Broken

It's been a really long time since I've written and I feel guilty.

I kept a half-ass blog since Taia was born. It was never intended to be shared publicly. I wrote because I needed to get my awful feelings outside myself. I suffered from postpartum depression and found nothing that could ease the bitternes and the loneliness - so I wrote.

Mind you, the things I wrote will never shared with my daughter. I may reconsider when she's thirtysomething and has a child or children of her own. It's really dark and hurtful and I can't even bring myself to revisit those entries. I'm just grateful that those days are over. I'm also thankful that I learned to love. It might be a weird strain of love, but it's my love and only way I know how to make this relationship work.

When my thoughts and feelings moved away from the dreaded truth, sarcastic "why me?" tone, I stopped writing. It was as if my therapy was over and I pulled myself into the light of motherhood. I was no longer at risk for dropping my child off on someone's doorstep or floating her down the river without a note. I admitted to liking and caring for my baby, and *gasp* loving my new Honda Odyssey. I lost my edge and I had no reason to write.

Running definitely helped me out of that depression and I credit running to saving my life.

A couple friends from my online running (moms) group encouraged me to write race reports after a few big races. It was a way they could be part of the experience and share in my successes, as well as pick me up after my not-so-grand moments. It was always surprising how interested they were and how close we became through storytelling. I began a new blog, (this one, also private), and copied those race reports here so I could keep them together.

As time passed, I appreciated going back and reading my race reports because without them, those races would be reduced to a few photos and a chip time. I hate to admit it in some circles, but I throw away the bibs, reuse the safety pins, donate all my old running shoes and 95% of my race shirts, and let Taia play with all the medals. Her favorite is the finisher's medal from the Chicago Marathon, and whenever I see that medal (almost everyday), I remember it as the heart-breaker-marathon.

I made the blog public after Leadville because it was a story worth sharing. But once I went public, I couldn't go back. I felt obligated to continue to run and write.


It's been a really long time since I've run and I feel even more guilty.

I've put on 5 lbs so far and I'm not impressed. I'm inconsolable. I am used to fluctuating a few pounds here or there, even on a daily basis, and usually, it's no big deal. Today, it is a big deal. I don't know what it's like to not exercise - meaning run, as in train for a marathon or two a year. Just as important, I don't know what it's like to not eat like I'm training for a marathon.

I feel like those sedentary people who have all the excuses: I'm in too much pain. The epidural didn't work. The doctor told me not to run, spin, yoga, swim, lift weights, not even my prescribed physical therapy exercises. Running hurts more than it helps. It's too cold and dark outside. The medicines makes me tired. There are so many sweets in the house. She hates the gym daycare. I hate the treadmill. It would take me two-and-a-half hours to walk just ten miles and I don't have that kind of time. I'm stressed out about the holidays. I've never been on a diet...

I don't want to be this person who makes excuses. I want to be the problem solver.

Not being able to run has taken away more than my fitness. Being a social runner, not running leaves me feeling isolated. Being a run-for-therapy runner, not running makes me a raging bitch. Being a stroller-pushing mother, not running gives us one less activity and way more time to annoy one another. Being an outdoor runner, not running during this season gives me cabin fever. Being a goal-oriented person, not having a goal makes me feel lost and unchallenged.

I've been silent for so long because I'm searching for myself within this broken runner. This isn't an entry of my downfall. In the grand scheme of Jody-Meltdowns, this is nothing. Trust me.

I will survive, regardless of if and when I can run again. I am just describing the feeling I have every time I see my last blog entry - a DNF with no happy photo to accompany the final race report of the year.

I must find balance. I will write again when I find it.

Happy Running to all that get to run into the New Year!

Breakthrough vs. Breakdown

Today I had my first DNF at the Schramm Park Trail Run.

Jim Craig from Angry Cow Adventures and his crew put together a 3-ish mile looping course through the woods, which came out on a winding, downhill paved park road back to the start. We were supposed to come back to the lot three times before setting off on each loop. 

Trails at Schramm Park in Gretna, NE

I started the race and intended to run 12 miles, and then after the first two loops, I stopped....and the funny thing about it - I don't feel bad at all (well, mentally and emotionally, anyway).

The course was challenging and it was great to be out there on a chilly, overcast day, racing through the woods, knowing that Rodney and a few hardcore, yet laid back, running friends were also flying through the trees and over the many bridges. I ran hard, reaching oxygen debt for a good percentage of the race - A four week hiatus from regular training runs really makes a difference in running fitness. At least I can rest knowing that I did my best for those two loops.

I feel like it's a major breakthrough for me. It is as if my will power and running addiction were racing each other. I failed one test, but by failing, I passed another. I couldn't have done this a month ago. I couldn't let myself quit.

Especially not in these conditions:

• Perfect running conditions: cold, trail, no wind.
• The course was fun. 
• It was a small low key event with really cool people. 
• Good support: great race director, access to the car, water, personal photographer waiting in the woods to capture a few pictures of my last race of the season.
• I was the lead female for the 12-miler, until I stopped.
• Bruce told me to stop, and since when do I listen to anyone? ( I was in front of him after the first loop, and he finished a two steps ahead of me after the second, and I thought he didn't want to race me for the second half.)
• Rodney was heckling me not to "puss out". (Yes, the same guy who told me to "Man-up" when I was in labor.) 
• Rodney said, "you're going to be hurting later anyway, so you may as well finish it". A true statement, but I still didn't change my mind. 
• It was freezing cold standing there, not running, but after three minutes I told the race people that I was done. 

I am not a person driven by competition. I'm not someone who is used to winning (anything). I'm not even someone concerned about getting a PR each time I race. My best times have always been achieved when I'm not "racing", when I'm "just out for a training run". I've been criticized for not having a competitive spirit, and obviously I'm not someone who cares what people think of me. I don't even consider myself an athlete. I just run.

I supposed I'm obsessed with being and staying tough, thinking that tough guys never quit.  Surprisingly enough, I don't feel any less tough because I did quit. I will run again, maybe not soon, but I'll be back.

---

Could I be transitioning into a normal person?

Don't worry, I'm not that delusional!

The Goat Butt - My Injury

I never had sciatica when I was pregnant. I didn't know anyone who suffered from it, until recently. I wasn't aware of how common it was, and not just for pregnant women. Many runners that I have met are able to empathize with the awkwardly painful and debilitating problem. 

The butt crisis began on March 16 while sprinting the straightaways and jogging the bends at MWHS during Wednesday night speed workouts at the track. I woke up that night in agonizing pain and was unable to race the Blarney Stone 5K on St. Patrick's Day, as I had intended. It was the first of 17 races that I played spectator/photographer and not an active participant. 

Having constant pressure against my butt relieved some of the pain, but how realistic was it to have my butt pressed up against something 24/7?

 A goat at the Henry Doorly Zoo and his beloved log. I know exactly how you feel.

The worst part was that I was in the most pain, when my body was in a relaxed position. This made the activity of running no more painful than walking, sitting and/or sleeping. So, I did what any addicted runner and wanna-be ultra-marthoner would do - I ran. 

I managed the pain by running more, sitting less, and going slow. At the speeds I was going, I could run forever without extreme pain. I read and watched DVDs about suffering runners (Running on the Sun: Badwater 135, Running the Sahara). Whether I was injured or not, running 50 miles at altitude was going to hurt. I knew my body was strong, but I needed mental toughness. I did what the Leadville 100 creator, Ken Choubler advised when he said, "Make friends with pain, and you will never be alone". Me and my pain-in-the-ass, we were best friends. We survived Leadville, and even more painful, the drive back to Omaha. 

After the Boxer 500, the pain morphed into a constant burning pain in my deep right glute, which worsened and shoot down my leg whenever I'd drive, sit on a cushioned surface like a couch, desk or kitchen chair. Sleep comfortably in a bed? Forget it. I could only sleep if I were flat on my back, on the couch, with pillows wedged my side to prevent rolling onto my side because the pain would wake me. 

I employed physical therapists, massage therapists, and chiropractors and underwent a series of hopeful treatments including inner core strengthening exercises, Myofascial-release, deep tissue, manual adjustment, ProAdjuster, electrical stimulation, Graston Technique, Active Release Techniques, and even optic nerve exercises. There were seven chiropractors and treatment methods varied in numerous ways, but regardless, nothing provided relief that lasted more than 4 hours. 

A recent MRI showed that I have a slightly enlarged, yet insignificant right piriformis, bursitis on my right hip (lateral extra-articular snapping hip syndrome), and herniated lumbar disc between L4 and L5. I've been told that it really doesn't matter: Many non-runners suffer from a herniated disc, and many people with herniated discs are asymptotic. I am grateful that it's not something worse. Taking into consideration that my strength, flexibility, and reflexes are good, eliminates the need for surgery at this time. The prescribed treatment is (more) physical therapy.

Here are some of the other notable (slightly mental) issues that I am dealing with at this time:

1. Social isolation from regular running groups. I've never spent this much time with just Taia since she was born.
2. Fear of getting fat due to calorie input exceeding calorie output. Hello? Thanksgiving is right around the corner.
3. Unusual eating patterns and cravings. It's no longer okay to enjoy carbo-loading.
4. Irregularity.
5. Moodiness, especially towards people who talk about how great their run was that day.
6. Sleep? I wish. I used to have issues falling asleep and now I have issues falling asleep and staying asleep. 
7. Holy pent up energy and restlessness, especially now that it's getting cooler and perfect running weather.
8. No equivalent/replacement activity with an endorphin rush or sweat stimulator similar to running.
9. Increase of non-running activities/drinking activities that usually follow a group run...now I skip the run and go right to the drinking. Lots of guilt. I feel like a binge drinker.
10. Realization that I have no outfits suitable for everyday wear. I always look like I just got back or about to head out for a run. I'm an impostor. 
11. I'm visibly aging. I may need to invest in foundation, concealers, and make-up because I have none.
12. Fear that I'm ruining my kidneys with all the ibuprofen 600mg I've taken the past month.
13. Taia has asked to "Run with BOB" on a few occasions. BOB is getting dusty. Feeling guilt about making excuses that she doesn't understand.
14. Feeling like a liar when I say "I'm a runner".
15. Avoiding Daily Mile and my Running Log, where I want to cry seeing blank dates and pages. 
16. My beautiful, fabulous Pure Cadence shoes that only have 8.5 miles on them after owning them for a month. I used to go through a pair of shoes in that amount of time.
17. I'm supposed to be test-wearing a shoe right now so I feel obligated to run more miles.
18. Anxious about not having a race on the calendar for the future. I'm now a person with no racing goals. It's such an empty feeling. 
19. The question of the day used to be: "How many miles have you run (so far) today?" Then it was: "Did you run today?" and now it's just: "How's your butt?"
20. On the odd occasion that Rodney gets on the treadmill or goes for a run, I've experienced jealousy, and I've never felt that before. 
21. Wow, I suck at everything that's not running... like swimming (aka flopping around in a pool, thank goodness it's only 4ft deep); yoga (balance, breathing, and clarity are not skills I possess), strength/core classes (What happened to my muscles?); spinning (Whoa! haven't used those leg muscles in a while).

  

Little Goblin's Run (or not) - October 29, 2011

Taia was totally prepared for this year's Halloween Race.

Last year she was just 14 months (an avid walker and runner, yet still a novice). This year was going to be different: She was two and she was ready to run.

She practiced 'racing' Grandpa Denny on many occasions. We made several reconnaissance trips to Vala's Pumpkin Patch - it was almost as if we had home court advantage. I'd dressed her in the Minnie Mouse costume and even pinned an old bib number on her before releasing her in the yard. In fact, if she was going anywhere on her own two feet, she was running. 

I'm sure I yelled "Walk!" as I frequently as I yelled, "No!" to her this month. 

People chuckled when I went on the local television station's Morning Blend to talk about the Monster Dash http://www.omahamorningblend.com/videos/131597438.html. I was hopeful that my two-year old would run since "last year, she just stood there". The hosts of the show didn't find it surprising. They clearly underestimate the fact that some one-year olds are capable of running (particularly darting in the opposite direction). A few friends watching the broadcast caught my comment regarding the idea that kids can get to the finish line in any "way shape or form" and I offered a few suggestions including "pick 'em up, drag 'em there, run 'em there..."

I won't say too much about the race. It was memorable, and slightly traumatic too.

If you ask her if she ran...she'll admit, "No... I cried. I had meltdown."

The Hardest Thing Besides Starting...is Stopping

I have not had a deliberate training run for 8 days. Before this hiatus, the longest I've gone without running in the year 2011 has not been more than 72 hours.

It took me 8 days to go through the withdrawal symptoms of my running addiction. I've experienced  the emotional symptoms similar those that go through heroine or alcohol withdrawal: social isolation, anxiety, lack of concentration, irritability, restlessness, and bouts of depression. I just haven't been myself. I'm not myself. I'm broken.

Most normal (non-runners) probably can't relate. It was stupid what I did...running through all the aches and pains. It's my own damn fault (just like Dale Nielson made me repeat); and I am paying for it. I admit that I probably should have stopped after Leadville, and rehabbed like I said I would (a hundred times).

But I just couldn't stop. Running was everything to me and if I didn't run, I felt like nothing. I had FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) in a big, bad way. That in itself, is a major addiction.

There are 30-40 people that I won't see because I'm not running. Some may say they're not really my friends, but I beg to differ. True, some are not the kind of friends that I hang out with off the track, path, or race circuit, but they are my kind of people. I enjoy spending time with them - catching up, laughing, storytelling, sharing information, meeting new people, all the while running around outside somewhere. There's nothing weird about it.

The truth is that I'd surely meet up and have a beer with most of these people (after the run, of course), but the fact is, we're all busy people. We have lives that include spouses, children, family functions, birthday parties, jobs, vacation, appointments, you name it. The common ground lies in our desire to include running as one of our priorities, a period of time that we schedule just for ourselves. When I combine my running workouts with friends, it is the perfect date.

When I commit to meeting someone at an ungodly hour for an unimaginable number of miles, it's not guilt or accountability that gets my ass there; it's the excitement of hanging out with a friend. Of course after a few hours, misery does love company, and it's comforting being able to suffer together. It's nice to have a pacer, witness, guardian, and someone to share the tough times. It builds friendships.

Even though I'm rarely seen without my running shoes and pony tail, there's nothing I wouldn't do for any of my running buddies, if they asked me - anytime, anywhere.

Except for the time being, I'm not taking any running appointments.

Rock'N'Roll Denver Half Marathon - 10/9/2011

This race was a very emotional run for me. I actually cried a few times when my body let me use fluid to make tears instead of sweat.

First of all, I won free entry into this race. I actually won something in my life, and it was a $145 entry into a marathon, of all things. I entered the drawing through my Brooks Fanatics FB Group on August 3 with this post: 


"Suffering post-event depression since my 1st ultra in July, missing the mountains & trails in CO. I've had trouble deciding what to do next, but this could be it! I'd love to head back to Denver to rock my Fanatics singlet & reunite with the road."


I didn't get notification that I had won until Sept 12, only a month from race day.


It was the week before Bohemian Alps and I figured I would do the 50K and decide during, or after that.  I knew I wasn't prepared to run a full marathon, and communicated with my Brooks contact that I could indeed just do the half.


The day after the 50K was the Corporate Cup and on the drive downtown, Rodney and I (we were going to spectate) agreed that we would pass up the opportunity, and save money on the travel and accommodations. This decision stood for about 20 minutes, because after I met up with Denny and walked down 19th Street together, we were in! 


Denny and Lil's son, Jeff (who runs for Marathon/Snickers) heard that I had won free entry and decided to do it too; in fact he was so excited, he signed up and reserved hotel rooms.  Not only was I going to run the Half Marathon in Denver, but the entire family was coming, plus Denny and Lil, who are Taia's Omaha Grandparents and close friends/like family.


We began the roadtrip after Rodney finished work on Friday. We stayed the night, halfway in North Platte and continued the four hours to Denver Saturday morning after breakfast. The weather was horrible: rain, wind, and freezing temperatures. Bad enough to make this all-terrain, all-weather runner want to hibernate. We made it to the Expo, met up with Jeff, who had flown in from Des Moines a few hours earlier, and explored the Colorado Convention Center. The highlights were meeting Kara Goucher, Jeff winning a pair of Brooks shoes, and seeing Greg for a brief moment.


The eve before race day my main goal was carbo-loading, which I have to say is my favorite part of racing. We went to the Old Spaghetti Factory and filled my glycogen storage to the brim. I had enough white bread and pasta to fuel me for a marathon or more, and I rolled myself and Taia over to the Marriott bar to watch the Huskers make a gigantic comeback for the win over Ohio State. 


After the game we walked to our hotel just down street, where Rodney and Taia went to bed. I did my usual nighttime non-sleeping routine, which consists of picking out my race outfit, pinning my bib to the shirt, fastening the timing chip/D-tage to the shoe, programming alarms on my phone, packing my gear check bag, cutting my disgusting toe nails, setting out everything for the morning regiment (coffee, shower, deodorant, meds, Bodyglide, etc.). I seldom sleep more than five hours on any given night so I read the race magazine until a little after midnight and then, it was lights out.


It's race day and I'm running! The weather is beautiful, the sun is shining and my legs are feeling great. I feel no pain and I'm passing people... going up hill. I know I'm in Colorado and I'm smiling. I'm feeling terrific, terrific, terrific...Crap! I am still asleep! 


I wake up and it's 5:00AM - Showtime! It's hard not to be slightly pissed off. I feel like I've already been running. Now I have to do all the pre-race stuff again. I do everything I need to do in the bathroom and let Rodney and Taia continue to sleep in the darkness. I tuck a course map and pace chart for a 1:45-2:00 half marathon under Rodney's wallet and head out the door to meet Lauren and walk down to the Start. Let's rock!


On the way down to the Civic Center Park by the Capitol Building, Lauren announces to me that she's going to run with me. I'm surprised because she's a) running the full marathon and b) more than a minute per mile faster than me. She's a speed demon, with more talent and determination than most of the people at this race. She demotes herself to Corral 2 and next thing I know, Jeff is standing on the other side of me, also self-demoted from the fastest corral.


Oh No, it's like the Lincoln Mud Run...I'm tied to two verrrry fast people.


My panic is suspended when I see Denny and Lil waving to us from beyond the barriers of this very crowded and ever swelling start corral. I am pumped because I'm surrounded in what feels like family to me. Denny has never been to an event like this, and Lil loathes all things associated with being a race spectator, despite the fact that Denny and Jeff are super talented and race often. We are ready to roll!

_____

The race starts, and oddly enough, it's exactly like my dream...except I have two very fast and attractive escorts on each side of me. Jeff sticks with us for the first three miles, a good warm up, and moves forth. I finish the 5K too fast, and my butt hates me. We see Lil and Denny around Mile 4, before the only hill that I can remember, and the only time I think the altitude is stealing my attitude. Just breathe.

Just before Mile 5, I'm hallucinating. No, I'm not. It's Greg in the world's puffiest coat, facial hair, and his famous red Nebraska cap, now frayed and faded. We pull over and hug. He hugs Lauren and I attack the two of them, sharing a big Colorado reunion hug, right there on the street. It's like a party, and we beg him to come along. He ran a brutal 20-miler in extreme weather yesterday and declines the offer. We hate leaving him, but we are elated that he's here for us. Silver Rush 50 and the experience we shared in Leadville lives on, and we are forever bound as friends. I hold back tears.


Rodney and Taia are at City Park where 5 miles of the course snakes and winds. They are able to see us at Miles 5, 8, 9 and 10 by moving no more than a few feet.  He's beside her with his camera and Taia is wearing a hat, mittens, sucking a pacifier, and blanketed like a burrito in a stroller. This is the first time Taia has been in the crowd watching me run since she was three months old. I know she won't remember this, but I sure will.


During this run, I am barely talking. Lauren is sacrificing her time to take me to where I need to to go, and for once, it's not time to chat. I'm working my ass off to keep the pace, I'm trying to keep just below 8:00/mile. I see a sign that helps me out: "You've done worse things for longer". How true. By Mile 8, I am beginning to unravel and lose my form. Lauren talks to me about my core and builds me up with her words. She's got my Nutrilite cubes in her pockets and slows down each time she sees me grab for water. Lauren is my athletic trainer, pacer, sports psychiatrist, nurse, and source of nutrition.


At Mile 10, I tell Lauren that I'm going to stop and give Taia a little squeeze, who is now nestled in Rodney's arms. It's a nice 10 second break and I'm energized to get the job done. At the cutoff after Mile 11, where Marathoners go left and Half Marathoners stay right, Lauren chose to stay right - right by my side. I could cry. We wind through Cheesman Park and take the final stretch as fast as my body will take me. Lil screams for us at Mile 13 and says that the finish is just around the corner. We turn. It's all downhill to the Finish. The last 0.2 we hit at a 6:20 pace. Lauren says, "You're racing me!" I think I tell her I love her. Regardless of whether I said it, I was thinking it. We finish together and share a sweaty (me) embrace, before she turns around and trots away to find her mom and sister on the course. She's like a running version of Robin Hood. 

I reunite with Jeff, Denny, Lil, Rodney and Taia and enjoy the rest of the day. 


Denny receives a text from John, who reveals my official time (since my Garmin auto-paused during the three occasions we stopped). I had no clue, and really didn't care either. I finished in 1:43:38! A ten second PR! Incredible. 


I absolutely love Colorado, but it was the people in my life, here, there, and everywhere who support me, that make these (painful) experiences fabulous ones. 

Course Map:

The Ultra Choice

On August 13, while running the Scenic Douglas-Sarpy Hills, the only ultramarathon in Nebraska came up in conversation.

The Bohemian Alps 50K.

At the time, the only thing appealing to me was that it was the same weekend as the Corporate Cup. The scale was basically even in my mind: A slow, hilly 50K at my own pace or a fast, flat, butt-busting 10K at my maximum effort.

A definite tie for horribility (if drinkability is a word, so is this one).

I was terrified of anyone knowing what I was thinking of doing, and decided that if I were to run the Bohemian Alps, it would be a secret.

I didn't want to hear or discuss anything about it. No training, nutrition, pains, hills, distances, money, race plans, strategies, fears, expectations, or anything along these lines. I just pretended it wasn't happening. I didn't want to be blamed for any imbalance of family life, and I didn't feel it was necessary to be anyone's inspiration.

We have a handful of superb athletes and individuals who just completed Ironman triathlons - now that's inspiration...nobody can tackle that feat without dreaming big and working hard to reach those goals.

This wasn't like that. This wasn't Leadville. This was just something I wanted to do, for me. Like instant gratification on no training or planning. Almost unprepared. All I had to go on was my fitness level from 2011, minus the injuries in my lower right quadrant.

Yes, I supposed this was my own selfish gift to myself.

Race Report for 50K - Bohemian Alps 9/17/2011

A week before the Bohemian Alps, my new friend, Amy suspects something. I disclose everything, and she offers to crew for me. She comes to my house at 5:25 AM on a Saturday morning to accompany me on my secret adventure. I think she's nuts to want to come with me, but then again, I'm nuts for doing what I'm doing. We don't ask one another questions about the insanity; we drive out past Wahoo in the darkness, looking for some ultramarathon.

The GPS on her phone tells us where to go, and after an hour, we end up in the race director, Dale's home. There are people walking around drinking coffee, a couple bodies on the floor sleeping, and a few waiting to use the bathrooms. At first, it's hard to wrap my head around what is going on. I'm used to hanging out pre-race at Peak Performance or by some outdoor shelter close to the start of the race. Here we are though, crammed into a stranger's house in the middle of Brainard (where?), NE, and this old house is alive with people waiting to run this race.

Race starts at 7:30. I wear a jacket because it's overcast, chilly, windy, and it's misting. Underneath I have my TNB t-shirt, arm warmers, and gloves. I'm wearing my North Face shorts, yellow Runners Room cap, $40 Sugoi compression socks, and Adrenaline ASR GTX, which are actually Brooks test shoes. I have a hand-held bottle of water, the pocket has a stick of Burt's Bees chapstick. I'm good to go.

The van is stocked. We have bottles of water, a pot of coffee, bags of ice, Powerade Zero, 4 PB&J sandwiches, dried mangos, ginger chunks, trail mix, bananas, fruit snacks, Snickers, pretzels, and Twizzlers. There are 3 pairs of socks and shoes, towels, lots of clothes, first aid, and then all my post-race necessities. Amy and Bruce figure she can crew for the both of us, so he throws his stuff in the back.

Both Bruce and I start off mid-pack, and we complete the first 3 miles in less than 30 minutes. It feels too easy, which is not a good sign - I went out too fast. By the time I get to Amy around Mile 5, I have a an inch of dirt stuck to the bottom of my treads. I cut some of the dirt off, empty a few rocks out of my shoes, shed the jacket, and take off.

I slow the pace down, feeling some stomach discomfort, and stop at the rest room in Loma. Miles 8-11 are the slowest most painful miles. Luckily, I am solo because I step off course a few times in hope of finding some relief. As much as it sucks, I am grateful for the vegetation and cover. I can't blame anything or anyone. These things happen, and I remind myself that this is just part of the "experience". This is race day and anything can, and will happen.

Amy is at Mile 11 and as I run up to her she hands me the knife (for the dirt, of course). She's got all the doors open and she's ready to serve. I share with her my disgusting dilemmas. She's a pro and handles me like she's done this a million times before, never phased and extremely encouraging, totally chill, funny, and not patronizing. Someone along the way makes a comment to me, about what a great friend I have in Amy. I agree.

The most difficult part of the race isn't the many, short, steep hills, but the accumulation of mud from the dirt roads in this wet weather. My legs feel as though they are stuck in 3-5lbs of concrete blocks and at other times, I'm in 5" heels of mud. My calves begin to cramp as I wonder how to get the mud off my shoes. Even worse, however, is when the mud comes off only on the one shoe, leaving my legs uneven length, which makes for a pretty funny looking (and feeling) gait. It's totally ridiculous. I can't help but laugh at myself.

I am in good company around Mile 16 and a runner shouts "Half way!" We get on a gravel bike path that reminds me of the Wabash Trace. It is sweet on the feet, straight, and flat.

I am not sure what happens, but time flies and miles pass while I run the foot hills of dirt and gravel back to Loma. I see Amy a few times, and each time she offers me food and updates me on Bruce's progress. So I am surprised when I see him at Mile 23 when I stop to fill up my water bottle and shove a generic oatmeal cookie in my mouth. We continue on together, power-walking the steep uphills and running the downhills, navigating our way through Timber Point (which has spectacular views), and spotting Amy through the dense fog up ahead.

Things are still bearable and comfortable until my Garmin beeps and I see that we have traveled 31 miles. I'm prepared to go the 32ish miles, but I begin to panic when I do a 360 and all I see around this trail are fields. I hang on and keep it together. We get off the path and we're back on the streets of the booming metropolis of Brainard. My spine and low back receive a surge of pain with every foot fall - this surface is going to kill me. I need this race to be over. Things start to unravel and I fear that Bruce is about to witness a Jody meltdown, one that will lead to him never wanting to associate with me again.

And then...

Out of the fog, I see a white cap and bright green vest. It's Amy and she's right where I need to be. I run towards her. The only time I take my eyes off her is to read the bank sign. It flashes 1:45 and then 50F.

I hang a right into the garage, read the stopwatch, and write my time down. I'm done!

A huge thank you to Amy for being my crew, handler, photographer, driver, and friend. Without her, this would not have gone over so smoothly...and there would have been an extreme lack of cow bell. We all need smart people in our lives to make our stupid ideas less stupid. She's my smart person.

_________________________________________________________

My Garmin says that the total distance covered was 33.06 miles.

My official time was 6:10:45, making my average pace 11:13/mile. My average moving pace was 10:32.

Further Garmin data reveals that there were 22 minutes where I was not moving. During this time I was either in a public rest room, squatting in a cornfield, relieving myself a soybean field, or rummaging through the van looking for ibuprofen, Endurolytes, Tums, and wet wipes. This is sad, but true. On a positive note, I suffered all my GI troubles in the first 10 miles and was able to recover.

Nebraska's 50K in Brainard, NE

• This was the 28th Annual Race.
• I guess back in the day it was a 50-mile run.
• Bohemian Alps 50K is posted on the ORC calendar and various online race calendars.
• It's said to be 50K, but it's really about 32.6 miles (52.5K)
• It starts and finishes at Dale Nielson's house in the small town of Brainard, NE.
• Here is the very non-informative website: http://dalenielsen68626.tripod.com/
• You cannot register for this race online.
• The cost was $65.
• All proceeds goes to East Butler CloseUp Program.
• Every runner gets a long sleeve T-shirt and if there aren't enough, he'll send you one.
• Each finisher gets a wooden finishers plaque, and if there aren't enough, he'll send you one.
• There is no time limit or cutoff.
• There were no more than 50 participants entered to run.
• We all lined up at the "official crack" in the road outside Dale's house, raised our right hand and recited part of the waiver before the official start.
• "It is a foolish thing that I am doing, but I am going to do it anyway. If I get hurt, it's my own damn fault".
• Course is rolling hills on gravel and dirt roads, some bike trail and the East Butler XC course at Timber Point.
• The course passes through the towns of Loma and Valparaiso, which serve as drop bag locations.
• Loma is the location where To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar was filmed.
• There are 9 aid stations along the course, which consists of a vehicle with a jug of water, some pretzels, cookies, and some candy. 
• There are kids riding ATVs with jugs of water strapped to the back; they pull up along side you and ask if you need to fill your water bottle.
• There is very little traffic. The vehicles are either aid volunteers and crew members of runners who are allowed to follow along, leap frog, and help out along most of the course.
• The finish line is in Dale's garage. You run in and there is the official stop watch sitting on a table with a notepad and a pen. You write your own finishing time.
• The already finished are sitting around on camping chairs in the yard, sitting around the fire, eating food, and drinking beer.
• You can shower at Dale's house after the run. He has lots of towels and hot water. 
• It is low key event with a challenging course, great people, and an overall relaxed atmosphere.

 

The Dark Side of Running - Being a Train Wreck

It's been two months since Silver Rush.


Sadly, the rush is over.


I continued to run and I love running more than ever. Somehow, it's just different now.


After Leadville, after the emotional highs and lows, physical gains and losses, financial profits and expenditures (there weren't many profits), and after all the mountain dreams and thin air escaped my blood, I went through some sort of post-event depression. It was strange, but I suppose it is normal.


I feared I would turn into an adrenaline junkie and need a fix - something greater and bigger and better than Leadville. It was a internal struggle for a few weeks.


There were a couple interventions by some very brave people. I know I'm not the easiest person to confront and reason with. I know I get defensive and go all drama, when I feel that nobody on my side. After a while, I realize that I have great friends and I do have a supportive husband, who sometimes is lost for words or the way to share his feelings. There are people who care about Jody, the person and not just Jody, the runner. Running is certainly a piece of the puzzle, a portion of my crazy, something I do that brings a great deal into my life, but it isn't my full and complete identity. I was imbalanced in the worst way.


On top of my emotional confusion, the long-term hip/glute injuries still linger and was brought to the forefront after Leadville. The ultra didn't make it any worse, but obviously, it didn't make it any better. Around my 36th birthday, the pain started feeling a lot like sciatica, a pain running from my low back through my butt, and shooting down to the back of my knee. It started to hurt constantly, and it's the worse when driving, sitting on a sofa, and lying down in bed.


I joke that I am the movie, Speed. I am fine provided I am moving at all times, but if I slow down to a semi-relaxed state, my body will "blow up". I don't feel any worse running than when I am not running, so I've continued to run.


I'm searching for my limits, and learning to run within them. It's a whole new challenge.

Lincoln Mud Run: Running Scared - 8/27/2011

So I signed up for the Lincoln Mud Run a few weeks before Leadville because honestly, I didn't think I'd be alive to compete.

Quick Kristen from track, said she and a friend needed a third woman to join their team. The team division is called it the Tethered/Worm Race, where members are tied together by the waist with a 16 ft bungee rope and run/crawl/slide through mud and obstacles for a distance of 10K.

I didn't really think much of it until after Ragnar. It didn't seem like anything overly competitive and Kristen, who's got amazing speed and discipline, assured me that they were not going to be fast. However, two weeks before the race, the friend was out, suffering from sports injury. We were left searching for another member.

Cue Carole, super tough, mother of four, seriously fast, masters runner, and recently recruited by TNB. All of a sudden our mud run went from good dirty fun to a fast dirty win. I panicked because you're only as fast as your slowest member, and that was me!

One slow tethered track practice

To compare, let's say my fastest 10K is a 7:47/mile pace. Not to shabby, right? I'm proud of that. But the C and K of Team KCJ are not only elite status in the Corporate Cup this year, but hit paces of 6:53 and 6:55, respectively. Now, for non-runners these numbers mean very little. If I said it takes me just under 50:00 to run 6.2 miles and it takes them 42:00, the non-runner would say, it's only eight minutes. But in reality this is a huge difference!

Think about all the things you can accomplish in eight minutes....How about you give me an eight minute head start and then run behind me to catch me...Think about how much trouble a baby or toddler can get into if you turn your back for eight minutes...Gee Whiz, I was scared.
__

On race day, we met at our house and drove down together. Being the first time we'd all been together off the track (it's all work there), we were like hens in a hen house. We chatted and laughed the entire way from Omaha to Lincoln. We got so engrossed in conversation, that we actually missed our turn.

The race was a riot. We started off as the first all-woman team, and we fought to hold on to that place.

I spoke very little. I worked frantically to keep up. We ran in V-formation and would announce left or right so we could pass 10K individuals, 5K individuals, and 5K teams efficiently.

And then... the mud pits and obstacles. Finally a time to slow down, catch my breath, and just go for it!

Our overall time was 53:08 (8:34/mile pace), good for first place female 10K team. 

Funny thing is...it didn't matter. 

It was a dirty Mom's Day Out - totally relaxed, laid back, and fun!

Great River Ragnar Relay: The Return of Ricky's Dirty Dozen 8/19-20/2011

I started the long, painful, solo drive from Omaha to Minneapolis at 11:30 AM on Thursday, and arrived in time for the carpool at 6:30 PM. As a team, we drove "Uncle Scott's" borrowed van from Minneapolis to Winona arriving a little after 9:00 PM. It was a long day of butt pain, but I was committed to my team and my captain.


My very good friend and our team captain, Thelma, was instrumental in my development as a runner and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her or with her, so when she calls for me, I am there. Usually our antics involve four components: 1) dressing up, 2) doing something athletic, 3) alcohol celebration, and 4) fun. This year and event, was no exception.


There were four returning members and we were short a runner, so we were technically only Ricky's Dirty Dozen Minus One. Our all-woman team was quick to pick up extra legs and it was nice having the extra space in our van. We got our obnoxious bright orange costumes/uniform from the Iowa Prison Industries, official convict jumpsuits. Temperatures hit highs in the 80's so I was not one of the girls who decided to run in uniform. I considered mine a Radioactive Hazard Suit after all my sweating and baking in the sun.

This year's course started in Winona MN, crossed over into Wisconsin, followed the Mississippi River for miles and miles, and after 196 miles ended at the University of Minnesota campus boathouse. Last year I had a few more responsibilities: I drove, navigated, took times, splits, gave massages, and actually had to use my brain. This year, I was treated like the running muscle and I wasn't expected to think. It was like my mission was just to turn my brain off and run. 
___

I was runner #1 so I got to start the party at 9:00 AM Friday morning. 

Friday 9:00 AM: Leg 1 - 7.67 miles - Time 1:04:00, Pace 8:21

It is crazy not to get caught up in the start. We are given a start time based on the overall estimated finishing time of the team, so those people running the same legs are you can be any speed. I take off way too fast and cannot control myself - an internal struggle takes place between between mind and body throughout an entire hour. I eventually get the slap bracelet to Deb and consider running the 6+ miles with her, just so I don't have to sit down for an hour. I decide to stop because my right baby toe is a giant blister turned open wound in Green Silences. GROSS!

Friday 10:30 AM: Leg 3 - 5.34 miles - Time 46:29, Pace 8:42 

Deb hands back off to me and I take off in my Adrenalines. This leg is straighter and flatter, through cornfields and end up in a small town park. I stop to help a 14-year old girl who is struggling. We talk for a bit and her family decides to drive behind her and leap-frog her more closely. They tell me to go ahead, so I go. It is boring and getting hot. I see much more walkers than expected, people are already throwing up in the bushes. I am thankful that my legs are done until the evening. It's going to be a hot one!

During the break where Van 2, and our other 6 members pick up the course, our van goes to Major Exchange 13 to eat and rest. It was during this time where I hit a low point and want to go home. Not sure why this happening, but I shed a few tears, feel pretty isolated, and just don't care to be there (where?) anymore. My phone goes in and out of service and I send a few sad, sorry text messages to a few people to saying, "I need a break from running". At the current time, I mean it.

Friday 7:30 PM: Leg 13 - 6.37 miles - Time 56:00, Pace 8:47 

The first of the night legs, I put on my reflective vest, head lamp, and flashing-red butt light. The last runner from Van 2 hits me with the bracelet, and I take off like a bat out of hell. A girl in a prom dress (yes, really) was right on my tail and for about 40 yards, it is as if we are racing. All of a sudden, I find myself in small town traffic; the locals are heading to dinner in the town's only restaurant. I stop and let the girl catch up. She says she's planning a 9:00 pace, I tell her I want a 8:30. We make some kind of deal to run 8:45's and run the leg together. It proves to be a great decision and talking to someone while running, brings me back, lifts me up, and recharges my spirit for the remainder of the race.  

Friday 9:45 PM: Leg 15 - 3 miles - Time 25:41, Pace 8:34 

Holy Shitoly, it was dark out there. I love running with Thelma. I will always love running with Thelma. Reminds me of our Purdue days, except for the fact that we never ran around in absolute darkness in the middle of nowhere. 

Saturday 5:20 AM: Leg 25 - 3.9 miles - Time 30:00, Pace 7:42

Slept on a hard gymnasium floor at a junior high school at the Major Exchange for about 45 minutes, and was amazed that the other four girls could sleep so well and three times as long (just me being jealous). I wake up Trisha and we head to the exchange zone because we hear that Van 2 is ahead of schedule. The other of the girls, from either van are no where to be found. I am about the 6th person in line waiting for a porta-potty when I hear a volunteer yell, "Team 171!" I respond, "I'm here!!" and run out of the line for the can, directly into the exchange corral, and get the bracelet. I motor up the hill and hope that my van gets everything together and meets me at the next exchange. I run by the Correctional Facility in Stillwater MN and am quite happy that I'm not in my orange jumpsuit. The sun comes up and it's a great day to be alive. I can't believe I'm running so well. By the time I finish this leg, my grand total is 26.28 miles. 

After 21 hours, my job is done. We crew and cheer each other on, and when our van completes all our legs, we just loiter at the finish line waiting for our team to show up. At 2:42 PM, we meet up with the girls from other van, and in uniform, jump in to finish the race with our last runner. By this time, I am over-sunned, fatigued in every way, sore all over, slap happy, and malnourished. 


Ricky's Dirty Dozen is 149th of 280 relay teams, and 6th out of 19 all-women teams. 

That night I drive back to Omaha. It is similar to Ragnar but instead of driving and running, I am driving and sleeping along the route home. I make it home Sunday morning at 8:00 AM, incredibly sore but at least I'm not tired.

___

What I learned this year:

1) Driving or sitting in a vehicle hurts more than running.

2) Running 26.2 miles in 5 separate legs is much harder than running a marathon to completion.

3) I am still and probably always will be an "Incredible Sweater".

4) Best treat : Fresh hot gas station coffee and a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips (Friday 9:30 PM, 12.5 hours after the start).

5) Relays really are a lot of fun (after the race).

Having some fun with the local police