Here are a few of my cultivated winter shots from the past few years, as requested by Adam (and without, thankfully, the ice beard).

We like to run with friends as this generally boosts morale, we get to spend precious time with the people we care about and it adds some variety to our weekly training runs. Sometimes, we also like to run down the middle of roads (this is not advised, please run against traffic on the shoulder).

We did take a quick trip to the Pacific Northwest for the holidays, and so I submit to you a cheating on Ithaca running photo series from the Columbia Gorge in Washington State.

The gorge is well known for its windiness and the Hamilton Mountain trail definitely puts you out into some of that icy blast. This hopefully explains the uncomfortable smiles and my wacko hair do…

It is always nice to find new runs in the places we visit. It isn’t so nice when the trail turns into a foot wide ice slide with a cliff on one side. This quickly turned into a slow walk around ice patches and hand-over-hand scaling up icy climbs. Bonus pic of Adam and his creative solution for forgetting his gloves:

We finished that “run” with a stop by a beautiful frozen waterfall. Happy to be off the windy ice death trap of a trail!

Alright, I promise that’s the last “cheating on Ithaca” picture. But I figured, it was still snowy, and felt like Ithaca. I suppose if Ithaca found out though…there’d be drama.

……back to Ithaca! We still run with friends, and even drag them on a few trail runs. Here we convinced Amy and Phil to join us for part of a 20 mile run in Danby State Forest along the Finger Lakes Trail (FLT):

We’ve really grown to love the FLT through this winter. It is a safe refuge from the snowplows on the roads. Also, it is quiet. Ah, the serenity. I’m looking forward to watching the trail change as summer comes along.

Here is one quick snap of a beautiful winter sunrise, though not on a trail. I find I run later in the day during the winter to run during warmer temperatures. Like, anything above freezing, if possible.

And to add to the icy facial hair pics, I present Ice Eye Baby: The Lashening.

I get asked often if I run through the winter. Yes, yes I do.*

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my round of winter pictures! Thank you to Adam who inspired/suggested that I also add some of my photos!

Now to appreciate the warm office I’m sitting in with a warm cup of tea. mmmmmmmmm

*unless temperatures drop below 0 degrees F. No, thank you.

I took up swim conditioning, because there was little to no impact and my knees were just dandy putzing around behind me in the water. I started seeing fun things appearing on my shoulders (whoa, muscles!), and decided to keep swimming even when I added running back into my routine. It even helped on recovery days to loosen those sore running muscles! (Bonus points if you can not drown while attempting to butterfly stroke while your legs are coming off a big weekend)

Then…I couldn’t make the swimming class fit into my schedule. So like any brain zapped athlete (I can call myself that, now, right?), I looked for another way to work a different workout into my schedule. My good friend Jessie convinced me that powerlifting was the ONLY choice I had, and she’s really smart so I listened. I believed her, mostly.

I started lifting 12 weeks ago. We worked on form and set up a program which has been a blast! I’ve made HUGE progress (though this is expected of beginning lifters) and already see results in my upper body and my core (my lower body still looks like I run, eat good food and drink beer… a lot).

My fear is that this isn’t going to work in the long haul. I’ve been able to keep up in both areas of training, but at some point, one expects that at least one of these areas will suffer. I’ve felt great in both workouts, and they seem to be complementary. But I’ll keep you all posted. We all know the trail running comes first; if I have to I’ll back down on the lifting.

Until then, I’m going to keep lifting heavy things and putting them down. Repeat.

I’m fairly certain I just searched for “cilantro corn black bean salad” and found “Southwestern Chopped Salad with Cilantro Dressing” by the GardenGrazer.  She’s incredibly clever, and it is fun to read her comments on making the salad. All credit goes to her! Unfortunately, the salad typically disappears so quickly that I don’t have time to capture a picture…and she doesn’t allow people to borrow hers…

I’ve added a few notes which helped me, but you can ignore them (especially the first time making it).

Southwestern Chopped Salad with Cilantro Dressing

Prep time: 20 minutes (depending on how fast you chop)

Ingredients

• romaine lettuce – one head
• 1 15 oz. can black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 can sweet corn
• 1 orange bell pepper (I also tossed in some red and yellow)
• 16 oz cherry tomatoes (any tomatoes work, grape…roma…etc.)
• 1 avocado
• 5 green onions
• 1/2 of a cucumber, skin or no skin…your choice!
• Creamy Cilantro-Lime Dressing (see below)

Directions

1. Chop romaine and dice bell pepper, green onions and tomatoes. Size does not matter. It is just about how much you can fit on a fork and into your mouth.
2. Mix all chopped ingredients in a large bowl.
3. Add dressing and toss to coat!

Creamy Cilantro-Lime Dressing

Prep time: 10 minutes

Ingredients

• 1 handful cilantro with stems removed (Uh…I just added a lot. I never measured)
• 1/2 avocado
• 3-4 garlic cloves (In fact, once I used 4-5. That was only slightly too much. I didn’t complain.)
• 1 whole lime – juice 
• 1 1/2 tsp. apple cider vinegar – I’ve also used white vinegar. Slightly different taste, liked both.)
• 1/4 cup olive oil – I used a bit less.
• 1/8 tsp. salt

Directions

1. Add all ingredients into a food processor and puree! I pureed until the cilantro was fairly small bits.
2. Taste and edit with whatever ingredient you are lacking. I kept adding cilantro, vinegar and garlic.

I’ve made batches of 3 at a time. It keeps for a few days, and I try to eat it for every meal during that time. Good luck and enjoy!

Our plan this last weekend was simple: try to get Adam to do about 30 miles.

We started with a “quick” 18 mile run through Abbott’s Loop and Danby State Forest. The loop was as we love it: full of hills and mud. The clouds rolled in, and thunder became the ominous soundtrack for the last 4 miles of the loop. It only rained for the last mile or so, but it was a very quick downpour! We were joined at the end of the loop by our friend, Amy. This was her first “real” trail run, and we headed out for another 9ish miles on the Finger Lakes trail, hoping to not scare her away from trails (she lost her shoe only once in the mud). It was a good day, but we were a little apprehensive about running in the Forest Frolic 15K on Sunday.

On Sunday morning, we woke to beautiful clear skies and rejuvenated legs. We both agreed to “take it easy” and “consider this a training run”. Yeah. Right.

Bang! We were off! The first section was downhill; I remember Adam saying something like “I won’t take this at a 6 minute per mile pace like I did last time.” Sure pal! But he did and so I was shocked when he showed up right beside me when it leveled out and the path widened. For the next bit he ran right behind me, chugging up the first mile of uphill. Here, the course splits; the 15K-ers have a choice of running the course clockwise or counter-clockwise. If you run it counter-clockwise, you continue up the steep hill for another few MILES, roll over a few quick forest trails and end up out in the sun to the summit, going uphill (again) in the open next to powerlines. If, on the other hand, you run it clockwise, you turn off the trail and head into the forest, where you gradually wind your way up to the summit amid the trees. Eventually you pass people going the other way, and when the trails join back together, you head off for another 7K with only one big-ish climb.

I chose to go clockwise for 2 reasons: 1) to avoid continuing up the steep logging road of runner’s defeat and 2) to avoid the majority of people around me who were continuing up the hill (less people to dodge).

Adam chose to go counter-clockwise. I chose clockwise.

I pushed HARD the first third. The forest was cool, but the humidity carried the heat of the morning into the shade. I followed a group of runners, and they pulled me quite a bit up the hills. Towards the summit, they started to show the effect of the elevation, but I still had my Manitou’s pain-threshold, so I powered past and trudged upwards. Near the top, I passed Adam going the other way, gave him a high-five and reflected on how quick he must’ve been running it. The mud had slowed me down going uphill, and the constant rolling upwards had put a large dent in my energy stores. I hadn’t seen anyone in front of me for the last section, so I figured I was slowing. I waited for someone to pass me…

I blew across the summit and straight into the broiler of open trail. No shade. Pure sun. Considering my course took me downhill, I shouldn’t be complaining, but it was still oh-so-hot. I didn’t envy Adam who had to muck his way up…So I let my legs loose and increased my stride, feeling the almost-breeze I created for myself (hah). I opted out of the aid station, and headed back into the forest. The little climb here had me! I realized I was probably taking this too quick, and was burning energy too fast. I started walking hills I had been running earlier. And I still waited for someone to pass me…

But no one came, and I was on my own. The trail eventually led back onto that steep logging road of runner’s defeat, except for me went downhill. This is what demolished runners in the other direction (and why I turned and went clockwise in the first place). I was running so fast, I was nearing the boundary of being out of control. I let my heart rate dictate pace, and allowed gravity to pull me down the hill. I must’ve looked insane. Arms flailing, hair flying wildly about my head, feet bouncing from one side of the trail to the other, and my exclamations of surprise, joy and fear (I can’t quietly run, ask anyone). I think I make sound effects for every trip, slide and misstep…

Once I reached the meetup with 7K to go, I saw Pete, a recent friend from trail running. He was about a tenth of a mile in front of me, and now I had my carrot. I needed to catch him. The trails settled into light ups and downs, but eventually went up the big-ish climb to a Rock Pile. The climb is steep and long, and I walked nearly the entirety. So did Pete, and we chatted a bit as I slowly drew him in.  Once over the top and for the next few miles, I would catch him, pass him on uphills, and then wait for him to catch me on the flats and pass me.

We do-si-do’d for a few miles, and as we neared the finish, I shouted over my shoulder that he had to catch me or else. We sped up, ignoring the weights in our legs; slowly ratcheting the pace up.

I have to say, I don’t think I’ve run that fast in years. Pete and  I matched each other until the very end, and I can’t even imagine where that energy came from. And why I didn’t have that for the last few climbs…

What came next surprised me even more – Mr. “I’m going to run this easy and just see how my legs do” flys into the finish in the top 15! He looked strong and happy and I’m sure he’ll comment on here about how he liked the trails.

Overall, I’m very proud of how Adam ran, and excited to see how my legs could stand up to the “bang-bang”. I’m even ok with not quite hitting 30 miles (but we got close!). This bodes very well for the TransRockies Run6 in August. Colorado…here we come!

Gear:

• Wrist: Garmin Fenix 2, Garmin VivoSmart
• Feet: Vibram FiveFingers Spyridon LS
• Hydration: Nathan 18oz Handheld
• Head: Buff Headgear
• Noms: ….nothing :/

Overall – +1:25:32.3 (7th of 74!)

As a side note, I ran in my toe shoes the whole weekend and LOVED it. My feet and toes felt 100% the entire time. Looks like I’ll be returning to my toe shoes for good…muahahahaha!

I don’t say ‘no’ to ice cream.

Adam and I have a very hard time saying ‘no’ when one of us gets an ice cream hankering. I’ve often lamented how our guilty cravings for foods align too much: hot chicken wings, burgers with the works, fruit tarts, ice cream, Taco Bell (shhhh – don’t tell anyone), cheese-covered chili on Frito’s, chocolate-covered gummy bears – the list goes on.

It seems that in the summer, both of us are more inclined towards trips to Purity, our favorite ice cream parlor. Plus, it is a cute date. D’awww.

With all the running we do, it is also hard to feel guilty about it. C’est la vie!

My cone: one scoop Chocolate Peanut Butter, one scoop Gimme Mocha Fudge
Adam’s cone: one scoop Sea Salt Caramel

“How much water do you drink?”

I’ve been asked these questions (and many others: e.g. “are you nuts?”) over the course of my spring training. Many of the answers to those questions center around what I carry with me when I’m training. It is really important! A few words before the guide:

First: This is a guide that works FOR ME. I am not an expert, nor a medical doctor or a nutritionist. If you find any of this guide helpful, I’m happy! Just don’t sue me if it doesn’t work for you.

Second: Weather is very important. If it is hot, bring more water and more electrolytes.

Third: I’ll break it down to rough distance and time. This is assuming that you are running trails, and you are pushing yourself adequately for that amount of time. The lines I’ve drawn are blurry, so if you are curious about a 10 mile run, take heed from both my points below. I treat trail and road runs differently, so be advised this changes distances for road runs (as in, for a 20 mile road race, looks more like a 10-15 mile trail race).

Finally: Err on the side of over-prepared. I’ve never regretted taking an extra gu or more water. I have, on the other hand, suffered from dehydration. That is not fun. Don’t do it.

What I bring on training runs:

0-4 miles (less than an hour run): If I bring anything with me, I’ll carry a handheld water bottle.

4-10 miles (~1 hour): Definitely at least a handheld water bottle. If it is a hot day (or I’m being grumpy about carrying something), I’ll go with my vest because I’m not a fan of holding things in my hands when I run. Maybe stuff a gu pack or trail mix bar into my vest.

10-15 miles (2-3 hours): I definitely need more than just water. I will probably wear my hydration vest, and pack a few gus (two per hour) or a sleeve of Shot Blox.

15-30 miles (3-6 hours): In the hydration vest – water! In the front: gu or Shot Blox, and one trail mix bar. I usually like a trail mix bar to give me a break from the gu or Blox. I’ll also bring along a Cliff Bar and maybe some solid food if it is a long day, but those go in the back for a quick rest stop. I might have an electrolyte on hand too, if it is on the longer side.

30+ miles (6+ hours): All the above, plus solid food (quesedillas* are my go-to, since they pack calories and are flat), NUUN for my soft front flask, and acetaminophen (Tylenol).

What’s in my vest regardless of distance: driver’s license (my form of ID), insurance card, cash ($20), small first aid kit, whistle, medical tape, TP (or wet wipes – ziplock it) and salt tabs.

Of course that is all gear that is weather independent. Here’s a list of things to consider (and their justification) when you head out for a trail run –

What’s on my person or rolled into the straps of my vest: Buff Original Headgear (best $20ish I’ve spent on headgear for running – works as a headband, sweatband, earmuff), ultralight rain jacket (for when it, you guessed it, rains), headlamp (unless you have night-vision, this is a must after dark), sunglasses (inverse of previous statement), running hat/gloves (brace yourself against the chill!).

What’s always on me: Fenix 2 GPS watch. Spendy, but so far worth every penny. Maybe I’ll review it someday…

I’ll end with saying that what I carry has evolved as I’ve transitioned from road running to trail running. I’ve made MANY mistakes on the journey to understanding what my body needs to be fueled during runs. I should also add that I never run long distances on an empty stomach. I always eat a good breakfast before long runs (> 1 hour).

Also, many trail runners head out with much less than I do. I can foresee future runs being less and less encumbered, but I promise I’ll blog about it when that happens, and update this post.

Cheers!

-Jeney

Pre-Race

First, the lead up to the race: I’ve only completed ONE 50-miler before this – Virgil Crest Ultramarathon in September 2014. That was tough, but I ran it with Adam, and his company and companionship were a HUGE comfort to me the whole way. For scale, Virgil Crest is 50 miles, with just under 11,000 ft of elevation gain. I have joked before and claimed we ran up and down the ski resort Greek Peak six times, but that’s basically true. It is a beautiful course, and a beautiful day of running. By the time I finished it, I was exhausted and couldn’t walk properly for days. I loved it and was hooked on trail running and ultra running after that!

You can imagine my anxiety when I signed up for Manitou’s Revenge: 54 miles and just under 16,000 ft elevation gain. I’d like blame my friends, Taz and Rusty, for convincing me to do it, but I’m sure it was an easy sell. Here’s the profile:

Yikes, right?? I was determined to do this, regardless of how deranged it seemed. For this kind of challenge, I’m 100% game – I was going to finish Mantiou’s!

Day before the race, I was a quiet storm. I had all three of my “drop bags” ready (one official for the 1/2 way, one for Adam to support me with, one for the finish). I had an extra pair of shoes, dry socks, and running clothes for each bag, but I only ended up changing at 1/2 way. TP, baby wipes, headlamp, NUUN and salt tabs: CHECK! Chicken quesedillas were the solid food of choice, because after running for 8 hours on gels and gu’s, I knew I’d be ready for some real food. I quietly went through scenarios in my head and mantras of strength, retreating into a very rare state of introversion. We had to get up at 2:35am to get to the buses on time at 3:30am, so we tried to get to bed early. Hah. With three anxious runners all in one room, that was difficult. Eh, eventually I did get a mildly decent night of sleep.

THE RACE ITSELF

As the race started, I felt nauseous. My incredible team, Taz and Rusty, were 20 minutes ahead of me in the first wave, as I started in wave 5 on my own. The first three miles were on road, with mild rise and falls to ease my muscles into running. It was a good warm-up – really!  A slow climb from the road, the first section was dappled with sunlight as the sun crested above the hills. The first peak provided some staggering views, and made the dull awareness in my quads melt away the miles to the top of Acra Point. I was ready to run! I loved it!

The second peak seemed to take forever, but I was told there was a plane wreck near the top and that was the sign that downhill was approaching! I think this is the highest elevation point in the race, but it is far from being the hilliest part of the race. Already, there was plenty of hand-over-hand climbing, and a bit of scooting down boulders on my rear, but my body felt good, and I was in great spirits! I was chatting up the people around me, and enjoying the stunning trails and views. My fear here was that my cheery attitude grated on people’s nerves or focus. I didn’t get a lot of chat back until later in the race. (I can’t imagine what people think when Taz and I run together and sing songs to pass the time. Must annoy the crap out of anyone in earshot.) It was here I started taking note of runners with trekking poles. Hmmm. Maybe they have a point…more on that later.

To be honest, I don’t remember the second aid station (mile 10.3). I know I stopped at it; I refilled my water and stuffed my face with – something – probably oranges, potatoes or the like. I was feeling really good, and I was scared I was feeling too good. As in, feeling so good in that I was draining energy for later, and that I’d hit a wall at mile 40 and never recover and regret all these moments of “oh, I’ll just keep this quick pace”. But I was running strong, taking my time uphill and I knew Adam was waiting at the third aid station (mile 17.5), so maybe my excitement was feeding my energy. I felt prepared and ready to tackle more of these gorgeous hills!

Coming into aid station three, I was FLYING. There was a nice flat piece and I was really letting my legs stretch out. I must have surprised Adam, because the next thing I know he’s bounding out from the trees yelling “holy crap, Jeney!” And, as I’m slowing down to the food tables, I see Taz and Rusty! What the what?! Now, I was really scared. Somehow, I’d made up 20 minutes in 17.5 miles to catch up to Taz and Rusty. How in the world did that happen? Was I pushing myself too hard too early? There was A LOT of elevation to come, and honestly, I’d just completed the easiest part of the race. I started feeling unwell at the thought of exhausting myself too early, and I told myself “time to slow it down, Wierman.” I started getting too analytic, so I joked about with Adam, talking through quesedillas and cookies to distract myself (“eat early, eat often”). No need to get into my head yet…

Taz and Rusty started out a few minutes ahead of me while I kept stuffing my face (see Mountain Peak Fitness Facebook Photos of Manitou’s) and repacked my bag (something which became the bane of every aid station stop). I took off with renewed spirit and supplies, ready for a 3 mile downhill trot. Anyone who tells you running downhill is easy is lying. It is a skill, which I have yet to master. I’ve heard you want to ‘ski’ down, using a slalom type approach, bouncing from one side to the other every five to ten steps. I should’ve used that on this stretch a bit more, as it would’ve saved my toes (more on that later, too). Instead, I slid and shoved my toes into the front of my shoes, trying to keep a decent pace downhill. The rocks were terrible, and made the way a bit tricky, with fist-sized rocks dispersed with ‘dinner plate’ rocks and roots. So. Many. Rocks. Still strong, I bounded into the fourth aid station to see Taz and Rusty and, to my complete surprise, Adam! He was supposed to be on his way to working the eighth aid station! Why was he here?! I mean, don’t get the wrong impression, I was OVERJOYED to see him again, and to have the chance to tell him a proper “thank you” and “I love you” and “I appreciate this more than you know.” But I was shocked to see him again! I had been thinking of how horrible I was to just fly away from the last station without so much as a “luv u”. Awesome!

Taz, Rusty and I went off together, chatting and keeping great company. What came next was about an hour of hiking. I know people think I’m crazy to go on these ultra “runs”, so let me assure you that this race included a LOT of walking. From the fourth aid station, we walked uphill 3 miles at about 12-14% grade which took us around an hour. Rusty called it the rollercoaster climb – “You just put your legs in gear and chug slowly up the hill.”  We reached the first shoulder and mucked our way through bogs, roots and mud patches. Here, my shoes gained about ten pounds (kidding).  I love mud, and I love how it makes your legs and feet look badass, but the weight is nothing to shake a stick at. And this stretch was very muddy! And had lots and lots of roots. Our pace slowed to a moderate walk/run, picking our ways through gnarly patches of roots or mud. Rusty hit his low point here. At first, I tried to cheer him up, with the jokes and energy that I could muster, but  I could tell that was not what he needed. I eventually took off after the marathon mark (26 miles), my mood and energy high with strong (and muddy!) legs.

At the fifth aid station, I changed my shoes. Talk about one of the best feelings to slide your feet into dry socks and shoes. Mmmff. I also changed my top, since I was soaked in sweat, ate my chicken quesedilla, and replenished my pack. Before I left, I hugged Taz and Rusty goodbye and wished them luck, feeling guilty that I would once again leave them to run on my own. I really am enjoying the solo running! The next few stretches were honestly one big stretch in my mind. It was tough. If you look at the elevation map above, and notice the really sharp peaks on the right – that’s where I was – Devil’s Path. There was a lot of steep, steep climbing, a lot of summit-ing peaks, scooting down on my rear, dips to lower to body to the next boulder, etc. There were vertical drops of 10-30 feet when you had to climb down using roots or hand holds. At points, I came to a place in the trail I felt was a dead end, with just rock in front of me, only to look up and notice a trail marker on a tree…way…up…there. What the….? Really? I signed up for this?

Interestingly, I ran into a lot of hikers around Devil’s Path. A few cheered as I went by, and one woman even commented on how nice it was for a woman to be racing. I was just glad I wasn’t wearing any of the packs they were hiking with. Hah!

From there, I ran with several random groups of runners, and I ran by myself. It started misting, and then raining. It was during this stretch of steep ups and downs that I started feeling weak. Around mile 40, my confidence waned – I was hurting. My toes were throbbing, and I knew I could feel blisters forming under the nails. I saw those runners with poles almost running up the hills, their arms lifting the weight from their legs, aiding in the trek. I was jealous. I could feel my legs burn on the hills, and they were starting to cramp (electrolyte imbalance?). I knew I wasn’t fueling properly, but I was tired enough to ignore my better judgement and just push through – “I’m tough, I’ve only got 10-ish more miles”. I tried drinking more NUUN, but ran out of water to dilute it. Aid stations came and went and I kept a good attitude when chatting with people, but my thoughts were pretty despondent. “Why am I doing this?”, “Is this worth it?”, “Why is there another hill?”, “Everything hurts!”, “What if I just gave up at the next aid station” (answers below). I knew I had to make myself finish it, but I felt myself start to focus on how much it hurt – rookie mistake. I forced myself to look around, enjoy the trail, the sound of the birds and find beauty in my surroundings. The forest really is beautiful, and I wish I would’ve saved more mental images (forget taking pictures, my phone was soaked).

I had made another mistake; I misjudged where the eighth aid station (mile 48.5) was located. I thought it was at the top of a small hill, when really, it was up nearly 1000 ft. As I zig-zagged up the side of the last mountain, I grumbled and moaned and quietly sobbed in frustration. I didn’t want to be climbing anymore; I just wanted to run. If I had a trail where I could get some speed, then I would finish faster and this would be over sooner. But I kept looking up, and seeing more climbing. When I finally caught up to Adam at the eighth aid station, I nearly collapsed into his arms. I can’t even remember if I thanked the aid station crew, but I hope I did – they were crucial at this point. It was growing dark, the sun had nearly set, and I still had at least an hour and a half to go, and most of it downhill. The crew urged me to get along, take advantage of the what little light was left before I plunged through the darkness toward the finish. I didn’t want to – I just wanted to eat peanut M&Ms and sit down.

I begrudgingly left Adam and the last resupply I’d get before the finish. With it getting dark, it was hard to see the trail markers and flags. Twice I thought I got lost, and turned around – only to turn around again, trusting I was on the right path. As the last bits of light disappeared, I saw the fire tower at the top of that last summit and knew I didn’t have to climb anything else tonight. Thank goodness! But boy, that sense of relief was quickly replaced by the reality of the slope down to the finish. My toes were already toast, and I wasn’t looking forward to mushing them down the mountain.

The last 3 miles of trail were all down a 14% rocky road. The mist and rain made visibility short, with only about five feet of trail in view in front of me before the mist dispersed my headlamp into white nothing. Remember those fist and dinner plate sized rocks? They were back, and in force! The rocks turned my feet into ground meat! The blisters under my toes made every step excruciating – I was wincing and whimpering. The rocks were wet and loose causing me to slip and fall hard twice, with no big injuries, but everything ached. I was done with any confidence I had in myself.

I was alone. I cried. I bemoaned my state – wet, achy, grumpy. I cursed at the trail, rocks and trees. I gave up running and wobbled down the last mile of trail. I suppose I must’ve had something pushing me, likely the thought of just getting out of the woods into something dry and some warm food. I’m sure that’s what pushed me to put one painful step in front of another!

In the darkness, I could make out the last aid station! The finish was just around the corner! I knew it was 1.5 miles on road to the finish; nevermind that it was uphill and still raining.

But I had nothing left in my tanks. I was gassed and simply walked on, occasionally picking up the pace only to discover that my legs wouldn’t take it for long. I’ve never been in this state before. I could walk fine, but as if all the energy was wiped from my legs, any change in momentum completely drained me. I tried running, but succeeded in only a couple steps before slowing to a walk again.

About a mile left to go, Adam came flying by in the truck, racing to meet me at the finish from his aid station. Those few words of “you’re almost there!” and “you are strong, you’ve got this!” sped me to a trot with tears in my eyes (where that energy came from is beyond me). As I punched out the last bits of road,  I caught up with another runner, Joe, that I’d spent a solid portion of the race running with and I convinced him to run to the end. And we did. Never did a finish line drenched in rain look so welcoming. I was DONE.

 (You can see more photos in my facebook, since I think this is a long post already.)

I’d like to thank Charlie Gadol for organizing such a fantastic race. Never have I experienced this special kind of trail running. I plan to do it again! Also, thanks to all the volunteers and aid station workers who kept me stocked and running. Thank you to Joe, Gerrit, Scott, Mike, Brennan, John, Simon, Amy and Paul for keeping me company throughout the race at various points. I don’t know how I would’ve distracted myself otherwise. Thank you to my team, Taz and Rusty, for training accountability, company, and for encouraging me to “KILL IT” on this race. I think I did that!

But finally, and in my mind most importantly, thanks to Adam. Without you, I never would’ve signed up for this. Actually, I wouldn’t have started trail running when I did. You’ve kept me accountable for my training (I’m lazy at heart) and been the foundation of my support. For this race, you were my support, my team, my crew. You went above and beyond what was expected (which wasn’t much, considered you were supposed to run it with me!) and I can’t express the gratitude I feel for your effort. Thank you.

Gear:

• Wrist: Garmin Fenix 2, Garmin VivoSmart
• Feet: New Balance Minimus WT10v3, Darn Tuff Tab No Show Ultra-light
• Hydration: Nathan Intensity (2L) + Salomon 18oz flask
• Head: Petzl Tikka Improved Lumen Output Xp 2 Headlamp, Buff Headgear
• Noms: Chicken quesedilla, Hammer Gu, Clif Shot Blox and Energy, Honey Stinger Energy Chews, and yogurt covered raisins

Splits:

• Start (wave 5 @ 5:25am)
• Aid station 1 water stop
• Aid station 2 Dutcher’s – +2:14
• Aid station 3 N/S lake – +3:46
• Aid station 4 Palenville – +4:49
• Aid station 5 Platte Clove – +7:27
• Aid station 6 Mink Hollow – +10:42
• Aid station 7 Silver Hollow – +12:20
• Aid station 8 Willow – +14:21
• Aid station 9 water/vest stop
• Overall – +16:06:25

P.S. – I want to emphasize how amazing this course was to experience. I’ve never fallen in love with a trail before, but the Escarpment Trail and Devil’s Path really captured my heart. I enjoyed the diverse trail, the climbs (I felt like a kid again!), and the breathtaking views. Bonus: I enjoyed it under my own locomotion. It will be hard to remember how exhausted and frustrated I was at the end of this year’s race, and thus, I will likely do this again next year! Plus, who am I to back down from a challenge?

Post-P.S. – It is three weeks out and I’ve re-evaluated my position on running Manitou’s Revenge 2016. I’m going to run it under 16 hours next year. Just you wait!

We, a group of four trail runners, started planned a bunch of runs together, including another “crazy” race in August through the Rockies. We began running on the weekends, together here and there. Adam and I started upping our miles slowly, complaining about 15-20 mile runs in the bleak and frigid Northeastern winter. And then we decided to sign up for this “tough” trail race my trail running friend mentioned.

Manitou’s Revenge: 54 miles of nearly 16,000ft elevation gain along parts of the Escarpment Trail in the New York Catskills. But those are just numbers, and when I signed up, I thought to myself “I can do anything I put my mind to” (as I am want to do). Naturally, reality sunk in months later.

Since that half-baked decision, I’ve slowly been churning out more and more miles per week in training. I’ve been also slowly losing running buddies because, well, why on earth would any reasonable person want to run marathons every weekend, followed by another half marathon the next day.

Adam and I entered the Breakneck Trail Marathon in late April; he had knee issues and (wisely) signed up for the 16-mile, while I thought to myself “I can do anything I put my mind to” and went for the marathon. That race was tough. I hated half of it. I loved half of it. But it REALLY tested my endurance, devotion, and will power. I wanted to quit many times. And then I found that sweet spot where cruise control took over. But the next day, I could barely walk!

Fast forward to June (today), and I’m a week away from Manitou’s. And I’m scared. Can I actually do this? How much is this going to hurt? Will my feet fall apart? Will I fall? (<- yes, I always do, but how hard, and will it hurt). Plus, Adam won’t be running (see knee injury), so I don’t have the pleasure of looking out for him, comparing notes and relying on his strength to help me through (“if Adam can do this, I can do this!”).

I oscillate between feeling confident, and feeling like I must have screwed up to feel this good; doubting my training. Adam will be at an aid station at mile 48, and I’ll need him there. I may cry.

In any case, I promise to give a full race report after.

What I’ve learned this far is that I can push my body pretty hard. I have yet to hit my limit. My body is acclimating to long runs, and I don’t “feel” them like I used to (legs sore and achy the next day, feet feel rough, arms sore, I’m tired and lethargic the next day). As I get tired, I need to pay attention more. Water, salt, food and type of food matter A LOT (quesadillas FTW). 15 miles is a short run – HAH! (Since when did that happen?!) I like having people run with me; they help distract me from spiraling into false depression.

And, my body just…feels good. I’m more confident than I’ve been in years (even though I eat and drink like I’m not in training). Trail running is my meditation, my check-in for my body, and my limit-breaker. I do things I never even considered a year ago!

But that being said, I ran the most I’ve be able to since October. The weather was bleak, cold (in the low twenties) and snowy (stab me in the eye with floating ice crystals). It still was a fantastic run. I had a goofy grin stretching across my face and probably looked like I was running from my keeper, giggling the whole time.

My knees are nowhere near recovered, but this is progress. I appreciate seeing an upward trend because I’m tired of feeling incapable of running. I used to get these horrible envy moments, where I almost would get angry at seeing other runners pounding pavement. I think it was pretty unhealthy, and certainly led to some introspective moments for me.

Now things are looking up. I’m looking into expanding a little bit from running into swimming and cycling. I am still planning on running (hark Boilermaker 15k and Niagara Ragnar!), but will not pursue much more run-training than that. I’ve taken up swim “lessons” from a very good friend and life-long swimmer, Kaleigh (I still plow the water and “breathe in” water *sputter* *sputter*). I’m also cycling in a Half-Ironman Relay this summer (Adam is running and our friend Sam is swimming). The real bike-training will start in a few weeks, when the weather warms up and I can ride without fear of ice and snow. Hopefully, my knees will cooperate.

Until then, I’m still paying special attention to the signals coming from my knees. Right now, I feel like I should stretch my legs almost constantly. I guess my knees want movement??

As a quick refresher: I ran a marathon and managed to injure my knees pretty badly.

I took a week off from running (at least more than a mile), but when I tried to run an “easy” six mile run a week after the marathon, I was confronted with a serious issue. I ran about 2 miles before I literally could not move my legs without excruciating pain from my knees.  It felt like someone hit my knees with a bat. It burned and every step was super painful. I ended up crouching on the ground and crying…Adam managed to carry me back to the car (because he’s awesome) and I spent the rest of the day wobbling and bemoaning my misfortune (or, rather, my own mistaken decisions).

I eventually went to PT, and was diagnosed with bruised patellas from an over-exertion of my ab/adductor muscles. In simple words, because I changed my stride during the marathon, I wore out and injured my hip muscles which in turn pulled my knee caps into my leg bones and bruised them.

This isn’t a soft tissue injury (like most bruises I’m familiar with), and will take up to six months for me to recover. There is also no promise of a “full” recovery. I may be running with discomfort or pain for the rest of my life.

In short: I’ve never been this depressed about not running.

Most days, I “feel” my knees. This means that all my “little things” I used to do are out of the question. I take the elevator instead of the stairs, etc. But most days aren’t bad, and I can get through without grimacing much. But some days are bad. By bad, I mean, I take measures to not move my legs. I get rides across campus, and stick to my desk (instead of walking at “breaks”). I take a couple Vitamin I (Ibuprofen!) and ice multiple times a day. It is painful. I try to rub the pain out, but nothing helps. This recovery is super slow going, but that being said, I am getting better.

But I’ve learned a great deal from my PTs, other runners and what I can find online. I think its valuable enough to share.

Here’s my knee recovery regimen:

• PT 5 days a week. 3 days a week is aqua running, 3 days a week is strength training. Strength training focuses on my hips and glutes.
• Ice for ten minutes (times two, see below) when my knees “feel like it”. This usually ends up in two to three times a day when I’m at work. Bad days….could be more…
• Ibuprofen when needed. I don’t take them more than 2 times a week.
• Band workouts everyday. Adduction, abduction, hip extension and flexion.

I was concerned that I was icing too much so I looked up a few articles. This guy sums up icing ANY injury rather nicely and I shall bullet point for you!

• Ice for ten minutes. Rest and warm up for 30. Ice for another ten minutes.
• Use real ice. Refrigerated gel packs are dangerous if too cold. I’d say just be safe and use ice.
• Within 24-48 hours of the injury, repeat the above icing at many times as possible.
• After 48 hours of injury, ice with the above 10-30-10 method 3-5 times a day, or less, as needed.
• Use Styrofoam cups filled with water and freeze them for rubbing on shin splints (I used to get them in track and LOVED this technique).
• Compress and elevate injured parts.
• Take it easy. Seriously. EASY.

I can’t tell you how many of my runner friends have had (or still have) injuries. Listen to your body. If there is pain, for the sake of your future running, PLEASE STOP RUNNING. Your body is a complicated machine, and it trying its hardest to repair the injuries you are inflicting on it. It knows when its had enough,  and this isn’t an endurance test, so running “past the pain” is just plain….stupid.

Take it easy out there. If you see me running on the streets, give a yell. I promise I’ll beam you my biggest smile.

-Gimpy out