It's rather funny that the one time I don't for one second question my DNF decision, it takes me 5 months to blog about it. 2015's Squamish 50 was to be my first 50 miler and I was pretty damn confident. For the first time, I had kind of trained. With a cutoff of 17 hours, I was aiming for 16 and believed it could be done.
I drove up with the ladies Friday afternoon, picked up my race package and some food, then hunkered down for a solid 8 hours at the Hotel Squamish (great little hotel crawling distance from the finish line - be sure to get a room NOT over the pub for noise purposes). For whatever reason, I have no problems going to bed at 8pm and getting a solid 8 hours sleep on ultra eve. This time however, I woke up in the middle of the night soaking wet, and sadly this wasn't from peeing myself and it wasn't 'OMG! My first 50 miler is a Gary Robbins 50 miler...WTF was I thinking?!' panic sweats. But I just shimmied over to the dry side of the bed and went back to sleep. After a quick shower and styling my hair because yes...I am so vain and the song was about me not Warren Beatty...I grabbed a cup of coffee and shoved something in my mouth (get your head out of that gutter I occupy) and head out the door. Jesus it was dark. And there was snow on the ground. In August! Headlamp on, I started ambling down the road in the direction I was 99.9% sure I should be going. Luckily some kind random strangers running the 50/50 stopped to give me and a Japanese guy a ride. The next guy we laughed at as we passed because the car was full. #sucker
I hadn't even given a thought that I felt crappy. I was still excited to be running for the next 3/4 of a day. I peed, I hugged, I played with Roxy Girl a little, I peed some more, I hugged some more. Posed for a little photo or two, then it was go time!
I drove up with the ladies Friday afternoon, picked up my race package and some food, then hunkered down for a solid 8 hours at the Hotel Squamish (great little hotel crawling distance from the finish line - be sure to get a room NOT over the pub for noise purposes). For whatever reason, I have no problems going to bed at 8pm and getting a solid 8 hours sleep on ultra eve. This time however, I woke up in the middle of the night soaking wet, and sadly this wasn't from peeing myself and it wasn't 'OMG! My first 50 miler is a Gary Robbins 50 miler...WTF was I thinking?!' panic sweats. But I just shimmied over to the dry side of the bed and went back to sleep. After a quick shower and styling my hair because yes...I am so vain and the song was about me not Warren Beatty...I grabbed a cup of coffee and shoved something in my mouth (get your head out of that gutter I occupy) and head out the door. Jesus it was dark. And there was snow on the ground. In August! Headlamp on, I started ambling down the road in the direction I was 99.9% sure I should be going. Luckily some kind random strangers running the 50/50 stopped to give me and a Japanese guy a ride. The next guy we laughed at as we passed because the car was full. #sucker
I hadn't even given a thought that I felt crappy. I was still excited to be running for the next 3/4 of a day. I peed, I hugged, I played with Roxy Girl a little, I peed some more, I hugged some more. Posed for a little photo or two, then it was go time!
Normally when they tell you the first 10 km is flat, it means flat-ish with the odd hill they sneak in. This was literally flat. It was awesome. I made sure to reel myself in and not get carried away at the awesomeness of said flatness. There were another 70km HAHAHAHA...what was I thinking...to go. It was a sweet little windy trail in and out of the trees to the first aid station. Brandi and I got excited when we saw each other. Apparently the guy in front of me did too.
I was starting to really feel like crap. #deathplague was for real. My goals rapidly changed. Instead of a 16 hour finish time, it became getting to the first aid station without puking. I had yet to take in any food and had barely sucked back any Kona Cola/Orange Nuun, normally a favourite of mine to which I can't keep the lips from sucking up the tube! But the thought of anything just turned my stomach. All my carefully planned (aka obsession driven) nutrition plans had gone out the window. Coming into that first aid station, I just shook my head at Suzanne. So many friends cheering there and I could barely force a smile on my face. Me, who is usually beaming throughout a race and is often greeted with "you're still smiling!" from the Vollies. Of course! If it doesn't make you happy, why do it? But I just looked at her and said, "My goal was to get here without puking, which I did. My next goal is to get to Alice Lake without puking." After slurping back a couple oranges, I was off.
Things only got worse. Alanna caught up to me as I was bent over mid trail trying not to heave. My new goal was now to get to Alice Lake without puking or passing out. Having friends out marshalling in that next section helped get me to Aid 2. They managed to put a smile on my weary face and keep me going. Kristijan, my Rob Krar in Knee Knacker, tried to get me excited for the downhill but I just couldn't muster up the enthusiasm. I was done. I wanted to keep Alanna in my sites so I wouldn't break down into a woe is me mentality and just give up. Even knowing there was no way I'd be going past Alice Lake, I wanted to get there as strong as I could. The two of us usually compete for last place and I had promised to never drop in a race she's running again. Climbing up DeBecks Hill, I apologized to her for my upcoming drop. She just gave me a look, and after seeing pictures of me at Alice Lake... Well, I looked pretty fucking pathetic. It was late August and I was shivering from the cold. That snow on the ground I mentioned earlier? Don't think that means it was cold. It was a xmas movie being filmed. But I could not stop shaking. In over 3 hours of running, I'd managed to take in 2 pieces of orange and a gel.
I was starting to really feel like crap. #deathplague was for real. My goals rapidly changed. Instead of a 16 hour finish time, it became getting to the first aid station without puking. I had yet to take in any food and had barely sucked back any Kona Cola/Orange Nuun, normally a favourite of mine to which I can't keep the lips from sucking up the tube! But the thought of anything just turned my stomach. All my carefully planned (aka obsession driven) nutrition plans had gone out the window. Coming into that first aid station, I just shook my head at Suzanne. So many friends cheering there and I could barely force a smile on my face. Me, who is usually beaming throughout a race and is often greeted with "you're still smiling!" from the Vollies. Of course! If it doesn't make you happy, why do it? But I just looked at her and said, "My goal was to get here without puking, which I did. My next goal is to get to Alice Lake without puking." After slurping back a couple oranges, I was off.
Things only got worse. Alanna caught up to me as I was bent over mid trail trying not to heave. My new goal was now to get to Alice Lake without puking or passing out. Having friends out marshalling in that next section helped get me to Aid 2. They managed to put a smile on my weary face and keep me going. Kristijan, my Rob Krar in Knee Knacker, tried to get me excited for the downhill but I just couldn't muster up the enthusiasm. I was done. I wanted to keep Alanna in my sites so I wouldn't break down into a woe is me mentality and just give up. Even knowing there was no way I'd be going past Alice Lake, I wanted to get there as strong as I could. The two of us usually compete for last place and I had promised to never drop in a race she's running again. Climbing up DeBecks Hill, I apologized to her for my upcoming drop. She just gave me a look, and after seeing pictures of me at Alice Lake... Well, I looked pretty fucking pathetic. It was late August and I was shivering from the cold. That snow on the ground I mentioned earlier? Don't think that means it was cold. It was a xmas movie being filmed. But I could not stop shaking. In over 3 hours of running, I'd managed to take in 2 pieces of orange and a gel.
When you've been attacked by the #deathplague, there is nothing better than coming into your own private picnic at the 20 km mark of a race, gingham blanket and all.
I looked at Suzanne and Nicole, the most awesome two crew members you could have, and inbetween hacking and coughing, said I was done. Their responses, "Yeah, you're the wrong colour." "And your lips are blue." I fished my phone out of my pack to phone Elayne, crew member #3, hoping she hadn't left White Rock yet. My voice couldn't even be described as the sexy Kathleen Turner. It had become Kathleen Turner with laryngitis. I suppose it was a good thing I caught her before she left, but that also meant the potato soup she made me was also staying in White Rock. #dammit
The gals led me over to my picnic. Like, come on! Who gets a picnic mid-50 miler!? I do! That's who! Rootbeer. Flat gingerale...which was a freaking godsend at that moment...Goldfishy crackers, pb & j's. There was candy and even a Grapefruit Radler. They know me so well.
I looked at Suzanne and Nicole, the most awesome two crew members you could have, and inbetween hacking and coughing, said I was done. Their responses, "Yeah, you're the wrong colour." "And your lips are blue." I fished my phone out of my pack to phone Elayne, crew member #3, hoping she hadn't left White Rock yet. My voice couldn't even be described as the sexy Kathleen Turner. It had become Kathleen Turner with laryngitis. I suppose it was a good thing I caught her before she left, but that also meant the potato soup she made me was also staying in White Rock. #dammit
The gals led me over to my picnic. Like, come on! Who gets a picnic mid-50 miler!? I do! That's who! Rootbeer. Flat gingerale...which was a freaking godsend at that moment...Goldfishy crackers, pb & j's. There was candy and even a Grapefruit Radler. They know me so well.
To say it was a relief to be done running is an understatement. I've had many DNF's. Like...too many DNF's. There were legit reasons and bullshit reasons. Yet for most of them, I wonder, 'Could I have kept going? If I had slogged on for another 30 minutes, would my mindset have changed?' I'll never know, but I'll always believe I could have finished. Well, except for that time with the broken ass. But even then, I tried to finish, running 12 more kilometres with it broken. Sure there was Buckin' Hell 21km where it was just a bad day and I couldn't catch my breath on the flats. I could've finished that, but it would've been a hot mess so I dropped to the 15km. Why not just save it for another day when you have moments like that? Oregon Coast 50km, I made it through the dreaded beach section but with horrible gut issues. Kim finished the race puking the whole way. Why didn't I at least try? Coastal 50km the 2nd time, I woke up with a migraine and my meds gave me chaotic side effects. My skin was so sensitive every step hurt and my heart was racing faster than ever before. But the side effects always fade within an hour or two. Why not stick it out? Cap Crusher 13km, Gary let me drop to the 8km just before race day because I had recently pulled a calf muscle. I knew going into this race, which was a bit of a double loop, that I would probably only make one loop before pulling out. All of these could be considered smart physical decisions. But still, you always wonder, What If?
This was the first time where I have never given it a second moment's thought. So much of ultrarunning is mind over matter. Your body can and will do anything, you just have to be confident in its ability. The easy part is telling yourself you need to stop. The hard part is convincing yourself you can keep going.
After the weekend I joked with Gary via email that I was so glad he didn't open up registration immediately after a race or I would be signing up for the 50/50. Next thing you know, it's November and I'm registered for the 50/50. He just made it sound so damn doable. So I don't place all my blame on him in August, I asked myself the question, 'Why can't you do it?" Will it be difficult? Hell yes. It's a Gary course and it's 130 km over two days when the most you've ever run is 50km. Will I want to quit at some point? Probably several points. Will I cry when my alarm goes off on Sunday to run the 50km after already running the 50miler? Odds are pretty damn high I will. But hearing him say this year at the start of the 50 miler to those attempting the 50/50, 'Just show up at the start line. You'll know by the first aid station if it's going to happen or not.' made me think, Why can't I?
Also, when you have the #deathplague your snot rockets are EPIC.
After the weekend I joked with Gary via email that I was so glad he didn't open up registration immediately after a race or I would be signing up for the 50/50. Next thing you know, it's November and I'm registered for the 50/50. He just made it sound so damn doable. So I don't place all my blame on him in August, I asked myself the question, 'Why can't you do it?" Will it be difficult? Hell yes. It's a Gary course and it's 130 km over two days when the most you've ever run is 50km. Will I want to quit at some point? Probably several points. Will I cry when my alarm goes off on Sunday to run the 50km after already running the 50miler? Odds are pretty damn high I will. But hearing him say this year at the start of the 50 miler to those attempting the 50/50, 'Just show up at the start line. You'll know by the first aid station if it's going to happen or not.' made me think, Why can't I?
Also, when you have the #deathplague your snot rockets are EPIC.