Ghost Town 38.5: A DNF Report.

These aren't pictures from the race. There aren't any, I don't think. I just was looking at these pictures today as a reminder of what I've done.

Yesterday began inauspiciously when I stood up in the Porta John and heard a soft thud as my only asthma inhaler landed in the chemical toilet.
I turned around and looked, well, down - I could see it clearly, and it was within reach.

What would you do?

And what do you think I did?

Soooo....the other thing that was weighing on me, so to speak was the day before when I stepped, fully hydrated, onto an impedance scale for the beginning of the 10-week "The Challenge" program.

Weight:178 (clothed)..........BFI: 41%

Yep, 41. As in, "STOP EATING ALL THOSE POTATO CHIPS."
I calculated that (.41 * 175 = a LOT of extra weight to haul up and down those hills) and that's a lot of fat that I don't need given that I'm neither living on the south pole NOR facing famine. So, I have a job ahead of me.

So, the start of the Ghost Town 38.5. The start, which was 25 or so degrees, depending on who you talked to, and 6 am, so it was dark. The first 12 miles were okay. I knew by mile 3 that I wasn't going to be running, but that okay: Even walking I kept a sub-15 minute pace. I was feeling pretty good, thinking, "I can totally do this." My IT Band didn't seem to mind the terrain too much...but I at a disadvantage. Not only have I not really been able to run in nearly 3 months, but was base I have is one that is for hauling 155 pounds or me around, not 175 pounds.

And Then. I hit The Spur, the first really steep uphill and downhills on the course. The way up was short and very steep, but covered with sharp, loose rocks (Baboo says it's like trying to walk on marbles), and when I came down - that's when it happened: my IT Band said, "Nope, no way, not here, I"m not havin' it." When I came out of the Spur I muttered to Baboo, who was corner-marshaling, "I'm in a lot of pain right now."

Prior to that the former last person passed me, a super nice lady who stopped and walked with me for a while, offering me some homeopathic remedy for pain. I'm not a huge homeopathy fan, but what the hell, I'll try anything at this point.
So I said, sure, and as they were dissolving under my tounge she said suddenly, "oh wait--you aren't a vegetarian, are you?"

"WHY?"

"Uh, they have bulls' testacles in them."

Chew on THAT.

Anyway, Homeopathy notwithstanding, the pain would get so intense that it would bring tears to my eyes. But only on the steep downhills, you know? So when I came out of the spur around 15 miles, and by mile 16, I was still hoping that I could do this. All I had to do was get through the next 8 miles, and I'd be back on road that I could continue to walk.

I had a thought, which I'll share at the end of this, but the end result was that even though I was crying from the pain and pissed off, by mile 18, I'd set a new goal.

See, by then, I knew I couldn't finish. I knew that as bad as the terrain was, the return was going to be worse (I found out later that this section of the road is, essentially, a stream bed) that had climbed steeply uphill would have to be returned going downhill and I FURTHER knew that as much pain as I was in now, I just wouldn't be able to take it.

I can push past pain, and I can push past tired, but bundle them together, and they wear me down. By mile 18 my pace had climbed to 19 minutes per mile, and I wanted to get to the turn around before the cutoff time. I didn't want to be pulled. I wanted it to be my decison to sit down.

So I did. Followed by Sheriff's posse on horseback, I finally hobbled, dead last, into station 4 at the turn around, and asked if I'd made it. It's a small race, and mine was the only drop bag left so they called out my name when I rounded the corner into the station. "You made it!" they said. I'd cleared the cutoff time by 5 minutes.

I said, "Good! I quit."

They were expecting that, because apparently the posse had radiod ahead with things like, "she's doing okay on the uphills and the flats but when she gets to those downhills she starts limping really bad." I wanted to get to mile 20 because it was a nice round number, and because I wanted to pick up my drop back, and because I wanted to leave, not be pulled. So, I did. I left.

I was driven back in what can only be described as the most terrifying pickup ride I've ever had in my life, and then I stopped and picked up my other drop bag, and met Sweet Baboo at mile 12, who felt bad and thus was very, very nice to me. I should have taken full advantage of that as in, you know what would make me feel really good right now? lots of new clothes but by the time I saw him I'd had the time to reflect on everything, and I was disappointed and discouraged, but feeling a bit better.

At first I was telling him, and DP, "Maybe I'm not supposed to be a runner. Maybe it's just not my thing," and they were all, "Oh, pish, posh" and had many other encouraging words and advice for me. Baboo, especially, had a lot to say to me given that he had similar experiences in the past.

So, I've had a night to sleep on it and here's what I've come up with:

1. I went 20 miles. 20 rocky, mostly uphill miles, climbing from altitude of 5000 up to about 7000 feet. Not only that, but in the last 12 months I've completed 5 marathons, 2 trail ultras, and an Ironman. So, it's not like I'm a slacker or anything.

2. I'm starting The Challenge New Mexico, which is a 10-week program designed to lower your body-fat ratio and build lean muscle. You will see a marked difference in my attempt at the 50-mile Rocky Racoon next month. Yes, you read right. I'm still going.

3. Nothing hurts, other than my IT Band. My feet don't hurt, my calves don't hurt, and my thighs don't hurt, despite hauling me up and down a very challenging course over 20 miles.

4. The race director told me I would be considered an "alumnus" anyway, and would get early registration for coming back next year, if I wanted. (I do. I've never DNF'd on a race that I could finish.)

5. Let's face it. When you attempt to do extraordinary things, sometimes you will fail. Sometimes, though, you succeed; it's for those moments of success that you keep going. When you fail, well, you learn from that, and you go on to attempt other, extraordinary things.

...

What does it all mean?

As I obsess, pack, and continue to view the course map and profile for Sunday's run, I find myself asking, why do I do this?

Every time I do that the answer is different.

So this time, the answer is, because it makes me feel like I'm in control. 

I don't have a lot of control over things, and actually that's fine with me. There was a time that I was in control over most of my life, and I worked hard, and it was exhausting. 

Being in charge meant that when things needing doing, I knew that they'd get done, but it wore me down. I'm not naturally a leader. I just do my thing and hope it means something; I believe in the starfish story, and I go on the assumption that everyone I meet could be that one person to whom I could make a difference.

Leadership makes me want to break out in hives. So after spending about the first half of my life working and struggling and being largely successful in my endevors, I was happy to turn it over to someone else. Sweet Baboo is one of those natural-born leaders; he does all the planning and arranging, and he surrounds me in a nice, big bubble in which I am protected. There are contingencies for every possibility...I am insured and protected in every way I can be.

Still...

Every once in a while, I like to take a little vacation in setting a goal and meeting it under my own steam, through my own fortitude.  That's what running a marathon does for me, or finishing an ironman, or an ultra trail ran. I start out alone, experience my own little worry and drama, and  usually finish alone, and it's mine, all mine. 

No amount of planning will make up for whether or not I persevere.

So.  Sunday.

I have a turn around at mile 20ish.  I have 5-1/2 hours to get there.  There's another station at miles 34, and I have to reach that one by 4:45.  

In either case, no kidding, if I don't get there in time I get a truck ride back to the start line and I'm not allowed to finish.  This is done for safety reasons, but it takes away my "sure thing."  but you know, I need that every once in a while - that push, that extra element of my own, self-imposed bit of drama and danger.  

I've been for my pre-race massage; a little something different this time from Lorna, who does trigger-point stuff.  Don't know what the means except that her hands are crazy strong and it hurts like hell but when I woke up this morning, and all day, I haven't felt a whisper from my IT band since.  Orders are to stretch 2x day.  

Tomorrow I'll get up, drop off Mini-baboo at the DEP meeting, and then pick up Sweet Baboo from the airport.  Then we're going to have pictures taken for The Challenge.  Then we'll head down to Hillsboro for packet pickup. 

Eep!

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"Gear" review: Prowash Activewear Detergent for Big, Smelly Runners

Okay.  I'll admit it.  

I don't do laundry.  Sweet Baboo does it. There was just one too many incidents where I didn't check pockets and one of my lipsticks made it all the way through to the dryer...and, well, you get the story.   He doesn't trust me with his clothes, and that's okay, because I hate doing laundry anyway.  

I know what you're thinking, and no, I didn't do it on purpose.

So when ProWash wrote me and asked me to do a review of their new product, at first I was like, "Whatever.  Another detergent.  Well, at least it's free."   They sent us a box and we started using it.   After a month of using ProWash, I asked Sweet Baboo what his impressions are, and put together with mine, here are the results:

THE TASK.  

Sweet Baboo and I do things.  Sweaty things.  Beastly sweaty things.  Take last Saturday, for instance, when Baboo ran 60 miles.  Okay, 62 POINT 14, as he reminds me, often, he will not be cheated of any distance on that brutal run.  Trail running, for us bigger folk, involves a bit more than the usual allotment of odors and essences and grime and dirt.

So, in the past, we've used other detergent for activewear, and I won't name names.  Even though we were using it, each of us had at least one article of clothing that we noticed, when we first started working out, would immediately start, um, well, STINKING.   I had one shirt, in fact, that my teenage son had given to me.  I didn't wear it.  It was just too funky.  As Baboo said, it's like there were little stink particles that hid in the fabric and waited...waited...

THE RESULTS.

After using ProWash a couple weeks, Sweet Baboo and I both noticed that this detergent got rid of all the smells in a way that the other activewear did not.  So it got rid of some clothes that I haven't been able to wear in over a year.  The running clothes have lost their smelliness, in addition to getting clean.  

2) We both like that it's HE, high-efficiency.  It's concentrated.

3) We like the packaging.  It's in a collapsable bottle, which takes up less space in landfills if you have a low-threshold of guilt, like I do.  And when you use it, says that you don't fill up a cap that gets all drippy and nasty.  Instead, you look at a line on the side of the package and use that to measure your dose.  

But the selling point for me, is the lack of stink.

You can get it online at Amazon and Drugstore.com

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Bandera 25K Trail Run

Today I picked up my computer, which has been in the shop since the beginning of December. It seems to be working - it's only shut down unexpectedly once, but that might have been becuase I'm installing new software and it needed to restart.

I did the 25K at Bandera on Saturday. I did it as a training run/power hike. It actually went pretty well, considering that it was my longest distance since October, when I did the 50K at Palo Duro. My training after that pretty much spiraled downward, as I'm about 99.5% sure that I developed a fracture in my left tibia.

In any case the Bandera, she was HARD, ya'll. Most of the trail was covered with fist-sized loose rocks. And here's the weird part, coming from someone who majored in geology in college: there appeared to be no reason for those rocks to be there. They were large, rounded rocks ranging from the size of my fist to the size of my feet. Rounded means water. This was practically the desert. There was no place for them to have rolled from. It was as though someone just came out with a dump truck and dumped large loads of rocks all over the trail.

And, as you can see, those rocks were on some very serious hills. I have to say this may have been the hardest trail I've ever done. They basically took the longer courses, removed the flat, runnable sections, and left in the hills.

And there was the yucca. They called them cacti, but they were yucca.

Not just yucca, but since Texas likes to do things really big, the leaves had serrated edges on them.

So. But.

Here's the deal.

I finished, and felt like I could have gone longer. My IT band was barking, but only on the downhills. My breathing, legs, and feet held up nicely otherwise.

Then, of course, I swelled up and retained a bunch of water and saw a number on the scale that I haven't seen since 2005. Yikes.

I'm taking it easy this week, hoping the IT band has been justly shown who is boss. Of course, there's a big difference between 15.5 miles and 38.5 miles. 23 miles, to be exact. But I feel pretty good about finishing it. My time at Bandera was slow, but the course was harder than anything I've ever done before (or plan to ever do).

After I was done, I ate the best grilled cheese sandwich. Ever. Then I watched Sweet Baboo finish his first "lap" (31 miles). Then I watched DP finish - she who seemed bright and fresh as a daisy at the end of a 31 mile trail run. Then I went to hang out and shower at Ma Baboo's house in Castroville. Then I came back near midnight to wait for Sweet Baboo to finish his 100K.

Oh, here's the other thing: Due to my ingestion of nearly a quart of chocolate soy milk before the race, I was in the line for the bathroom and missed the start - I was 5 minutes late starting. I hiked and power walked the whole thing finishing just under 5 hours.

And I was NOT last.

So There.

I'm ready for Sunday. I think. No, I am. I'm pretty sure.

...

18 Confessions.

1) iPod rules. There. I said it. I hate All Things Apple, but I love the iPod. Or as DP calls it, the Precious.

2) It really is all about the bike.

3) The foam roller works.

4) When you Google me, you see a couple pictures of me, but also pictures of horses. And sometimes, strippers.

5) I should have listened to my mother way, way back in 1983. And 1987. And, probably, 1994. I'm not telling why.

6) I know where there's a bag of potato chips hidden right at this moment. They are not baked.

7) My pager battery has been dead for several weeks. I know this, and I haven't replaced it.

8) I've discovered recently that I'm actually pretty nervous before endurance events. Terrified, actually. It just doesn't look that way. It looks a lot like, laziness. I'm secretly pleased when things are called on account of rain, and the more terrified I am, the lazier I look.

9) I frequently change the time on my posts to mask the fact that I clearly wrote them when I should be working or sleeping.

10) I haven't sent out Christmas cards out since 2001.

11) Britney Spears' CIRCUS was released November 28th. It was in my iTunes library November 13th.

12) The skirt I'm wearing today is a size 14.

13) I have a southern accent that is largely extinct due to my efforts, but I will use in a completely mercenary manner.

14) I can, on occasion, be quite catty.

15) Because of this article I have purchased a large mesh strainer and a USB cord. I am just that combination of geek, lazy, and cheap.

16) I will eat stuff that falls on my kitchen floor. And I have cats.

17) There are three words that I have to lookup no matter how many times my word processor tells me they are misspelled: maintenance, embarrass, and license. I used to misspell conscience all the time until I saw the movie, "As Good As It Gets."

18) I still watch SouthPark. My excuse that I teach teenagers having disappeared, the truth is, I still watch it.

...

Hammers, Nails. Nothing in particular.

So, this morning, I was trying to get a new button sewn on my pants before I left for work. It had broken BROKEN. OFF. due to the strain on it of encompassing the ever-increasing me. However, I stopped briefly to go hang a picture because Sweet Baboo was taking a shower. These things are related: Baboo taking a shower, me hanging up a picture, and the fact that my hair looks like crap today.

I will explain.

So, not long after we first moved to the new house I was walking across the house one day with a small hammer in my hand and passed Baboo, who immediately deviated from his course to ask, with as much casualness as he could muster (trying very hard to keep the concern, anxiety, and worry from his voice,) Sooooo...where ya goin’ with that hammer?

Have you played this game? You might be tempted to answer with one of the following:

a) I’m looking for a rusty railroad spike to drive into the wall!
b) You know, I’ve had it with those damned cats...
c) I’m going to hang a picture on a nail but change my mind until there’s at least 20 holes in a small area of the wall.

Now, I’ve checked, and this is apparently a question for the ages, asked of many a partner to their significant other, mostly out of concern, sometimes out of a need to micromanage, always annoying.

To be fair to Baboo, I must confess that I have been known to do anything to hang a picture: My mother was a professional artist, and over the years I’ve assembled a collection of certain things that must be hung or it just won’t feel like home. I will generally, if provided with them, use the proper picture-hanging nail and hook, but if they are not available immediately I have been known to use, in this order: finishing nails, roofing hails, wood screws, bolts, rusty bits of metal, bits of hard wiring cut and sharpened to a point.

I have, furthermore, used the following when either a hammer wasn’t available or I was too busy to go look for one: rocks, the heels of sturdy shoes, the heels of lesser sturdy shoes, the back of a cordless phone, a meat tenderizer, spoons, forks, the flat of a sturdy knife, the handle of a screw driver, and a marble rolling pin.

It isn't that we can't afford stuff. We can. It's just that hanging a piece of artwork, for me, is a whole tenstion-release thing. It must be hung. Now. No, NOW. IT MUST BE HUNG. I CANNOT WAIT FOR A TRIP TO LOWES!

And I’ve left some awful holes. Not holes that couldn’t be patched, mind you…with some toothpaste and a wet sponge...many of my skills having never really evolved much further than dorm living, but the holes get patched, y'all. But. Anyway.

So it isn’t strictly for purposes of micromanaging that Baboo began following me through the house and asking me where was I going with that hammer.

However,

He had bought me a tack hammer, and some proper picture-hanging nails and hooks, and I’ve been a good girl; I’ve been using them. Nevertheless, he has been following me through the house and questioning me about every decision I make to hang artwork of any sort...however kindly and patiently he asks, and he always asks kindly and patiently, but the stress of the ever-present question, though, has gotten to me to the point that I’ve determined that the best time to hang a picture is while Baboo is taking his shower.

Which brings me to this morning.

I had just enough time to sew on a button, but Baboo stepped into the shower and I realized that I had some prime picture-hanging time available, so I abandoned the button-sewing and dashed to spare bedroom to hang the picture, thereby squandering the available time to sew on the button. The button was sewn on after he got out of the shower, thereby squandering available makeup time...as I have mentioned in the past, I'll wear makeup in an Ironman, so I'm SURE not going to work without makeup on and I was GOING TO GET SOME MAKEUP ON MY FACE, thereby using up the time to do my hair properly.

See, it’s all related.

...

Another >yawn< Weight Loss/Dieting Resolution.

Happy 2009! I've been too busy to make New Year's resolutions, so I've got some general goals. here they are:

1) Finish my first 50-miler.

2) Do 10 pushups. In a row (Yeah. Um, well, that was the resolution last year, and I got pretty close but then I got distracted and quit and am now back to a soft, noodly upper body. Perhaps, to punish myself, I'll make it 20. And video it.)

3) Still not eating chlorella. Or swimming in it, either.

4) OMG, I've gained enough weight during injury recovery and new job transition crap to have actually started developing a double chin! AND, my clothes don't fit! AND, my knees hurt when I run! AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!

Okay. Breathe.

Accordingly...

First, I did a 4-mile power racewalk/hike with a tiny bit of jogging on New Year's day (Go, Me!) and one on New Year's eve, and I finally feel like my cardiovascular self is back to normal. I'm living at 6000 feet, which helps, I think, and I've been working on these trails a couple times a week all during December.

Of course, now that my tibia thing has healed, I'm having ITB issues. OH, HELLOOO MR. LEFT ITBAND. I THINK I MET YOUR BROTHER, RIGHT ITBAND LAST YEAR AT THIS TIME?

Fuckers.

Still, I did the hikes averaging under the pace I need to finish at the Ghost Town next week NEXT WEEK NEXT WEEK, OMG!! But best of all, it's a doable sub-hour 4-mile trail hike/run loop right by my house . I LOVE having a known routine so that I can just get moving and zone out.

Second, I've noticed that I eat less without Mini-Baboo around. I think it's because of the creeping worry that, 'OMG, I HAVE TO EAT NOW BECAUSE THERE MIGHT NOT BE ANY FOOD LEFT SOON' that's been persistant in my life since my oldest child learned to open a refrigerator back in oh, 1986. (And you're not allowed to put locks on the refrigerator. I've asked.)

Third, I've joined The Challenge.

DP did this in 2002 or so, and since becoming My Official Dieting Boss Lady last year, DP often calls me up to tell me about such things. Usually, I hem and haw and give all manner of excuses, but not this is the jump start I need to get some of those pounds off that I gained during October and November while waiting for my tibia to heal.

I know that the extra muscle will help me in ultrarunning - I found that out at Palo Duro after doing 6 weeks of core work; it made a HUGE difference in how I felt after running 31 miles. Plus, as DP says, it's got accountability built into it, and you can get "free" information from professional nutritionists. Um, excuse me, I'm a strict vegetarian ultra runner - can you help me out with the whole carb thing?

Not to be outdone, of course (who wants a wife that can beat them up?) Sweet Baboo will be doing it with me.

It involves before (shudder) and after photos, skin fold tests, and weigh-ins.

As one famous blogger I know says, "Stay Tuned..."

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