I believe it was the giddiness of sitting at YVR awaiting a flight to Cozumel that started this crazy Trifecta madness. What better way to start a vacation than registering for a couple 50km races? Looking back, a pre-flight margarita would've been a much better idea. Alas, it's Squamish 50 in August, Coastal 50 in September and Oregon Coast 50 in October. Next year the plan is Knee Knacker, which I have a guaranteed entry for raising close to $3300 for North Shore Rescue, and only Knee Knacker. This may change, but I've gotten to a point where I'm no longer enjoying running in the forest because I'm training. I need to get back to the joy. Finding myself beaming from ear to ear, just because I'm flying through the forest like Tinkerbell. Stopping to play with all the puppies, because as Elayne says, I myself am just a big dumb dog.
I am still in a state of denial about Squamish. I have yet to set foot on any of the race route and can just hope that training on the North Shore will be close enough. I don't fear the hills even thought I suck at them. I don't fear the technicality, in fact I embrace it. I seem to be more comfortable on technical trails, whether going up, down or mildly flat. I don't fear the distance. I've done it once, so know it can be done. The fear comes from knowing this is a Gary course. And he takes great pleasure in kicking our asses. (Or in his words, pushing us further than we think we can.) I'm a firm believer in knowing our bodies are incredible. And they can be pushed so much further than we give them credit for. It's 100% the mind that says, 'No. I have to stop. I can't do this.' But we can. And we will. Thankfully this past weekend I hiked Hanes Valley in the smoldering heat and was given one hell of a mental training session. The entire climb I thought I was going to pass out and fall between two boulders or just tumble down the smaller scree. A couple moments I was close to tears, and when I heard the sound of the chopper above, I actually thought, 'Will this be the time NSR has to get my ass off a mountain?' I was so lightheaded I would take 15 steps, stop, gasping for breath, seeing spots, hearing going in and out, cold sweats, then take another 15 steps. I can honestly say I have never done anything so difficult in my life. Running 50km in the Marin Headlands was easier. Running 11 km moments after breaking my ass was easier, and riding in a car over countless speed bumps after pulling out of Diez Vista (2 words I still cringe in horror when heard) with the broken ass, although excruciating, was easier. I truly believed I wouldn't be able to finish. But I did. This gave me the confidence that no matter how difficult Squamish gets, I CAN finish. It may be ugly, but it will be done. Most importantly, I will have a smile on my face and a beer at the finish. Odds are, as I hug Gary at the finish line, I won't be cursing him like 95% of last year's runners, but begging desperately for beer as I fall to the ground. If there were a side of grapefruit juice to go into said beer, I would be forever grateful.
Unlike when I ran Coastal 50 in 2012 down in the Marin Headlands, I have not obsessed over this course. I've looked at the profile, been given advice about what to expect, but I have yet to really buckle down and read the description and play it out in my head. I'm sure this weekend that will change. I broke up the California race into five 10kms. We can all run a 10km. This definitely made it less intimidating. This time, I'm going in with the attitude 'I'm going for a run between aid stations.' My first goal. Get to the first aid station. Second goal. Get to the next one. And so on, with the final goal being, 'get me to the god damn f**&@% beer garden.'
So on race day my friends, I will see you there. And we will kick some ass together. And if you happen to see me at an aid station, scarfing food like it's an all you can eat buffet and I've been on a deserted island for months, please don't mock me...but join me. Just don't eat my pancakes. I'll find the energy to kick your ass if you try.
I am still in a state of denial about Squamish. I have yet to set foot on any of the race route and can just hope that training on the North Shore will be close enough. I don't fear the hills even thought I suck at them. I don't fear the technicality, in fact I embrace it. I seem to be more comfortable on technical trails, whether going up, down or mildly flat. I don't fear the distance. I've done it once, so know it can be done. The fear comes from knowing this is a Gary course. And he takes great pleasure in kicking our asses. (Or in his words, pushing us further than we think we can.) I'm a firm believer in knowing our bodies are incredible. And they can be pushed so much further than we give them credit for. It's 100% the mind that says, 'No. I have to stop. I can't do this.' But we can. And we will. Thankfully this past weekend I hiked Hanes Valley in the smoldering heat and was given one hell of a mental training session. The entire climb I thought I was going to pass out and fall between two boulders or just tumble down the smaller scree. A couple moments I was close to tears, and when I heard the sound of the chopper above, I actually thought, 'Will this be the time NSR has to get my ass off a mountain?' I was so lightheaded I would take 15 steps, stop, gasping for breath, seeing spots, hearing going in and out, cold sweats, then take another 15 steps. I can honestly say I have never done anything so difficult in my life. Running 50km in the Marin Headlands was easier. Running 11 km moments after breaking my ass was easier, and riding in a car over countless speed bumps after pulling out of Diez Vista (2 words I still cringe in horror when heard) with the broken ass, although excruciating, was easier. I truly believed I wouldn't be able to finish. But I did. This gave me the confidence that no matter how difficult Squamish gets, I CAN finish. It may be ugly, but it will be done. Most importantly, I will have a smile on my face and a beer at the finish. Odds are, as I hug Gary at the finish line, I won't be cursing him like 95% of last year's runners, but begging desperately for beer as I fall to the ground. If there were a side of grapefruit juice to go into said beer, I would be forever grateful.
Unlike when I ran Coastal 50 in 2012 down in the Marin Headlands, I have not obsessed over this course. I've looked at the profile, been given advice about what to expect, but I have yet to really buckle down and read the description and play it out in my head. I'm sure this weekend that will change. I broke up the California race into five 10kms. We can all run a 10km. This definitely made it less intimidating. This time, I'm going in with the attitude 'I'm going for a run between aid stations.' My first goal. Get to the first aid station. Second goal. Get to the next one. And so on, with the final goal being, 'get me to the god damn f**&@% beer garden.'
So on race day my friends, I will see you there. And we will kick some ass together. And if you happen to see me at an aid station, scarfing food like it's an all you can eat buffet and I've been on a deserted island for months, please don't mock me...but join me. Just don't eat my pancakes. I'll find the energy to kick your ass if you try.