Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts

Florida Sunshine

Enough talk about winter! I was lucky enough to escape to Florida for a long weekend, so I have something other than pictures of snow to share.

There wasn't a lot of good scenery where we stayed in Kissimmee, but I managed to find a few photo-worthy spots on my morning runs.

There's water everywhere in Florida. Construction, too, but I spared you those images.

Armadillo! He must've been out for his (her?) morning run too.

Little Blue Heron

Obligatory alligator sign. Found this deep in a park, with no path to or around this big lake. So odd.

We also visited Epcot theme park's World Showcase. There was live music, street performers, little shops and of course all kinds of food and drink. Walking, eating and drinking our way through England, Canada, France, Morocco, Germany, Italy, China, Japan, Norway and Mexico was the perfect way to spend a day.


We enjoyed a glass of wine in Italy at Epcot's World Showcase.

Finally we got a day in the 80s and we made the trip to Melbourne Beach. The drive seemed long with eight of us squeezed into a minivan but feeling the sand between our toes and the sun on our (mostly) bare skin made it all worth it.

Taking in the ocean view at Melbourne Beach

Digging with gusto


Cheers!

Wherever you are, I hope you are getting outside and making the most of Winter. Soon, Spring will be here!

Vermont 100 Race Report

I signed up for the Vermont 100 for the only reason that made sense: All my friends were going and I didn't want to miss out on the fun. I also figured that if I didn't sign up now I might never run another one. After all, eight years had passed since I had run my first 100 miler.

I went into this race with a good amount of trepidation. I hadn't raced a single ultra in the past year thanks to a foot injury that plagued me from October to mid-March. I was toeing the start line on very minimal training mileage, just a couple of hundred miles in the few months since I'd been able to resume running. My longest training run was just 38 miles and much of it had been hiking. I was only 3 1/2 months into building my training base using the Maffetone Method (it can take up to 6 months).

training mileage leading up to the Vermont 100

Really Minimal Training

Would my body hold up? Would my heart rate stay under control or would it spike after I'd run fifty miles or so? Did I have the mental fortitude to persevere when things started to hurt? Did I want it badly enough? I wasn't sure about anything.

Hubz and I drove up to Vermont in order to bring a big cooler for my real food fueling strategy. Having him as my crew was crucial. There's nobody more organized and efficient. We arrived Thursday evening and stayed with our friend Jen's parents in New Hampshire at the fabled Tofu Farm.* They made a delicious dinner for us and were wonderful hosts. Hubz was particularly thrilled that he was allowed to take a spin in Jen's father's red '64 Corvette.

Breakfast at the Tofu Farm. *The Tofu Farm has nothing to do with tofu, I was sad to discover.

The next morning they whipped up an enormous breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon for us. It's a wonder we ever left!

After stuffing ourselves we drove to the race site to register. The sun was shining, the temperature was cool and optimism was in the air.

The Vermont 100 is an endurance race for both humans and horses. We share many parts of the course with the horses and riders and it's always a thrill to be running alongside them.

Past the rows of horse trailers, campers and tents dotting the grassy meadow, I found registration. Volunteers weighed me, took my blood pressure and queried me about my training and readiness and the risks involved. Gulp!

There were many fellow VHTRC members milling about including MMT100 Race Director Kevin Sayers and first ever Grand Slammer Tom Green who is attempting the Slam once more this summer. Apparently we outnumbered the Vermont folks!

Q, Tom, Stephanie and Gary at registration

After the race briefing, a big group of us drove just across the New Hampshire border to The Common Man Pub to celebrate Bob's birthday. The usual camaraderie and hijinks ensued, and then we headed back to our hotel for a few short hours of slumber.

At 2:15 a.m. the alarm went off. I had slept fairly well. I downed a couple of hard boiled eggs, some Velvety Butternut Squash and my usual cup of half-caf coffee with coconut milk. Hubz drove us to the start and I found my VHTRC friends. We made jokes in poor taste about blueberry patches and pooping and how the French-speaking runners nearby were probably discussing the exact same topics.

I downed a Vespa Jr. We took a few bad selfies. The crowd was suddenly drifting toward the starting line. It's difficult to be half-awake and nervous at the same time but I somehow managed it. And then we were stumbling forward across the meadow.

We turned downhill on hard-packed dirt road, running easily through the dark. I kept my pace reigned in and let my friends disappear into the night. Soon we were in the woods, our footfalls muffled on the dirt trail. After a brief pit stop I found myself near the back of the pack.

I ran alone for a few miles until Jo Kappus caught up and joined me. I hadn't met her before but she turned out to be excellent company. Over the next 12 hours and 40+ miles the conversation flowed easily. We discussed many things: Jo's experiences with endurance horse racing, ultras we had run, beef liver as endurance miracle food, eye makeup techniques, juicy gossip and (literally) making hay are the few subjects I remember.

Running with the horses

At the Taftsville covered bridge

I had forgotten just how much of this course was road. I also didn't remember the steepness, frequency and length of the hills on the Vermont 100 course. Having done a lot of slow running and hiking on rocky trails, I feared my legs would rebel. I hoped the ups and downs I'd done in training were enough to prevent my old nemeses calf and tibialis cramps from showing up.

I focused on having the same mindset I'd had at Laurel Highlands the year before: I would enjoy running the miles one by one and not get caught up in thinking too far ahead. I would take it step by step.

In every ultra, when things start to hurt, I think "This seems much earlier than usual." It happened around mile 16 this time, both of my feet felt like my laces were too tight. Ironically, this same thing had occurred in my first 100 (and never before or since).

I saw Hubz for the first time at mile 21 and changed from my Brooks Pure Cadence to my Merrell All Out Rush. Unfortunately, the culprit was not the shoes or lacing, but my compression socks which were too tight on my feet. I had to run another ten miles before I saw Hubz again and could swap them out for calf sleeves and some DryMax socks.

The "Sound of Music" meadow

After that had abated, I was feeling pretty good, though I was already growing stiff and sore. Bending over, squatting, sitting down and getting back up could no longer be done without a grunt escaping.

I had zero stomach issues. No sloshing or bloating. It was almost as if my stomach wasn't there at all. That's huge. My energy was steady for the entire race. I used Vespa Junior, sweet potato and beet baby food packets, VFuel gels, Epic bars and Nuun to fuel on the run, along with some occasional cold cantaloupe and watermelon at aid stations during the first 40 miles. Hubz met me at the crew-accessible stations with a ready supply of food including Velvety Butternut Squash, chicken and apple sausages, Merguez lamb bangers, olives, homemade bone broth and kombucha. I was well fed, indeed!

Jo and I ran together until Camp Ten Bear, mile 46. After Hubz restocked my pack and saw to my needs, I hiked up the road until I caught up with Jo. She wanted to slow down. I was feeling good. I knew I had to run my own race and forge ahead while I had the strength to push.

After some more heinous climbs on trail, then more road, I passed the halfway point. No one else was near.

The hills were long, steep, and relentless. The downhills were punishing. I focused on my form and using my glutes with every step. My body was weary and I hurt, the kind of hurt where things start to tingle but don't yet go blissfully numb. Still, I felt strong down deep.

I had been at the back of the pack all day, but well ahead of the cutoffs. As the daytime turned to dusk, I kept making steady progress. The solitude was taking its toll, however. With no conversation to distract me, my mind wandered to dark places. When I saw Hubz around mile 60, I begged him to find me a pacer to accompany me the last 50K.

As darkness fell, I began to overtake other runners. I chatted with them briefly, eager for conversation, but soon I ran ahead. Almost all of them were death marching and staying in their company too long can be deadly to both your mindset and your pace.

The section between Margaritaville (mile 61) and Camp Ten Bear II had nearly been my downfall eight years ago. I was very glad to share a mile or two with Amelia K. when she followed me out of Brown School House (mile 65). I had gotten a much needed cup of coffee there and was starting to feel revived. We walked for a time on this gnarly piece of trail and chatted until we decided we should run again. Soon I had pulled ahead and found my own rhythm.

Indeed, it was as tough and dark and hilly and long as I remember it, though better marked this time, the glow sticks making it easy to have confidence I was on trail. Finally I arrived back at Camp Ten Bear (mile 69), plopped in my chair and started eating. My pacer, Devon, introduced himself.

I got my hydration pack refilled and some leg and foot rubbing by Hubz, then we started the final 50K. Devon remarked that I was still climbing strongly and running downhills well. I was just happy to have his company and that the trail was mud-free.

As we trotted along many of the trail sections seemed familiar. This was a comfort to me, despite the fact that my last time on these sections was during one of the biggest pity parties I've ever thrown. This time I was prepared for the pain and fatigue in my legs. I focused on how much I love running at night. I thought of eight years ago on this night and what Bob was saying to me along our journey. Stop focusing on the pain in your feet, focus on your legs. Pick up your feet. My mantra most of this race was not something soothing like "serene, strong, swift" but "Use Your Ass to Run" to remind me to engage my glutes and use proper form.

The hills just kept coming, steep and long. The downhills followed and they were more painful, though they had the advantage of allowing me to make up some time.

Did I mention the hills? Course profile courtesy of Keith Knipling.

I caught Gary Knipling at the Seabrook aid station. He was clearly suffering and I felt almost guilty about my happy tummy. I gave him a quick shoulder rub and then I was on my way.

The arch of my left foot felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. I didn't know if it was residual effects of the tight compression socks or if it was a stress fracture waiting to snap. It worried me but I figured it wasn't bad enough to stop.

Gary somehow revived enough to catch up with us, though I could tell he was still in a bad way. We shared the trail til Spirit of '76 aid station where Hubz crewed us both. I gave Gary some of my olives since nothing else seemed to be appealing to him. I changed back to my Brooks in hopes that would help my foot pain.

We had scarcely gotten a half mile down the hill when a woman ran up quickly behind us. Zeke, the aid station captain, had sent her to accompany Gary the remainder of the run. He immediately took off and abandoned me. So fickle!

My next problem was sleepiness. It was the middle of the night, I'd been awake for more than 24 hours and I could hardly hold my head up. I was like Dorothy in the field of poison poppies in the Wizard of Oz. My pacer was super nice but not exactly loquacious. Normally, this is a quality I would prize but at this moment I needed real help staying awake. I was constantly scanning the landscape for a nice spot to lie down, just for a few minutes.

So sleepy ...

We caught Gary about mile 80 at one of the unmanned aid stations. I tried to figure out how I could take a nap atop one of the big coolers there. Gary offered me a Vivarin tablet which I gladly accepted. It didn't seem to do much, but I didn't get any worse so it very well may have saved my race.

Dawn arrived, always a welcome sight for a tired runner. Not long after, we arrived at Bill's (mile 88). One last weigh in, more coffee, more begging Hubz for JUST A FEW MINUTES to nap. Though I still had almost 12 miles and probably 3 hours to go, the finish line was within reach. Don't think, just run.

The last miles are a blur of more road and hills. Oh, the hills. The old finish was much gentler, this year's course change wound up, up and around and up some more. It was downright cruel until we were running the last quarter mile.

As I ran the last few yards toward the finish as Hubz and my friends cheered, all I could do was bawl, overwhelmed with relief, pride and exhaustion.

The asterisk I'd always tacked onto my first 100 miler finish when Bob had wheedled and cajoled me the final 31 miles was finally banished. I had dug deep and I had come up triumphant.

Vermont 100, Done!

The VHTRC Blue Train at the Vermont 100

I finished the Vermont 100!

I can't tell you how exhilarated I am to type those words. I'm riding the post-100 miler high!

My race report is currently in the works.

Copper Mountain

We returned to Copper Mountain to enjoy the best snow they've had in years.

Hubz and I took it easy our first day, adjusting to the elevation by strolling around Frisco eating delicious wild game brats and imbibing a few Colorado brews (and lots of water, of course).

Marthon and Torstin skiing Copper Mountain

Aaron and Martha showed up the next day and we skiied Soliloquy one million times as they helped us try to recall proper skiing technique.

I finally got in the groove on Day 3, just in time to go home.

Doug and Kerry got stranded in DC thanks to "Snowchi" but they did make it out to spend one fine day skiing, eating nachos and singing along at J.J.'s.

A good time was had by all. Thanks, friends! When can we do it all again?

San Diego

San Diego, it has been too long.

When I was growing up, we visited every year, and it felt like our second home. Somehow, 15 years passed as my life happened on the East coast.

Morning run along the harbor.

It was good to return for a long weekend. Though the occasion was a sad one -- my Aunt Diane's memorial service -- it was wonderful to spend time with West coast family. Not only did I catch up with family I'd known since birth, I had the pleasure of meeting new family thanks to my sister in law Paulyn.

A whole new family contingent!

It was also fun to show Hubz around. He was smitten by the cool air and particularly loved Balboa Park and its gnarly trees.

Seen on our run: grand old tree with impressive roots, Balboa Park

We also did some exploring further afield. After all, the last time I was here, I didn't yet run trails!

Based on suggestions from Twitter, we chose the Mt. Woodson trail 30 miles northeast of San Diego.


Hubz was beside himself with joy. Alas, we didn't see either a rattlesnake or a mountain lion.

We got in some good climbing, and the reward at the top was a fun photo op on Potato Chip Rock.

To get to the "Chip" you have to leap!

I didn't have the nerve to go out to the very edge.

And check out this contraption I spied on my last morning run along the harbor. Have you ever seen such a thing? Those wacky Californians ...

What the ...? A running bicycle? Mind Blown.

I hope to get back out to the "Left Coast" soon. There are many trails calling my name.

Vacation, Rejuvenation, Elevation

With rainy, humid DC in my rear view mirror, I headed west to Idaho.

A week of bliss with my two best friends from college and their families.

The weather couldn't have been better. It was sunny and warm during the day, cool in the evenings, with not even a hint of humidity. Heaven!

The view from our back deck was stunning, and our cabin in the countryside was peaceful and relaxing. When the four children were asleep, that is. I kid, I kid.

View from our back deck

We went whitewater rafting, ate good food, shared too many laughs to count.

At Ice Cream Alley. For maximum fun, just add sugar ...

My girlfriends don't run, but thankfully one of their husbands does, and was willing to let me tag along. Thanks Jeff!

The icing on the cake was a cool morning run on the trails at Ponderosa State Park. And by cool, I mean 47 degrees. What a treat in July!

Lily Marsh Trail

I hadn't thought about elevation. It's a little over 5000 feet there.

My lowlander lungs made even the smallest moehill feel like a mountain. I take some comfort from this Runner's World article which claims "Anything above 5,000 feet is considered high altitude training by elite athletes' standards."

Ponderosa State Park trail run elevation

I'm kind of glad I didn't bring my heart rate monitor on this run.

Still, I won't be moving to Colorado anytime soon.

Are you going anywhere interesting for vacation? Have you recently run in a scenic place? Do you do better running in humidity or at altitude?

Happy Summer, wherever you are.

Paris in August

Paris. C'est fantastique!

Even in August, with hordes of tourists, we loved Paris.

At Chateau Vaux-le-Vicomte

We walked until our hearty ultrarunner legs nearly fell off.

We ate cheese, pastries, baguettes, tartines, omelets, ice cream, falafel, French toast made by a real Frenchman, and pretty much anything that was set before us. We drank wine at every meal but breakfast (I'm pretty sure we never drank wine with breakfast).

Cheese. Not the stuff we get here in America,
REALLY FREAKING GOOD CHEESE.

The weather was a refreshing, welcome change from the heat and humidity we left behind. The first few days, it was so cool I was wishing for more than my lightweight sweater. It was like Fall, but with long days -- the sun didn't set til nearly 9:30 p.m. Quite possibly, the best of all possible worlds!

Jardin du Luxembourg. Love the way the French inter-plant flowers.

As luck would have it, my cousin Pam knows the city like the back of her hand and has created a website with perfect sight-seeing walks. Want to stroll around tasting French gourmet cuisine as you go? She has a free app for your smartphone: 7 La Semain du Gout. If you're lucky enough to be traveling to Paris, check it out!

This trip was special because I got to spend time with my parents, brothers, sisters-in-law and niece, as well as my cousins. My cousins used to spend a month or so each summer with us in Kansas, so it was like old times (except nobody tied anyone to a broomstick or locked them in the neighbors' dog kennel).

Another highlight: we got to watch our beloved alma mater, the Kansas Jayhawks, play basketball against a French team. Sadly we witnessed their first ever international loss, but it was a great game.

I'll leave you with a few more photos from the trip. Be forewarned, they may cause sensations of hunger, wanderlust and Francophilia.