled, no medal for the first time.  I’ve finally reached a place where I can say that I would not have done anything differently.  What happened happened.  I will admit that it has made me a bit more dubious about running a 50 miler in (shit!) 69 days, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.  (This blog post is getting entirely too full of cheesy generalisms…)


What would I have done differently?  Probably not spent all day in the heat before the race.  Committed to the race more.  Got my mind right.  Toughened up a bit.  Not filled this blog post with cheesy feel-good platitudes.  Who knows?  I don’t know.  It would be a lie to say that DNF’ing this race did not fill me with self-doubt about literally almost everything in my future.  Marathon in 35 days, 50 miler in 69 days?  Can I even accomplish all that?  I guess we’ll see.  Whoever came up with that quote about your dreams not being big enough if they don’t scare the shit out of you wasn’t messing around – at least nobody can tell me I don’t dream big enough.


Well, it happened and I suppose that’s that.  Move along, nothing to see here.


Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”

-T.S. Eliot


Muleshoe Bend 30k Race Report



This is a little late, and since it is a night race I didn’t take many pictures…so least thrilling race report ever. (Also, I just finished reading Timothy Olsen’s Hardrock 100 race report  so if you feel underwhelmed by my race report, go read his right after and feel reinvigorated by the magical spirit of ultrarunning)


I’m going to preface this race report with a couple of things. First, this race is the second in a series of local night 10/30/60k trail races called the Capt’n Karl’s series. Second, I ran the first race in this series last month (Pedernales Falls) and it did not go particularly well for me (this is on par with my previous post about being in a funky-funk). I was a bit hesitant coming into this race considering I was trying to use the first two races to gauge whether or not to do the 30k or 60k for the third and I seemed to be failing the 60k pre-test so far.


That said, I decided beforehand to put all thoughts of 60k races and previous race fail shenanigans out of my mind and just run a consistent race. First goal is always to not die. (This might mean don’t bonk. But it also might mean to not die.) Second for this race was just to be as consistent as possible with the pacing and nutrition.


I decided to try a bit of a new strategy this time for hydration/nutrition – I wore my Ultimate Direction Vesta with the front bottles full of slightly extra concentrated Tailwind ( with a bladder in the back with about 35oz of water and a considerable amount of ice. I had such a huge issue with the heat last time around, so by loading up on ice I was hoping to keep as cool as humanly possible. The ice on my back was a serious improvement, since the heat was probably the biggest detriment to my race last time.



I caught up with a friend of mine in the first part of the race after blowing through the first aid station and stuck with her for the rest of the first loop. It was fun to run with someone for a while as normally I’m solo for the majority of my races – Elizabeth is way more aware of her pacing than I am, so even though I felt she was going a bit faster than I could handle, I still stuck with her for the duration of the first loop.  Turned out the pacing was perfect (I always underestimate how fast I can handle – I have a crappy fear of bonking) and I felt good pretty much the whole loop despite going out thinking my pace was too fast.


I was mentally prepared for the conditions of the race beforehand, as the race director explained to me beforehand that Muleshoe was 90% covered compared to the scarce tree cover at Pedernales (a serious issue for me early in the race when the sun was still up).  The drawback to this is that the cover makes everything a bit like a sweltering sauna, so you end up trading just a few degrees of heat for a stifling humidity.  I felt pretty good when I left Elizabeth at the start/finish aid station and went charging back into the woods, but I could feel the weather once again doing a number on me.  I resolved to keep the pace slow and steady, ice as much as possible, and keep hydrating.  I was feeling pretty hungry at this point but at the same time didn’t feel like eating pretty much anything I could think of was available to me.



Side note here – around mile thirteen I ate a cherry jolly rancher and it was like wonderful nectar of the gods for my mouth.    Around this point is where I started to crave sugary/sweet stuff a lot, and the thought of drinking Coke at the aid station reduced me to a mindless junkie chasing each aid station for my next sugary fix.  I think it was around this time that, lured into complacency by my better than expected performance so far, I got a little behind on nutrition.  I can’t really recall filling up any more of my bottles with Tailwind after I took care of the first two, which is something that I have a serious issue with at races.  It’s not terribly time consuming, but it does entail stopping, taking off my vest to grab the bags out of the back (switch some stuff around to put them in the front in the future?), then carefully pouring them into the bottles, blahblah.  In the heat of the moment it always sounds like an ordeal, but maybe one day I’ll realize that slogging through the miles after not getting enough calories is way more of an ordeal than stopping for a minute to mix up some Tailwind.



Honestly, I won’t blather on about all the minutiae of this race – it really was pretty uneventful in terms of fun and exciting things.  There’s a different kind of feeling associated with doing a long night race, I think; it feels a little crazier somehow than doing a long race during the day.  I remember when I was at the Ragnar trail summit, and Tanner (one of the founders of Ragnar Relays) spoke to us about how important the overnight aspect of running was for Ragnar – that somehow being out there in the dark under all the stars was something that was very special to the runner experience.  There’s something unique about a night race.  It’s quieter, perhaps a bit scarier, definitely tougher.  At this point I think it’s safe to say that many runners and especially ultrarunners kind of thrive on that unique aspect of toughness.  It was definitely a special experience for me to come out of the woods and sprint to the finish in the dark, where the race director Brad was there to hand me my medal (and buff!  bonus!) with a bluegrass band playing at the aid station (double bonus).


It didn’t hurt that I finished the race almost twenty minutes faster than I finished Pedernales, despite the fact that Muleshoe is widely regarded as being the tougher course.  I’m going to attribute this to jolly ranchers, Coke, and I guess getting my mind right before the race.  I told myself to prepare to be out there for as long as I need to be, and whatever happened after that would happen.  No being discouraged about being off pace, no suffering bullcrap.  Just a good time, really.



It’s hard to take pictures with a drenched iPhone in the dark…but this is always my favorite sign. In case you can’t see: Little Girl: Mom? What is…Normal? Mom: It’s just a setting on the dryer, honey.







CrossFit and Spartan

It’s finally CrossFit Games time!!


Anyways.  Any of you people who actually follow CrossFit in the slightest know that I am dreaming big in rooting for Josh Bridges pretty much every year.  I’m pretty sure Rich Froning was manufactured in a CrossFit lab somewhere to win the Games every year without even appearing to try.  But I have to root for my Shipmate.


So tomorrow I’m free on running, so I think I’m going to take the day for Spartan training instead of resting.  Since I run enough and CrossFit plenty, I figure the biggest thing I’m lacking in my training for the upcoming HH12HR  is carrying awkward heavy stuff around.  In the first 12HR in Vegas, athletes were told to take a tire and run the course, keeping in mind that there was a cutoff to be back to the finish line.  This is probably going to be my biggest weakness at the race.  (Technically, the Spartan Hurricane Heat isn’t a “race” per se, but for the purposes of this blog I’m going to continue to call it that.)



I have a particularly gnarly memory from last year where I competed in a CrossFit-style competition the YMCA put on in conjunction with Team RWB (the super awesome non-profit I am a part of, if you haven’t been paying attention).  One of the events was a sandbag run of about 400m and I can still remember that I was basically ready to give up on life about halfway through.  I finished last in my group (only a group of four, but still) and was completely discouraged.  Something about carrying that awkward weight while running just kills me every time.  AMRAP with a 200m run carrying a wall-ball?  Terrible memories of that one too.


So the plan for tomorrow is to take the sandbag to the trails and just get comfortable with it.  I’ll probably take it to the hills at a local park and do some hiking.  Then I’ll head to CrossFit, where tomorrow’s WOD is as follows:

Single Arm Kettlebell press
3 x 6 each arm
10 x Deadlifts
10 x Push Ups
30 x Double Unders
Should be a fun one.  Back to the subject of balance from yesterday, I’m gonna play it by ear with this extra Spartan training in conjunction with marathon training + CrossFit.  I don’t want to get too cocky and think that I don’t need to do much else, but I don’t want to end up dealing with overtraining issues.  So I’m just going to work it in when I can, and more importantly when I feel good.  We’ll see what happens.

Goals, Training, and Pictures that Move


60 days? That’s forever away. I’ll just eat ice cream.

I now have this fun little “countdown” app.  So just prepare yourselves  to see this crap more times than is even remotely necessary, because for some reason this app pleases me in the same way that looking at graphs and spreadsheets pleases me.


I suppose I have a lot on my plate in the coming months.  With the marathon begins a landslide of runcations and inevitable sufferfests – the Fuego y Agua 50k, Hill Country Ragnar (ultra team), my first 50 miler, the 12 Hour Spartan Hurricane Heat, the McDowell Mountain Ragnar Relay (regular team this time – the week of I also plan to visit the Grand Canyon and run R2R).  All that starting from 01 October to 07 September.  I was trying to explain to a co-worker why I was hoarding all my leave instead of just taking a nice long vacation on my marathon trip to Washington when I started to explain all this stuff to her that I had to possibly reserve leave for in Oct-Nov.  I’m pretty sure she didn’t understand most of what I was talking about.  She just stared at me blankly for a moment while trying to find the words, then decided on an appropriate “You are going to die.”


I’m trying not to become totally neurotic about my training.  Which is hard when you load up TrainingPeaks and your mid-week medium-long run has a coach’s note that reads “aim for 8:50 pace” (freaking out).  I’m pretty sure Liza thinks I’m a sandbagger at this point, since I complained to her that I just wasn’t confident I could hit all these paces in the Texas heat and she kindly pointed out to me we had been running 8:30-8:45 minute miles the whole time we’d been chatting.  So there’s that.


I had a friend who was a bit of a nightmare when it came to her training – she really, REALLY wanted to qualify for Boston and it made her more than a little bit neurotic.  For some reason this left a serious impression on me.  I have to wonder if you’re really even enjoying running anymore when you get to the point where you’re on the cusp of an unholy nervous breakdown at the very thought of trying and failing to do well at your chosen race.  I want to train and do well, but I don’t want it to be a chore, or something that I don’t enjoy doing.  I understand that there’s always going to be a time where I won’t particularly be thrilled about getting up and going running, but that’s just to be expected every now and again (not on the regular).


Anyone who was taking themselves entirely too seriously would probably be wise enough to tone it down on the race front (unlike me).  Maybe I’m not wise enough to see something cool I want to do and tell myself that it’s probably smart to wait until next year.  I guess I’m a bit of a hyperactive 12 year old on the inside when it comes to stuff like that.  Waiting isn’t typically my strong suit.


Despite all my doubts, training is going well.  Not perfect, but well.  I need to work a bit more on my strength in some areas, but I feel a lot stronger in my running now that I’ve gone back to CrossFitting regularly.  The ever-present battle there is balancing CrossFit and running in such a way that I have something other than limp noodles for legs on days I have to run after CrossFit days.  I’ve been trying to counter this by running in the morning and then going right to CrossFit afterwards.  I want to try and keep up with writing about my training here in the blog, and since we’re going to be doing a blog-o-rama for a while…I think it’ll give me something to ramble about.


I was going to write more, but it’s getting late and I have to run in the morning (8:50 m/m are you serious?)…   On a completely unrelated note, Buzzfeed published this article of potential funniest gifs of all time, and it is a very important thing that you might need in your life.





Brazos Bend 50k

Long face hair don't care?

Long face hair don’t care?

So having all my wisdom teeth ripped from my skull is providing me with a great opportunity to sit around and catch up on my blogging.  Life’s been a bit hectic lately due to finishing a month-long training that has left me drastically behind at work.  There’s also been a few Team RWB things I’ve had to get done – not huge things, but sometimes even a few hours worth of work can seem like a neverending task when you’re already juggling a million other things.  But I’ve been mostly productive (with some much needed down time) despite all the craziness…except when it comes to blogging.  I have a few drafts hanging out that I start with gusto and then get distracted by something else that prevents me from picking it up again (mostly because I find if I stop in the middle of a blog, I lost steam and don’t want to pick it up again, haha).  SO, since I’m just sitting around on post-surgical quarters (and also I can’t seem to watch Game of Thrones online anymore – this is a big factor) I figure it’s time to catch up.  I need to resolve to try and do this a certain number of times a week…



So, I posted that a few days ago (I never really have been into actual New Year’s Resolutions, so never made one) but figured setting some goals would be good.  So I’m going to set a goal to try and blog at least once a week.  Hopefully a bit more if I can find the time/fun stuff to blog about.  More on that later.


Anyways, the last weekend of April was my second 50k at Brazo’s Bend.  If you read my race report for my first 50k at Nueces, you’re probably aware that I had not that great of a time.  (Well, I had a great time overall, especially first loop…but not so great results as the heat made me quite ill.)  So going to Brazos was redemption time.  I knew going in that provided nothing terrible happened during the race, I would completely destroy my 50k PR due to the problems I experienced at the last one.  So I resolved to try and just show up, have fun, and try and run strong while keeping walking to a minimum.


For those not familiar with the race, it’s flat.  Flat, flat, flat.  My Garmin registered about 120 feet of elevation gain for the entire 50k course.  There’s a terrible kind of sneakiness to this kind of course.  When you’re used to the periodic power hiking and hill climbing, using the same muscles for 31 miles because a new kind of pain.  I did not plan to go into Brazos and smoke it, knowing that the lack of climbs would be a challenge for me eventually.  Running the 20 miler at Piney Woods in February taught me that – I was more sore from that race for a few days after than I was for Nueces.  I resolved beforehand to not get caught up in the “flat and fast” moniker of the course and just keep a nice easy pace that would get me to the finish line safe and sound.  (Hah!)




We arrived to Brazo’s Bend the day before the race to camp and got to take a nice two mile walk to the packet pick-up.  This allowed us to walk some of the course, and see some of the local wildlife.  Alligators, snakes, cool birds, flocks of tourists – we were lucky enough to witness a lot of fun and interesting things on our walk!  I might have also almost stepped on aforementioned snake, then spent the next five minutes staring at it in awe with my mouth agape and it’s startling largeness.  (I’m not particularly afraid of snakes, but I don’t see them very often, so I’m a bit wary…)


Russell was kind enough to take this first thing in the morning, when I was looking like rough dog crap.

Russell was kind enough to take this first thing in the morning, when I was looking like rough dog crap.


On race morning, I completely, totally, 100% had no desire to wake up.  At all.  I was at least smart enough the night before to load my bottles up with Tailwind and pack the race vest with extra bags and all the necessities.  I woke up at the very last minute, ate a muffin, and started taking inventory to make sure I wasn’t forgetting something small.  At this point, I still hadn’t decided what shoes I was going to wear.  I had almost brought every single trail shoe I owned (in retrospect, I might have actually brought every single trail shoe I owned) and just couldn’t decide which one would do the job.  It was hot and muggy outside, and the thought of putting on my socks and shoes was almost unbearable at that point.  So, I decided to throw caution into the wind and just wear my Luna Sandals for at least the first loop, and see how it went.  I’d ran in them many times before (but never for my long run) and loved the way my feet felt in them, so I figured they’d be perfect for the humid race.  Why not, I guess?





I had a bit of an issue with the heel strap on my right foot slipping down every now and again, but it wasn’t too bad.  This lasted a good 60% of the race, then magically resolved itself through no action of my own.  It was never really a huge annoyance, and going through the first loop of the race I just kind of stayed cognizant of it and tried to adjust a small amount at the aid stations.  I took the first loop at a nice clip, nothing crazy, testing the sandal and flat course waters and just trying to do everything “right” as far as nutrition and pacing goes.  I ran with my friend Scott, who was running his first 50k, and we were doing well with having compatible paces.  I was determined to not have issues of any kind this time (aren’t we all?) and just wanted to feel good finishing, so sticking with Scott for the first loop made the race fun and more or less comfortable.


Dramatically coming around the turnaround!

Dramatically coming around the turnaround!


Also we had fun times like this.

Also we had fun times like this.


Somewhere near the end of the first loop, I just kind of hit autopilot and starting wandering off into my own thoughts. Scott had started chatting with a gentleman we had passed (well, I had passed) and I just kind of meandered off, thinking that I wanted to run a little bit faster but not meaning to do so until after I passed the start/finish for my second loop.  Next thing I knew Scott was nowhere to be found, probably still chatting away (this is a thing, I accept it) to every person who came along.  I hesitated, not sure if I should wait for him or not, but decided he couldn’t be too far behind and I was kick it up a bit to the start/finish and wait for him there.


In retrospect, I waited waaay too long here.  I waited for him to come in for at least ten minutes, then waited for him to get his drop bag and do his business – then my friend Kerri (from Nueces!) came through right as we were soon to go, and I (we?) decided to wait for her.  This is completely my failure – Scott told me to go ahead and go (I believe Kerri probably did too) but I knew that if times were going to get tough, it was going to be this loop.  Honestly, I kind of wanted someone to hang with for a while, and knew Kerri would be running a similar pace.  We parted ways with Scott in the first mile or so (hence my dilemma at having waited) and trucked on together for the rest of the race.


Though I felt really great leaving for my second loop, at around mile 21 or 22 my body got pretty sick and tired of all the repetitive muscle usage of the flat terrain and started throwing a hissy fit.  Luckily I had Kerri around, who chit chatted with me and distracted me somewhat.  I eventually had to stop every now and again and stretch my self-destructing hamstrings, but made sure Kerri continued on without me.  this was a good thing in a way because it gave me a bit of a goal to catch up with her after stretching.  Though it felt like I was kind of exploding at every possible location below the waist, I didn’t necessarily feel bad, not like I did at Nueces.  I chalked it up to the pains associated with running farther than you do around the neighborhood, and told myself to walk if I absolutely felt I needed to, but to keep it to a minimum.  I did a lot of stern self-talking past the 25-26 mile mark as life started to become exponentially more painful.


The fun part about this race is how it is set up.  The lollipop structure of the course meant that there is a lot of crossing paths with other runners, which means that we saw quite a few friends.  (Shout out to Jason, who shouted “Put some shoes on, Brittany!!’ at me as he was headed into the start/finish for the 50 miler as we were leaving it…it gave me a good laugh.)  This is certainly good for lifting spirits, though most of it occurs before the last long stretch of the race which is honestly the hardest part mentally.  There’s a long stretch between the second and last aid station that despite being only about five miles, feels like FOREVER due to it being a straight, seemingly never-ending flat completely riddled with horse-hoof holes that made stabilization a bit harder.  The course here is so straight for so long that you can see straight for an excruciatingly long time, which is a huge mental mind game when you think you should have already arrived at the aid station already.  I walked a bit more here than I would have liked, Kerri almost stepped on a damn snake, and I might have mentioned my hamstrings were exploding approximately a billion times.


After hitting the last aid station, there were some weird mind games going on with Kerri’s watch reporting we had quite a bit less mileage left than we really did.  My watch was a little more accurate (off by maybe .4) so though I knew logically my watch was probably correct based on how accurate it was for the first loop, I still kept clinging to the hope that Kerri’s watch was right and we had about 1.5 miles instead of about 4.  The last mile or so was complete and total shit for me.  We hit the paved portion of the course and my feet were angrily demanding to know why the hell I was doing such a terrible thing t0 them at this point.  Hadn’t they suffered enough?  I began to think that I had suffered enough and maybe if I just walked for one second – luckily for me, Kerri barked at me about half a mile from the finish line, “Don’t walk, we’re almost there!”  (If you were not already aware, Kerri is awesome.)


Kerri looking fresh and all smiles, and me looking me or whatever...

Kerri looking fresh and all smiles, and me looking all…like me or whatever…


It was nice to cross the finish line and sit in a chair very unwisely and drink chocolate protein and oh god I thought I was going to die and nah that wasn’t too bad I guess.  I got Epic Bars and Coke at the start/finish aid station because the race director is my freaking hero (I love Epic Bars, omg) and went to the finish to wait for Scott to roll in.  I found out at this moment that sitting down was quite unwise, but I almost didn’t care because I at least didn’t have to run anymore.  (I want to point out here that at one point my husband asked me after the race “Why are you so sore?”  For real.)


It was awesome to cheer Scott in for his first 50k!  Despite all the pain, I had a great time.  In retrospect I should have spent a little less time hanging around the aid stations, as that added an extra minute per mile to my overall time.  Sucks, but still smashed my 50k PR and had a good time with good friends.  Rob (fellow Ragnar warrior and friend) the race director did a killer job on his first race and I can’t wait to hit up the Brazos Bend 100 (…for the relay…) in December!  Cheers!


20140506-001342.jpg20140506-001357.jpg 20140506-001349.jpg

Thinking Out Loud Thursday



1.  First, can we talk about how Liza Howard is amazing:

Six months post-partum (so six months of sleep deprivation, plus three ten minute breaks to breast pump during the race), crushing the female record at Umstead 100 in 15:07.  Truly an inspiration to us all!  For further proof please see this What Is Ultra post about her.


2.  Buzzfeed posted an article called  75 Thoughts Every Runner Has While Out For A Run a few days ago, and I’m pretty sure during all the very unsightly guffawing I was relating to almost everything on the list:


Most people have probably already seen this, but I need to note this here just in case there’s one poor unfortunate soul out there who hasn’t happened upon this already.  And while we’re talking about hilarious things:


“100 miles? I don’t even like to drive that far.”
“Your mom doesn’t like to drive that far.”


I’ve never ran 100 miles, but I’ve received this clever (not) little line for just doing half marathons, 25ks or 50ks before, so.  PSA to all you out there: NOT FUNNY.  Also I was torn between pride and embarrassment at how much some of these things resonate with me.  Especially the shoe thing.  …so many shoes.




4.  On a more serious note, there’s this, a photo project by @DearWorld that admittedly had me a little teary eyed.


When we asked you to return to the finish line, a place that changed your lives, we knew it wouldn’t be easy. You told us some days are harder than others, but that it’s okay to have bad days.

Mostly you told us about the goodness of others. Colleagues who babysat. School kids who sent notes. Neighbors who cooked dinner.

What happened that day was terror. Terror happens when love is absent.

Boston is a city of love stories now.

Thank you for sharing yours here. As you heal, know you inspire the rest of us to be better, still.


Founder, Dear World


I think it is incredibly important when tragedies like this occur that we highlight the survivors and wonderful people who were there to help others who were suffering.  This is an beautiful example of how to move on when something irreparably terrible happens around you, and if you have even just one moment to spare I would suggest you check it out.  🙂


5.  I went back to CrossFit for the first time in almost two months on Monday, and MY BODY IS STILL BROKEN.  Well, not completely, but it’s been quite a long time that I’ve felt so sore.  I tried to run today and still felt a bit off.  The WOD we did was 3 rounds of 5 body weight deadlifts, 25 box jumps, and 10 pull-ups.  Now, the box jumps and deadlifts I can probably get away with a little bit of stiffness for a couple of days, a bit of tired legs, whatever – I’ve been running the whole time I’ve not been doing CrossFit, so those weren’t really a big deal.  I have NOT however been doing upper body, so the short story here is that lifting my arms went from laughably easy pre-WOD to an impossibly post-WOD (the day after) and then to a very uncomfortable chore within the last few days.  So, that’s a thing.  #crossfitkills


6.  I really need to get back into cross-training before my body breaks FOR REAL.  Hence the CrossFit.  I even bought a Groupon for 20 yoga classes.  I went to yoga and am not ashamed to say I bitched for like ten minutes after (jokingly, more or less – but still) because yoga is freaking HARD.  Ugh.  I’ve been trolling r/yoga a lot lately, and if that one yoga class I took last week wasn’t proof enough of my distinct lack of flexibility in certain places, seeing something like this makes me feel like an inflexible stone:


What is this I don’t even.

I’m not even sure what to think of things like this.  What are you, Gumby?!  Meanwhile I can’t even get my heels to the ground in down dog.  Damn.


7.  (I had to check to see what number I was on.  Probably a sign this is going too far.)  So I’ve been pretty good at avoiding overpriced workout clothes lately, but today the local lululemon store posted this adorable tank on their FB page, and it’s got my jimmies all rustled.



This is getting long and soon it won’t even be Thursday anymore.  So I leave you with, number 8:



I think this speaks for itself.

I think this speaks for itself.