Twin Peaks Ultra 2012 Recap

Awake at 2 AM, I was on the road shortly, slotted for arrival to Indian Truck Trail by 3:30 AM (an hour before my start time.)  I felt no nervousness as I drove the lonely highways around the Saddleback Mountains.  I felt calm. 

About 3:15 AM, all lanes on the 91 freeway abruptly stopped.  STOPPED.  Stopped as in, we didn’t move for about 45 minutes.  People shut off their cars.  I learned from the radio there was a fatal accident up a ways. 

A highway patrol officer walked about the freeway lanes talking to some drivers and pointing to the right.  Then slowly, but surely, the traffic began to move to the right, into a single lane.  Race time came before I made it to the offramp.  I didn’t fret.  Someone had lost their life.  It seemed rather foolish to worry about starting on time.  I merely figured that I would start the race when I started. 

4:33 AM, I was finally driving the offramp and noticed traffic dumping into another jam on the city streets.  The car in front of me made a u-turn over the dirt median to enter the onramp adjacent to our offramp.  I followed suit.  There were no cars on the freeway, except of course for the driver ahead of me.  And off to my left, two lanes over, lay a corpse covered with a tarp.  It looked oddly flat.  And that scene stays vividly with me today.

I arrived to Indian Truck Trail in a solemn mood, but I was oddly giddy.  The first wave had already started up the mountain.  I took off up Indian Truck trail alone.  4:50 AM.  I enjoyed my run in the dark.  I took in the black coolness, and didn’t think about anything.  A few miles up the road I could see bobbing headlamps from the other runners.

The sun had risen by the time I reached the Main Divide, equipped with a cheerful aid crew.  They were also late due to the accident, but on-time for my arrival.  John Hocket, the sweeper who chased me and Hank down the mountain last year was there this year with friendly words. 

It took me more than twenty minutes longer to travel this trail than it did the last time I ran it.  I had some making up to do -- my time was already fifteen minutes too slow to make later cutoffs.

The second wave front runners began to pass me as they ran at tremendous, strong speeds.  My morale was dipping.  And then Scott Barnes passed me with a smile and kind words.  I didn’t recognize him at first.  The last time I had seen him was Twin Peaks 2011 at the top of West Horse Thief where I waited as a pacer – he placed 3rd that year, the first year he ran this race (This year, he finished the 50 miles in 2nd place!).  

Anyway, I reached the next aid before I knew it.  Terrific workers manned West Horse Thief, optimistic, smiling and proud.

A cool wind blew as I ran above the clouds.  Other runners passed me as well, pretty much for the next several miles.  A little star-struck, I noticed the faces of many runners that are famous in the local ultra community.  And I saw the faces of friends and other runners that I’ve met again and again on the trails.  I didn’t see my friends Hank or Cody though, as they had taken off with the first wave, and with my lonely start, I just wasn’t quick enough to catch them.

I took the rocky downhill called West Horse Thief slower than I planned.  My friend Robert Whited passed me here with more encouraging words.  By the time I reached the bottom of West Horse Thief, I knew that I was in possible trouble as far as making the cut-offs.  Of course, “that time of the month” hit (yes, I’m still young enough),  and the melancholy that accompanies it did not stay home.  I just COULD NOT pick up my speed to my best.  I was able to increase my speed a bit, but with a foot that was beginning to ache (my neuroma foot), I worried.  But I refused, flat out refused, to think about taking the 50k option.  I had decided quite some time ago, that I would finish the 50 mile option or come home with a DNF.  By the time I reached the bottom of Holy Jim, I knew there was still a chance, but I was going to need some special footwork.

The aid station workers noticed that I hadn’t drank much at all.  I didn’t need refills on anything at mile 15.  So I guzzled down the remaining fluids in my handheld and refilled before the climb up Holy Jim.  

I ran practically the entire 5 mile Holy Jim trip.  I probably shouldn’t have.  I think I was beginning to lose my nerve and wasn’t thinking my best.  A hike would have probably served me better here.  The trip was lonely with a few runners passing me.  I really didn’t think much at all.  I was afraid to think, afraid, because I wanted to quit.  Instead, I put one foot in front of the other and took in the awesome scenery.  I made decent time up Holy Jim.  Still, I had fallen way behind in my schedule.  I refilled my handheld at an unmanned aid station at Bear Springs.  And that’s when I finally allowed myself to think about IT.  There was no way that I was quitting.  And there was no way I was going to make the 50 mile option.  And for the first time, I DID NOT WANT A DNF.  And so I allowed myself the option, the 50k option.  I made the decision remarkably fast, and without regret.  I really felt there was no option.  For all this struggle, I wanted a finisher’s medal, not a DNF.  I chose to take the 50k option. 

All I had to do was make it to Santiago Peak, which I’ve done dozens of times, then it would be basically downhill from there.  The trip to the peak was absolutely miserable.  I ran very little of it, probably 5 percent.  Every single step was painstaking.  It was the worst trip to the peak ever.  I felt utterly fatigued and my foot ached.  But I felt relief.  There were also some high points, the best being that I got to see Cody as he ran down from the peak.  I was so happy that he looked strong.  I told him my decision, wished him a good trip.  I felt comfortable that he was going to make the 50 miles.  I met lots of other fine runners struggling up to the peak.  Despite the pure, hellish agony, I enjoyed myself.  My foot even felt better.

When I finally reached a hospitable aid station at the peak, I emptied everything out of my pack and put it in my drop bag.  I ate a few potato chips, drank some Coca-Cola, and then I took off for a long, long downhill trip to finally end this race.   I was one hour behind schedule at Santiago Peak, which reaffirmed my decision.

With the decision made, though I struggled, I felt happy to be running the trails, to be participating in Twin Peaks.  I felt fortunate.  I would not allow myself to dwell on my decision.  I simply had to do it.  And I left it at that.

Upper Holy Jim was a pleasure.  I filmed quite a bit and remembered fondly where I had fallen several weeks back (seriously).  I met up with Steve Harvey (Old Goat race director) at Indian Truck Trail.  And then I began the long, long, winding trip down Indian Truck Trail.  I didn’t even notice the helicopter hovering about on the divide.  (Turns out, one runner had to be carried a half mile up West Horse Thief and airlifted to a hospital.  I learned very little details, of which I’ll withhold here because I’m not clear on much concerning this.  But thankfully, the male runner was eventually released from the hospital, expected to recover fully.)

Almost everyone running down Indian Truck Trail at this point had taken the 50k option.  Almost everyone.  The first place fifty miler passed me with about 3 miles remaining.  And Scott Barnes passed me with about 50 yards remaining.  These guys ran amazingly strong after such a huge race.  I was in awe.  I had company the last few miles, a young guy named Lucas.  He gave up his hope for the 50 miles after severe cramping set in.  It was nice to have his company, as those last few miles were unbelievably long. 

So, I got my medal, and got to chat and meet many of the runners as we sat about waiting for our drop bags.  I met some new running friends, and talked with old ones.  We ate, we drank.  We had A LOT of time to get to know each other.  I think we waited something like FOUR HOURS for our drop bags.   I noticed a fire truck and ambulance pull up.  I was beginning to hear inklings of trouble at West Horse Thief.  Unfortunately, for my friend Cody, and several other runners, they were dropped from the race at West Horse Thief due to the danger of passing while a helicopter landed.  The situation also delayed our drop bags.  My friend Hank though, made it and finished the 50 miles for the second year in a row! 

EVERYONE has been tremendously congratulatory toward me for finishing the 50k.  I however, do not feel that great about it.  I feel like I failed.  I know that I had to make the decision that I made.  But I still failed.  I was not in good enough shape.  That was where I failed.  On the other hand, the journey was tremendous.  The training was so much fun.  I met wonderful people, and I got to participate in this awesome/prestigious event.  Lots of lessons were also learned.  And that’s important in my life.  Lessons learned – even at my age. 

The 50k option:

Twin Peaks / Saddleback Mountains

Scared and Excited

Well, the eve before the eve of Twin Peaks is here.  I am scared.  I am excited.  I really want to enjoy.  I love those mountains so much that I would really like to make this a positive journey – a frolic through the wilderness, no matter how many miles I make.

I am up past my usual bedtime tonight without regret, because when I wake at 5:30 tomorrow, I want to be good and tired by 7:00 pm to fall promptly asleep, so that I can leave the house by 2:30 AM for my Saturday morning Twin Peaks start.

Today, I did all my errands, called in my son’s anti-seizure medication refill, did ALL the laundry, dishes, swept,  etc.  I did some ab work, some upper body weights and some floor exercises.  I even told my husband where to find things, stupid things that he’s not used to knowing about, like sheets, medication, etc.  PLUS, if it were ever an issue, I told him that I approve of organ transplants, and that I would be honored to save the life of someone’s loved one.  Morbid?  Not necessarily.  I’m just covering all bases.  He really should know these things anyway. He is after all my mate, the man I knew I would marry very early on; the man who also knew the woman (me)  who couldn’t walk uphill without taking a cigarette break and a rest somewhere in there (in my twenties!!!).  

Besides that, I worked today.  A joy as always to be with the high school students.  They took my mind off the upcoming adventure.  Funny, they have no idea what a basket-case I am.  At home, I fluctuated between numbness and anxiety.  My family was very good to me. 

My staging area is nearly complete (the kitchen table), of which I’ve laid out everything I will need (though I still haven’t picked out my running shirt).

These are the things, in case anyone’s so very curious, that I will put into my truck via 3 bags tomorrow evening:

My hydration pack:  camera, phone, gels, fluids, Glide (for chaffing) Endurolytes, Nuun tables, wipes (not toilet paper – wet wipes!), bandana, an ipod, an extra ipod, extra ear buds, extra sd cards (for camera) headlamp (plus extra batteries), lip balm, band aids, knee brace, ankle brace (both cloth), athletic tape  and a watch.  Plus I will wear sunglasses, most likely sleeves (depending on the temperature at 4:30 AM),  a garmin and a hat, and will also carry one hand-held for fluids.  Oh, and lastly, I will have a list of personal time requirements for me to finish this race in the knick of time, already typed in EXTRA LARGE print (because I won’t be bringing my reading glasses). 

My drop bag (available at about mile 22 and approximately mile 41): extra socks, sunscreen, a roller, electrolytes, gels, coconut water, (perhaps a protein shake if I can get to the store in time), more calories, more band aids, more Glide, artificial ice-packs, pain reliever cream, more Glide, more athletic tape, a bottle of Endurolytes, tube socks, antibiotic lotion, more Nuun tablets, extra lip balm and I’m sure more that I will think of last minute.

My after race bag:  another set of undergarments, clean socks, comfy sandals, a light jacket, basketball sweats (the kind that have zippers on the bottom so that I can easily pull up over shoes). 

For now that’s it.  Still to do:  replace batteries in headlamp and set watch to exact time.  And oh yes . . . pack these bags. 

Thanks so much for all your support and confidence!  I can’t adequately relay how much I appreciate you all.

My Comedy of Errors

As I approach Twin Peaks, it seems to me that I’ve been playing a part in A Comedy of Errors.  This comedy didn’t begin when I accidently threw my camera off the mountain, and the ground gave away for me to slide down the rocky slope.  The comedy didn’t begin when I took that tremendous fall running down Upper Holy Jim that my arm still bares scars from today.  No, my comedy of errors began some weeks ago when I took an unmarked trail that dumped me into a ravine, of which I had to climb a tree to exit, only to find myself tightly entangled in a thorn thicket.  I escaped demoralized, bleeding and covered with welts.  And I cut my run short.

The day after that, I thought I broke my foot, then blamed my sandals.  Finally ended up that I had plantar fasciitis.  That pretty much put my running to a halt (except for one last excruciating 22 mile mountain run).  THEN, while applying intensive home physical therapy, I stood on a chair in the kitchen, lost my balance and fell to the floor, bruising my butt and back.  THEN, just as my plantar fasciitis took a turn for the better, I caught a flu-like bug.  For two whole days I slept.  On the third day, I sipped wine in the evening while taking flu medication, which I’m sure made my illness last longer.  Hubby scolded me, “Don’t you know you should not drink wine while taking flu medication???”  Like George Castanza (the Jerry Seinfield character), I asked “Is that wrong?”  And I giggled myself to sleep. 

Monday (yesterday) came along and though I felt much better, I still didn’t feel well enough to run.  THEN as I watched television, flossing my teeth (I know, TMI), I broke a crown.  I’m waiting for the pain.  Hasn’t happened.  But I cannot leave the hole in my teeth alone.  It feels like a 3 inch gaping hole.  Of course it’s not that large, but with my neurotic personality, a hole in my teeth is NOT GOOD.  There’s no way I can fit in a dentist appointment before Saturday at this point.  Hubby says expect the pain to arrive Saturday. 

Hopefully not.

The great news is, today I got a run in . . . FINALLY.  It was a short run.  A lovely run.  A run with no foot pain (though I still taped my foot).  I had no goals in mind, except to run trails and enjoy.  To deal with my gaping tooth hole, I chewed a piece of gum and formed it around that tooth.  That worked pretty good some of the time.  But then I would forget and start chewing the gum, and that messed up my breathing.  Despite this, my run was lovely.  And seriously, I didn’t panic at all over Twin Peaks fast approaching.  Though I have visualized myself finishing the race many times, while I ran today, I ran through in my mind being pulled or dropping from Twin Peaks.  I told myself that I won’t cry, I won’t yell at anyone; I will act dignified, turn in my bib and get out of the way for the other runners still in the race. 

Rain is expected tomorrow.  Therefore, today’s run will probably be the last before Twin Peaks. 

Today’s lovely run to the Top of the World in Laguna Beach:

What’s the Deal?

Where have I been?  Not running.  I have the flu.  Twin Peaks is in 6 days.  Muhahahahahahaha.

Fearful Gait

After diligent self-therapy and constant taping and re-taping my foot, I set out this morning for my first run since last Thursday (and that was my only run last week).  I taped my foot of course, and I am so, so very pleased to report that I felt no pain whatsoever on my nearly eleven mile run.  I took it easy, ran pretty slowly in fact.  It felt like my gait had changed, almost like I ran too carefully, as if my feet were afraid.  I was afraid.  I did not, could not feel the pain once again with just about a week out of Twin Peaks. 

I’m okay with the fearful gait.  The important thing is that I got out there and I ran trails today.  The feeling was so completely joyful, it felt like I had been released from prison or perhaps a psych-ward – as if I were suddenly free.  Not a thing bothered me during today’s run, not my slowness nor the treacherous climb up Mentally Sensitive.  It’s almost like every runner needs an injury so that they can have this feeling of getting back something they had lost.  Of course, I don’t want anyone injured.  But with all my training, I think I was beginning to lose some joy of trails. 

10.75 miles run this morning.  Back at home, I took off the tape, iced and rolled.  And I felt great.

Turning onto my old friend Meadows Trail:

Running up Mentally Sensitive – There’s Saddleback Mountains!:

A quick stop for some swing time:

Goats!:

Back at Top of the World:

View from Top of the World:

Profile:

Accident Prone?

Well, could I injure myself any further?  I’m not going to look at today’s incident as neither negative nor positive.  It just is, or rather was. 

I can’t help but wonder if I am accident prone, or if I subconsciously like making the day exciting.  For tic marks in the accident prone column much evidence exists.  I don’t know how many times I accidentally kicked my father’s weight bench in the garage when I was a young girl.  I must have split my toe dozens of times – the same toe, kicking that thing.  In the past year alone, I probably have slammed my truck door on my leg a half dozen times.  I still have a scar from one slam.  I won’t even try to count the cracks, roots and curbs I’ve tripped over.  Once I tripped over a curb when I was 8 months pregnant and laid myself out on the asphalt with bloody knees and palms.   

On the other hand, I am adventure seeker.  I have always been an adventure seeker.  It wasn’t always in the wilderness.  I sought adventure in roller skates, on flexi boards, on ten speed bicycles and roller coasters.  When I was a young girl, my friends and I found much adventure downtown amongst the city buildings. 

One thing I think is inherent to both of these things (accident proneness and adventure seeking) is haste.  I often do things things with haste, and end up paying for it.  Fortunately, I have been very lucky still having all my appendages and such.

Case in hand, this morning, I rushed about in haste – a usual morning, making breakfasts, packing lunches, etc.  After getting the two young boys off to school, I returned home to finish up packing our eldest son’s lunch.  I had not yet iced my foot, and it needed re-taping.  So, I was limping.  Then in a moment, a moment of haste I would do something that would scare my oldest son and my husband practically to death. 

The paper towel holder was empty.  That’s all.  And I HAVE TO put a paper towel in my son’s lunches.  Where do we keep the spare paper towels?  In the highest cupboard in the kitchen.  My husband can reach this cupboard, so can my son.  I cannot.  So I grabbed a kitchen table chair; I hoisted myself up onto it.  Being that it was painful to put weight on my PF foot, I balanced on the chair with my good foot and leaned forward, reaching up to the cupboard.  And then I began to lose balance.  I’m not sure exactly what happened and in what order, but I recall moving my foot closer to the counter to help balance myself.  That’s when I believe that the chair tilted and overturned.  I crashed down onto the floor with a tremendous loud crash (this may seem familiar if you’ve read my blog before).  I thought for sure I was going to land on top of a sideways chair.  I didn’t land on it, but somehow I snapped one of the chair legs off. 

I lay looking at the ceiling moaning, unsure what to move first.  My back ached, my butt ached.  My PF foot was cut-up and scratched.  Of course my husband and son ran to my aid.  They were dumbfounded as to why I didn’t ask one of them to reach for the paper towels.  My husband of course was besides himself that I would stand on a chair balanced on one leg.  “We need you!” he hollered.  Then he went on about me being 48 (I’m 47 by the way, he likes to round up) and climbing trees, sliding down mountainsides, etc., etc.  He was not happy.  I’m hoping soon he will be able to laugh about it any day now.  But he did make me promise to never stand on a chair again.

My son got over it quickly.  My husband, not so much.  That’s understandable.  For a while after the fall, I felt like vomiting.  I examined my head to make sure that I didn’t hit it, and I found no soreness whatsoever.  I want to laugh at this, because it is rather funny . . . funny and stupid.  After running errands, I returned home to ice my foot and re-tape again.  Then I took a 3 hour nap, so, so worn out I was from today’s mishap adventure. 

I don’t think I’m accident prone.  I merely need to be more careful and not make haste.  HASTE MAKES WASTE.  That’s what I always heard as a little girl.  And it’s true.  It is so true.  : )