Damnation. Purgatory. Tums. Rocky Racoon 100 miler 2011

This story begins at mile 28 as the first 28 miles of running at Rocky Racoon 100 felt like a bad day at the office.
I was at the Damnation aid station, mile 28 feeling gross. This is a special aid station, as it is so remote, no crews are allowed. You hit it twice per loop, and if you drop there, you have to hang the rest of the race to get a ride back. Purgatory.
"Have you eaten anything?" The question, over and over again from a persistent aid station worker.
"I've been drinking."
"What about calories?"
"I drank coke." At this point it clicks that I've been asked about eating enough, that perhaps I'm not looking too good.
"Do you have any potatos?"
"We have potato soup."
The day before Rocky, I got the most debilitating migrane of my life. I vomitted a chunky pink mixture out twice, once outside of Walmart, and later at the park. The second bout was like the scene from Alien.

The thought of chunky potatos was highly unappetizing, but I looked in the cup, and it was pureed, and salty and oh so delicious. I grabbed a handful of TUMS, too and snacked on them.
A 6.5 mile loop later, I was back at Purgatory, and saw the same aid station worker.
"Well you look much better than the last time I saw you!" That was Mike. And each loop, I made sure to connect with him and give him a muddy hug-my signature- as well as the purple Mizuno skirt I was stylishly wearing.


Finish that loop. Finish the next. Eat way more than my share of potato soup. Pig out at mile 56.6 on everything. Quesedillas, apple pie, avacado, dates, three cups of coke, more dates, two quesedillas to go. I had to walk just to digest.


Mile 60: Our glorious Trail Nerd Mudbabe crew station, complete with banners, music, and Hayley my Mudbabe pacer. Many DNF'd at this point. I threw on some tights, grabbed a jacket and light and headed back out. I saw Ben, my fiancee a couple miles in and was so deliriously happy. We exchanged a very big hug and I carried on.

I was so HOT. That just didn't seem right. I shed a layer of tights at the first aid station, but just couldn't feel ok. (probably all that food fighting to digest. Poor body, very confused) I was too cold without the jacket, too hot with it. One layer of Mizuno Breath Thermo and an Elixir jacket. Any time I ran, I roasted. I started walking more.

Damnation /Purgatory: I consider changing my base layer, but fortunately stuck with the plan. That was a good decision. A bad one was to switch the battery in my flashlight. It must've been a dud battery, because the flashlight died. I had a lame headlamp and was forced to walk the rooted section. Now I was cold. So cold.

Mile 73: I was stumbling, and falling asleep while running. I slowed down and joined some gals I'd chatted with before DP (Damnation Purgatory). Earlier they had been playing a game, and asked if I wanted to join.

"I am ready to play the game now. I need your help, I am falling asleep."
Nikki and Katie. Cool chicks from Colorado. Nikki was an experienced pacer. Katie was running a smart first hundred. I instantly liked them both. As an added bonus, Nikki had just read the Trail Runner magazine that had the article about the Trail Nerds in it, and knew who I was.

"Sophia... I love that name! make sure you download the song." And oh yeah, I can't remember the band Nikki told me sang the Sophia song.

Headed into the main station to pick up Hayley, the two left me with a piece of sage advice.
"The last loop takes care of itself."
Ok, makes sense. I just need some sort of mantra.


Mile 80: Enter Hayley. I re bundled up. Dry Breath Thermo. Double BT. Triple for Hayley who wasn't warmed up. Elixir jackets. Breath Thermo tights. Adorable skirts.
The air was moist and it was 30 degrees. It was so dark and my light was awful. Matty Mullins hooks me up with a better headlamp and power flashlight.

I just start to cry when I think of Hayley and how much she invested in this race for me. Extra long hours at work the week before so she could have 3 days off, then picking up the extra crew duties for Ben when 2 of our posse, couldn't make it down due to the snow. The extraordinary part, is she'd never crewed or paced before. She held the responsibility, like a champion weightlifter going for the world record.

We are hiking now, as I'd just walked too much to get back to running. I loved having this time with Hayley. We talked and talked about everything.
"I bet this is really beautiful during the day. I wish I'd gotten to see it." Hayley had been so busy crewing she didn't get a chance to see the trail in daylight.
"Oh, I went back and walked Puccini at 8am and 4pm." Our chiueagle who made the journey, but camped out in the hotel room.
"That is so incredible of you. Did he give you a head hug?"
"yes.."


Mile 82: "Where is Ben? Why haven't I seen him?" It was about the 4th time I asked.
"Sophia, argh.. I just have to tell you. Ben dropped. Everyone told me not to tell you. His cold was just terrible and he was just trembling. He's in the hotel room sleeping. Well just coughing really. He just wants you to finish. He's so proud of you."
I was so relieved to know he was safe, and glad she didn't tell me at the main aid station.
Mile 92: Last stop at DP. My body was going sideways, my head was spinning in circles. I had had another bout of sleepiness, and standing by the heater, my equilibrium was off.

I sat down in a chair and put my head down between my knees. As I raised my head slightly, I could see Hayley's profile. Her lips were pursed in a determined position and her eyes were laser focussed. In front of me were zombies. 5 silent quitters, none of which were bleading, all of which were headed to the day after hell of a DNF at mile 92.

I was up. Downed the tepid coffe, slurrped the chicken broth and headed out of Purgatory and into-- THE LIGHT. THE SUN HAD COME UP. Hayley was going to get to experience the beautiful trail in the light.


"Let's go Sophia. It's less than a MudBabe Monday!"
Hayley runs with my Monday all women's trail running group, MudBabe Mondays, the women's division of the Trail Nerds. Training for Rocky, I would do two loops at Shawnee Mission park, which equals 9 miles.

No more sleepiness. Just a steady humble hobble.
"Tell me about the finish line, Sophia."
"Turn left, finish, buckle puke. Puke on Joe (Pursatis)"
"NOOOO."
"Puke on Danny?"
"Yeeeessss."
Not sure how our Wednesday Trail Nerd run group leader Danny became the butt of this joke/mantra, but it entertained us several times during out last eight miles. Sorry Danny.

"Sophia, just think of the warm bed and snuggle with Ben."
Bad Ben. My fiancee. 12 hundred mile finishes, including 3 sub 24 hour Rocky Racoon. I just couldn't wait to see him at the finish line.

Ben had our crew all set up with videos and still cameras so he could give me a hug.
"Ben, in my Mizuno bag is a belt with a Free State buckle. Go get it and put this buckle on it."


"Ben, obviously your crewing job isn't over yet." Joe Pursatis was laughing as his wife got my chip off.
27:39 and change.


Cool Stuff:
1. A quick interaction with record breaker and winner Ian Sharman as he lapped me. (of course I, like everyone else had no idea who he was.)
"Are you lapping me?"
" What loop are you on?"
"3."
"Well carry on."
"I love your accent." I quipped in an imitation British accent.
2. Seeing the legendary ultra guys, Anton Krupicka and Scott Jurek several times.
3. Seeing Mike from the North Texas Trail Runners at Damnation/Purgatory each loop and having him call me by name.


Things I did right:
1. Lubed with A&D ointment. No blisters. No chaffing.
2. Packed warm clothes in drop bag and at main aid. Next time, put an extra jacket at DP.
3. At mile 20 changed from Wave Riders into the lower profile Wave Elixir's-- out of the box fresh. I could feel the trail better, and never fell. Just a couple stumbles.
3A. Note I didn't wear trail shoes. A concious choice to have more breathability, so I would have less possibilty of blistering.
4. Ran a 50 miler in October, which gave me confidence and an understanding of where I would blister.
6. Baby wipes in a zip lock bag.
7. Had a great pacer/crew. I'm letting her wear the belt buckle once every ten days.
8. LANCOME waterproof mascara. "Your feet run, your mascara shouldn't." Man that stuff makes a hundred mile finish photo look great.
9. Injinji socks- to avoid big toe blister.
10. BT socks over too short Injinji socks
Things I did wrong:
1. Not enough back to back long runs.
2. Not enough hill repeats.
3. Not enough walking practice.
4. Lame, Lame , lame headlamp and flashlight. More better light next time.
5. Didn't pack some sort of caffiene suppliment.
6. Didn't pack TUMS.
7. Injiniji socks that only came up to the collar of my shoe. Need taller ones next time.


That's all for now.
Muddy Hugs,
sophia

50 Miles running... did it really happen?

I journeyed to the Blues Springs 50/50 to help a friend, and have some fun running with Bad Ben.


My friend Anne was signed up for 50 miles, but she'd run really well (too well) the KC marathon, only one week after a 50k (she also ran well) and her knee was hurting. I feared her relentless, do a longer race, spirit would render her permanently injured.


So, we ( including Puccini, our 12 pound Chiueagle) got up early to "pace to pull." I would run with her and moniter her knee and pull her when necessary. Problem is, for all my selfless contributions to the racing community, it seems when I have a goal like the Rocky Racoon 100 miler, my own training, trumps all else.

After a smart, slow start, I left my friend Anne to the pacing auspices of Major Erin Miller of the US Army. Far better trained in duty and loyalty-- well...

"How fast is she running?"
"I don't know-- 11 minutes a mile? 12."
" Well , I'm not going to go slow."


Turns out the Major was better at laying down the law with a faster pace for Anne, and I was better at.. taking off.

I ran out to Danny Miller, paced him a while, and with his encouragement took off.

Still, having not planned on running 50 miles, due to the crushed gravel course instead of the single track I prefer, I was fine with running about 35.

"Sophia, you look great, what do you need?"
Bad Ben.


"Should I keep running? Is this good Rocky Training?"
"It's great for Rocky."
Ben seemed like a kid watching the underdog win the world series. He was cheering for ME I realized this race would get me into the lotto for Western States. The thought amused me.
I was high!
9 minute mile. walk fast
8:30 walk fast.
Aid Station. More cheers.

Hi ERIN and ANNE. Wow still running-- they RAN 40. I was proud of the Mud BABES.
Out and back again, again. More Ben.
Aid station. Ben again.
40 miles.
9 minute pace. Running , running, realizing, I've got lots in the tank. HIGH.
WIND, oh so much wind in the face.


I'm not really tired, just a bit bored. Get to the bridge and it's simple.
Over the bridge.
BEN,ERIN and ANNE.PUUUUUCCCINNNI



Ben ran with me until the end-- and I almost cried. So happy to have a such incredible people in my life, cheering for me.


Later, at my bank in Topeka, I mentioned the 50 miler to my friend Mark who works there.

"How do you do it?"

"It's the Nordstrom's Effect.. You hit the aid stations, and they tell you, you look great and you head back out. Later you may think (just like those shiny purple parachute pants in the 80's you bought,)why did I buy that? But unlike the 80's in a 50 miler, you are grateful.

I don't know if this can ever happen again.. but I did not bonk, or even come close. In fact, I think back on the day, and 50 miles seems short-- an etherial experience as I am running an 8:30 pace and look down at a watch that says 41 miles, knowing there is plenty of gas in the tank.

And what about Mudbabe Monday.
"What time Sophia?"
The Major. "6pm, let's just do a short 4.5. "
We felt good. The Major had ended up running a formidable amount herself-- 50k the day before.

We actually could have run longer on Monday but I was after all busy eating. Ben arrived home Monday to a counter full of a hodge podge of dishes. Every leftover, can and box in the house. He laughed and cleaned it up. Glad to be pulling for a winning team.


So, did it happen? Could 50 miles go by in 9:11 with so little pain? So little waivering? It is as if without the pain or need for major encouragement due to physical or mental trauma, I can't feel the magnitude of the race. However the race must have existed, as this time I did run as Sophia Wharton.

Running my Best

The alarm rang at 5:15 am on a Tuesday. Not your conventional alarm. There was no jangling noise, not even a nasty crack of light through a hotel window, harshly dragging me from dreams to reality. Instead, a gentle eye opening to a cool dark room and bright outlook of a day.
I guess I'll go running. I felt refreshed. If any of you have followed this blog ( I think at this day there are 24 of you) you know, I've been prone to excuses, ov0ersleeping and spotty training. But this day was different.
In Corallville, Iowa, headed to help Team Mizuno sell at the Chicago marathon, I got up and headed out for a run. Early on, I saw a critter cross the path-- it was a racoon. I decided to name it Rocky. Rocky Racoon, just like the 100 miler in February, my fiancee Bad Ben signed us up for.
Would I ever be ready?
I logged 8, made a plan for the week, and headed to Chicago.

The final piece of this week's plan was to run the Chicago marathon. It would be under my worst conditions. Two solid days of standing and selling apparel, dead legs, and no taper on a hot day. On marathon day I had 36 miles under the Wave Elixirs. Did I mention how much I hate running in heat?
10-10-10 marathon morning, I called the receptionist at the hotel. "I 'm sorry I missed the forecast, what is it for today?" She replied it would be "perfect," highs in the 80's and sunny.

Going into the race, I knew I needed to execute discipline. A fast marathon or a bonk fest could ruin my Rocky training for two weeks. I needed this race for my MIND. I needed to run my best, not my fastest.

My boss, Tim invited me along with some friends he'd mentored in training and we headed to the start line (via the VIP tent-- many thanks Tim for that!)

I watched the guys speed off, and settled in. Goodbye runners, I may see you later... 10 minute miles. 3 piddle breaks. Temperature climbing. 1/2 marathon in 2:10 (note to readers-- You won't find results under "wharton," a woman who couldn't run named Gabriellla Thomas gave me her number through a friend, but I didn't use the chip-- you'll see my photos under Thomas and 27376--her number). 2:10 x's 2.. I did not feel like running for 4:20 or more in the heat. I was annoyed with the piddle breaks.

Time to drop the hammer. So I cruised through the land of the living dead, to a 4:07 finish. Seeing the folks with 3:30 pace team, on their backs. Maybe we finished the same time, but I ENJOYED my whole race. Even more so, that at the end, with bored crowds (bored with wathcing Zombie land) standing smoldering in the sun, I was able to WHOOP it UP!!

"Hey, cheer for ME," I called out, and a wave of cheers erupted from the crowds lining the streets of Chicago!
"GO Me GO"

I was running my best, finishing running strong with a 9 minute negative split. In no way, my fastest, but accomplishing the goal. Defy ego early, and enjoy success in the end.

I was ready to run the next day, and did.

Free State Trail Run

Drive into the parking lot at the Free State Trail runs and on first glance it looks like a Memorial Day picnic. But make no mistake, this event is run by professionals. Since you never know about the weather, the Trail Nerds make sure they take care of any other variables. Seasoned and informed volunteers, clearly marked course, good food and the kind of attention from the race directors that can only come from one thing. A goal of excellence. The Free State Trail 40 mile, 100k and marathon at Clinton State Park in Lawrence was no ad-hoc event.

Again, we had weather challenges. A full day of rain 2 days before the race, and threatening skys and a storm during the race. The course conditions were very muddy. It brought out the best in some and the Whiner in others.

The crazy mud seemed to put last year’s 40 mile winner David Wakefield at ease. He went out just to have fun and cruised in for the winning 40 mile time this year with a 20 minute negative split. An excellent race.


Then came the whiners….

Trail Nerds jokingly say “whiners will be buried in shallow unmarked graves.” Since I didn’t bring my shovel, the whiners had to settle for a verbal shove.
“ I have a friend who’s little boy is only 5, his name is Braden, and he’s dying. Would you please go out and run 20 more miles for him.”

The week before Free State Ben and I race directed a charity race for a 5 year old named Braden Hofen. He’s fighting neuroblastoma, a battle his father compares to an endurance race, and may not be with us much longer. We were exhausted again, and I for one was not putting up with any whiners. Braden Hofen laughs and smiles through adversity, you people can get out and run another 20 muddy miles.



There were several I shovelled out for another loop (with the help of Braden) , but my favorite whiner was Tim Smith, from Iowa. Here’s a snippet of Tim’s humorous (if redundant) post to the ultra list of the mud covered course and race: “mud, hill, rocks, roots, roots, rocks, mud, hill. SMELL OF BURGERS AND BRATS MMMMMMMMMMMM, COERCED BY PONY-TAIL GIRL INTO DOING ANOTHER LAP.”
The lap I sent Tim out onto, ultimately earned him a 100k buckle. In his blog he writes that Braden helped him through the last excruciating lap. An excellent effort from Mr. Smith, near the end of a day filled with excellence. How do we know? We got no suggestions, and few complaints.

Eternal Running Buddy

"Hey Ben doesn't Mizuno make something better than that?"

I am a rep for Mizuno in the running division and have made sure Ben is fully equipped. But he hadn't quite planned on the cool temps for the Berryman marathon and was cold. He dug deep into his past to come up with the above look, I dug deep for a quip to the owner of one of my running accounts.

"It's the new Cabrakan tunic for men, Willie!"

Yup, that's my fiancee sporting a Hefty bag with a twist. I think it's pretty sexy. Add the snazzy gortex fedora-- I can hardly stand it! Don't you just LOVE how the bottle holder cinches the bag at the waist to complete the look? Errol Flynn does come to mind.

All the stops were out for the Berryman marathon. It was our year anniversary of tapering and we just weren't going to miss the race.

"Sophia, we can't do Berryman, we have the Psycho 5k this weekend."

"Are you KIDDING me? Casey has his RV reserved, and just sent us both pictures of his muddy training legs. Give me an hour, I'll have it set up." Done. 1 hour, 55 minutes. Ha. The race would take longer.


The Race:

Crack, bang, boom.

"Ben, would you call off a race for all this thunder and lightning?"

It was 3 am, and I was quite awake-- on an air mattress that had deflated. But warm and dry in the RV.


"I wouldn't start it, but it will taper off-- "

Was I the chief mudbabe looking for an excuse not to run?... sigh... maybe. A year long taper doesn't happen without giving in to a few excuses.



This was the day that excuses DIED. Rain conquered with a spirit drenched in happiness.

26.2 miles. 2 pairs of Mizunos and one altered hefty bag.

2 people in love.

In love with running on trails, and in love with each other.


We set out and quickly got in step with each other, played with the mud, entertained soggy aid station personel and enjoyed life, shared energy and embraced having an eternal running buddy.

And that's what it's about. Everyone is more energized when they unlock the secret. The secret is finding that special someone who shares your passion, and is willing to trot alongside you through thick and thin.


Tough patch? No problem, Ben... let me baste it with a little mud.

Think you can't handle the garbage life throws you?

Here's a hefty bag, Sophia.


"Mud you Sophy Trophy."

"Mud you too Bentor."

Our pet names and mud language.


I pulled Ben up a hill-- he'd repay me in some energy return on the last painful miles.


I indulged in running too fast at mile 21, and it just wrecked my quads. I couldn't run downhill.. but the uphills were just fine.


That's right-- I was begging for more uphills the final 5 miles (and they came in 600 foot climbs).
And that's the way life goes sometimes, you don't realize that the uphill battle is the fun one.

You think you want a race day without rain, and then it keeps your feet cool. It washes the mud off your shoes, and keeps horseflys and horse riders off the race course.



Pray for the tough times my friends. For in those lie all of life's joys and happiness.




Muddy Hugs,

Sophia

Holidays Mizuno Style...

"Have you ever taken the innagural dump in a porta potty, Ben?"
We were at Run Lawrence's Turkey Trot.
I just sat there, sort of shaking my head with a grossed out look on my face.
"Blue splash of death?"
"Is that what they call it?"



Turns out Ben has a solution for it... ( I wish I'd know sooner)
Using baby wipes or TP, let it float to the bottom of the potty, forming a barrier over the blue stuff.
"Ok- Soph, the middle one's ready for ya."
After testing Ben's handi-work one more time, I was ready to race.
It's been year's since I actually put any effort into a 5k, but I thought I might have a chance at 3rd in my age group if I didn't poop out.
I admired the blue environmentally friendly Asics bags with a touch of green envy. Raised an eyebrow about what to do with the XL Asics top, pinned on my New Balance number and headed for the starting line.

One of my accounts, Francis Sporting Goods was one of the race sponsors. As I looked around I saw a good sampling of Mizunos-- but couldn't help noticing I was the only rep actually running in the race.

Their loss-- it was a glorious day.

Bad Ben helped out at the finish line-- his main job cheering on Sophia!! Ra RA -- more cowbell please.




We did a few more miles on the smooth dirt trails of the Sandrat where we saw a turkey! Birrrundering. IT's everywhere. Then headed to Shelley's to--- EAT THE RUN!!


Stuffing, stuffing, stuffing.
Such wonderful memories. Her sweet children gave us hugs and played with Puccini. The turkey and marvelously set table looked like a Martha Stewart special-- and oh my gosh-- the $3.99 pie was delicious. Some Mexican train dominos and we were a Norman Rockwell Holiday party.

Obviously the next day entailed more running. It was the second annual Recession-Proof run out at Clinton. Last year I became a big fan of Friday runs, which I called "The hookie run." David Salavitch was kind enough to wait til Ben and I arrived at 10-- and we were off. We hit all our old haunts and reminisced about the past and looked forward to all the running in the future. A quick hello to Levi Bowles-who's first run with the Nerds was this day last year.
"Hi Levi!"
"I'm hobbling home-- IT band hurting."
I gave him a quick poke on the IT-- OUCH-- and emailed him later the name of a good doctor. And recommended the hotsie totsie Mizuno manpris for some extra support. Ben was rocking those -- and (gasp) the Asics women's XL race-T. Yup, my Badness had overdressed for the unseasonable weather and the Asics shirt was the only option knocking around in the car.

Saturday!!! Ben runs wyco with Andy Bowman one of our awesome volunteers-- I rest up for Dude Where's the Trail.


Lou Joline-- you have such a sense of humor. Note to area runners-- please don't ever complain about his courses-- and certainly not the only easy part of a 50k-- even if it's pavement (double gasp). That 5 foot 1 ball of fire made the craziest course ever. So much bushwacking.. so many tiny little burrs in my Mizuno Breath thermo stetch . My favorite garment, nearly reduced to shreds. As Ben and I sat picking off the darn things afterwards- I thought my fingers would certainly cramp. Meanwhile we had to endure abuse from Lou for missing the rope section.
He seriously stamped his foot--
"Ben-- Ben you missed the rope? I put it in JUST for YOU."
Yale (his alma mater) clearly taught him how to lob a guilt trip.

So a total of 67 miles this week. Getting back there...

As I sat picking off the burrs, going over the past week and all I am thankful for-- that little blue splash didn't seem a big deal. Not at all.

I have a job with Mizuno Running, the best company ever. I have amazing friends-- and the ability to run run run-- and make life fun.

During the holidays as everyone looks through their bank accounts and worries about what's going in and out of that-- take a moment to see what's in your Fun bank-- or your run bank. Take care of those-- and the rest will fall into place nicely.

Muddy Hugs,
Sophia

Rockin' K... unpublished 'til now

Wait... backtrack.

"Hey Sophia, it's Debbie.. see if Ben will lend you to me over the weekend for Rockin' K."

"Yikes. We have all this Brew to Brew stuff to do. " (blog on that to follow--yeah I am REALLY behind) I hated to have him suffer alone with the paved race packet pick-up. Not Ben's favorite. Still, I know how important Brew to Brew is. A fundraiser for Cystic Fibrosis (horrid disease) but also one of the Kansas City Track Club's most important events. The group and Lou Joline believed in Ben's vision creating the Trail Nerds. They have been great and supportive team members for our group. I didn't want to let them down.

"Tell Ben I'll work all day Sunday at the aid station at Brew to Brew, if he lets you go."

It was an easy sell.

Oh my dear Ben. I love you. love you , love you so much for never resenting me when I get to go run with our friends on beautiful trails. Even when you have to be responsible and take care of the hand (KCTC) that feeds us. Oh I was excited... so excited!

I hadn't raced since November 27th.

"Sophia, where have you been? Why aren't you racing?" An email from Rick Mayo in February. I seriously ran into him before this race.

" Hey I'm back, I'm back!!" His beautiful wife Kristi was there with their equally beautiful daughter. Great to see them...... hmmm.. where were the other boys from Kearny? (find out more here at Gabe's Blog)

Wait... backtrack.

Carpool/Nerd-Mud Babe motorcade to the race.

Everyday's a party in Sophie's World.

I met up with Debbie, we loaded up the truck with muddy shoes, snacks etc? Actually an impressive stash for a weekender. Two doesn't constitute much of a carpool. Read on.

I had 6 nerds to coordinate. Two cars right? Ended up with three. Two people per car right? Nope. 4 in one car and one each in two others. Jim wanted to multi-task and work on the way (admirable actually) and Greg had a different "bailout after the race schedule," since he was doing 50 miles.

On the way out we lent Shane Jones to Greg for company, and in retrospect should have put James T. in with Jim since he spent the majority of the trip glued to his cell phone. Meanwhile, Debbie and I did our best to distract James by rockin' out to her latests favorite country song. We'd made a quick stop at Target in Lawrence to grab James and Shane. I got a battery put in one of Ben's old watches. And got teased by Shane for my super cool Timex. Shuddup Shane (tease back) it only cost $10. Did I mention I'm unemployed?!!

So the motorcade looked like this:

In Car 1: Jim Megerson and phone

In Car 2: Debbie, me, James, phone and country tunes

In Car 3: Shane and Greg having a bro-mance

Meatballs, meatballs, meatballs!

The pre-race dinner and meeting Stacy Sheridan was awesome! I'm not sure God could put more positive energy in one woman. Muddy hug! Oh I love that lady.

A fun positive to being so RIDICULOUSLY far behind on my blog is perspective. Here's one. Take a look at Laurie Euler's plate of meatballs. Paired with her race report peppered with self deprecating humor that she couldn't poo. That's a lot of blockage. Her dear boyfriend Nick (the garbage disposal--eats like Michael Phelps) had stopped in and partook at our firm invitation of our breakfast spread. Watermelon, displayed in the ice container (presentation is so important) and peanut butter bagels.

"Hey does Laurie want anything?"

"Not a fan of mornings."

She was already in the Nick's car. Next time take us up on the peanut butter Laurie! It works wonders. No promises... but maybe it would help with the Poo!

Shane and James pop into our room, on time-- thanks guys. We start shoving food in their faces. Coffee coffee! I'd hopped across the street and gotten some marginal brown brew from the convenience store.

"I'm not too good in the morning." Shane.

boom chicka boom chicka la la twang.

"I love this song! This is my favorite song right now!"CMT was on the television. Yup, while other runners were catching up on the latest weather forecast for the day, Debbie and I were tuned into the Country Music Channel. "I will run to you-oo -oo. I will run to you."We sang and danced in unison.

"Sorry, I don't think it's that great a song."

Shuddup Shane. (teasing)

On the way to the race we discussed our post race strategy.

"Shane why don't you run with my key fob since you'll finish WAY ahead of all of us."

We all concurred this was the best plan.

boom chicka boom chicka la la twaaaang.

"What? wait? not this song again?"

I turned around to Shane.

"We bought the CD at Target so we can hear it whenever we want. C'mon it says "run" in the chorus!"

"ugh."

Even James seemed a little irritated.

"I will run to you!" We sang at the top of our lungs.Played it twice.

Radio after that. Hard dude rock. This time everyone was singing.

THE RACE:

Fear. For this race, I knew I had to follow all the rules. Respect the distance, respect your body, listen to the signs. I can't even say I was on the Megerson constant taper. (25-30 miles per week max, year round). I was quite simply out of shape. January and February had been total running busts. I hadn't raced since November. Would my body remember what to do?

"Ben, what should I expect for a time on this one? I am so undertrained."

5:30 to 6:30. Ben knew the course and has run it in several different fitness levels. I looked down at my "new," watch and wondered what it would read at the end of the race.

Anxiety. I shared it with Debbie.

"I can't make any mistakes. I am going to have to be militant about salt, food, water, wardrobe.. everything." I packed a drop bag for the first time ever. Mostly I wanted a labelled place to leave my Mizuno stretch crew in the middle of the race so I could start out warm and comfy at the beginning. I threw in my inhaler. (Performance enhancing drugs according to Mr. Megerson!)

"We are making a mistake right now."

Debbie and I were chatting away like school girls on a slumber party.The mistake? Not getting to bed in time. But somehow it worked out. We were relaxed and at least slept well for the few hours we got.

Before the race, Stacy Sheridan came a lookin for me.

"Sophia..Sophia there you are!" great big hug. "ooops I forgot I had to sign in. I'm here."

Then I was running. Running in the breathtaking splendor of Kanopolis State park. I felt free at last. I came up upon Coleen and Deb Johnson after taking a break to water a bush. Btw, an interesting experience with 40 mph winds and little to block it.

I chimed in a hello and tried to make conversation, but there was also very little to block the angry hostility and seething silence of Coleen. I can't tell you how many tears I've shed for the loss of this friendship. It was a friendship based on discovery of ultra running, laughter, watermelon and oranges. I loved having her as a friend. I miss her. In the past few months, sometimes we'd end up on the same group run and chat and chat. Tap dancing over the rocks and the taboo subject. Not anymore. Hardly a hello. Glares. Daggers. Hurtful taunting. Accusations. Gossip. Denial. It is truly painful.

The tears would fill a small tub if they ever made it there. Instead their salty stream burns and stings the wounds, many of which are 9 months deep. I hate to even have this passive mention here, but each time I think we could be approaching repair, something happens. The knife turns, the wound is exposed, the tears sink deep within.

On this day, the salt is from sweat, not tears. Instead of crying, I will run. And if I'm to run in silence, I'd prefer it be pure. I charge ahead and run alone.

13.1 Coke, Mountain Dew. Ah, blessed aid station. Oranges. Shane???

"Shane what are you doing here?"

"Look at that? I feel like quitting."

I'd caught up with Shane who was grumpy because Kyle and Tony were 5 and a half brutal miles ahead of him.

"c'mon run with me!"

I was so excited. Seeing Shane truly energized me, because it meant I was running pretty well. I should have grabbed the key though. I actually finished a few minutes ahead of him.

This is where the race got interesting. Serious climbs. Ran into Willie from Great Plains Running. Muddy hug. Trotted along. Took pictures. Made a little video interview with Willie. Got back to the aid station. Dropped of the shirt. Took my performance enhancing drugs, and carried on.

pa-thunk--- pa-thunk. Yup. That's the sound your running makes when you're being blown sideways. A first. And with a step up because of the deeply rutted horse trail. But it didn't bother me. Many have described the wind at soul sucking. Instead it was like Narnia, with Aslan breathing trail running life back into this emotionaly weary Mud Babe.

I took it all in. Deeply. Honestly. Forever. I was back in my beautiful world. Completely.

Around 21 I caught up with a fellow named John from Minnesota. We couldn't talk much because the wind was so loud. I didn't get a chance to talk to him after either so I want to thank him here. I was tired of running alone. Thanks for waiting for me at the top of a hill at mile 22. I was ready just to drop back. It was nice to know someone wanted to run with me. Even just for a few miles.

Finish line: 5:31.

Shane finished.

Coleen, Debbie and Deb J. finished.

I had watermelon left over from breakfast. Maybe, just maybe Coleen would like some? Nope. I try to walk up to the group and offer. But get the side of the head. Laughter to all the other women but exclusion to me. It is obvious the friendship meant more to me, than it ever did to her.

However, it is ok. While it's more fun to share delicious watermelon with a friend, it still tastes good all by itself.

Muddy Hugs,

Sophia