Running 50

RACE RE-CAP

I'm not exactly sure when I decided to run 50 miles. It was somewhere between "I want to run my age" and "I want to do an impossible thing." It was probably more on edge of the impossible.

People ask me why, I think they fear I'm running from something. Part of it is the training. It's time to be outside, to process through things and let them run out my feet, and to listen to books, which is a luxury small children don't afford you often. Part of it is that I love it. Part of it is that I always want to push myself, but one of the largest parts is that I want the two little humans who call me mom to know they can do anything they want to. Even the impossible thing if they're willing to work for it.

The week before the ultra I spent in backwoods Maine with 23 teenagers, lack of sleep, and 25 miles paddling on a river. Several of the kids were sick and I tried my best to keep up my immune system to no avail. Come Thursday I had a seriously sore throat and sinus congestion. The night before the ultra I couldn't breath. But...I didn't train hours on end and push myself this far to be stopped by a sinus infection. I was running. So I shot my nose up with spray and attempted to sleep. I always tell my cross country kids not to make excuses. Better practice what I preach.

Sunday morning was freezing. Our tech meeting was at 5:30 am and the ultra runners were huddled around bum barrels outside the main tent waiting for the waves of bikers to go. In so many regards I'm not an ultra runner. These people intimidate me. They know all the most trendy gear and have stories of epic 100 milers...here's me. Nothing but my own two legs, some trail runners purchased online, and an attempt at something over 32 miles. Everyone at the pit had done it before. The seasoned veterans. I ask about hydration. My plan was to rely on the aid stations and not carry anything...but there isn't another soul that I can see with that strategy. Great.

People are talking about the trail. This is really the first time I've heard much about it. I know everyone has their style. Dustan loves to analyze things. It makes him happy. He feels prepared and ready with a clear picture of what he has to tackle. I like to blindly come out swinging. Dustan has already analyzed this trial. He knows all the stats I'm sure, but when he asks me if I want to know I tell him not to tell me. I don't want to know. The logic is that I don't want to get into my own head and psych myself out. I just want to take it as it comes. It's "hilly" I've heard. Cool, change in terrain. Makes it interesting. Wow. I had no clue.

Finally our wave is called. No order of placement, I'm just eager to begin so I'm on the front. Not sure what I feel. Excitement yes, focus...well. I'm not really sure where that is. I'm not thinking about running 50 miles. In my head I'm saying. "Let's go for a run Heather." Like its a weekend run through my hometown or something. But it calms me. Anyway, I've got some time to figure out how I feel about this whole thing...I'll just run it out and find my focus. A veteran eases my fears. "Here's the secret to the 50" he says. Like there's only one 50 and its this 50. "Everybody is slow and no one knows a -— about pace" Good to know.

I've written 1-50 on a post it. It's crumpled in my hand. 50 prayers for each mile. Kids I love, people I love, situations that need attention. That'll keep me going too I think. In the other hand a paper towel to blow my nose into and release the constant pressure. Usually I breath through my nose on my long runs after my heart rate settles. Ain't happening today.

In case of failure, I've set myself some micro goals. Run my age and be positive and encouraging to as many people as I can.

It's a 1, 2, 3 go! Seems sort of anti climatic. Hurry up and go...for like...ever.

First few miles I'm listening to the people around me. It almost immediately becomes hilly and I want to know if they are breathing hard or if they have super human oxygen intake. Most of them are breathing hard so that's good.

I'm into it now....Ok, maybe I should have looked at some of the stats. This is not hilly...it MOUNTAINOUS. No really it is. I will find out later that it has 9,000 ft elevation gain. That would be one thing. But it's also technical. Roots, rocks, tiny little snaky dirt tracks.  Some places are really not practical to run, its more like a scramble. My eyes are watching my feet. I keep reminding myself to pick my feet up. But for all the struggle the views are amazing. The verdant mountains of Vermont. Farms, fields, woods. Rich beauty.

The first few aid stations are well stocked and enthusiastic. Mile 15 I see Dustan which is great. I strike up conversations with the people I pass. One man is probably 65 years old with white hair and a Viking red beard. He runs with a bow legged gait and an exaggerated arm swing almost as if he'd had a stroke. He says he has run two 100 milers, three 50 milers, and several 50ks just in this year. "I may be over doing it" he says. Really!? I'm impressed.

Kim hears me tell someone I have twins and she tells me her daughter has three month twins. We swap observations and stories for a while. She did the Vermont 100 back in July. I'm in awe. That's the thing about ultra running. It levels the playing field. Females can beat males, age is not an issue...its something more than that. It's endurance and grit. There aren't any flashy attention seekers out here. It's not a glamorous sport. You've got to be very ok with being alone with yourself for hours on end. No cheering sidelines. Just grueling miles of arguing with your head that you can indeed do one more step.

Mike and I are running similar paces. He's an ironman and has a daughter that runs marathons with him now. This is his first 50. We keep tagging each other and than moving on or behind to find each other again.

The first half is insane. Mountains...more then one. Up and down...technical and grueling. I'm in pain from every bone in my foot, to my quads, and persistent re-accruing hip injury. My body at mile 30 is starting to shut down. I don't think there was ever a time I was close to quitting. But there was a time when I couldn't see the end in my mind. I could only see that I was barely making my feet move. I pop out of the woods on a ski run and look down hill. There at the bottom I see two little people in overalls. I can hear them screaming...I know who they are. They are my reasons. The woman besides me asks why I'm crying. I laugh/sob that I see my babies and I have to get the tears out now. I'm not sure why I'm crying. Perhaps fatigue, perhaps it's because I know they'll be my saving grace at this wall...in ultras there is not one wall. There are several. They are jumping and screaming and holding signs that say, "run mom run!" And "go mom go!" It's kisses and hugs and quick greetings. I'm stocking up in the aid station and realize I'll need to run out of this thing because these little blue eyed beauties are watching me. My mom, the ever watchful worrier wants to know if I want pain killers. She'll get some for the next station. Great idea! I ask the people at this aid station and they give me some. That will end up making a huge difference in a few miles. I turn to start my muscles...and I hear my girls cheering. I don't know how exactly I did it , but I started those legs and ran up out of that station. That was it for me. My wall. The second half went faster than the first and I felt strong.

Mile 40 I meet my pacer Adelita...she was waiting for me and I felt like she was made of sparkling precious gold. She kept me moving. Period. She talked to me and made those miles pass like a Sunday jog. Ok, maybe not quite like that. Mile 46 I see Dustan and the girls again...at this point it's starting to dawn on me that I'm going to run 50 miles today. I come into the aid station and say "it's a good day to run 50 miles!!" It sure is. Kim is there. She's peeling off her shirt to run into the finish with an insane sports bra six pack. Grammy six-pack. I tell her she's a beast. She beams.

Three miles out I hear someone say. "Is that Heather?" It's Mikes pacer and apparently Mikes been telling him they had to catch me. They did. Mike hollers..."I think you're going to make it Heather!" I think so too Mike. "You are too!" He passes me. I slap him on the back, you gain a connection with people out here.

They start counting down the miles on cardboard signs. I'm starting to hear the finish line. Something asks me in my head if I could do more. I decide my body could do another 20 or so if someone was holding a gun to my head before I'd collapse...but no one is, so I'll be collapsing on that finish line.

It opens up in a ski slope for the last half mile. A bit of a back and forth till the end. I see Mike. I open up my legs....I let them run. I'm passing people, I'm closing in. I come up behind Mike and say, "I'm really sorry about this Mike, but I'm gonna pass you!" And I fly by him. All I hear is "are you kidding me!". I laugh, yell, and cry a little as I go over that finish line. I did it. I ran 50 miles.

 It's hugs all around, a metal on my neck. But it's those two little humans jumping up and down squealing and clapping. They get it. Mommy just did an impossible thing. If only they knew, it's all for them. Mike is coming up behind me. I give him a hug and tell him. "We did a thing Mike. We did a thing" he smiles, we know something...and it's a thing. And it's running the Vermont 50. He tells the girls that their mommy kicked his butt. They giggle.

20 mins later and slightly chilled I attempt to get myself upstairs to the shower at the lovely air bnb we are staying at. All the endorphins and adrenaline has abandoned me and my body goes into shock. I'm locked down and convulsing. I can't open a bottle to take pain killers. I can't make myself do anything. I'm in incredible pain. Dustan has to put me in a hot bath, it's only then I stop shaking. I don't sleep well...to much pain...but I'm satisfied. I wasn't fast. 11 hours. I averaged 12-13 min miles when you figure in the aid stations. I'm ok with that. I did it.

Next morning at breakfast our host comes down to say goodbye. She says that she told her husband I had run 50 miles and he didn't believe her. Said that it must have been 15 miles because that's impossible, especially for a girl. Emmie and Ellie's eyes widen and they look at me. I laugh and say..."you tell your husband...(and they don't know it but I'm talking to the two little hearts I grew under my own)...that girls can do whatever they want to do."