Kansas City Half Marathon Race Report: When You Know You Can Do It, You Can Do It

Nearly a month has passed since the Kansas City Marathon where I ran a 1:55 and earned a five minute half marathon PR. I went under two hours at a half marathon race for the first time since my first attempt at the distance in 2005. It's taken me a few weeks to write about it because I'm not really sure what to say. Here's what's in my head: It's not really even that good a time. It shouldn't have taken this long to achieve this. I've been capable of this for a really long time.

I haven't run that many stand-alone half marathons. I've run almost 20 of them at the end of a half ironman, and I've grazed the 2:00 mark a few times - my personal best time previous to this was 2:00:27 at Buffalo Springs in 2014. I've run 3 sub-4 hour marathons, which means I've run at least the first half of 3 marathons in under two hours. Logically, I thought, if I just enter a half marathon and try to run it in under two hours, I should be able to do it. In the spring of 2017, I decided to make it an actual goal for the season. And then for the next 3 years, every time I tried, I failed.

The Conditional PR
I just moved to Colorado, I'm not acclimated to the altitude, I thought. I'm just getting older. This must be what happens after 40. A friend of mine, Shannan, confirmed this suspicion. She told me that she used to run a lot faster, but after moving to Colorado and getting a little bit older, she too has slowed down. "We just have to be positive about our achievements in the present," she advised, "we can't compare ourselves to our younger, faster selves. Instead, let's say, this is my 'I'm over 40 and I moved to Colorado' PR!" Shannan is a gifted athlete and is significantly faster than me. If she was feeling this way, I could definitely take joy in my post-move, over-40 achievements. So that's what I did. This May at the Colfax Half in Denver, I got closer to the elusive two-hour mark than ever in recent times. On Facebook I happily chirped about my 2:03, my "fastest half since moving to Denver and turning 40!" A conditional PR.

Training
I've been doing a lot of running since May. For some reason, I have no problem believing that I can run a fast marathon, and I decided to focus this year on earning a marathon PR at the California International Marathon (CIM) which is coming up in about a month. (Because my age group has changed, just a one-minute marathon PR will earn me a BQ, so there's also that.)

My coach Nell Rojas pointed out early in the season that after a year of ultrarunning and all these years of ironman training, I seem to be pretty durable. I should be able to take on a lot of running volume. Let's give it a try. Mix in some fast track and tempo sessions, and I should get faster too. So that's what we did. I've been running more this year than I've ever run in my life.

Because 90% of what I achieve seems to come from what's in my head than what my legs are capable of, the midweek speed sessions are the ones that have really made a difference. In August, I remember seeing a midweek tempo workout with difficult descending times in it, then thinking, well, I'll try it, the worst that can happen is I walk home. I surprised myself by nailing the workout. Two weeks later when it appeared on my plan again, I thought, I can definitely do this. And I did. What a thrilling lesson to learn: when you know you can do it, you can do it. It's true! I really want everyone who reads this to walk away knowing that this is true!

When You Know You Can Do It...
In early October, my friends from Texas, Morgan and Mack, came to the Denver area on vacation. Morgan asked if we could get together and run; coincidentally I had registered for a trail 10K that weekend so they decided to race it too. Like Shannan, Morgan is a significantly faster runner than me. We follow each other on Strava and Instagram and she inspires me daily with her speed, tenacity, and dedication as she works towards her own marathon goal.

Thrilled to run with Morgan and Mack!

On race day, I looked around for Morgan and Mack, but didn't see them. I started the race by myself, and after several minutes passed, Morgan ran up beside me. They had started a few minutes late. We chatted for a minute and I told her not to let me hold her back. She and Mack (with his selfie stick!) ran ahead. My watch beeped with the time for that mile: 8:20. Whoops. That was faster than I was supposed to start, but was right around the same pace as those midweek intervals I'd been running. Morgan wasn't running away from me as fast as I'd expected. I'll try to hold on to this pace, I thought, let me try to keep Morgan in sight. And I did! Because (say it with me) when you know you can do it, you can do it!

I surprised myself by finishing that 10K in just under 53 minutes, within a couple of minutes of Morgan. She was the perfect rabbit to chase. On the out and back course both Morgan and Mack encouraged me to keep chasing and it was fabulous to high-five both of them at the end. I faded a bit at the end, but still ended up running at a much faster pace than I thought I was capable of. I didn't realize until logging my times later that day that I'd achieved a PR for the 10K distance. That wasn't an over-40, just-moved-to-Colorado, conditional PR. It was an actual PR. I have only run a handful of 10K races - but my 43-year old self had just run 6 minutes faster than my previous best time, and at altitude. There were no conditions at all on this PR.

The Louisville Endurance Race Series 10K was a fantastic local event with free, scenic photos as part of the entry.

...You Can Do It
Armed with confidence from that 10K, I flew to Kansas City two weeks later to make another attempt at a sub-2 half. There was no reason I couldn't do it. I would be running in perfect weather (cold and rainy) at sea level and Trent would be at the finish line. My legs and lungs were in shape and my head was in a good place too.

On race morning, I woke up to 50 degree temperatures and light rain. I intended to run from Trent's apartment to the start, about a mile and a half away. He offered to drive me because of the weather but I declined - I've learned the value of a warmup and some good dynamic stretching before a race or tough workout (thank you Nell).

I lined up in the rain with all of the marathon and half-marathon participants. Many were wearing ponchos and garbage bags to protect themselves from the rain. As we started the first mile up Grand Blvd, I knew we'd be running slightly uphill because I'd run down the hill to the start. I kept my pace in check but still ran past the 2:00 pace group and left them behind. Okay, now I'm trying to outrun that pace group. I prefer to run scared than to chase, so I was in the perfect spot. I set my sights on chasing the 1:55 pacer.

As we wound our way through the streets of Kansas City, I recognized several places that Trent and I have visited on my trips here. It was fun to look around and take in the sights. I watched my watch, too - any number under 9:00 would be an acceptable mile pace. About halfway through, I started to feel a little bit fatigued and I wondered if I should back off the pace. Miraculously, right at that moment, the rolling hills turned into a 3-mile downhill segment, exactly when I needed it. By the time I hit the 9 mile mark and the course started to roll again, I knew that I had a buffer of several minutes and that I'd meet my goal. I pushed up the hills and took the chance of running fast on every downhill opportunity.

Finally, I reached mile 12 and the significant downhill stretch to the finish line. I smiled to myself; I knew I had done it. I knew I'd reach the finish line with five minutes to spare. I even ran past the 1:55 pacer (he had fallen off the pace!). I relaxed. Right at that moment, a guy ran by and said something like, "oh no Big Sexy, you need to keep on pushing to the finish line!" as he galloped by in his Hammer kit. Of course he was right. I was going to make my goal, but I should be running as fast as I can, trying to do the best I can! I chased him to the finish line and screamed with happiness when I ran across it. 1:55:07. A five minute PR. Under two hours. More than 20 races and 14 years after my first one. How awesome. I really felt the joy of the achievement.

The Kansas City Marathon Is Awesome
Obviously I suddenly have a special place in my heart for this race now because I achieved a PR here. But besides that, I want to make sure that everyone knows what a great event it is. There was awesome swag - a nice fitted cotton T-Shirt and Goodr sunglasses in the packet! A beer garden at the finish! A perfect course with perfectly placed rolling hills and fantastic volunteers. The race is sponsored by Garmin and they even had a Strava segment around mile 8 with a prime - the fastest male and female on the quarter-mile segment would win a Garmin. What a cool gimmick. Packet pickup in Union Station was easy and the expo was exactly the right size and had a ton of great local vendors. Oh, and did I mention free finisher pictures? I can't say enough good things about this race and I'm pretty sure I'll want to run the full here next year.

Nice swag!

#fasterasamaster
CIM is only a few weeks away and I'm looking forward to racing in Sacramento with my beautiful friends from Texas. We have one more 20-miler next weekend and then it's taper time, and I can't wait! Before CIM, I have a local Turkey Trot 5K where I'm tempted to aim for a PR as well. How cool would it be to get PRs in every distance in the same year? I absolutely love that I've developed the confidence to think this way.

Remember Shannan, my over-40 friend who taught me the value of conditional PRs? Well, she just ran a marathon PR a week ago in New York City. While the conditional PR may be a helpful tool along the way, Shannan has proved that #fasterasamaster is an actual thing. I'm so excited to set my sights on big goals and see what happens next.

A fast "easy" long run with my friends in Texas was another confidence builder the weekend before the Kansas City race. I can't wait to race in California with Shelly and Orissa!  

Training and Racing Is Good for the Heart

I've had a few noteworthy races this spring and I haven't written a single thing about them, so I wasn't surprised when my lovely, well-meaning friend Linda asked, "why haven't you written about the Leadville half yet?"

Here's why. I have these moments of euphoria during training and racing, and I'm even joyfully happy when I'm planning for training and racing. Maybe it's the "runner's high" we all talk about. But the last couple of months, by the time I sit to write down my thoughts after a race, I'm already back in the swamp of emotions that make up my daily life lately. I don't have the energy to write about the things that made me very happy in those moments. So I post up a happy picture and a brief comment about the day and I move along.

There's been a lot of chatter about how the stuff we see on social media isn't real, how everyone's painting a picture of a happy life for themselves and that it's fake and untrue. I've been thinking about this and I would argue that maybe that isn't the case at all.

For example, on Sunday I posted this supremely happy selfie after a bike ride - my first bike ride in nearly a year. I sold my tri bike last year. I lost my inspiration to race. But on Sunday after a really happy conversation with my parents in which my dad and I decided to race the Kerrville tri together this September, I dusted off my road bike, grabbed my very willing and wonderful friend Laura, and hit the trails. Adventure! It was amazing. I was thrilled to be back on the bike, even riding at 12 mph on a little creek path. For our whole little 9 mile ride I was laughing, remembering the freedom that only comes from putting your feet on the pedals and riding down the road to wherever you want to go, physically (and spiritually and emotionally, if you want to get really deep about it).

My picture on Facebook was an expression of pure joy and I meant it.

But, back up five hours. The reason I was on the phone with my parents was so they could help me talk through something I was struggling with, a hard decision I was trying to make with a lot of emotion around it. And yes I am perfectly aware that there are people who are poorer, hungrier, sadder, and more oppressed than me in the world and you could easily throw hashtag "first world problems" on my distress. But I was really struggling that day, having a hard time trying to think through something difficult enough that I needed my parents' help to figure it out.

I don't really want to share details here because it's not necessary, but I will say that most anytime I'm upset these days, you can be sure the root cause is that Trent is in Kansas City and I'm in Denver. Intellectually I know Trent's move out of the state this year is what's best for our future. But sometimes I can't help feeling powerless and sad and out of control of my own life when I'm here and he's there. I'm resentful about it sometimes. I'm sad and angry about it sometimes. Long-distance relationships are hard. This resonates through everything in my life right now and I am struggling a fair amount of the time.

As Mom and Dad talked me down a little bit, I imagined them gathered around their phone on speaker mode in the kitchen at home in Kerrville and I just got terribly homesick. I immediately looked up flights to Texas. Dad had said he was going to race the Kerrville Triathlon this year; I looked for flights around that date and there was one available! I mentioned the race and without missing a beat, Dad said, "yes, come for the race. You should race too." Mom agreed.

Since I was 20-something and Dad suggested running our first 10K together, Mom and Dad know that when I'm in a tough place emotionally I thrive if I have a physical challenge to chase. They're the smartest people in the world to suggest a triathlon to me at this time.

I immediately had three offers of bikes to borrow; I could write a whole separate post about the love and generosity I feel from my beautiful friends and family, both here and there. And just like that, I'm back on the bike, looking for routes around my new neighborhood, excited to race in Texas in the fall.

Triathlon helped me through a rough part of life before, when I was lost and unhappy and trying to find myself. It's going to help me through a different kind of rough time again. Besides the days that I'm with Trent, I've been happiest this year while running and swimming, so adding a bike can only make it better, right? Regardless, I'm happy to have found my way back to it, even if it's just been one little ride and I'm only signed up for one race.

As for social media - well, now you know the other side of my happy Facebook bike pic. Three days later as I write this, I'm not euphorically happy like in that picture, I'm not on the verge of tears like I was on the phone with my parents, I'm back to "normal." All of those things are real, so I'll offer a reminder to be kind and practice compassion daily. You never know what people have going on in their lives, even when they're posting truthfully happy pictures.

Thank you for reading and see you at the races, including (surprisingly) a triathlon for me this year!

The Leadville Heavy Half was a bit of a breakthrough for me. I ran 2 8-minute miles at the end of it and truly felt like I was flying through the chute. It's the first time I was really aware of the progress I'm making in running this year, and it's really exciting.

Part of my joy this year has been escorting my friend Laura along in her running journey. This is us at the Colfax Half Marathon in Denver - her first of four this year plus CIM in December!

I've also been swimming and running my way through the Stroke & Stride series this summer - a 1500m swim and 5K run held on Thursday nights at the Boulder Reservoir. I love this picture because it shows how my form has improved along with my speed. All of this is thanks to my amazing coach Nell Rojas.

Mesa-PHX Marathon Race Report 2019: The Importance of Having a Good Time

The Mesa-PHX Marathon was meant to be a test race on the way to my next attempt to qualify for the Boston Marathon later this year. In September, in the world of Boston qualifying standards, I'll age up. This means I'll need to run a 3:50 or better (8:50 pace) to get a BQ. I planned to sign up for the California International Marathon (CIM), held in in Sacramento in December, when general registration opened in March, but first I'd run this race in Arizona and get a baseline for what my legs could do.

I trained hard for this marathon with many lung-busting track sessions and short fast practice races, more miles per week than I've ever run (even training for Leadville), 3 solid 20 mile long runs and a ton of successful tempo sessions. I hit my paces and heart rate zones on nearly every run. I was prepared. The only thing on my plan that I didn't get to do was a confidence-building half marathon at marathon race pace. I unfortunately picked a half in late January that was held mostly on snow and ice covered trails, and my 8:50 practice pace turned into a shuffle for survival in slippery shoes. Of course hindsight is 20-20 and I'm certain I would have felt more confident in Arizona with a successful practice race under my belt. 

When I signed up for the race in late October, Trent and I planned on a fantastic winter getaway from the arctic tundra of Colorado to warm sunny Arizona where I could run and he could play golf. The reality was that by the time the race rolled around, Trent had just moved to Kansas City for work and wouldn't be able to get away for the weekend. I was carrying around the heaviness of missing him and the uncertainty that comes along with this kind of change. Yes, I know we are only temporarily apart and I should be able to stand up on my own for a little while and be a strong independent woman but in early February I was really struggling with the change.

I looked forward to race weekend because in addition to the wonderful warm weather, my incredible friend Orissa had decided to jump onto this marathon journey and we were going to race together and have a great time! The last time Orissa and I raced a marathon together, we ended up literally racing to the finish line at the Austin marathon and getting breakthrough PRs!

Austin Marathon 2014

We arrived late Thursday and enjoyed ourselves in the day or so leading up to the race, eating Whataburger (Hooray, Whataburger made its way to Tempe!) and accidentally staying in the same (roach) motel that we stayed at a few years ago when we volunteered at Ironman Arizona. Packet pickup was a breeze. We were thrilled to find an early entry coupon code to CIM in our packets, and for the first time in my life, I signed up for the next marathon the day before racing a marathon. We ate and hydrated and went to bed early. This was important because for this point-to-point race, we'd have to be up by 4:30 to catch a bus to the start line.

There were a couple of race-morning issues like late buses and lengthy porta-potty lines, and Orissa and I didn't actually start the race until at least 10 minutes after the gun went off. This was fine because it meant we'd be passing people all day if we did things right. The race started in the desert of Mesa and went downhill into the town. We'd driven the course the day before so we knew what to expect. Basically downhill until 13.1 miles and then flat to the finish line. We had beautiful scenery in the first half of the race to look forward to and then a million turns on city streets for the rest of it.

Orissa's goal pace was different from mine so although we started together, we didn't expect to stay together for long and that was okay. I wore a headlamp even though it wasn't really necessary. I carried my backpack with all the water I'd need for the day and that turned out great. The first few miles were gorgeous with the sun coming up through the Saguaro-covered hills. My music was making me dance and I felt joyful for the first six miles even though my pace was inconsistent and slower that I'd like. 

When 10 miles came around and I was having to work more than necessary to hold the already-too-slow pace, I knew my day was not going to go as I'd hoped. The last 16 miles were harder than they should have been and I was frustrated to see my pace slowing. I couldn't turn over my legs even though my lungs were celebrating the amazing oxygen that lower altitude brings! I was pumping my arms to try to get my legs to move and nothing was happening. I'd passed a bunch of pace groups and when they started to pass me back, I felt defeated. 

The last time Orissa and I raced a marathon together in 2014, I'd gone out too fast and she'd run a conservative pace, which meant at mile 25 she caught up with me. I found a way to race with her to the finish line that day. We both squeaked in at 4:30 which was my fastest marathon by 15 minutes at the time. It was an incredible day! I knew that if she caught me today that I wouldn't be able to run with her. The only thing that kept me running as fast as I could was the fear of Orissa running up behind me and shouting "come on!" like she did 5 years ago.

I finally reached the finish line with a time of 4:25. That's 35 minutes slower than the time I'll need to BQ. Oof.

So relieved to reach the finish line.

A few minutes later, Orissa crossed the finish line, beaming and high fiving everyone. She had a great time. She didn't just meet her goal pace - she had a GREAT TIME - she had fun running the race. And of course there's the lesson for the day: it's not about having a good pace. It's about having a good time - enjoying it! You're always going to do better when you're smiling and having fun, racing with joy instead of heaviness. I know this. I just somehow have to keep relearning it! Thank you Orissa.

Having a great time!

Not having even a little bit of a great time.

When I got home and met with Nell, my amazing coach, she assured me that I'd had a bad day and didn't run to the potential that all my training runs had pointed to. We agreed that the lack of a solid practice race was an issue. She asked me if I felt motivated to train and I said YES OF COURSE and I meant it. Together, we made a plan for CIM that includes running a bunch of shorter faster races to pick up some speed. That 8:50 pace needs to feel easy in December. I have my work cut out for me.

In the last two weeks, as part of that plan, I ran 2 5K races. One happened to be in San Antonio when Trent and I traveled down last weekend to visit family. I was thrilled to get to race with Orissa again, and with Shelly, and we smiled and laughed our way through that race, plus the warmup before the race and the cooldown and tacos afterwards. I'm really excited that both of them are going to be racing in California in December too!

You can tell that this race went better than the marathon, right? Hooray for running with Shelly!

Today I raced a little 5K in Golden and was thrilled to pace myself properly and run my way to 3rd place in my age group. My times are not as fast as they used to be, but the speed is coming back. And maybe more importantly, today I ran at marathon race pace and a fair amount of it felt "easy." Trent's not here this weekend but he encouraged me on the phone before the race and I ran light. Here we go again, moving towards a new normal. I'm excited about December and the journey to get there. Thanks as always for reading, for your encouragement, and for coming along on this journey with me!

I'm all kinds of proud of this age group award from the race today.

Did I mention there was Whataburger in Arizona?

We attended a Sun Devils game in Tempe after the marathon! It was so much fun even though we could barely walk to our seats.

Love racing with these two. I'm California Dreaming already.

I'm a Runner! Finding the New Normal

If you know me - if you’ve read this blog around this time of year on any given year - you know that I’ve struggled forever with “being a runner.” These doubts usually bubble up more frequently around the holidays when I’m training for a marathon in the triathlon “off season.” I push myself in the pool but not when I’m running, I’ve said. If I need to miss a workout, I’ll always miss a swim or a bike over a run, because running is my weakness, I’ve said. Then last fall I decided to try running a 50K and in the months that followed, everything has changed. Just a little less than a year and a half later, I’m training for a winter marathon (as usual) and saying proudly “I am a runner” (not usual at all!).

After my “test race” 50K last September, I decided to take a much-needed break from triathlon to pursue a year of ultrarunning. I signed up for the Silver Rush 50 mile run as my big goal race for the year and was so scared of the goal that it took me several months to even be able to say out loud that I was running it. I was definitely excited to try something new.

To say that I jumped with boundless enthusiasm into a new sport is somewhat true, but it’s not the whole story. After Ironman Boulder last year, Trent’s back, which has always been a problem, refused to let him run anymore. That meant he couldn’t be competitive in triathlons. After being forced to quit running he very quickly lost interest in his bike (although he was certainly celebrating dumping swimming, his least favorite sport). Instead, he turned to golf as his outlet, a sport he’s excelled at in the past. To be honest, I was tired and burned out on triathlon. I was ready for a break. Suddenly, just months after moving to a town 45 minutes away from Boulder, the triathlon capital of the world, both of us had lost interest in triathlon.

This change felt like the end of something. Trent and I had met through triathlon. We’d trained together, raced together, spent countless hours talking about triathlon, dreaming together about what was to come. We’d been on the same triathlon team – Big Sexy Racing – and made friends together through the team and through the sport. I remember a conversation we had early in our relationship. He’d said, “you know I’m not going to be interested in triathlon forever. Are you okay with that?” to which I replied, “you know I’ll be a triathlete for the rest of my life. Are you okay with that?” And we’d both said yes. I expected at some point that Trent would find a different goal to chase, but I didn’t expect the same thing to happen to me. Now what? Trent was spending the Saturdays we used to spend on the bike playing golf instead. Clearly I needed to have my own interests as well.

I think I took this picture during my last bike ride this year. It was fun to roll up on Trent hitting golf balls.

Yes, I jumped enthusiastically into a new sport, but I was also trying to find my way, navigating our new normal. I spent the first half of the year feeling like an impostor, trying to redefine myself as “ultrarunner.” I think it was good for me to find my own way in a new sport without a coach. Without any expectations from anyone. Just being a newbie. But there was definitely something missing.

About halfway through the year, I reached out to Nell, who is coaching me now. “Once I’m done with all this trail running, I’d like to find some speed on the road again,” I told her, “I’ve gotten so slow since I moved here.” She agreed and as promised, after my last ultra of the season was complete in September, we started focusing on speed. I’ve signed up with a few friends for the Phoenix Mesa Marathon on February 9, 2019. My goal is to run a new personal best time and prepare to earn a Boston Qualifying time in 2020.

My training plan started filling up with threshold runs and track workouts. At the Longmont Turkey Trot, a 2-mile run (which Nell won, by the way), I freaked out because I tasted blood at the end of the race. I worried that I’d damaged my lungs. “Does it taste like pennies?” Nell clarified. Yes! “That’s great!” she exclaimed, “it means you really pushed yourself.” She explained a little more and then I went home and looked it up. You guys! I really pushed myself at running! This is a FIRST.

Nell in the middle of her group of athletes after the Longmont Turkey Trot.

As the miles have increased and training paces have been dialed in, I’m thrilled to be feeling motivation and drive that I haven’t felt in a really long time. I’m terrified of the track workout every week, but I’m also determined to get out there and do my best. Can I run 4 miles at threshold pace at the end of a 16 mile run? Yes I can. I’m running faster at a lower heart rate on my easy runs. I’m feeling so strong and recovering quickly. I know that most of this is because of a personalized training plan from a badass coach who believes in me and some of it is because of the massive volume that I put in this summer on the trails. It’s all coming together.

Happiness is nailing a track workout, not knowing until later that there were sweat icicles on my hair!

With each week that passes I’m feeling more confidence, even after an occasional workout doesn’t go as planned, like yesterday’s 20 miler. I’m not taking selfies during my runs anymore because I’m working too hard to pull out my phone. I’m not worrying about my weight like before because I’m more interested in how fast I can move my legs than about an arbitrary number on the scale. Holy cow, look what my body can do.

While training for ultras last year was motivating and interesting in its own way, I’m now relishing moving full-speed towards a goal. I missed this. I love this.

You know I’m always looking for the lesson, so here it is. In the spring I was running away from triathlon, somehow looking to escape from myself. At the time I didn’t realize it, but now I know it was always just a little bit empty. Today, I’m running full throttle towards a huge goal that I care tremendously about. The difference in the experience is enormous. Although it may sound pretty simple, it took me a year to figure it out: running towards something is always better than running away.

“Why are you going to bed so early?” Trent complained lightly the night before a track workout the next morning. “Because I want to win this marathon,” I said. He’s looking forward to the trip to Arizona in February because of all the great golf courses in Phoenix. I think we’re finding the new normal.

Wyoming Marathon Races 50k Race Report 2018: That'll Leave a Mark

"There's been a shooting. They won't let you run through the crime scene, so we have to modify the course." With a start like that, we should have known it would be an extraordinary day. The announcement from the race director quieted the small gathering of runners. We were waiting at the top of a hill on the dirt road behind the Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument near Laramie, Wyoming to start the Wyoming Marathon Races half marathon, marathon, and 50k. The race director went on to explain that instead of running the intended out-and-back course, the marathon and 50k runners would repeat the half marathon course until the prescribed distance was met.

This event was low-key to say the least.

I took a bunch of still pictures from the drone footage posted on the race's Facebook page. Here's the small group of runners waiting to start.

The crowd gracefully digested this information and one of the runners led the gathering in singing the national anthem. Moments later, the pack was off and running down the road. I kissed Trent and reminded him to be careful: he planned to spend the morning fishing while I ran. "You be careful!" he laughed, and I ran down the hill to start my 50k day.

The plan I'm following for the Silver Rush 50 includes a couple of "training races" along the way and this weekend the plan required a 50k race. Laramie is only a couple of hours' drive from Denver, so this race seemed like a cool way to get the training done and to see a little bit more of our world. The race is at elevation (it starts just below 9000 feet), and although it isn't on trails, it is on mostly dirt roads so it seemed like a good pick.

Two things about the race made me nervous - surprisingly the altitude wasn't one of them! Because of the small field of runners, there was a real danger of coming in last place. And, the first 5 miles of the course was straight down a hill, which meant that the last 5 miles back up the hill would be tough. I had these things in mind as I trotted slowly down the hill: in the last few months of longer-distance trail running, I've become acutely aware of how easily you can ruin your day by running too fast in the first few miles.

A drone pic from the first few miles.

As I ran down the hill, I considered what it was going to take to run back up and down it 3 more times. But after about 45 minutes had passed, a pickup truck drove along beside us and the driver shouted out to the runners that the crime scene was cleaned up and we could resume running the original course. Hooray!

The sun shone brightly as we approached the half marathon turnaround point. As the half marathon participants turned around, the pack of runners thinned out and I continued happily along the dirt road, running mostly by myself with just 4 or 5 other people around me. I gazed at the gorgeous mountain scenery and felt joyful about the light wind that ruffled my clothes. Off-road running is amazing! The races are so much smaller and you spend time by yourself, just enjoying what's around you. Why didn't I start this years ago?!

Drone shot of the gorgeous scenery of Medicine Bow National Forest.

There's a short segment of the course that goes along the access road of the highway, but apart from that the entire course is on gravel roads. On the way out the course rolls mostly downhill, and I spent miles 8-15 marveling at how strong I felt. My goal was to spend less than 7 hours doing the race, and that seemed very possible when I hit the turnaround at 15.5 miles. Then I realized that I'd basically been running downhill for the last few miles and it was time to climb back up. That's why everyone who was coming back the other way was walking. Yikes. Also, it was getting hot and there was no shade on the exposed dirt road. For the first time ever, I fought the nausea that comes with pushing the pace too hard at altitude in warmer conditions. Although my pace already felt painfully slow, I slowed down. Ugh. This is so uncomfortable! Why did I decide to do all of these ultra-distance races this year?!

As usual, one of my favorite things was meeting all the people out on the course. I'd noticed a guy in a Kerrville Triathlon Festival hat at the start, and as he ran towards me from the marathon turnaround point as I was still on my way out, I stopped him and asked if he was from Texas. Ken from Austin and I became friends immediately - what a small world! At the marathon turnaround point, there was an aid station where I filled up my water bottles and grabbed my first cup of delicious Coke. The volunteer there was a Laramie local who's running a couple of big ultras this year. Yes, I stood there and chatted with him about it as we leisurely filled bottles. I guess at some point I'll have more urgency in racing these longer distances, but that was not the case last Sunday.

As I shuffled back along the out-and-back course, I spent miles 16-20 feeling pretty crappy. My legs were starting to hurt, I was feeling dehydrated even though I thought I was drinking plenty, and I was tired of eating Gu. But then, along with a little bit of downhill on the course, my mood turned around, and I tirelessly trotted back towards the finish line, marveling again at the scenery. I was alone on the course but aware that there was a runner slightly ahead of me and another one slightly behind me, both just out of my view. I saw a line of dark clouds slowly approaching and felt smug about having a raincoat in my backpack. I am sooooo prepared for mountain running. The shifts in mood that you experience in a long day of racing feel more intense to me in trail running than in triathlon. I'm not sure why I felt so much better at that point, but I welcomed the happy mood that replaced how I was feeling just 30 minutes earlier.

Approaching the last five miles back up the hill, I willed myself to run when possible and to walk as quickly as I could when running was too difficult. With about 3 miles to go, I saw Trent driving down the hill towards me! He offered some quick encouragement and then told me that he'd see me at the finish line. I complained that I might not make my goal time. The only thing on my mind was getting to the line before my watch hit 7 hours.

Then, the storm that had slowly been coming towards us for the last 2 hours made its dramatic entrance with a loud clap of thunder. I hurried to put on my super-light amazing new trail running raincoat and congratulated myself again on carrying it. The rain started to come down. I briefly considered that lightning was dangerous, but kept on running. Then, the rain started to fall harder. Wait, that isn't rain. It's hail! I started laughing at how ridiculous this last couple of miles was shaping up to be.

With one mile left, the pea-sized hail became heavier and stung my unprotected legs. The volunteer from the aid station that I'd chatted with earlier came driving down the hill from the finish. He opened the passenger door and told me that if I wanted a ride back I'd still be considered a finisher, but I was free to wait for the hail to stop if I wanted to make sure I ran the full course. I also had the option to continue running up the hill in the hail. I climbed into his car and decided to wait for the hail to slow, but then he started to drive down the hill, away from the finish line! He needed to check on the runners behind me. At that moment, I saw Trent driving back down the road and we signaled to him to stop. I jumped out of the volunteer's car and into Trent's.

As I sat in the passenger seat laughing, catching my breath, Trent handed me his thick Gore Tex fishing raincoat. "Take this," he said, "it's strong and will protect you. Finish the last mile!" Neither of us considered driving to the finish line to be an option. I jumped out of the car, we both laughed, and I continued up the hill into the hail. The whole situation seemed hilarious and ridiculous. Then the hail got bigger. A lot bigger. I watched the large pieces fall and shatter in front of me on the road. Then one hit me on the head. Another one hit me hard on the shoulder. For the first time, I looked around for shelter, and ended up crouching under a tree to protect myself from the larger pieces of hail.

Running in Trent's fishing jacket. Soon the road would be covered in white hailstones and looked like it had been snowing.

Moments later, Ken from Texas came driving down the hill in his rental. "Kris from Texas!" he yelled, "take shelter in my car!" I leaped gratefully into the car. The hail was coming down like crazy now. Ken found a little tree to protect the car and we chatted as the loud hail bounced off the windows. He said we could wait as long as necessary, but that with only a mile left, I couldn't not finish the race. I agreed. I texted Trent to tell him my plan.

After about 10 minutes passed, the hail lightened again and Ken drove me back up to the main road. He wished me well and I started my journey once again. At this point, the 7 hour mark was long gone. Although the hailstones were smaller, they still stung my bare legs as they fell, and I could see small welts starting to form. This is stupid. Not the kind of stupid where you wonder in a state of exhaustion why you picked endurance racing as your hobby. It's like stupid, stupid. 

"It's all fun and games until God starts throwing golf balls at you." - Trent Wunstel

The hail got bigger again and there were no trees to hide under. As another large hailstone hit me hard on the shoulder, for the first time ever in 10 years of endurance racing adventures I thought to myself that I could actually die from this. The next car that came along offered me a ride, and I unquestioningly dove into their back seat with a growling dog, grateful to escape the painful hail. They drove me to the finish line where Trent waited in the car.

Trent pulled up next to the car in which the race director waited, and I told him through a partially opened window that I was safe and off the course. He said, "oh you earned the belt buckle." He handed it through the window to me, along with a hailstone that he picked up off the ground. "A souvenir of Wyoming," he said, laughing.

Earned it!

Trent and I laughed all the way back to Denver in our car that is now coated in hail damage. What a ridiculous day! In my mind this was technically a DNF, but I'm listed as the last finisher in the results online. A last-place finish - that's a first. But I also ran as fast as I could up a hill at the end of an ultrarun to try to escape the hail, so now I know I can do that. That's a win!

The following day, I ran the Bolder Boulder 10k as my "second long run" of the weekend. I've been doing these back-to-back long runs for a couple of months now, and every time I do it, it feels better. I'm astonished that I ran 60k in one weekend. The way the body adapts to training is incredible! After this, I feel much more confident about the big races in Leadville that I have coming up in the next month and a half. Hopefully they'll be hail-free.

All joking aside, this was a really cool, well organized event. The volunteers were wonderful and the race is perfect for someone trying their first ultra at a little bit of altitude with terrain that isn't even a little bit technical. The drive to Laramie was gorgeous and the town itself was fun to visit. Hail or no hail, I don't think this will be my last time racing the Wyoming Marathon Races! A quick thank you to our wonderful friend Doug who recommended it, although we certainly gave him a hard time about the weather and the car for the couple of days after the race.

I want to say a big thank you to Doug, Whiting, and Maggie for providing cheers, inspiration, and encouragement through texts to Trent throughout the day; I could certainly feel the love. Thank you to everyone who followed and commented on Facebook. And thanks as always for reading! See you out on the trails.

Bolder Boulder was my friend Laura's first race and first time ever running 10k. Here we are at the start line. She crushed it and I was so proud to get to be a part of her first road-running experience!

Another Bolder Boulder pic - I loved running and celebrating with teammates in our gorgeous Big Sexy Racing Ownway Apparel kits!

What Matters Most

In early December, at the same time as the "race prep/speed" portion of my Houston Marathon training was getting started, another appealing challenge began. My masters group, the Lakewood Dawgs, started their annual Dawg Days of Winter challenge: 12 days of swimming over a 2-week period. There was no question about whether I would take part in it. This was my biggest year of swimming so far, and I was up for the challenge!

I just love swimming, swimming's my favorite! Awesome silly selfie taken by Whiting. 

The swim challenge was fun. Each day had a different theme, sort of like the 12 days of Christmas. For example, day one was "an endless set of 50s, free" (yes, sing along to the tune of "a Partridge in a Pear Tree"). I learned immediately that the actual challenge of Dawg Days was to get up and swim at 5:30 a.m. masters for 6 days a week for 2 weeks. 

With 4 days left in the challenge, I felt smug about being disciplined enough to get up so early in the morning every day to swim. But I was also feeling a little tickle in the back of my throat. As the day progressed, a cough developed, and I called Dawn to ask for her advice about whether to do my scheduled run that day or to skip it.

Dawn asked me, "well, what matters most to you? The swim challenge or the marathon?" I answered without hesitation: the swim challenge, of course! And I skipped the run. I felt worse the next day, but still showed up to swim, commiserating with other swimmers who confessed that they weren't feeling great either. I showed up to swim the next day, and skipped that day's run as well.

Eventually I couldn't argue that I was "getting sick" anymore. I had a really bad cold that was moving into my chest. I finished the swim challenge and earned my Dawg Days T-shirt, slept for 3 days, and skipped a total of 9 days of running. It took more than 3 weeks to completely get rid of the cold.

Marathon weekend rolled around a few weeks later. I wasn't feeling confident about the race, but I figured I would see what I could do. Houston is a special race for me, especially this year living far away from my family. I was so excited to get to meet up with them in Texas and run this race for a third year.

The Expo displayed shirts from every year of the race's long history.
Here's Dad with the shirt from his race 1989: he still has his shirts from both of his Houston marathons at home.

My awesome nephews and niece - these kids actually enjoy spectating marathons. I'm assuming one (or more) of them will keep up the family tradition and run this race someday. 

On race day, I tried to hold a "moderate" pace at the beginning of the race, but even that felt too hard. I backed off the pace, and as the wheels fell off around mile 14, I thought about that conversation with Dawn. I had picked swimming over running; I had made my bed and now I was lying in it! If I had quit the swim challenge and given myself a chance to rest, I probably wouldn't have gotten so sick, and my performance at the marathon would have been much better. As I plodded along, my pace slowing, I grimly remembered my answer to Dawn's question.

I ended up with one of my slowest marathon times in recent years, a 4:32, and although my legs were hating it, I enjoyed the day. I loved seeing my family on the course and all the volunteers and spectators who had come out to experience the day. After Houston's difficult year, the city was displaying strength and resilience in celebrating their marathon, and I was grateful to be a part of it.

Faking happiness for the sake of Mom's camera.

That being said, until today, I've been feeling uncomfortable about my fitness based on that marathon time. Am I just getting old? Am I slow now? Do I just need to make peace with that? Today, I went for a swim with Whiting and Maggie, my two super-swimmer Boulder friends, and I was so happy to hit my paces on a challenging 4000 meter set. I beamed when Maggie and Whiting complimented me afterwards about how much my swimming has improved. The weeks and months of high volume swimming that I've been doing since September and the 12-day challenge in December have paid off. I gained a little bit of confidence today.

My amazing swimmy friends Maggie and Whiting at our New Year's Eve 100x100 swim.

Happy swim today with matchy matchy paddles, Whiting and I are training for our first SwimRun race.

I'm always excited to see what the lesson is, even if I don't like how it feels at the time. This year's marathon provided a lesson in making decisions and living with the consequences. My goal wasn't really to have a fast marathon, it was to keep up my swim and run volume through the winter to get ready for the next season of swim/run races and trail runs. Even though it would have been really cool to have a fast marathon too, I couldn't have it both ways. I'm grateful to have a mentor who asked me the right question and forced me to be honest. What matters most? Answer that question honestly and you're halfway there.

On the schedule for 2018 (so far):

• SwimRun Lake James (Nebo, NC, April)
• Leadville Trail Marathon (Leadville, CO, June)
• Silver Rush 50 (Leadville, CO, July) (!!!!!)

Running Like a Swimmer

The other day, I was talking with a coworker that I've been informally coaching for over a year as he's transformed himself into a pretty good runner. Vincent reminded me of something that I told him a while back that I didn't even remember saying - "Just go for it. What's the worst that can happen?" He told me that on a 20 mile run last weekend, as he picked up the pace, he thought to himself, "the worst thing that will happen is that my wife will have to come and pick me up." As a result, he ran faster than he's ever run before, because he got rid of fear.

I've posted quite a few times about putting fear aside and going for it. But having a goal of a BQ at the Houston marathon in a few weeks brings up a whole new level of scary, turbulent fear. What if I fail? What if I hurt myself? ...what if I give up?

There's such an enormous contrast between how I feel as a runner and how I feel as a swimmer. I will confidently tell you, "I am a swimmer." Between swimming, biking, and running, I'm definitely best at swimming. Because it's what I'm good at, it's what I love - I mean LOVE. Love it so much that I'll ask my coach for a 100x100 swim for my birthday. Love it so much that I will fearlessly set big goals for a timed event. Love it so much that when I see a difficult set on my workout plan, my thought is "cool! Let me see if I can do this," not (as I do when I see a similar running workout), "crap, I hope I don't fail."

The confidence and joy that I feel in swimming allows me to push through one difficult workout after the next, which, of course, builds strength and makes me faster, which provides more confidence and joy. Clearly, this is a pattern. So how to translate it to running? How do I run with confidence, when in the back of my mind, I'm always saying, "what if I fail?"

This morning, I happily swam to a new PR for the hour swim at Monica's Mile - 3800 yards, which is 200 more than last year. I felt physically sick for the rest of the day because of the effort I put into the swim. But I still had a 2.5 hour run to do, with goal paces that I was supposed to reach. Ugggggg.

I put off the run until I realized that I'd run (haha) out of daylight to do it. Then I headed out on an out-and-back route in which I was supposed to start out slowish and then hold a 9 minute mile pace or better for the last hour and a half...on a false flat, into a huge headwind. 

I went out too fast. My first few miles were at an 8:45ish pace. I thought about my own advice that Vincent had repeated back to me. What's the worst that can happen? (Well, I could end up an hour and 15 minutes away from my car, walking, and it could get dark, and I could get murdered. But we won't think about that.) I made an effort to just go for it and see what happened. I forced myself to be confident. I embraced the challenge and chose to run like I swim. I bet you can guess what happened next (or I wouldn't be blogging about it - ha)...I held the pace I started with. I even ran a negative split on the way back! Talk about a confidence builder.

What's the worst that can happen? My answer: you can finish this race knowing you didn't try your best. Whatever happens in Houston, I vow to run with confidence, even if I have to remind myself every mile to run like I'm swimming. I might even start to tell you confidently, "I am a runner." And I'll re-read this post a thousand times in the next couple of weeks to remind myself.

Super happy fun times at my 100x100 birthday swim - thanks to the lovely ladies, Dawn, Michelle, and Linda for joining me on Christmas Day to swim!

Some of the Tri-Belief crew (although no matchy suits this year) - Trent, Orissa, Linda, me, and Shelly at Monica's Mile, year 3! An awesome event, as always. A thousand thank yous to Bree Soileau for timing me today!

Dawn's version of "don't be afraid." This has been on my desk at work since 2011 when, during marathon training, Shelly and I asked "what's the worst that could happen?" for the first time.

Hello, Running!

Triathlon season is over (for me), which naturally means that the marathon season begins. There's been a rest period though, which I really needed. After I made the decision last November to "be great at something," I hit the ground running (and biking, and swimming) and just kept finding another gear, training hard at triathlon until 70.3 Worlds last month, barely resting for a couple of days after Norseman in August. I never really took a break, and I didn't realize how physically, mentally, and emotionally broken down and exhausted I had become.

I'm not complaining. It's been an amazing season, filled with success that I worked hard for. Triathlon is the love of my life. But some rest was long overdue. So, for the past six weeks, I've had only one workout a day on the schedule. It's been luxurious to get on the road bike and ride some hills with no regard for speed or distance, instead of chasing watts on the tri bike on the trainer - I think I've done one trainer ride since Norseman. I've also scaled back significantly on the swimming - this isn't luxurious - I miss it. (I don't, however, miss getting up so early in the morning to do it.)

Rest is important, I know this. You can't keep pushing on forever, you can't just continuously improve. At some point, you have to scale it back and rest and let the gains from the season come to you. Otherwise you'll end up totally burned out. I was told this twice yesterday by two ridiculously knowledgeable people (Dawn Elder and Matt Hamlin, in two separate, unrelated conversations). I know that it "wouldn't hurt, you know, to gain three or four pounds and play at a sport other than triathlon for a couple of days." Although I'm not going with the suggestion to join a ladies' sand volleyball league, I do understand the importance and benefit of losing focus for a little while.

That being said, of course, I've been slowly ramping the running back up. I'm training for the Rock n Roll Marathon in December - as usual, the girls and I have signed up for it as an annual fun event. I know it probably sounds ridiculous to say that marathon training is resting, but mentally, I think this does count as rest for me. The hours of training per week have scaled back since Norseman, and I've gotten a little bit fat. I don't think this is a bad thing. In fact, I recommend it!

The best thing is that as the weather cools, I'm remembering why I love running - it simply feels so good to go outside and run. Although I fought it when they first started showing up on my plan, lately I've been enjoying "naked" runs (without the Garmin - no data, just running for time and volume). Another surprising source of joy - hill repeats! Both are a welcome change from the speed workouts on the treadmill that I attacked all summer. I've been getting to run with Shelly again on our lunch break at work, which makes me incredibly happy because it's just like old times (like, old times - I'm talking the pre-triathlon days!).

And now the long runs begin, not that I didn't run long while training for Norseman, but there's something about the 14-, 16-, 18-mile runs of a stand-alone marathon build that speak to me. Even though we don't really have a change in actual seasons here in Texas, these weekend long runs symbolize a change in seasons from triathlon to marathon, and I just love it. For me, the path to endurance sports started with running, and to go back to it every fall brings me happiness that I forget about until it happens again each year. Not to mention the ease and speed that comes with a drop in temperature and humidity.

I've been kind of lost lately, but yesterday on my long run, I felt that joy that only comes when you're running alone for hours, feeling the wind on your face and the earth passing beneath your feet. There's something about being in that moment, aware only of the movement of your own body through space, that gives validity to the joke that "I run because it's cheaper than therapy." It's a point that's even beyond being lost in your own thoughts - it's just you and your feet and the road. There's nothing like it.

I remember how I used to tell Shelly that instead of dreading difficult workouts, we needed to be grateful for every training session that our bodies are able to do, because you never know what might happen. As corny as it sounds, I'm so grateful to be able to be grateful for that - to know what this feels like. So I welcome the new season. Hello, Running. Let's hang out a while.

Ok, every run hasn't been awesome. I had my first trip-over-my-own feet faceplant last week that resulted in bruised knees, chin, and an amazingly M-Dot shaped scrape right over my heart. I'm choosing to look at this as a positive sign for great things to come. ;)