Saturday, November 7, 2015

Oh, Canada. Oregon Coast 30/50k report.

 Woody, braving the storm to cheer for the Canadians in their 50k effort, with my home-made cardboard flag-- really a poor choice of materials on my part, considering the conditions:  horizontal rain. If you look carefully, you'll see the 2-headed monster breaking through the upper right hand portion of the "flag." Is this anti-patriotic?  The Canadian crew didn't seem to think so...
 Faron looking warm and cheery after running for 5  & 1/2 hours.
 The next day, Woody, Lisa and I got the sun and the humidity.  Here's Woody, looking sharp at the last aid station despite never training for any race, and always finishing strong regardless.  Unfair. 
 Here's Lisa looking more like how most of us felt: crazy IT band pain and muscle cramps were the story of the day. 
 Here I am, almost quitting the damn race like a cry-baby child.  Actually, I'm not kidding.  I did, at this aid station, lay down on my belly and cry for a few minutes, determined to quit the race.  I have a way of doing everything wrong in most of my races.  This one was no exception.  I didn't carry nearly enough water; I didn't eat nearly enough food; and because I knew the course, I foolishly tried to run way faster than I am able to sustain for 20 miles of mountain running.  The result: complete fucking melt-down at mile 14.

It took Faron (volunteering at the aid station) and a random stranger (a French-Canadian man, distance runner, and aid station pep-talker) to convince me not to quit.  I wasted a good 45+ minutes at this aid station feeling sorry for myself.  Then, about 8 minutes before the cut off (where they pull sorry suckers like me off the course), I got some kind of 'Chariots of Fire' sort of inspiration.  I thank both Faron and the French guy for not letting me be lame.  They were not really convinced that I was unable to continue running, and they let me know their  opinions in subtle (and not-so-subtle ways). I choked down as many potato chips and PB & Js as I could and peeled myself out of the mental funk I was in, and left the aid station.  I finished the race, undoubtedly the worst spit times of my life, but glad that I didn't succumb to a DNF.  Not yet. 

Here are a few views from the course.  These were not taken on race day.   These are just regular old weekly runs...  Now I am freshly focused on my next torch.  The stubborn girl that I am, I signed myself up for a 50 k on December 27, 2015.... Last run of 2015, and likely my last race before I turn 40 in February! Gulp...  Here's to keeping on!