Baboo and Ian head to packet pickup.
Drop bags just ahead.

Dear Diary,

13. This past weekend I crewed himself at the Wasatch. I avoided cluttering my mind with details until we were on our way there, and then started studying The Book. The Book is a binder that Himself put together that had all our plans, information about each leg, driving instructions to each leg, his own pace charts, and information on what he might need at each aid station.

It also had the profiles for each leg in it, and Oh. My. God. Here’s the first three legs – the first 25 miles of this race:

Ian (on the left) is a veteran 100 miler.
And he still does them.  He's sixty nine.
So, what's your excuse?  

12. I did a few things differently in crewing this race.

After dark, I socialized less and napped more. I drove immediately toward each aid station, parked a half mile away, and set my alarm for 30 minutes ahead of his projected arrival time, and get an hour or two of sleep.

When my alarm went off, I’d drive to the aid station to see him. I almost missed him at Brighton, when he had really picked up the pace, but otherwise, this worked well.  I didn't drive directly to the aid stations, because they are crowded as it is with people hanging out for hours, and because it's easier to nap in the dark without all the cowbells.  This way I was fresher and more clear-headed.

On the way to Brighton Lodge during the day.
Just in case you thought it was flat.

So, essentially, I spent my weekend chatting, driving, napping, and eating a jar of Nutella that I had convinced myself I bought for him.

Shhhhhhh.

11. Himself finished in about 33 hours or so. I was told that 60 people dropped out of this small race, or about 25%.

10. I bought myself a cheap cowboy hat, which will go nicely with my red belt and red cowboy boots. Now I need a red hat band.

9. I enjoyed this race immensely, because it was more “ultra marathon-ish”.
Wasatch had about 200 racers in it, total, and well-behaved crews. It was easy to get to and from each aid station. People cooperated, and helped each other. You saw lots of the same people you see at other races. It’s a family.  Like most ultras.

Leadville is an ultra that has become a circus full of people shouldering each other out of the way (not MY friends, obviously).  Now that a large corporation has bought it, it’s noisy, crowded, full of large groups of spectators standing in the way of the crews and runners and generally being a nuisance. People were staking out large areas for their (one) runner and informing anyone, while glaring, that this was their space.  I tried to set a good example by helping crews for new runners.
When informed that a space was "saved," I smiled brightly and said, “Well, we don't mind sharing!” And pointedly ignored their frustration.  You simply do not get bitchy and territorial at ultras. It Isn’t Done.

In case you wondered, stuff like this
is why we do stuff like that.  

8. For part of the time my companion was Ian, who picked up Sweet Baboo at mile 50 and paced him to the finish. Ian has done a whole bunch of these runs, and has been doing them for decades, including Western States. He knows everything. I asked lots of questions.

Facing East, just before sunrise.  I was
listening to "Waking Up" by OneRepublic.

7. They had a very awesome tracking system that predicted arrival at the next aid station, and for the most part, it was dead on. It was incredibly helpful. I just had Sweet Baboo’s 3G ipad and used it to access the Internet in all but one aid station to predict when he would show up.

6. At the end of the trip, I had settled on my Next Big Thing.  More on this later.  Meanwhile, I'm reading "Relentless Forward Progress", the Kindle edition, if that's any clue.  Another clue: it's in  October 2012, in Arkansas, and will be part of my, “Thank fuck, graduate school is over” celebration.

5.  I miss my mom.  But on the other hand, I'm pretty sure that she would have tried to talk me out of some of the stuff I've done by now.  Or maybe she would have just taken pictures.  Or both.  My mom was quirky that way.

Good morning, Wasatch.

4. This week at work, I found out that a court official, who is not a mental health clinician, did not agree with a diagnosis and treatment recommendation I made and is holding a grudge against me because I didn't give her the result she wanted me to give.

All together now: Big.  Fucking. Deal.

As you might guess,  I lost little sleep over that.  In fact, I was all, "hey, I pissed off a JPO, don't I get a T-shirt or something?"  For the record, JPOs and public defenders are usually on completely opposite sides of what they want.  Nobody always gets what they want.  What makes this so amazing is that this official, this "professional," is actually holding a grudge.  Whatever.

Himself, when he was chilled at mile 75, and had to be
put in the warming tent.

3.  Catching up on stuff you don't care about: I'm having good results on the work on my skin.  Perhaps a little too good.  It is the antithesis of dry at this point.

2.  More stuff you don't care about.  My project for September is to organize my pantry.

1.  Himself wrote his race report, so I'll let him tell the story.

Of bunnies and blown quads. Thursday 13.

Dear Diary,

13. Saturday, I did this run. And yes, it sucked as much as you might think. However, I did not suffer as much as I might have a year ago. I seem to be getting used to altitude. The last mile was basically climbing stairs, for a mile, over about 800 feet, starting over 11,000 feet.
And then...trying not to fall down on the descent.
I was not first. And despite starting last, I did not fimish last.

12. On trail runs, I love watching the youngsters and first timers bolt when that gun goes off. Basically, the older runners step aside and let them rush past, then offer quiet encouragement later, much later, when the course has taken its toll and they are passing them.

11. It is absolutely true that you can do more than you think you can. No where is this more true than when you are mosying down a mountain a hear a loud, deep crack of thunder, practically in your ear.

10. And by the way, having blown quads is just like having a blown tire. Other than you can't call AAA or just show some leg and get a stranger to change it out for you. And you feel like you might falll down the mountain at any second. But other than that, they're just alike.

9. Sunday, I ran the Rio Grand Half Marathon. I was good for the first eight or so miles, and then the prior day's steep descent and it's effect on my quads began to speak to me.
Eventually I just couldn't lift my legs as effectively as i had. It wasn't my slowest time. It wasn't my fastest time
2:20 or 2:21, for this course.

Found this when looking for information about caring
for rabbits.  Wrong.  So wrong.

8. On sunday Chloe the Wunderdawg cornered a rabbit in the yard. This wasn't exactly a feat: it turns out this is a completely domesticated bunny. It's small, soft, allowed me to pick it up. Definitely not going to last long out there: it is dark black in the high desert and there are hawks: big, hungry hawks. And owls. And coyotes. No, I just had to cut this bunny's camping adventure short.  MIND YOU, I AM STILL A HARD ASS.
But I cannot abide a soft furry creature with an adorable twitchy nose being someone's evening meal.

7. I gave s/he a couple of nuggets of cat food, which s/he vacumed up rapidly, but then I realized that bunnies are herbivores and cats are not, and for all I know, there might even be some rabbits in that food, which is just wrong, so wrong.
So, I googled.  AND. Apparently, they'll eat just about any leafy thing. So this week I have played the game: "what else will the bunny eat?" the Hollyhock leaves where VERY well received, as were the geranium leaves. Topping the list is apples, which we have a ton of, thanks to the apple tree in the yard. Also, the little plants that grow from the millet the birds don't eat, and chocolate mint. Not liked: basil, and wisteria leaves.
S/he shits like crazy.  It's not messy, just little tiny shit balls.  The first day or so, I think she must have been starving or something.  And then about the third day after I brought her in: constant little shitballs, which I clean up daily.  It's easy enough.  Just has to be cleaned daily.  For now, she lives in the guest room bathtub.

6. I don't plan to keep s/him indefinitely, but as s/he will eat stuff from the yard (no, i do not use chemicals on the grass) it's easy enough to keep for now. For now, I call shim "The Bunster."

5. Holy crap, my legs hurt on Monday.  And, they hurt on TUESDAY.  I did not run Tuesday.  I did not run Wednesday.  I slept in, and then woke up, blinking, 30 minutes before it was time for me to leave for work.  I mosy'd into work this week.

4. Monday, I thought about relaxing with a nice glass of wine. Then "Interevention" on A&E featured a show about a raging alcoholic, and well, it just felt awkward. So I saved it for tuesday.  And Wednesday.

3.  Today I had a root canal scheduled.  I first talked about my bad teeth a couple months back, and if you're just tuning in, no, I am not on meth.  (If I was, I would be WAYYYY faster.  Don't think I haven't considered it.)
The doc went to the trouble of completely numbing my mouth with one of those enormous, large-guage needles, and then said, oh, gosh, this tooth can't be saved.  No charge, but I drooled for the rest of the afternoon.  Meanwhile, I am planning three extractions, a couple of implants, and partials.

2.  Okay, this is by far the most important and incredible thing that has happened all year: I had a maid service come clean my house today.  Oh. My. God.  I tried another maid service, and I was all, meh, but these guys from Eco Maids: Oh. My. God.  They cleaned things that I never clean Because remember, I. Am. Lazy.  I could get totally hooked on this.  I"m already planning on what I can sell to have these guys out at least once a month.

1.  Tomorrow, the Sweet Baboo and I head out to Leadville, where he is pacing a friend of ours.  I may hang out at the May Queen aid station before dawn and offer to be a pacer for anyone who needs one that doesn't run faster than 11-12 minute miles.  We'll see.

...

I tried to quit but nobody would let me. JMTR Race Report.

Dear Diary,

I never had any illusions that this would be an easy race.  After all, last year, I quit after climbing up this first climb, which goes from about 7000 feet above sea level to 9000 feet above sea level.

This is part of the devastating Los Alamos (google it) fires.

At mile 7.2, I saw this. 

Now, I was expecting the ladder, but not what followed.
On the way up Caballo mountain, elevation 10,400 or so, I had to step aside so that the faster runners could blast on past me on their way back down.  That was okay, because it gave me time to breathe.

Clockwise from top left: elevation, heading, total ascent, total descent
(By mile ELEVEN)

I struggled to the top of Caballo Peak, about third or fourth from last. I was pretty happy to reach the top, but told everyone I saw (which was most people, because I was 4th from last when I was climbing that bastard) that I was quitting.  I fell into DP, moaning, carry me.

Then I reached the top and was pretty damned happy there.  Some guy asked me to strike a pose, so I did.

You could so some fun subliminal stuff with the ski slopes

in the back ground.

I was really worried about the neuroma thing that pops up from time to time, and by the time I reached the top, my right food was burning and hurt like hell.  Luckily, when I started descending, it faded.  I sat down at the top, took some electrolytes, and advil, and then headed back down.

But then, on the way back down, my body started talking to me.

Hi, I'm your it band; remember me?
You've done it now.  We are in full revolt.

At the bottom, I told the guys at the aid station that I was done, time to pack it in. I was exhausted, and it was only mile 14, for gosh sake. Where's the Jeep?  I want a ride back to the start line.

They informed me that there was no transportation, and if I wanted to quit, I still had to climb 1000 feet up out of the canyon, no matter whether I went forward or back.

Well, shit.

I might as well go to the next aid station.

Then I'll quit.

I climbed up to the Pipeline aid station, which was the begininning of another out-and-back, which are just lovely for getting a full few of how many people are ahead of you...(this is the needle looking thing on the profile above).  I did it by hiking 25 steps, then stopping to breathe, and so on.  I passed a couple people.

 Pipeline outbound was around mile 18 or 19; if you look at the profile, it's at the top of that needle.  It felt like one, too.  I arrived at the Pipeline aid station, and told them I was ready to pack it in.

Oh.  Well, you have to go into ski lodge aid station if you want to quit.

SHIT!

So, then I headed to the Ski Lodge Aid station, which was an out-and-back from Pipeline. I passed some folks I knew on the way back out of ski lodge: Dread Pirate, Johnny Tri, Joe...but no Sweet Baboo. He was far ahead of me. I looked at my watch. Holy shit, it was mile 20, and I'd been on the course for over six hours.

Well, hell. I only had 13 miles to go. I might as well finish, now. *grumble*  

 I noticed some people that had been ahead of me were sitting down, very still, with stunned, sickened looks on their faces.  I left the Ski Lodge, headed back to the Pipeline aid station, thinking the worst of the climbs were behind me. But there were some disappointing ones yet to come. I did my 25-step-trudge-and-breathe intervals, and hated everyone. EVERYONE. 


Mile 25. Where the hell is that aid station?

More artifacts from the Los Alamos fires.

Miles 28, I came into the Giage (sp?) Ridge aid station, inbound.  All the way there I was so very, very alone.  I didn't mention it, but part of the reason I think I was able to finish was that I sat down at every single aid station and vented.  Okay, bitched.  I hate this race.  THis sucks.  I'm not having fun.  I wanted to quit and they wouldn't let me.  Etc.  Aid stations volunteers chuckled and handed me things.  I had a large bag of fritos and M&Ms - I had peanut M&Ms before, but they were too much trouble to eat, which is testiment to how fucking hard this race was, Hey, do you have any plain M&Ms?  The peanut ones are too hard to eat right now.

 Giage was no exception. I sat. I breathed. Just 7 more miles to go. I stretched, and then headed out across the burn zone.

Very, veery alone.

Occasionally a 50-miler would go sprinting by me.

Freaks.

I ran out of run, and began walking enrgetically, although there were some nice runnable sections, but miles 31 took a loong damned time. My stomach was starting to revolt. 

Then I came into the last aid station, and there was Sweet Baboo.  I was too tired to cry.  He suggested I sit down before the last climb out.

The last climb at mile 31 doesn't look like much, but it was pretty disappointing.

I sat down. I had chicken broth. My stomach felt kinda funky. I had some ginger ale. I sat on the stump for a while turning down offers for a real chair.  When I stood up, I stuck to the stump, mostly because my hot ass had softened some pine pitch,which was now stuck to my shorts.

There was one last climb up out, and it was nothing. I walked energetically, chatting with Baboo, to the finish.

Finisher's prize: a small pot from the Taos Pueblo.

Last Big View before descending.

Now, DP told me that she was told by a caring significant other, don't take this the wrong way, but never do this race.

 I won't tell you that.  What I will tell you is this: Do not take for granted that you have done a few 50ks that you are ready to do this race.  You should be prepared to be on your feet for at least 10 hours, unless you're some kind of freak, like Sweet Baboo, who finished it in 7 hours and some change.  I will take to heart, too, that maybe I'd have finished sooner if I hadn't done those four marathons a few weeks ago.

IF YOU GO: This is a cupless race. Take a hydration pack, not just a bottle.  The course is very well marked, and the aid station volunteers are unsurpassed.  Since most of them had to pack it in, most of them are in damned good shape themselves, probably some sort of endurance athlete, so they know what you need.  Make sure you get Popsicles at the Pipeline Aid station.

And, make sure that you have a few 50-milers under your belt, including altitude training.  This was a damned hard race, and after I was finished, Sweet Baboo told me it's the hardest 50k in North America.


Oh, sure.

NOW he tells me.

On the way home, I had five pieces of Popeyes chicken, AND extra gravy, AND mashed potatoes.  So THERE. 

...

Location: Home. Posted from my PC, because my iPad doesn't support HTML.  >:-(

In which I am as fearless as a big old Armadillo: A race report.

Dear Diary,


Pre-RACE DAY

I think I must, must have it. If I can't find it, I'll
have to make it.  

Up early-ish, and to the airport.  Our early morning flight was canceled, something about winter weather, so we were put on a later flight.  We arrived at the airport and were the only ones in line.  We breezed through and headed for our gate, and settled in to do laptop stuff while waiting to board.

I was momentarily annoyed that the place where we usually get our pre-flight supplies (quad latte for him, diet redbull for me) was all out of diet redbull.  Then I had to laugh at myself: I'm running 50 miles tomorrow.  I think one 110-calorie redbull won't hurt.

I.  <3  RedBull.  It gives you wings, you know?

On the plane, I worked on my schedule for the spring, copying and pasting info from my three syllabusss (syllabi?) into one master sheet so that I can keep track of all that has to be done every weekend.

We arrived in Houston, where the first smell upon walking off the plane and into the airport was fried--something.  Fried anything is the official smell of the south, after all...especially the southern Gulf.  In Houston, it was cold and grabbed our rental - we purposefully chose a hideous lime green midsize - and headed north to Huntsville.

We checked into the Days Inn and I was apoplectic to discover an abundance of outlets!  They were everywhere!  My biggest pet peeve is the lack of outlets in hotel rooms.  I ran around the room, exclaiming over the outlets, and then plugged in my surge-protector strip, which contains an ipod charger, cell-phone charger, two garmin chargers...and plugged in my computer.  Then we headed to packet pickeup.

At packet pickup two years ago, I was handed a thick, shit-brown sweat shirt that.  Now, while I definitely want to just, oh, so casually, wear something that says I went 50 miles on it, it is the type of thick sweat shirt that says, and yet I'm still this fat, and ugly too.  

This year, however, I was handed a deep purple hoodie.  Su-weet!  By this time, we had also found out that magically, only the corridor between Houston and Huntsville was free of ice.  Huntsville, and much of central Texas, was full of hiways that were sheets of ice.  Many people would simply turn back and not make the race after spinning off the highway more than once.

Post-race dreamin'

I scarfed down pasta, some cake, and cobbler, and said Hi to Ja-ja-jogger, and still before 5 pm, we headed for Kroger, where I bought two large Nissin Noodle Bowls and a large, Mocha Starbucks Coffee + Energy.   There's tons of sodium in there, too.

On the way back to the hotel, I was all, OOO!  POPEYES CHICKEN! But himself talked me out of getting some.  "We'll get some for lunch, after the race, okay?"

Well....okay.

It should be no secret to anyone that I was raised primarily in Alabama (first 12 years) and Dallas (next 13 years) and so my favorite foods are those I associate with my childhood: fried chicken.  Actually, fried anything.  Steak, eh, okay.  I do like me some sushi.  But fried chicken will stop me dead in my tracks.  I will actually lose my train of thought for a moment while I inhale deeply, mmmm, fried chicken.  The 7 years I spent as a vegan were difficult ones, especially when Sweet baboo and I worked out at a gym right next to a KFC.

But back to the noodle bowl breakfast.  This, after all, is the secret to all this and why I do it: The best way to get a fast, 1000-calorie pre-race breakfast in is simple carbyhydrates.  The best way to burn it off is to run.  I, being a glutton AND vain, have had to give up my other vice: Sloth.

Lets face it, the true key to fitness and being slim is when vanity wins out over sloth or gluttony.  I choose to give up sloth.  Hence: my pursuits.

We were asleep before 8.  If you've ever had trouble falling asleep early on race night, I recommend Advil PM or Tylenol PM.  Zzzzzzzz......

RACE DAY

It's the most important meal of the day, you know.

The alarm went off at 3 am, and I set about making two noodle bowls.  You need to eat at least 3 hours prior to start time.  Sweet Baboo relayed a dream that he'd had that I recognized as the "college student" dream, the one where you suddenly realize that you've forgotten to go to class all semester and suddenly show up on exam day, and/or you can't figure out where teh room is so that when you arrive everyone has already started.

However, in this dream, instead of starting the race Sweet Baboo and I lay down to take a nap and missed the first 6 hours of the run...

Being neurotic is so awesome.  You have the most entertaining dreams.

I dressed for the 25 degree start in CW-X thermal tights, injinjis, Zensah calf sleeves (under the tights), an underarmor l/s shirt with another, slightly larger shirt over that, a bill-cap.  I carried a Nathan handheld and wore a vest that doesn't carry hydration - it's just a vest that carries stuff and I can't find it on the internet anywhere so apparently, Sweet Baboo had it made by elves.  Anyway.

Over the billcap and over my ears I wore a fleece headband that has speakers in it.  I found it three years ago on Ebay and haven't been able to find it since.  They come out for washing.  You can still hear sounds around you when you wear them, which makes them ideal for running a 16-mile loop on which 600 other runners may be at any given time.

I was told by Sweet Baboo that Scott Jurek was going to be at this race.  Hmm.  I wonder how many times he'll lap me?  It's very likely that he will finish his 100 before I finish my 50.

I watched a couple of YouTube videos for some inspiration, lounged around a bit, and then we headed out.

THE RACE


I kissed Sweet Baboo good-bye at 5:45 am and he took off on his race at 6 am. Then I went to hang out in the car and take a short nap, but I was too nervous about missing the start to do that.  It was in the 20s at the start, so I wore a thin fleece neck gator that I pulled over my nose and mouth so that my asthma wouldn't be triggered by the cold.

The trail is easy enough; it's not flat (disappointingly) but it's nothing like, say, the Javalina trail.  The roots didn't see as bad this year, at least not until the 3rd loop when I was dragging my feet.  Still, I didn't go down.  No face plant for me.  The drama of 2009 no withstanding, I wasn't truly suffering until toward the end.  This year, I did the the loops faster, and spent far less time in aid stations.  (less than 10 minutes, which I recorded as part of my loops):

Loop 1: 3:35
Loop 1, I started out slowly, warming up that tweaked calf muscle.  I started out with water, which I refilled throughout this loop. I took an e-gel every 45 minutes or so.  Finally towards the last half of the 17-mile loop, I felt confident enough to run full out, so I did.  good.  I ran.  I ran more on the way back then on the way in. I kept up with my nutrition.  It was cold, and when I came in from loop 1 I was able to discard my jacket, leaving me with two shirts and gloves.  Anton Krupecka, who is a champion 100-miler, passed me twice, and so did Scott Jurek.  More importantly, on every single loop, I got to see Sweet Baboo who would give me a nice smacker on the lips and we'd check in briefly with each other.

Loop 2: 3:45
Still feeling good, but new concerns were creeping in.  Achilles wasn't happy about the tight calf sleeves, and the tweaked calf was starting to ache, just a bit, so I sat down to pull the calf sleeve off the right leg, where my Achilles ached, and put it on my left leg, where my calf muscle ached. After this, my Achilles on my left leg ached, but it was either that or  my calf muscle, so what the hell.  I stopped and dropped off my gloves in Sweet Baboo's drop bad at the Dam Aid station, and wound up picking them back up on my way back through on loop 3.
Anton passed me twice again. Scott passed me once.

I also saw JaJa Jogger several times as of the posting of this blog she looks to be on track for a finish.

Loop 3: 4:43

Total time: 12:03.  Ish.  On loop 3, about mile 7, a BIG old Armadillo waddled across the path in front of me.  I saw him/her standing by the side of the path, and then as I approached, stuck his/her nose up in the air and pretended s/he didn't see me, and waddled across about a foot away in front of me so that I had to stop and wait for it.  No hurry, no sense of danger.

This is the first time I've seen one close-up that hadn't been run over by a car, and HOO, they are UG-LAY. But now the new symbol of fearlessness to me--
-= I was as self-confident and a big old Armadillo. =-


This one was about the size of two footballs.  Other than some ducks, that was the only wildlife I saw...the alligators were probably all burrowed down in the mud, being as it's so cold.
I got slower, and slower, and slower.  I'd hoped to beat the sunset, but the last 4 miles were run with a headlamp. I have an awesome headlamp.  I could land planes with this thing.  Still, it slowed me down even more than I already was.  My IT band was starting to speak to me.  It said, hey, remember me?  I'm your IT band and I have had just about enough of this shit.  If calf and Achilles won't slow you down, I sure as shit will.
Toward the end of the loop I trotted along behind Scott Jurek for a while, which was only possible because he had probably gone over 90 miles and was not wearing a headlamp.  Damn, that man can walk fast.  2 miles from the finish, I passed Sweet Baboo for the final time, and got a nice kiss and a "well done".
Total time: 12:03.  My super secret double fantasy of 11:15 and missing sunset wasn't realized, but my fantasy goal of 12-ish was.  Woot!

OW. just ow.  I took my medal, and my drop bag, headed for the car, and drove straight to my hotel.  Then I drove 2 miles more to a Popeye's chicken, and ordered 5 pieces of chicken (white meat), a side order of cajun gravy, and mashed potatoes, and DO YOU KNOW THAT BITCH DID NOT GIVE ME MY GRAVY, GAVE ME THREE BREASTS AND TWO THIGHS, AND GAVE ME WHITE RICE INSTEAD OF MASHED POTATOES?  and charged me 15 dollars?  I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL?  But i was too out of it when I got home to do anything but call and complain about the gravy.  Truthfully, I shouldn't have been driving.

I earned 182 points today, according to WW.  I intended to use them.

I took a hot, hot bath to try to stabilize my core temp, and then fell asleep, woke up after an hour to text my displeasure at not having gravy to anyone who was awake and gave a shit. Then I fell asleep again until about 1:30 am, when I woke up to check on Sweet Baboo's time.  All this time, I was hobbling.  OW.   I took some Advil, and felt better.  Washed my hair.  Felt better still.  Ate the last of the chicken.  Mmmmm.

My next-door neighbors in the Days Inn about to incur my wrath.  The reason I am up typing this a 2 am is because they came in, NOISILY, and talked loudly, slammed doors, and turned on the TV.  I am getting ready to start a rumble if they don't shut it down.
I'm tired, and when I'm tired, I'm fearless.
Like big old Armadillo.

I'm also disinclined to correct typos.

Soon, I'll go get Himself and tell him that his name was drawn for Wasatch.  Guess I'm coming to Utah September 9th!

...

Race Report: The Duke City Marath--uh, I mean, 5K.

The Duke City was my 2nd 5k run, back in 2005.  At the time I did it I had done one 5k and one sprint triathlon. Awwww.  Yeah.  I know. I was aDORable then.  Here's a link to that short, perfunctory report back in 2005.  I can't find my time, but I think it was 38 minutes and some change.

I mentioned earlier this week how bitter I was at doing a 5k and passing up a perfectly good half marathon, but it was by direction of my coach, and I don't argue with my coach because so far, everything he's done has worked.

So. Baboo, eh, I mean Coach, headed out on the marathon course, and the rest of us lined up for the 5K. Although most people milled around and didn't seem to know what to do, I set myself with the 9 minute pace crowd, just for fun.  My PR up to this point was a 9:28 minute pace, and I hoped to beat that.  I fantasized about geting a 9 minute pace.

And we were off!  I headed out at a good clip, and refused to look at my Garmin.  I just wanted to run as well as I could.  I had some good tunes on my ipod that I repeated over and over: Vida la Vida, Freedom 90, Tusk, and some others.  The couse is perfectly flat, the roads completely closed. I was enjoying this run.

Dudes.  Viva La Vida is like, the best running song ever.

Play song from iLike.com (opens in another window) 

About the end of mile 1, I caught up with a guy with longish grey hair that was running a pretty good pace.  I stuck with him for about 50 yards, and then thought, I wonder if I can run faster?  I sped up my foot turnover, and cruised ahead of him, looking for another target, and found one, a tall, easy-to-spot chick wearing fake (well, obviously) antennas.  I settled in behind her, trying to keep up with her, which wasn't easy. About this time I caught myself in a sigh.  Which meant, of course, that I wasn't running hard enough.  But that was okay. I felt good.

Mile 1 pace: 9:24

It was a good cold morning for a run, windless, no real sun yet, it had just come up, and a nice flat course, and and--oh, hey, there's long-grey-haired guy again!  I must be slowing down.  But then, oddly enough, he pulled a head of me, and settled out, staying just ahead of me.  I waited to see what he would do; would he speed up?  Nope, he just stayed there.

Huh.  So, I sped up a little, and passed him again, just to see if I could. I maintained my speed and enjoyed myself, running along, still enjoying myself.  I'd passed the turnaround and was headed back on the course. I felt good.  I thought that maybe my sister-in-law and my neice and nephew *might* be out watching, since we were running through their neighborhood, so to put on a good show, I squared my shoulders, lifted my head, and sped up some.

Mile 2 pace: 8:58

At this point I was headed back down Central, aka Route 66, and could see the 5k walkers who were headed out - some where clearly race-walking, while others were walking at a brisk pace, and my mind wandered--how long will it take to finish this at a good brisk walk? and--jeebus, there he was AGAIN, long-grey-haired guy! He cruised past me, and then settled back, staying just ahead of me.

I was beginning to take this personally. Could it be?  Could it be that in a large, city 5K he had determined that for whatever reason, he couldn't stand to be passed by me? Let's find out.

So I sped up, and passed him again, this time I was starting to breathe heavily.  I sped up about as much as I could stand, and left him behind, and this time waited a while before settled back in my pace again.  Still feeling good.  Approaching the last turn.

Mile 3 pace 8:48

I could see the finish line ahead of me, less than a quarter mile, and I could feel myself smiling, because I felt good about this run.  At the same time, there was a girl in a red shirt just ahead of me that I had given up on passing.  She was too fast. The girl with the antenna was long gone.  Way ahead of me.  I couldn't possibly pass her.  I knew I couldn't run any faster at this point.

Except that, well, just then, there he was again!  Grey-long-haired guy, breathing hard, passing me again, and he stopped accelerating just ahead of me like he'd done areadly several times.

I was thinking, really?  Really?  It's 2010 and you have to stay ahead of a woman? Dude, why me? What the #uck is your problem?

And then I thought, well, why not me?  At the time time, as we came into the finish, I just thought, to hell with this.  The last 100 yards or so I lengthened my stride and ran like hell, passing him and the girl in the red shirt quickly, and kept accelerating until I finished.

Final 0.15 mile pace: 7:20
(At some point during this lap Garmin says I hit a 5:29 pace)

I finished, got my finisher's pin, and then wandered about for a while before heading out for a nap and a shower - then I came back to find Coach Sweet Baboo, who did his marathon in 3:47.

Things I noticed doing this race:

• Gradually, the people I pass seemed to be getting smaller.  
• 5K runs are just plain fun!
• I've never finished in the middle of the pack before. It's crowded there.  
• No matter how fast you are, it still feels hard.  You just get to finish a little faster.
• People aren't as chatty and friendly in that part of the pack. They're all busy trying to breathe, I guess.  
• When so inspired, you can almost always go faster than you think you can. 
• No matter how fast you are, there's some idiot man who can't stand to be chicked

Final average pace: 8:58

Thanks, long-grey-haired guy, wherever you are. 

...

More fun in 2 days than most have in a lifetime.

Dear Diary,
WARNING: This entry involves people running long distances, heat, and missing course markings. 
There will be curse words. 
You have been warned.

========================================

I was at the Rio Del Lago 50k/100 mile race.  Baboo did the 100miler.  I did the 50k 'fun run'.   Stacey took pictures, which you can find here.  

Shit, I'm tired.  The car trip back to the back to the airport was about 10 miles of exhausted insanity such as I've never seen.  I drove, white-knuckled, back to the car rental place, only to find myself suddenly jerking awake as the car drifted toward the shoulder.  Crazy.  Next time I'm up all night: shuttle or taxi service.  SRSLY.

We rented this thing, the Ford Flex, which looks innocuous enough, but up close, it's totally Pimp.  They've added more idiot-proofing to cars than I could have ever dreamed.  I especially love the gentle beeping that warns, "There's someone behind you, stupid, so don't go backwards any more."

So, this was a fairly productive weekend.  Saturday morning, RBR and I headed out on a nice and easy 50K, which became less nice and decidedly less easy as the temperatures soared during the late morning.  At one point we headed back only to pass what were the last three people in the race.  We were so excited to find out that we weren't dead last that we did a little "We're not dead last" dance. 

It got hot.  Insanely hot.  Balls of sweltering heat followed me up every hill.  RBR was suffering, as she had blisters on top of blisters, but said very little about that.  She seemed to be right on my heels at all times, perky and happy, even when we nearly got lost.  Me, I bitched constantly about the heat. 

fuck, it's hot. 
i can't believe how hot it is. 
why is it so hot? 
this is messed up. 
I was told that it doesn't get hot until late afternoon here. 
California pisses me off. 
Paradise, shit. 
This place sucks.

"You know, don't forget, you did a marathon 5 days ago," RBR reminded me. 

Whatever. I'm supposed to be baddass, and I was being a total puss.  To add misery, the entire 50k was around a huge, beautiful Fulsom Lake.  As we slogged along up and down every dusty hill, I could see people standing up to their hips in the water, laughing and splashing each other.  Fuckers. 

Many course markings were gone because of either mountain bikers or horseback riders who took them down.  I estimate we did an extra mile or two trying to find our way, and that we spent 30 minutes walking around looking for which direction to go.  I would look down and think, there's footsteps going that way, so, what the hell.  We guessed right each time, eventually finding a course ribbon further on, but the last time it happened, we went off in several different directions before finally getting a course ribbon.  We were pissed, too.  It was about 3 miles from the finish. 

It took much longer than I expected, but we ran across the timing mat only to be told, uh, you two tied for 3rd place, women 40-49, so you each get a prize.  RBR was nice enough to have hers sent to her so that I could take mine home.  This after I provided her a 'meal' of half of a steamable bag of Birdeye rice and chicken and half of a Budget Gourmet macaroni and cheese, 'cause I'm all classy that way. 

==========================

So then, it was showers and eating and time to crew.  We headed out to Rattlesnake Bar (what IS the deal with all the 'bar's in Cali anyway?  I didn't see a single cocktail)  which is at mile 55ish. 

Then we waited....and waited....and waited.  It got dark.  Finally, someone came into the aid station calling my name. 

"I'm Misty!"  I waved my hand at her.

"Your runner wants you to go out on the trail and take him a headlamp,"  she told me.  I ran one out to Sweet Baboo, who told me calmly that he was done. 

"There's nothing left in my legs," he said.  I attempted to persuade him not to drop, and he waved at me dismissively.  Then, he put his hand on my shoulder and dropped his voice to its very serious, patient, let-me-explain-this-to-you Dr. Baboo tone: 

 "I know what you're trying to do, but I'm done," he said.  "Seriously, Misty.  There's nothing left.  Have you ever seen a 40-minute mile?  I have."

"Well, at least sit down for a while and eat your sandwitch," I said, reasonably. 

Part of me was all, Yay!  I get to sleep now! He's quitting!  Whoo hoo! 

But then the other, ethical part of me said, well, shit.  You know what you have to do, right?  You have to try to talk him out of this.  You're in charge of that.   

RBR ran to get a sleeping bag for his shoulders and a chair, and unbeknownst to me, she was running on ball-of-her-feet UGLAY blisters. Baboo ate his Subway.  He drank down 4 cups of gingerale.  I forced some SportLegs into him, and some Tylenol. 

At one point, with a volunteer standing near him, Baboo said to me, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, doing this so soon after Leadville," as I was rubbing his legs.  The volunteer looked startled.

 "You did Leadville? This year?  Wasn't that 2 weeks ago?"

"No, don't be silly," I said.  "It was three weeks ago."

"And the marathon on Monday," RBR offered. 

Baboo laughed.  "How long have you been at this aid station," the volunteer asked.

"About two months," he said seriously.  Not long after that, he headed out back out onto the trail, and I followed him.  RBR took the car around to the next aid station. 

I tried to find an illustration that invoked the concept of a pacer, but all I got was this -> 

I paced Baboo from about his mile 55 until 63, and then I had to stop for a while because that was miles 32 to 40 for me, and my feet hurt and I was tired.  (Wah, wah). 

It was surreal, running through the dark on rocky trails in the middle of the night. Over the next few miles, it was a constant up and down stepping that was beating up Baboo's legs, and he was starting to get grumpy.   The next aid station was closing in 15 minutes.  We were passed, and then passed, Gordy Ansleigh and several others.  We made it to Twin Rocks Aid Station, where RBR was waiting, and Brian said he was better, and he would go ahead without me.  I was reluctant, but holy hell, my feet hurt. 

I have trail shoes that, after about mile 15, star rubbing a red spot where the arch support is.  I don't need an arch support. Hence the red spot.  I had managed to stave it off all day by applying SportSlick to it, but was closing in on 40+ miles, so even that wasn't working. 

He ran alone for a while, and got later and later, and more behind.  Eventually, he was 2 hours behind his projected pace.  He ran through one station, and was told not to stop, not for one second, but just keep going because he'd missed their cutoff.  So, he did.  As he ran by me, he shouted that he needed caffeine. 

On the way to the next aid station, RBR suggested we get him something with caffeine.  We saw a gas station open, and that's where I found AMP for sale, 2/$3.  What the hell--he loves Mt. Dew, so, I bought them. 

He was dead last at the turnaround.  I was running the numbers in my head; they didn't look good.  They had extended the deadline due to a racer getting lost on the course when the markings were taken down.  I gave him the AMP , and he took off.  It was after after 6 in the morning.  He had nearly 20 miles to go, but he wasn't moving fast.  The quads had taken a beating.  The sun was up, though, so he could see again. 

We were a little delayed getting through town because they were having a road race, and there's nothing ever, ever, ever so more important than road bikes. Ever . EVAR.  No, just stop. They are way more important that you.  ALWAYS.  What race?  100 miles?  Of running?  Never heard of it.  You can't go this way.  Screw your runners who have been running all night.  A cyclist might come rolling down the hill.  Our race is more important.  yes, that was the attitude.  Roadies can be a fairly elitist bunch.  Not all of them. But enough to give me yet another reason to hate cycling: who wants to be associated with assholes like that?

RBR asked if I thought there was a Starbucks . Well, hell yes, there's always a Starbucks.  In fact, that's a good way to cheer your friends up when they've suffered a tragic loss.  You put a hand on their shoulder, drop your voice down to a warm, comforting tone, and you say, Well, there's always a Starbucks. 

Then, it was back to the next aid station, inbound.  I knew he had a huge hill to scale, but he showed up early.  I was pretty surprised.  He had made up 2 hours of being behind and was now back on track for an appropriate finish. 

Meanwhile, Johnny Tri (JT) had been pacing Catra Corbett, who dropped. I was also told Gordy Ansleigh had dropped earlier.  He asked if Baboo needed a pacer.  Yes!!  I could spend more time sitting on my tired ass rather than running on my dogs.  I gave Baboo the second AMP, and then he and Johnny headed out, with 10 miles to the finish.  We drove to the next one.  It was mile 90. 

We got to the next aid station, and as soon as we parked, my phone rang.  It was JT.  What the hell-?

"Hello?"

What did you give to him?!?!

What?

WHAT DID YOU GIVE HIM??!? 

"An AMP, why?"

HE DROPPED ME!  TWO MILES AGO!  I'VE BEEN TRYING TO CATCH HIM EVER SINCE!

Soon after, Baboo blew through the aid station at Negro Bar.  6 miles to go.  He was running an 8 or 9 minute mile, there at mile 90, hauling ass.  RBR was agog.  He had risen from the dead.  It was a strange sight, not unlike seeing some strange animal running through the city.  He sprinted past several people who were barely walking. 

I was pretty sure I knew why:  Not only did he have a burst of energy, but the sun was getting high. He wanted to take advantage of it being cool and visible out.  We drove to the next aid station at Auburn Dam and waited.  He eventually showed up, and had slowed considerably, but it was 10:00 ish and it was 2.75 miles to the finish, so there was no question now.  He was finishing. He asked if I'd come with him, and feeling pretty certain that he was walking, I did. 

I walked along while we talked, and picked up trash out of boredom.  Along came JT up behind us.  Predictably, 1/4 miles from the finish, Baboo took off, and I tried to keep up, but by now you know: he's a freak stud.  He crossed the finish line at under 29 hours, his second 100-miler in less than a month, with a full marathon done in between, and then went over to get his buckle. 

We arrived went out with JT to the Old Spaghetti Warehouse.  Then we headed to the airport, and arrived back at our house at just prior to 10:00 pm last night. I can't remember sleeping so hard.

I got, let's see, 15 + 32ish + 8 + 2.75 = 57.75 miles for last week, so I was short about 2.25 miles.  With all the running around we did for crewing, I'll call it good. 

Meanwhile, Baboo is thinking he'll crew me at Javalena, instead of doing the whole thing with me.  I think that's a good idea.  You go to some very dark, despairing, bitchy places during those races.  You don't need two people doing that.  You don't need two people saying, yeah, screw this.  I'll quit if you quit. 

Today I'm a little drowsy.  So, I'm headed downstairs to get some coffee.  See you Thursday.

...

Other People's Race Reports: The Leadville Trail 100 mile endurance run.

Dear Diary:
Map of the course can be found here.

It's hard to put into words how awesome it was to be able to accompany my husband in finishing this dream he has had for so long, the "race across the sky".

But you know I'm going to try, right?

I didn't even know how important it was to him myself until after it was all over. He'd become increasing preoccupied, churning out spreadsheet after spreadsheet of pace charts, food charts with calories and grams of carbs.  I would sometimes find myself talking to him, look up and see him staring out the window.  Huh?  What? 

Now, about ultra running.  The aid stations are not water tables.  They are small cities, with places to sit for runners, and scales where they must weigh in. If they've lost too much weight, they have to stay and drink. There is am area for special needs bags, knowledgeable volunteers milling about, several tables of drink (coke, sprite, Gatorade, water, coffee) food (ramen, boiled potatoes, sandwiches, tortilla roll-ups, small candy bars, m&ms, chips, crackers, cookies) and supplies (Vaseline, bandages, Tylenol, etc) and one or two medical personnel on hand.

That might sound like a ridiculous amount of crap food, but deep into a race you want to have things on hand for people to eat regardless of how finicky their stomach is. It isn't important that pop-tarts might have some transfats in them. It's important that they have carbohydrates that are simple and easily absorbed.

And now you know the secret of why we love these things so much.  Unlike triathlon, which pounds efficiency and sleekness into you, ultrarunning is a 31- 50- or 100-mile buffet of the crappiest food that you normally do not touch because, OMG, it's how many damned weight-watchers points?  

Anway, my job: make sure he had 500 calories each hour, watch his hydration and his feet.  And to be there.  This might not seem like much, but it should be noted that of the four 100-milers that Baboo has attempted, the two he did not finish were the two where I wasn't there.  Coincidence?  I think not. Yeah, I know.  AWWWWWW.

Don't stick your finger down your throat at me. It's cute and you know it.

Ultrarunning is hard core. You will, at some point, cross a river, climb a mountain, eat some dust, get rained on, run through snow banks in July, trip and fall, and your feet may be a bloody mess of blisters. Getting help does not necessarily disqualify you, either. Both Sweet Baboo and I have had the experience of a volunteer wrapping our feet in duct tape and kicking us out of his aid station.  Suck it up, princess, you're got 40 more miles ahead of you and a pass to climb.
The worst can be altitude: Many people will train at lower altitudes, not knowing that they are one of the 20% of people who are sensitive to high altitudes.  For those 20%, the ascent up to Hope Pass doesn't leave them breathless, it might leave them with pulmonary edema.  Dean Karnazis attempted this race twice before finishing on his third try, so maybe this was his issue. It's mine.  I'll never be able to do this one, because I'm one of the 1/5.

My first stop of the day was a boat ramp.  The race had started at 4 am, and silently we stood in the dark and cold, seeing our breath, on the shore of Turquoise Lake. Then came the first flicking lights of a miles-long line of small lights flickering and bobbing along the shore, reaching back into the distance.  The runners came through, having completed their first 7 or 8 miles. They ran through silently, watching the ground intently, since it was still pitch black out, and disappeared back into the darkness.

Of course, ultra runner peeps have cowbells. Of course, they were rung. And air horns. At least one camper came down to complain.  Oh, C'MON, fisherman.  You can sleep later.  This is a race!

At the May Queen campground aid station, 13 miles into the race, I had to park over a mile away and hike in supplies. I was continuously pissed off that official crews, with special vehicle tags, had to fight for parking with spectators, who mostly stood around and got in the way. What were the point of those vehicle tags, anyway? This is the largest race of its kind, and there needs to be a "crew only" designated area, so that we can take care of our runners without tripping over someone's 6-year-old who is pitching a fit because she wants some m&ms from the aid station.

This isn't a grumpy issue. It's a safety issue. My need to take care of my runner supersedes your need to take pictures of the race, Cowgirl, so back the f&*# off.

At each aid station I check his pace, time, and prepared a baggy of food for him to take on his way, before he gets there. I also had two prepared bottles of Nuun for him to swap out his old bottles with. Sometimes I had spare shoes, if he had just crossed a river. Sometimes I had spare socks. Usually, I would prepare two bottles of Nuun, and two bottles of water, so that he could grab what he needed. 

At Twin Lakes, about 40 miles into the race, I got there 2 hours early, since the runners had to climb up and over Sugar Loaf Pass to get there. I had a snack, relaxed, and then around 10:30, set up a small "Baboo" aid station, laying out things he might need. My job is to get him out of there as quickly as possible, and to do his thinking for him.  Twin Lakes is gorgeous. 

Now, he was expected about 12:17. I didn't know that he was running really well, so just before noon, I headed for the portable toilets to, um, well.
Dammit, wouldn't you know at that exact moment, he came into the aid station, running past the portables. I exited and walked down to the place where runners were coming into the aid station, not knowing he'd come in.
So there we were - 20 yards apart in a crowd of people. I waited for him to come in, not knowing he was there, and he wandered for a bit, then got some fluids and left the aid station, headed for Hope Pass. After about 30 minutes, I thought, he CAN'T be this slow. I texted a friend and was told he'd come through 40 minutes earlier.
I was devastated. All I could think of was him crossing the river and then going up and over Hope Pass, in the heat of the day, without enough food or fluids, without a change of shoes. His race would be ruined, and it would be my fault.  I would go down in history as the worst wife and crewer ever.
Friends that I shared this with told me not to worry, he'd gone in and gotten fluids at the aid station, but still, I worried. 

I headed back to the hotel and picked up Tim, who was to be his first pacer. Pacers are people who run along with you, usually after dark, keeping you on the trail, talking to you to keep your mind off your discomfort, and they are allowed at Leadville after the turnaround at Winfield.

Winfield was mile 50, and it was a nightmare. We had 15 miles of really rough dirty road to get in. We shared it with the runners for the last 3 miles, and needed to drive 5 miles an hour to avoid sending up clouds of dust. Many non-crew vehicles ignored this, and ignored people telling them to slow down. There was a long wait for parking, as I had to wait until someone else left before I could go in. Many non-crew people ignored the requests of the race organizers not to go into Winfield, so again I had to compete with them for space. The aid station itself was crowded, and looked a lot like an outdoor rock concert, with dogs, kids, etc., running around. It was hard to get to a position to see Baboo behind all the people holding up signs of encouragement and holding 3-year-olds on their shoulders.  yeah, I know, Find your inner Polyanna, Misty.  You know what you can do with your Polyanna, right? 

So.  Baboo was expected at 4 pm.  I joined up with DreadPirate, Bones, and others, who were crewing for Mo, and they helped me with Baboo, getting things he needed. Baboo came in as sweaty and tired around 4 pm as we thought he would.  He sat for a while, tired, but happy.  Tim held an umbrella over him for shade. I gave him a wash cloth dipped in cold water to wipe down his arms and legs, lots of coke, ice, some food, and eventually sent him on his way, to climb back up over Hope Pass with Tim. I headed back to Twin Lakes. The sun was setting, and it had cooled off. I hoped Baboo would perk up now that it was cooling down. I hung out with DreadPirate at Twin Lakes, and then after seeing him off at Twin lakes, I went back to the hotel briefly to get a bite to eat.  I felt somewhat guilty about having a pre-made meal of punjab eggplant and rice, but not too much.  I didn't sign up to starve and beat myself up over 100 miles, why should I suffer?

So.  By the time he came back to a place called Treeline, it was after midnight, and I was tired. Baboo had set up an area in the Element that had a thick futon mattress and thick quilt on it, and I lay on that and dozed, despite the cold. I kept the engine running and the back hatch open so that he could spot me. When he came in, I got him his supplies while he retaped his feet.

Then I headed for Fish Hatchery, mile 75ish. At this aid station he cut the socks off his compression socks, because he said they were squeezing his feet together.  That left him with compression leg sleeves. His pacer, Tim, had gone 25 tough miles with him and was relieved by another friend of ours, Mark. Mark would take Baboo up and over Sugar Loaf pass to May Queen, about 13 miles. Mark had already paced another friend of ours that night, so his plate was full.

I headed back to May Queen, mile 87ish (the course is 102 miles) and got a decent parking spot, since it was well after midnight and most of the spectators were tired and had gone away. I set my alarm for 3:30 am and got about 2 hours of sleep, the first I'd had in 24 hours. Then I took off my jeans, under which I'd put on running tights, and grabbed my headlight and running gear. Baboo came in about 4 am, so after loading him up with foods and fluids, I headed out with him.

Now, I was pretty sure that even at mile 90, he was going to be able to outrun me, so my plan was to switch off with Tim again at the Boat ramp, and Tim could take him the last 7 miles in. We moved so fast, however, that they weren't there yet. We yelled for Tim a couple times, and then just kept going. Luckily for me Baboo did start to wind down a bit, so it was easier for me to keep up with him.

We each have awesome headlamps, so running through the woods alongside Torquoise lake in the dark was no problem. As we circled the lake, still at a good pace (mostly running) dawn came, and the sun rose. We left the lake and headed back into Leadville. The last few miles were cruel: long uphills, the last being a long uphill, short downhill, and another uphill to the finish line.

Baboo finished in 27:35, far less than he had predicted. He was hoping to finish under 30, since that was the cutoff, and had fantasized about being under 29. He never thought he'd be able to finish in less than 28, and the knowledge that the course was 102.5 miles was just that much sweeter.

Pacing him the last 15 miles was a really fantastic. Not only did I get to see parts of the course I would not have gotten to see, but I felt those weeks of him being distant and preoccupied disappearing. At one point, he started moving ahead of me, thinking he would move ahead of a runner he thought he could finish ahead of. Even at mile 90, he was faster than I.  He saw me falling behind, and slowed down. When I pointed out that he shouldn't have to worry about leaving his pacer behind, he said, "But I'm not leaving my wife behind."

I know, I know. Say it with me now: Awwwwwwww. Hands off, he's taken.

So, we finished together. Whenever we came near people, I would drop back a little and motion wildly for people to cheer for him, which they did. As we approached the finish line, I peeled off, and he broke the tape and got his finisher's medal, one of the 52% of those that finished that race, of the nearly 700 who started.

So, is this for everyone? Maybe not. I've heard that, like a lot of intense things, crewing your spouse will take your marriage in whatever direction it's going and send it that way that much faster. This is the third time I've crewed from Baboo, and I enjoy it each time. Normally Baboo is the strong one who takes care of things for me, so it's nice for me to take care of things for him for a change. I really, really like the ultra running community, and I like being in beautiful places, and it's unlikely I would ever do this run myself, given the difficulty and the altitude - so I get to participate this way. 

Plus, Baboo has always stood behind me and supported anything I wanted to do, or try to do, so it feels good for me to be able to be part of him succeeding, as well.  Call it being supportive, or call it storing up brownie points, it works. 

Mostly, I like the opportunity to run alongside my husband, something that I can normally only do if he's already gone 80 or so miles. ;-)

Next up: Rio Del Lago. I'm doing the 50K alongside Cuteness Herself, RBR, and then we'll crew Baboo as he finishes the 100-miler.

 ...