Looking forward to a long day

A week and a half out, all thoughts turn to VT. This will be my second attempt at the 100 mile distance, perhaps my first finish. Perhaps not. But I do have good reason to think that my chances this year are a bit better than last.

Last year I got pulled out at Mile 70, and with good reason. I tried to run too fast and blew up. More specifically, my stomach blew up. I was too focused on finishing (perhaps even finishing in under 24 hours!). This year I am focused on the journey. It's going to be a long day on the dirt roads and trails and I plan to make the most of it. At the very least, last year's experience taught me that speed is useless (at least for me) and the slower I go the better my chance to finish. I really have taken that lesson to heart (and stomach and leg).

This year Susan and I will walk ten minutes out of every hour right from the start. We will walk each and every incline regardless of steepness. As they say, we will start slow then taper off. They give you 30 hours to finish this beast, and if it takes all 30, well then so be it.

Susan's parents are going to crew for her; her dad and husband will alternate as her pacers. I am going crew-less this year (though Susan's parents will of course cheer for both of us). As of now, I don't have a pacer. I think this is the way to go for me. I hate to think of people out there waiting. It makes me subconsciously (and sometimes very deliberately) try to go too fast. I will use drop bags and lumber from aid station to aid station in my own good time. I can see where a pacer could be welcome company during the nighttime hours, but solitude has its rewards as well. Too bad I can't bring Eddie.

Brian and the kids will be at the finish line to pick me up. We are staying at a lake house across the border in NH during the week following the race. I can only imagine how wonderful it will be to see all the little faces that Sunday morning.

My hamstring is well on the mend. It no longer hurts when I run and I have started a few slight strengthening exercises so it doesn't knit back together in a funky way. I am even stretching the darn thing. Who has time for this!?

Next week will be all about tapering and drop bags. What to put in, what to leave out? This stuff makes me nuts. I don't have a good system and I leave it all to the last minute. Perhaps this year I will reform. Perhaps not.

I just can't wait to get started!

On the news front, I see that the Pittsfield Death Race made the NYT. (Check out the accompanying video!) These are some of the same people who put on the Pittsfield Peaks Race, among others. The story focuses on Joe, a guy I ran with at Pittsfield. I think I called him an endurance freak. Sounds like I wasn't far off the mark!

Most Emphatically, Not Running

It's 5:00 on a Wednesday morning. This is the time I'm usually getting back from my morning run with Eddie. But not today. I'm tapering! And from what I hear about the Pittsfield Peaks course, I really do need to rest.

(Eddie. See his tail? He's a skittish dog. Every since we got him last fall.)

But it's so hard. I'm absolutely wired to run. It's built into my muscles and my bones.

Shut up. No running!

Actually this particular morning, it's not that hard. In fact, it's a no-brainer. I didn't sleep much last night and I'm tired. My daughter Nell woke me up last night around 11 because she couldn't sleep. And then I didn't get back to sleep myself for hours.

Nell is 8, which is a fabulous age. I sat on her bed and rubbed her back for 20 minutes until she finally blinked out. It was so pleasant to sit quietly in a dark room physically connected to my daughter. Every night of her first year we did this. She would wake and I would quietly nurse her back to sleep. I loved those times.

Or at least I love the memory of them. I must admit that I am mostly glad the kids aren't babies anymore. There was a six year stretch back there (2001 - 2007) in which I rarely slept through any night. Nursing babies, bad dreams, post-partum stuff: all of this strikes in the wee hours. I am starting to take a good night's sleep for granted. I am grateful for my time last night with Nell.

(Nell on her 8th birthday)

I am starting to take pieces of my life back. When the kids were little, they hated for me to leave. I felt like I was always rushing back home. All of my runs felt frantic. They were all short and guilt-laden, because I knew somebody back home was crying.

Ah, no longer. We are all developing our own interests. Our own lives.

I am off to VT for Pittsfield Peaks and I don't feel too badly about leaving the kids. Brian is coming with me to run the 10-mile race, so Nell, Simon and Ben will stay overnight with Grandma and Grandpa. We are lucky they live so close. We'll leave Friday, late afternoon, and come back Saturday night.

Sunday will be an interesting parenting day!

Even still, leaving them is not easy. The logistics alone are daunting. Pack for three kids, ages 4, 6 and 8, get them to Grandma's house (half an hour away) and soothe worried brows (Nell is at the age when she is starting to worry. I remember when I was 8 myself, crying at the front door as my parents prepared for a weekend away, certain something terrible was going to happen to them).

Then get home, pack a drop bag, a running outfit, bottles, packs, etc, etc. I need a Personal Organizer. This is really not my thing.

I cannot wait to start running! Once I get going up in Pittsfield, all of this will have melted away.

Tapering Doesn't Agree With Me

The Wapack 50-Mile race is the day after tomorrow and all week my stomach ulcer has been acting up. Heartburn. Nausea. Bleh.

Yes, I have a stomach ulcer. I know what you're thinking. How can such a calm, mellow, loving person like me have a stomach ulcer? Honestly, I don't know. My GI Guy says it's just one of those things. I'm sure it must be related to the two bouts (one rather serious) of Post-Partum Depression I went through. My stomach was in knots for most of 2005. Dark period indeed.

But I'm all better now! Why this lingering malaise?

I was so looking forward to this race, but I must say that I'm a bit frightened to go out and run 50 miles in this condition. Not terrified, but certainly taken aback. Grandma and Grandpa are going to watch the kids so Brian can drive up to the race with me. He'll drive to the aid station at Mile 9. I think I should know by then how my stomach is going to fare. If I'm in bad shape at 9 miles, I'll call it a day and go for a lovely hike up Mt. Monadnock with Brian. If I'm okay, I'll go on. I'll make sure to have 50 bucks in my pocket for a taxi, though.

Often running makes the ulcer better. Go figure. I'm hoping it will work itself out on the trail. (HA! I inadvertently typed TRIAL for trail. That old Freud dies hard. Let's hope it doesn't turn into a trial....)