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.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
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!
_________________________________________________________
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.
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 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.
Monday, September 19, 2011
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.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
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!
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!
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!
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