Tale 14 - Slurpin' to Sumallo
My stellar crew is at Cascade with a really nice napping set up waiting for me (thanks Oliver and Hero!). Ain't nobody got time for that!
My
next two pacers have now joined the crew for the day, and have clearly
been informed of my previous breakdown, and that I may not continue.
They look so concerned for me as I roll in. Breakdown? What breakdown?
I'm just fine!
The volunteers at this aid station cooked me up a
wrap that I swear came from heaven. Loaded with eggs and bacon and
avocado - it was the breakfast wrap of the century. Just what I needed
to really start my day (...at 1 pm)!
Heather and I roll on down the highway
another two miles to Sumallo while I munch on my glorious breakfast.
She's also carrying a nearly full can of gingerale, and running with it
in one hand as we go. Pacers are actually the best.
Friday, December 15, 2017
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Fat Dog 120 - 13 Crying at Cayuse
Tale 13 - Crying at Cayuse
I was literally a
blubbering mess when I got to cayuse. How do you tell your family "hey
thanks for coming out to support me, I'm not quite as strong as I
thought I was so we're just going to quit now". I still had two pacers
left - one of which was my older brother - who is just getting into
trail running and I knew would never let me live it down if he came all
the way out to pace me and didn't get to run.
Now I'm a pretty shy person, and normally I'm not a big fan of crying in front of other people - but at this point I don't have much of a choice. There are at least six people there to support me, and I'm in too much pain to go on. My husband is there and alive, so that's a good start!
I sit down and tell them I'm in too much pain and I can't continue. And my tongue hurts so much I cant eat so how do I continue moving if I can't eat.
Then Chris starts doing his thing...
Do you think other shoes will help? No! My feet hurt. I don't want to keep going.
Here, try eating this avocado, does this hurt your tongue? No? Good. Eat more of it.
I remember looking up at Shira and trying to get her to tell my family how miserable I was, and how she just looked back with a shrug. What kind of pacer hangs you out to dry like that?! Turns out, the best ones! She had fully done her job and got me there safe, she wasn't about to let me quit.
My next tactic was to try and trade in my family. Does anyone else want these lunatics in their life? I'm dying over here and they won't let me quit!
There was also this amazing lady beside us waiting for her runner to come in who offered me all of this nice looking food she had. What a great community of people.
I am told that I ate and put on new shoes and just got up and headed back onto the trail, all of my own accord! Which I struggle to believe. But it was only 5 miles to the next aid station - guess I figured I would give it a shot.
Heather jumped in as an impromptu pacer armed with a bag of avocados. Timed feedings became a thing to make sure I ate enough. It was actually pretty fun! I was like a new person!
We made it the 5 miles to Cascade in pretty good time - and I was ready to take on the rest of the race!
 |
| Mom keeping track of me! |
Now I'm a pretty shy person, and normally I'm not a big fan of crying in front of other people - but at this point I don't have much of a choice. There are at least six people there to support me, and I'm in too much pain to go on. My husband is there and alive, so that's a good start!
I sit down and tell them I'm in too much pain and I can't continue. And my tongue hurts so much I cant eat so how do I continue moving if I can't eat.
Then Chris starts doing his thing...
Do you think other shoes will help? No! My feet hurt. I don't want to keep going.
Here, try eating this avocado, does this hurt your tongue? No? Good. Eat more of it.
I remember looking up at Shira and trying to get her to tell my family how miserable I was, and how she just looked back with a shrug. What kind of pacer hangs you out to dry like that?! Turns out, the best ones! She had fully done her job and got me there safe, she wasn't about to let me quit.
My next tactic was to try and trade in my family. Does anyone else want these lunatics in their life? I'm dying over here and they won't let me quit!
There was also this amazing lady beside us waiting for her runner to come in who offered me all of this nice looking food she had. What a great community of people.
I am told that I ate and put on new shoes and just got up and headed back onto the trail, all of my own accord! Which I struggle to believe. But it was only 5 miles to the next aid station - guess I figured I would give it a shot.
Heather jumped in as an impromptu pacer armed with a bag of avocados. Timed feedings became a thing to make sure I ate enough. It was actually pretty fun! I was like a new person!
We made it the 5 miles to Cascade in pretty good time - and I was ready to take on the rest of the race!
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Fat Dog 120 - 12 Downhill Breakdown
Tale 12 - Downhill Breakdown
I am 20 odd hours into this race. I've been awake, moving, and eating for far too long.
This is the moment where I finally realize how insane I am. Now, most people hear the words 'run' and '120 miles' in the same sentence - and they don't need to try it to know you gotta be crazy to do it.
Turns out I am not one of those people.
I am not having a good time anymore. My feet hurt like hell, and I'm too exhausted to run, but I want to run because walking just hurts my feet SO much more.
I'm sick of eating, my stomach hasn't really felt great the whole race. My tongue is cracked and raw from eating so much salt to keep water in me. Lesson learned - salt pills were invented for a reason. Use them. Otherwise the pain is so, so real.
I am done with this race. What kind of person would do this? The pain really isn't worth it. How did Chris do this? I'm not like Chris - he is way stronger than me - and kind of crazy! ...this is what poor Shira had to listen to as we shuffled our way towards Cayuse.
I held out as long as I could, I really didn't want to give up. But everything hurt so much.
Wait a second... is my husband even alive? Did he make it off of flat top? If he's in the hospital would my crew tell me, or think I was better off not knowing? I hope he's at Cayuse because I really need to know he's safe. But if he is there he won't let me give up.
These thoughts had me choking back tears for a solid hour, or at least what felt like an hour. I held out as long as I could, but about 24 hours into the race I lost it. I sat down on the side of trail in tears, in pain, and not wanting to continue.
Pacers are seriously superheros. Shira is the reason I got back up off that trail and kept going. She listened to me complain about my insanity, and encouraged me not to give up. When I had clearly given up she began to agree and switched to - let's just get to that next aid station.
This is about the point where I started to hallucinate. Nothing really fantastic, but I swear I'd see someone on the side of the trail leaning on their poles and we would go by and it would just be trees.
We must have walked most of the 11 miles down to Cayuse.
The hardest part was knowing that my family would be waiting for me, and I would have to tell them I wasn't going any further. That it just wasn't worth the pain.
I am 20 odd hours into this race. I've been awake, moving, and eating for far too long.
This is the moment where I finally realize how insane I am. Now, most people hear the words 'run' and '120 miles' in the same sentence - and they don't need to try it to know you gotta be crazy to do it.
Turns out I am not one of those people.
I am not having a good time anymore. My feet hurt like hell, and I'm too exhausted to run, but I want to run because walking just hurts my feet SO much more.
I'm sick of eating, my stomach hasn't really felt great the whole race. My tongue is cracked and raw from eating so much salt to keep water in me. Lesson learned - salt pills were invented for a reason. Use them. Otherwise the pain is so, so real.
I am done with this race. What kind of person would do this? The pain really isn't worth it. How did Chris do this? I'm not like Chris - he is way stronger than me - and kind of crazy! ...this is what poor Shira had to listen to as we shuffled our way towards Cayuse.
I held out as long as I could, I really didn't want to give up. But everything hurt so much.
Wait a second... is my husband even alive? Did he make it off of flat top? If he's in the hospital would my crew tell me, or think I was better off not knowing? I hope he's at Cayuse because I really need to know he's safe. But if he is there he won't let me give up.
These thoughts had me choking back tears for a solid hour, or at least what felt like an hour. I held out as long as I could, but about 24 hours into the race I lost it. I sat down on the side of trail in tears, in pain, and not wanting to continue.
Pacers are seriously superheros. Shira is the reason I got back up off that trail and kept going. She listened to me complain about my insanity, and encouraged me not to give up. When I had clearly given up she began to agree and switched to - let's just get to that next aid station.
This is about the point where I started to hallucinate. Nothing really fantastic, but I swear I'd see someone on the side of the trail leaning on their poles and we would go by and it would just be trees.
We must have walked most of the 11 miles down to Cayuse.
The hardest part was knowing that my family would be waiting for me, and I would have to tell them I wasn't going any further. That it just wasn't worth the pain.
 |
| Early in the race, somewhere near Cathedral Park. Photo courtesy of Alex Gibbs. |
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Fat Dog 120 - 11 Nothing at Nicomen
Tale 11 - Nothing at Nicomen
I've been through this aid station in the past, when running the 70 miler. It's definitely remote, with about a 9 mile hike in from Blackwall peak, or 11 miles almost all uphill from Cayuse flats. Either way, not an easy trek in with food for a ton of runners.
After the number of people I had seen drop, I figured the aid stations should start to have more food!
Nope. No they do not.
Nicomen had water, and broth. Then I drank the broth and after me it was just water. And by some reports apparently not even that.
The 70 mile runners hadn't even come through yet! Yikes!
Lucky for me, Shira and I were pretty well stocked from Heather and figured we had enough to get us the 11 miles out to Cayuse. By this time I've been eating all day, and all night, and although I have a great love of food, eating wasn't exactly first on the list of things I wanted to do at this point anyhow.
There was a lovely tarp here with a few people passed out on it. I took that as a cue to lay down and try to have a nap of my own. Now I don't know if you've tried to 'nap' after being on the go for nearly a full day. Don't. My legs hurt so good, I lasted maybe a few minutes before I decided it was best to move on.
I'd say things could only go up, but it's all downhill from here (in so, so many ways).
I've been through this aid station in the past, when running the 70 miler. It's definitely remote, with about a 9 mile hike in from Blackwall peak, or 11 miles almost all uphill from Cayuse flats. Either way, not an easy trek in with food for a ton of runners.
After the number of people I had seen drop, I figured the aid stations should start to have more food!
Nope. No they do not.
Nicomen had water, and broth. Then I drank the broth and after me it was just water. And by some reports apparently not even that.
The 70 mile runners hadn't even come through yet! Yikes!
Lucky for me, Shira and I were pretty well stocked from Heather and figured we had enough to get us the 11 miles out to Cayuse. By this time I've been eating all day, and all night, and although I have a great love of food, eating wasn't exactly first on the list of things I wanted to do at this point anyhow.
There was a lovely tarp here with a few people passed out on it. I took that as a cue to lay down and try to have a nap of my own. Now I don't know if you've tried to 'nap' after being on the go for nearly a full day. Don't. My legs hurt so good, I lasted maybe a few minutes before I decided it was best to move on.
I'd say things could only go up, but it's all downhill from here (in so, so many ways).
Monday, December 11, 2017
Fat Dog 120 - 10 How Daylight Destroyed Me
Tale 10 - How Daylight Destroyed Me
I'm in the alpine meadows. The sun is rising. It is an absolutely beautiful day.
I was told before the race that the sun coming up is a magical moment that will give you the energy to keep going through the second day.
Jokes on me. I was in full vampire mode.
The further the sun came up the more exhausted I got. I needed a nap. Just a quick one at the next aid station, if we ever get there...
This part of the course is rolling, and seems to go on forever and ever. Even more so when you're exhausted and it's starting to get warm again and you continue to think the next aid station is just around the bend but you keep going around the bend to find more rolling hills and more rolling hills and vast amounts of glorious alpine meadows which you can no longer appreciate because you're exhausted and moving like a snail again and just need to get to the next..... damn.... aid.... station.
Fun fact - This is an amazing part of the course to be a pacer on and enjoy a glorious sunrise as you descend down to Nicomen lake. Getting there in the dark is over rated ;)
I'm in the alpine meadows. The sun is rising. It is an absolutely beautiful day.
I was told before the race that the sun coming up is a magical moment that will give you the energy to keep going through the second day.
Jokes on me. I was in full vampire mode.
The further the sun came up the more exhausted I got. I needed a nap. Just a quick one at the next aid station, if we ever get there...
This part of the course is rolling, and seems to go on forever and ever. Even more so when you're exhausted and it's starting to get warm again and you continue to think the next aid station is just around the bend but you keep going around the bend to find more rolling hills and more rolling hills and vast amounts of glorious alpine meadows which you can no longer appreciate because you're exhausted and moving like a snail again and just need to get to the next..... damn.... aid.... station.
Fun fact - This is an amazing part of the course to be a pacer on and enjoy a glorious sunrise as you descend down to Nicomen lake. Getting there in the dark is over rated ;)
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Fat Dog 120 - 9 Head Count at Heather
Tale 9 - Head count at Heather
If I thought the gentlemen puking up Trapper were bad, I had no idea what this next climb had in store for me. My stomach was okay, but by no means perfect. It was still trying to weather the storm of the day. Now it's past midnight and surprise, I'm still going! Shira and I play leap frog for a while with a man and his pacer. The guy must have puked at least three times, but he didn't stop moving. He was a machine. I kept trying to go faster to get away, I wasn't sure I could keep it all in if I kept listening to that. I also had a strange combination of gingerale and Starbucks Frappuccino in my stomach from Bonnevier that I don't think was helping my cause.
I had been feeling weirdly out of breath on a lot of the uphills, and I couldn't quite figure out why. It wasn't until we were most of the way up Bonnevier that I ditched my poles and found the feeling went away. Still not sure what was the cause, but it only happened when I was poling - so I gave up on that for the rest of the race!
We make it up the hill and to Heather aid station - which comes sooner than we thought it would - that's a first! Hitting aid stations at night with all the glorious glow sticks and people cheering is definitely one of my favourite things on course.
We walk into the aid station and it's lined with space blankets. It's like a runners graveyard up there. Me? I can finally breathe and eat and I'm feeling quite fantastic.
I bounce into the aid station and I hear this "Jenna - is that you? I'd recognize that laugh anywhere."
It's Brad snuggled up in a space blanket. Guess his stomach wasn't having a good day either.
This encounter was less of a titanic moment and more of an, oh no I'm the only one left - I have to finish!
Heather aid station was awesome. It was well stocked, and the nice volunteers gave us a ziploc full of mars bars! Which I am truly thankful for, because we didn't know what the next aid station would have in store, and let me tell you it wasn't much!
We filled our water bladders, and they had to use a little strainer to filter out the moss which was kind of fun.
We bounced back out onto the trail - I was desperate to get as far as I could while the air was still cool!
If I thought the gentlemen puking up Trapper were bad, I had no idea what this next climb had in store for me. My stomach was okay, but by no means perfect. It was still trying to weather the storm of the day. Now it's past midnight and surprise, I'm still going! Shira and I play leap frog for a while with a man and his pacer. The guy must have puked at least three times, but he didn't stop moving. He was a machine. I kept trying to go faster to get away, I wasn't sure I could keep it all in if I kept listening to that. I also had a strange combination of gingerale and Starbucks Frappuccino in my stomach from Bonnevier that I don't think was helping my cause.
I had been feeling weirdly out of breath on a lot of the uphills, and I couldn't quite figure out why. It wasn't until we were most of the way up Bonnevier that I ditched my poles and found the feeling went away. Still not sure what was the cause, but it only happened when I was poling - so I gave up on that for the rest of the race!
We make it up the hill and to Heather aid station - which comes sooner than we thought it would - that's a first! Hitting aid stations at night with all the glorious glow sticks and people cheering is definitely one of my favourite things on course.
We walk into the aid station and it's lined with space blankets. It's like a runners graveyard up there. Me? I can finally breathe and eat and I'm feeling quite fantastic.
I bounce into the aid station and I hear this "Jenna - is that you? I'd recognize that laugh anywhere."
It's Brad snuggled up in a space blanket. Guess his stomach wasn't having a good day either.
This encounter was less of a titanic moment and more of an, oh no I'm the only one left - I have to finish!
Heather aid station was awesome. It was well stocked, and the nice volunteers gave us a ziploc full of mars bars! Which I am truly thankful for, because we didn't know what the next aid station would have in store, and let me tell you it wasn't much!
We filled our water bladders, and they had to use a little strainer to filter out the moss which was kind of fun.
We bounced back out onto the trail - I was desperate to get as far as I could while the air was still cool!
Saturday, December 9, 2017
Fat Dog 120 - 8 Bare all at Bonnevier
Tale 8 - Bare all at Bonnevier
Finally I get to the Pasayten River crossing - only two miles from my crew, and my pacer, and a change of clothes! I get to the river and watch someone struggle across it in front of me, arms and legs flailing as they hold on to the rope for dear life. Get out of my way would you, I've got somewhere to be! By the sounds of things I'm also a little hangry. The key to this crossing is - you have to pick your foot up out of the water when you lift it. If you don't it gets sucked downstream and makes it a hell of a lot harder!
I made it across the stream to a lovely little aid station where they ask if I need anything. A bit desperate at this point I say, with way more excitement than I should have in me at this point, "Nope - I've got to get to my Mommy, she's at Bonnevier!", and proceed to run away like I haven't been nearly dying all day.
I am far too excited to get to Bonnevier. I'm sure these are the fastest couple of miles I ran all race.
I finally roll into Bonnevier to a mass of people and a lot of blinding lights. I wander around going "mommy! mommy!". I didn't even consider the fact that there were likely a lot of other moms out there. I eventually found her, and it was the best part of the day! She was there with my first pacer, Shira, and Heather and Oliver were there too! I told them I left Chris on top of the mountain, and they said they saw Brad come through not too long ago.
You'd think by this point I wouldn't care, but even though I really needed a new set of clothes, changing was really awkward. I was sore and sweaty and there were people with lights everywhere and even though my crew was holding towels around me I still felt like I was standing naked in the middle of a field.
Now I've done two of four major climbs, the weather is cool, I've got a pacer, and I feel like a whole new person. I got this. Up we go again! Time for the uphill upchuck - part 2!
Finally I get to the Pasayten River crossing - only two miles from my crew, and my pacer, and a change of clothes! I get to the river and watch someone struggle across it in front of me, arms and legs flailing as they hold on to the rope for dear life. Get out of my way would you, I've got somewhere to be! By the sounds of things I'm also a little hangry. The key to this crossing is - you have to pick your foot up out of the water when you lift it. If you don't it gets sucked downstream and makes it a hell of a lot harder!
I made it across the stream to a lovely little aid station where they ask if I need anything. A bit desperate at this point I say, with way more excitement than I should have in me at this point, "Nope - I've got to get to my Mommy, she's at Bonnevier!", and proceed to run away like I haven't been nearly dying all day.
I am far too excited to get to Bonnevier. I'm sure these are the fastest couple of miles I ran all race.
I finally roll into Bonnevier to a mass of people and a lot of blinding lights. I wander around going "mommy! mommy!". I didn't even consider the fact that there were likely a lot of other moms out there. I eventually found her, and it was the best part of the day! She was there with my first pacer, Shira, and Heather and Oliver were there too! I told them I left Chris on top of the mountain, and they said they saw Brad come through not too long ago.
You'd think by this point I wouldn't care, but even though I really needed a new set of clothes, changing was really awkward. I was sore and sweaty and there were people with lights everywhere and even though my crew was holding towels around me I still felt like I was standing naked in the middle of a field.
Now I've done two of four major climbs, the weather is cool, I've got a pacer, and I feel like a whole new person. I got this. Up we go again! Time for the uphill upchuck - part 2!
 |
| Beautiful sunset on day 1! Photo courtesy of Chris. He may have been dying, but he still takes great photos! |
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