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Bikenfest 200k (124 miles)

October 5, 2009 by heatherdaniel

124 miles is a lot of ground to cover. To do it on a bike, in the rain and against the wind takes even longer. On Saturday I conquered that distance and the weather at the Bikenfest 200k Brevet.

Several weeks ago I Googled “bikerides” and “Oregon” and found a blogger’s website promoting  a  200k brevet . Great, I thought, only two questions:  “how many miles is 200k?” and “what is a brevet?”

I Googled a bit more to answer my questions:

1. 200k = 124 miles

2. brevet: In the sport of randonneuring a brevet or randonnée is an organised long-distance bike ride. Cyclists- who, in this discipline, may be referred to as randonneurs  follow a designated but unmarked route (usually 200km to 1400km), passing through check-point controls, and must complete the course within specified time limits. These limits, while challenging, still allow the ride to be completed at a comfortable pace – there is no requirement to cycle at racing speeds or employ strategies. (thanks, Wikepedia!)

Check points? Unmarked routes? 124 miles!?? That definitely sounds like an adventure. So I made it my goal to make the Bikenfest 200k my first organized ride. As the race drew closer I was even able to convince my friend Marvin* to join me.

*If anyone would be up for an unsupported 200k bikeride I figured it would be Marvin – Marvin  is clearly a step above the rest – he’s completed two (!) Ironmans and runs a wicked fast marathon and does it all with a huge grin. The last time Marvin was up in Portland I convinced him to go on two crazy, snake-ridden, super steep trail runs.

Pre-Ride:

Friday night – the day  before the ride – I left the office at 8:30 feeling frazzled and overwhelmed.  Luckily, a  very friendly local bike shop representative is very inclined to help out in such matters. He picked me up and provided  a pre-Bikenfest status update: While I was at work, he had installed fenders, performed a tune up, mounted a handlebar bag and double checked the weather report. “All we need to do is drive to the shop and get the bike and the rack.” To which I replied “What rack?” He explained that with fenders my bike will no longer fits in the back seat or trunk of my car. Seriously, getting into this whole cycling thing is complicated. He showed me the car rack and how to attach it to the trunk. It seemseddo-able – more complicated than running for sure – but manageable all the same.

The next morning, after a night of fitful tossing and turning, I picked up Marvin and his bike and drove east to Hood River. We arrived at the scene, registered and prepared our bikes.

Bikenfest!

The ride began promptly at 7:30. There were about 15 riders. We all had small maps and the small blue brevet control cards. I glanced quickly at the sky and made the decision to not bring my rain jacket. It was a huge mistake and one that I would regret over and over again.

Chilly Start (photo courtesy of Cecil)

Chilly Start (photo courtesy of Cecil- Anne)

The beginning of the ride was cold. So cold! I glanced over at Marvin and saw him shivering. Accustomed to L.A. riding and temperate SoCalweather, Marvin had only a lightweight kit, light arm warmers and a thin jacket. No gloves. No leg warmers. No warmth. I handed him my extra pair of gloves and tried to stay positive, “Marvin, I’m sure it’ll get warmer once the sun is up,” I said.

The first part of the ride took us up and over Seven Mile Summit. It was a challenging 1800 ft. climb in the first 12 miles.  I loved it. It warmed me up and got me excited for the rest of the day. At the top Marvin and I stopped to answer the first control point question. I ate some Chomps and admired the view.

SevenMile Summit

SevenMile Summit

The decent after reaching the summit was cold, windy and steep. My ears burned. My legs wobbled and my eyes watered. It was not a pleasant feeling. Marvin and I rolled happily into Poppi’s Snacks and Deli in The Dalles  where I ate “breakfast” (protein bar and Nuun) and hoped that feeling would return to my toes.

Sadly, things went downhill after Poppi’s.  We headed east out of The Dalles. The wind picked up and soon it started to rain. And rain and rain. I couldn’t help but giggle. My toes went completely numb. Marvin looked miserable. And we were only 40 miles into the ride! We still had a stinking long way to go. Even in perfect weather riding 124 miles isn’t exactly easy. At a few points it seemed like the rain had stopped, but then it just picked up again. At Mile 49 we stopped for another control point before we circled back around and through The Dalles. There we stopped at McDonald’s where I spent 5 minutes drying my gloves at the bathroom air dryer. I sucked down some coffee, ate another protein bar and looked lovingly at the blue patch of sky to the east.

Marvin and I rode across the red bridge and into Washington. We rode east along The Columbia river for almost 20 miles. The air was drier. My legs and toes dethawed and I felt, (dare I say it?) almost warm! Marvin and I were the second and third riders to arrive at the Maryhill Museum and the time control check point. John Kramer the ride director was there to greet us, sign our brevet cards and offer us some hot tea and zucchinni bread.

Mile 78. Maryhill Museum

Mile 78. Maryhill Museum

Marvin led the way back West. We passed many of the other riders heading back and waved. The sun was bright, but the air was cool and neither of us wanted to shed our layers. We stopped at a gas station before riding back though The Dalles. At an intersection I glanced down just at my trip odometer registered 100 miles. It was officially the longest ride I’d ever done. And we still had 24 miles to go!

Randonnee Still Life

Randonnee Still Life

The last bit of the ride was not flat. At all. A head wind greeted us as we wound around Rowena Point. It felt VERY steep and very long. It was also 110 miles into the ride.

Steep. Very steep.

Pedal, pedal, pedal. All the way to the top.

It seemed like the ride between Rowena Point and Hood River lasted an eternity. We were both exhausted. With only two miles to the finish Marvin looked at my very seriously and said “Heather, I want some M&Ms.”I pulled out the bright yellow bag and we tore into them. Marvin grabbed a handful and stuffed them in his mouth.  It was impressived. We made quick work of the M&Ms and felt so much better.

We arrived back at the start just before the rain started. Hooray! And so ended my first randonnée.

Lessons Learned:

Peanut M&Ms should be staple in your nutrition plan.

Eat, eat, drink, drink and you’ll be a happy randonneur.

Wear. more. layers.

Posted in cycling | Tagged , , | 4 Comments »

Long Ride Report: 97 miles,

September 19, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Cycling and running both require an ability to wear funny looking, tight-fitting clothes out in public.  So naturally, I have found that taking a jump from running to cycling wasn’t all that difficult. Just pull on a pair of ridiculous looking spandex shorts, strap on a bulbous helmet and I’d be on my way. Simple, right?

It turns out that if you want to devote the time and energy, cycling can be as nuanced and varied as running (hooray for me!) Both sports are two sides of the same endurance-oriented coin. Each requires a minimal amount of coordination but encourages a maximum amount of discipline and determination. Both foster OCD-like behavior. And by that I mean both cycling and running attract those of us who find satisfaction in spending hours and hours doing the same thing, over and over again. Is it any wonder then that I’ve begun to pour myself into cycling? To date I’ve logged over 1700 miles on my road bike. Here is recap of my most recent long ride.

Ride Title: Little Switzerland

I decided to tackle this ride partly because of the name and partly because the website described it as “enthralling” “challenging” and “a favorite.” What I underestimated was just how steep and just how brutal this ride would be. Little Switzerland, your hills were neither petite nor neutral.

Alternative Ride Titles: The Tour d’Never Ending Hills, The Perpetual Head Wind Slog, or The Thank God for Peanut M&Ms Ride

Distance: 97.1 Miles

Pre-Ride: My running shoes sit and stare at me longingly as I prepare for Sunday’s ride. Just be patient, I tell them, you’ll be back on the road soon. Before setting out, my directeur sportif writes down turn-by-turn directions. There is a lot of zigging and zagging  and the directions take up full sheet of papert. I carefully fold it in a square and stuff it into my jersey pocket. This paper will be my analog GPS device. I find room in my other pockets for the following:

  • 1 Extra Big Packet of Peanut M&Ms (essential)
  • 1  Bag of Pomegranate Chomps (tasty grown-up fruit snacks)
  • 1 Lemon Lime Sublime GU (in case of emergency)
  • 3 Nuun Tablets (tasty)
  • 1 Set of Wool Arm Warmers (scratchy but nice)
  • 1 Cell Phone
  • AAA Card, Credit Card, Drivers License, and a few dollar bills.**

** Did you know that AAA Oregon offer road assistance for bicyclists?

In my small saddle bag I pack an extra tube (I’ve had 6 flats in the past two months, no joke!), tire levers and lipbalm (handy for slipping on stubborn tires). Additionally, I put two large bottles of water in my cages. Before I roll out, I put my hair in pigtails and sigh as I look in the mirror. Could these shorts be any less attractive? I leave the apartment feeling supremely unfeminine.

The Ride: The first 20 miles are ugly. Very ugly. I cross the entire city, bisect several unsavory suburbs and head for the hills. At mile 25 I consult the directions, eat some Chomps and prepare  for my first descent of the day. I fly down the swerving hill at 42 mph. My tires grip the pavement, I swoop around the bends, but too quickly the adrenaline rush is over and I’m back to  pedaling on flat land. My Cannondale and I are moving smoothly over the road and I’m starting to settle into the ride.

I pass a lone Chevron Station and measure my distance by asphalt covered between splotches of roadkill (squirrel, raccoon, squirrel…) . I almost miss the small sign for Wildcat Mountain Drive. The directeur’s directions indicate that I should turn left. However, his directions fail to indicate the steep, rolling terrain I’m about to encounter. I would have appreciated if the directions has said: Left on Wildcat Mountain Drive. Suck it up. This is going to hurt.  Wildcat Mountain feels like a mountain. My progress is silly slow and choppy.  The road goes up, dips down and then up again repeatedly.  I am fooled multiple times by false summits. Little Switzerland, I’m not going to let you conquer me!

Eventually I make it through the Mini Alps and reach the intersection with Hwy 26.  I get a glimpse of Mt. Hood. It is beautiful to be sure. However,  I’ve been pedaling for 3 hours nonstop and clearly time I break into the Peanut M&Ms. I pull over, peel myself off the saddle and rip into the bright yellow bag. I pop a handful and delight in the mix of sugar, fat and candy shell. So tasty!!

The Slog: I merge with Hwy 26 which is busy with traffic and definitely not the best part of the ride. The only upside is that it’s steadily downhill and that I avoid getting hit by 4 gigantic RVs. I cross the highway and head up through a series of rolling hills. It takes forever. The hills get steeper. A headwind picks up. It is slow going and I’m only 60 miles into the ride. My body is starting to voice concerns whether we’ll be able to make it the entire way. The headwind is exhausting. The rolling hills are exhausting.

Soon, I get to Dodge Park and feel like I’ve made it through the worst of it. There are two more major hills I need to get over, but I know I can do it. I down the rest of my Peanut M&Ms. Again, they are like multi-colored bits of heaven. The ride back into town seems to take much longer, but I don’t even care. I ride past the local bike shop to say hi to my directeur sportif and let him know I’ve survived. I pedal back to my apartment and see 97.1 on my odometer for the trip. I briefly contemplate riding around my neighborhood for 3 miles just so I can get to the magic number. My legs sternly tell me absolutely not. No way. Not even a possibility. I agree that all I really want to do is not be on the bike another second.

I roll the Cannondale into my apartment and I am finished! Hooray! I want to eat a dozen cookies. I want to mel under the hot spray of a showerhead. I want pizza and a coke and a foot rub. Instead I settle for a glass of water and a spoonful of almond butter. Little Switzerland, you were tough and I can’t wait to show you that I can be tougher.

Lessons Learned:

Rolling hills can be much worse than one or two big climbs.

Cycling shorts are amazing

You can spend a whole lot of money on powerbars and whatnot, but if you’re going for value and bright orbs or happiness, stick with the Peanut M&Ms.

Posted in cycling, health, portland | 2 Comments »

Editor’s Note: A list.

September 13, 2009 by heatherdaniel

1. My foot is currently suffering from a bad case of metatarsalgia*

*metatarsalgia being a stupidly long word for sore foot disease. If you want to get technical about it, metatarsalgia is “a common overuse injury described as pain in the forefoot that is associated with increased stress over the metatarsal head region.” So basically, I have a wonky foot and I can’t run until it decides it’s not wonky anymore.

2. While metatarsalgia is quite painful, it does not affect other extremities like hands and fingers. So while I definitely CANNOT run, there is no physical handicap that is preventing me from typing. Loyal readers (Hi, Mom!) who know this have been quick to point out that there’s no excuse for my strange lack of blogging.

3. I had hoped that the foot (no longer referred to as MY foot because I want nothing to do with an extremity that exhibits such foolish behavior) would resolve itself rather quickly.I couldn’t run and somehow I was having a very difficult time blogging.  This blog is about running. If I wasn’t running I figured what was there to say? Loyal readers (again, Hi Mom!) have said that’s a silly reason to sidestep blogging. In fact she said, other readers might be interested in how a dedicated runner might approach a somewhat serious setback such as this. (Mom, you are so smart).

So that brings us up to speed. I am still unable to run. The prognosis  is that the foot, and its silly behavior, should resolve itself given enough time and RICE. Until then, no running. Obviously. (= so frustrating)

However, I have been given medical clearance to ride my bike until my thundering heart feels like it will break through my ribcage and my legs quiver in a pool of thick lactic acid. And that is just what I’m doing.

So while the foot repairs itself, please enjoy the (hopefully) very brief change in themes. Instead of running, I’ll be riding. Instead of waxing poetic about my latest trail run, I’ll review my latest road ride (of which there are many). We’ll see how it goes.

Happy Running/Riding/Writing!

Posted in cycling | Tagged | 12 Comments »

Unintended Setback

August 14, 2009 by heatherdaniel

I am SO frustrated that all I could do tonight was eat the rest of the gluten-free blueberry pie (I swear, that last piece looked so lonely in my fridge), drink a glass of wine and watch Confessions of a Shopaholic. (as a sidenote, that movie is terrible!)

It seems I’ve seriously tweaked my foot.  Was it last week’s 200 miles of cyclint? (I blame my fancy Italian Sidi cycling shoes) Or was Tuesday’s run that I did in an old pair of shoes that caused the tweak? Or maybe a combo of the two? It’s hard to tell. In any case, the arch of my foot is tender. It feels better than it did on Tuesday night and I’m hopeful that it is just a minor twinge. . . but still it is annoying, scary and frustrating. Nothing unhinges me quite like not being able to run. Frankly I’m not sure how long I can take this no-running business!

Posted in running | Tagged | 7 Comments »

Case of the Mondays

August 11, 2009 by heatherdaniel

It’s not an easy to have a fantastic Monday morning, you know. There’s usually something that gets in the way. Like you misplace your keys or you sleep through your alarm or you are still so mentally checked out from the weekend that you’re unable to muster the courage to do anything but press Snooze.

Today I suffered none of those setbacks. Nope. Not a one. At 6:10 am I celebrated my return to running with a 4-mile run at a 7:15 pace (not too shabby, right?) The air was crisp. I ran into my friend Drew who I haven’t seen in weeks, and my legs felt fresh and springy despite having completed a 82-mile bike ride on Saturday.

I followed the run with a shower and a brisk ride to work on my Cannondale. Everything seemed so right. So happy. So good. But at work things took a turn. It was nothing terrible. Just a big load of work right from the get-go and not a moment to think things through. The day passed by in a stressful blur. I had to scramble out of the office, get to a chiropractor appointment and return to the office to send a flurry of emails. By the time I strapped on my helmet it was 7:53PM and my stress levels were through the roof. All good vibes from the morning had evaporated.

I bolted across town and charged over the bridge in a fit of angry energy. I arrived at my apartment sweaty, out of breath and determined not to let the day get the best of me. So what did I do? You KNOW what I did. I swapped out my earrings, laced up my Mizunos and didn’t even bother to wash off my mascara. I ran 5 miles and with each mile the day, the office, the computer screen at which I had been staring all disappeared. In its place a sense of pride and accomplishment took its place. It may have been a rough day, but the day would NOT get the best of me.

And as if finishing the day with 9 fantastic miles wasn’t enough. I am also baking a blueberry pie (gluten-free) right now to celebrate the end of a day that I will never have to repeat! Horray!

Posted in life, portland, running | Tagged , | 3 Comments »

Back on Track.

August 9, 2009 by heatherdaniel

I apologize for the lack of posting. The new job, and other “real life” (whatever that is!) responsibilities overwhelmed me to the point that even basic tasks like blogging and laundry were moved to the back seat. But I am hopeful that with some better self-organization and discipline I will be on to better blogging days and cleaner clothes.

Last we chatted I had completed a 50k and was feeling oh-so-fantastic, so fantastic in fact that I felt one day off of running would be plenty of rest before I resumed my 60mpw average and ramped up my speed work.

Clearly, that was a mistake.

My second mistake was adding cycling to the athletic mix in a manner that was neither gradual nor well-planned. According to Heather-logic I figured that if running a lot was good, and riding was good, then riding and running would REALLY good. And of course I figured t that I was fit enough to handle both in large quantities. So in addition to a daily bike commute to the new job, I started putting in some real rides on the weekend. First there was a  30 mile jaunt. Then a 40 mile ride. And then, oh hell let’s just go for it, my first 50 mile ride. And that went so well I was like, “OK, I bet I could ride to Multnomah Falls” So I did. By myself.  So wiith the help of Tri-Berry Nuun and a Snicker bar I arrived back at my doorstep 78 miles later, proud, starving and and extremely exhausted.

My third mistake was ignoring all the classic warning signs: I started to feel irritable. I experienced heavy legs and swollen feet. I was sleeping poorly. All my runs felt totally awful – the long runs were slow. The fast runs were slow. The hill runs were slow, slow, slow. It was awful. But I kept running because I kept hoping that somehow I’d just run out of it. I figured I’d wake up one day and that run would be the seminal run – you know – the run that just made all the other nasty, slow runs worth it. But of course, that never happened. My training just suffered and my running got worse. And possibly worst of all, my outlook on running took a nose dive.  I felt guilty for being such a “bad” runner. I felt sad about being “slow” and I was worried that I wouldn’t snap out of it.

Then two weeks ago everything fell apart. On Saturday morning I rode 40 miles. Awesome, right? Then I took a nap. Fantastic, yes? Then I decided I needed a 10-mile run. Why not? So off I went. After 2.75 miles things started to feel a little funny.  My legs went wobbly. My mouth flooded with saliva and my head went woozy. I slowed down. Then I stopped. Then I doubled up. Clearly, this run was not going well. The faint feeling eventually subsided and I managed to get in 7 miles before capitulating. It took another 10 days and 70 miles to figure out the obvious: I was over trained.

So, I took the last 7 days off. No running. Not even a mile. I supplemented with bike riding, chocolate and red wine. I can only hope that the time off did the trick and this week will be the start of a new era in my running career. It better be because I have another 50k coming up in less than a month.

Posted in health, running, trail running | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment »

SOB 50k Race Report

July 17, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Siskiyou Out and Back 50k, you were a monster. A wicked, beautiful monster. A hungry monster who ate ultra runners for breakfast and then spat them out all over the mountainside.

Here, better late than never, is my account of the most difficult race I’ve run to date (excluding my first marathon). In case you have not the energy to read its entirety, let’s boil it down. The report includes:

#1: Frank discussions about bodily functions

#2: Close encounters of the porta-potty kind

#3: Elephants

So, read on, my ultra readers, I hope you’ll stick with me to the finish line.

Pre-race:

In the days leading up to the race I was a mess of nervous energy. Can I do this? What if I fail? What if it hurts? What if I’m slow? What if I disappoint people? Eessh. Who needs that, right? I tried to quell the anxiety Thursday morning with an easy 5-mile loop around the bridges before work. My legs, however, pulled out a blistering 7 min/mile pace. Wowza, Legs, save some for race day, will ya! Their performance nevertheless put a smile on my face and instilled me with confidence. The flip side of pre-race anxiety is the amazing energy and sense of purpose I feel. Race time is go time and I look forward to it with as much excitement as dread.

My goals for this race were difficult to asses. The race would be at a high elevation with over 4000 feet of climbing in the race. The SOB 50k made my first 50k looked like a cake walk so I knew a PR was out of the question. My goal was simple: Survive. Race to the best of my ability.

Thursday night after work, I drove the 4+ hours down to Ashland, Oregon. At some point during the ridiculously long drive it occured to me that if I thought driving for close to five hours was ridiculous, how ridiculous would it be to run 4+ hours through the mountains? The thought was an unsettling reality check.

I arrived at the hotel late that night where I met my parents.* I hugged them and them collapsed into a coma on the slightly skeezy hotel bed.

* My parents are co-presidents of the Northern California chapter of the IHDFC (International Heather Daniel Fan Club). As co-presidents and founders they try to make to as many of my big races as possible. Their cheerleading capabilities are only eclipsed by their kickass parenting.

Day Before the Race:

I wake up and stumble to the bathroom. Dull crimson. A familar ache.  WTF! After months of a menstural cycle-free existence, my body decides to gift me with a period. Thanks a lot, Body. Really.  I feel unreasonably upset about this and spend the rest of the morning fretting like a 13-year old.  I keep thinking that maybe getting my period is evidence that I haven’t been training hard enough, or running enough miles, or that I’m carting too much weight. Pre-race anxiety plus pre-race periods. Yuck, indeed!

Later my parents and I drive to a nearby town to do some shopping/sight seeing/eating. I pick up the race packet at the local run shop  afternoon and go out for an early dinner. I consume chicken, veggies and a glass of white wine. No carb loading for this girl. For dessert I have a banana smothered in almond butter and some tea. I pack my bag and chat with my parents:

Dad: So, Bug, what do you think it’s going to be like tomorrow

Me: I think it’s going to be like walking on the moon.

Dad: How so?

Me: Well, you can train all you want to walk on the moon, but then you actually have to go out and do it.

Race Morning:

5AM: Race day! Go time!  Shower. Shave. I had planned to eat sardines and salad, my old standard, as a pre-race breakfast but I had neglected to put the sardines in the hotel fridge. While I may be a hardcore sardine eater, the thought of eating room temperature canned fish makes me queasy. I snack on some salad leaves. I stuff things into bags. I wait for my parents.

6AM: Stop for coffee. Drive to the top of the Mt. Ashland Ski Resort. Pass sign that says elevation 6100. Narrowly miss a deer as it hurls itself into the road. We arrive at the staging/start area , I step out of the car and realize just how cold it can be at this atltitude, this early in the day. I shiver and run to my new best friend, the porta potties.  Inside I begin serious negotiations with  a suddenly very upset stomach.

It's early. It's cold. I'm nervous.

It's early. It's cold. I'm nervous.

6:30AM: Second porta-potty visit. I use my phone-a-friend lifeline for additional moral support and race mojo. My dad snaps this picture. There is an option to have a drop bag available at one of the aid stations. I don’t imagine that I’ll need it, but I’ve prepared one just in case. Inside is an extra pair of shoes and socks and pair of shorts. Knowing  that will be there waiting at mile 21 provides a comforting security blanket. Kind of like a binkey for ultra-runners. I drop off the drop bag, potty at the porta potty, and glide on the BodyGlide. It’s race and day and running 50k sounds like a fine idea.

Race Start

7AM: I line up with the other runners in the chilly morning air, in a parking lot, under the simple start banner. It’s deceptively low key for the  the gigantic task we’re about to undertake. I feel the heady mix of excitement and nerves. My strategy is simple. I’m going to go out slow and then go slower. I spy Cheri, one of the Portland-area runners, from Trail Factor. We chat for a few minutes. Then all of a sudden the race director yells, “Have Fun!” Just like that we’re off. Just 31 miles to go, y’all!

We're off.

We're off.

Miles 1-3: The race is downhill from the start and I take it slow. Real slow. There is plenty of time and plenty of hills to run. I’m grinning. It’s a beautiful day. I’ve got my lucky earrings on and Espresso Love GUs in my pocket.

The race kicks onto a single track, meanders uphill and forces the runners into a single file. It’s slow going and I’m frustrated by the pace. I pass a few runners. Soon we are running through a medow and I hear the familar yell of my mom. Wooo! Woooo! She says. “Boys,” I say to the runners around me, “you’re in for a treat. That my mom yelling. She yells for everyone.”

We pass my mom and the gigantic banner.The over-the-top enthusiasm of my parents breaks the ice. The runner behind me re-introduces himself. “Oh yeah, I ran with you at Hagg Lake” he says, “You ran the first loop with me and then dropped me!” We chat on and on about different races and then I start chatting with the guy in front me too. Soon we’re passing the second aid station and I’m feeling better and better with each mile. My mom is cheering like a mad woman  in the middle of a forest and I can’t help but laugh. She is awesome.

Feeling great!

Feeling great!

Mile 5-7: I tuck in behind the runner in front. I can’t remember for the life of me what his name is, but I know he was wearing a red shirt and NikeFrees. He gives me great advice. Run slowly til you get to Mile 22. That’s where the race really begins. Internally I balk at the idea that Mile 22 is just the beginning. I push the thought aside and concentrate on moving fluidly and easily behind Mr. Nike Free

I had been worried about the altitude coming into the race. The slight incline in the first few miles left me breathless, now my breath is calm and even. I’m not experiencing any of the usual symptoms of running at altitude: dizziness, nausea, inability to catch your breath. I am relieved and keep on trucking conservatively.

Mile 9ish: Mr. Nike Ree and I pass the big aid station and the beginning of the first serious climb. It’s a forest service road. I stop for some electroltyes and leave my companion behind. I pass a few more runners and soon I am running by myself. The grade is steep, but I feel good. Great even. My stride is light. My spirits are high. Go go go!

Middle Miles: Phil the Garmin beeps to let me know I’m at 13 miles. In a regular marathon I’d be half way done by now. Not so today. I’m still climbing up, up, up and passing runners at a steady rate.

At mile 15 I pass another aid station and giggle. The table is topped with a delightful array of “ultra foods.” Potato chips, pretzels, peanut M&Ms, Oreos, Fig Newtons, flat Coke, and candy. Add some cupcakes and you could host a 10-year old’s birthday party. I decline the party foods, down an Espresso Love GU and I’m off. I pass another runner and say cheerfully, “Can you believe it!! Half-way done!” He looks at me and I can tell he does not share my optimism.

I feel fantastic and begin to pass more and more runners. It’s difficult to gauge my pace and how fast I should be running. I know there is a nasty climb ahead, so  I stay conservative. When I remember to look, the views are absolutely incredible. The distance seems silly and overwhelming so I decide to break down the race into three parts; I’ll run to Mile 20. Then there’s Mile 20-25, and then the Finish – Mile 26-31. Running 15.5 miles seems a little daunting, but running three ‘bits” seems good, even reasonable. I pass runners here and there but mostly I run alone.

Mile 18: In marathons, mile 18 always feels impossible. I’m still in the teens and still 8 long miles from the finish line. When Phil beeps to alert me that I’m on Mile 18 I soberly reflect that Mile 23 is the new Mile 18. . .

Mile 21: My mental capacity is dwindling. Big time. How many miles do I have to run? 50k is 31 miles, right? Or is it 32? If I’m at Mile 21 and the race is 31 miles, how many miles do I have left? I count them on my fingers twice. Ten miles. Ten miles. Or is it nine. Or eleven?

Mile 22: Only 9 miles left! I’m, like, so close to finishing, right? I grin because I’ve just decided that nine miles is “short.” The race begins a gentle, rolling uphill climb. I feel frisky and I pick up the pace. My legs agree that 9 miles is certainly close to the finish line. My mental capacity decreases and soon I’m thinking in fragments. Hill. Go. Legs. Mountains. Rock! . . .

Mile 23-26: Thoughts are hazy, life is getting harder.  The uphill is a demoralizing grinder that is crushing me and the other runners. Suddenly a tightness in my chest, like heartburn, intensifies and leaves me gasping. I know what the problem is. There is an elephant is sitting on my ribcage. It is huge and it refuses to move. Why would an elephant sit on my chest? I’m not sure and I only that I can’t take a true breath.  I try shallow breathes and I try longer, slower breathes. No dice. Hello, Elephant. I panic and start sobbing. Please go away. Please, please!  I say to myself: just breathe as best you can, lungs, and I’m going to try to run as best I can. So we shuffle up the hill. I am 100% focused on trying to finish the race – elephant and all.

Mile 27: I pass Aaron and Greg – two talented Southern Oregon runners who  I know. They shout encouragement and I yell back. Greg is especially enthusiastic and I am thrilled to see him. I try to feed off the morale boost, but my chest elephant is making me feel queasy. Despite the pain, I still pass other runners.  Then I am at the last station where I gasp, “How long to the finish?” “2.8 miles” he says. I nod solemnly and push forward. Pain. My chest is burning, tight and heavy. My legs feel like ghosts. I feel empty. Hazy. Happy and sad at the same time.

I restart my lap time and decide that 2.7 miles seems too far. Instead I’ll just concentrate on running the next 10 minutes. Ten minutes is do-able, right? I run forward and check the time and see 2:10 looking back at me. Two minutes and ten seconds. That’s it? That’s all? This is going to be the longest ten minutes ever!

Mile 28-29: I just think about putting one foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. Don’t think about your chest, Heather. Go. Forward.

Mile 30ish: The trail has leveled, but there is one last nasty surprise. We have to run up that damn forest service road. As I run through the meadow I can spy it rising up on the left. I groan. DO NOT MAKE ME RUN UPHILL!!! But at the same time I realize, Oh my god, all I have to do is run up this hill and then I’m done! With a tight chest and crampy calves, I start my crawl up the hill and toward the finish line. My parents are waiting at the top of the hill

One last hill

One last hill

My mom is yelling all manner of things, but what I hear is the one sentence from my dad, “You’re doing it,Bug!” I start to cry. I am a mess! I chug forward. So close to the finish.

Go go go!

Go go go!

Finish: I push past the finish line and I am spent. I don’t remember much of what happens after that for a bit. Someone hands me a bottle of beer and a medal and a pair of socks. I see Hal, the local running shop owner and the recent winner of the Western States 100 Race. We chat. I exit the finish area. I pick up a can of Coke which looks delicious and refreshing. I pop open the can, take a swig and immediately upchuck. Too soon, I guess. I chat with my parents and the elephant on my chest disappears.

Post Race: OK – if the idea of running 50k seems daunting,it’s only because you have yet to meet the people that come out to race. The commraderie is fantastic!  Women congratulated me and encouraged me to keep up my great running, “You’ve got so much potential!” one of the runners said. Receiving a compliment made me glow. Seeing so many strong female runners was a true inspiration. I want to be one of them!

I took off my shoes and felt immediately better, I ate some food and chatted it up with the other runners – Jodie, Greg, JC,  and Carly all of whom I already knew. There was also Denise who came up to me and said, “Are you Heather? The one that writes the blog! I love reading it. It’s so inspirational!” (Why, thank you!).

Conclusions: Damn, what a race!

Heather Daniel

Posted in Trail Factor, portland, race report, running, trail running | Tagged , , , , , | 14 Comments »

SOB 50k Race Report: Coming Soon

July 13, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Please stay tuned for the race report:

SOB 50k. A rumble in the forest.

SOB 50k. A rumble in the forest.

Preliminary Results:

Time: 4:49

Place: 6th place woman, 21st overall

Feelings: It was a monumental race!! So much to talk about.

Posted in Trail Factor, running, trail running | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments »

SOB 50 KM: The Mother Ultra

July 5, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Oh crap. This always happens. I sign up for a big race months ahead of time and then go about my training and in my mind the race remains a speck in the future, getting nearer, but never actually arriving. Oh yeah, I’d think often, that ultra marathon I signed up for, it’s in July sometime. I said that for months: Oh yeah, that ultra marathon. It’s coming up sometime in July. And look at that. Here we are. It’s July and I’m one week away from running the Siskiyou Out and Back 50k.

HOLY SHOTBLOCKS, readers! It’s time to begin pre-race panicking. Just look at the facts:

#1 The course description reads like this:  The courses meander along the Pacific Crest Trail with breathtaking views of Mt. Shasta, Mt. McLoughlin , and the Siskiyou and Cascade mountain ranges. The total course elevation gain for the 50K is approximately 4,200 ft.

Please note how casually they throw around the idea of 4,200 feet of elevation gain.

#2: It’s 50k! That’s long no matter how you cut it.

#3. There are fewer than 200 runners

#4. The course starts at a ski lodge at 6,500 feet.  Meaning not only will it be steep, but I’ll be starting at a much higher elevation than usual and I’ll have less oxygen to help me get up the 4,200 feet of elevation gain.

So of course I’m nervous. Really nervous. I’m trying to remain relaxed and realize that I’ve trained hard. I’m trying to remember that it’s about the experience. I’m trying to remember that when I signed up for the race I said “ohh, that sounds like fun.”

Ask me next Saturday at Mile 22 if I’m still having fun.

Posted in running, trail running | 3 Comments »

Letter to my watch

July 5, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Dear Phil, (My Garmin Forerunner 405),

Did you know, Phil, that we’ve been together for more than a year? I remember the first day I saw you. So strapping. So strong. So smart. It seemed like a perfect match. But in the past year we’ve had our ups and our downs. Sometimes you’d quit on me during a run. Sometimes you’d fail to communicate. It was frustrating. So I need to tell you something, Phil. Something big:

Phil, I’ve been seeing someone else.

His name is James (James Dean, actually). And he is. . .well, I just have to say it: He’s hot. He’s fast. And he’s strong.

Meet James Dean: The Cannondale CADD 9

Meet James Dean: The Cannondale CADD9 Frame

What I’m saying Phil, is that our relationship will no longer be exclusive (to running). You’ll need to adapt and change modes. Will you stick with me? It seems like a yes so far. During our first ride together (all three of us, James, you and me – kind of awkward, I know!) you  were on target, happily beeping away at every mile. You were so accurate. So timely. So interested in what James was doing.

You know, Phil, now that I think about it.  Maybe you actually prefer James the Road Bike? I can see why you’d be attracted to him. He’s sophisticated and precise just like you.  During our ride on Friday it seemed like you were more accurate on distance and speed.  Is it easier to triangulate on open, mostly straight roads? It certainly must be easier than trying to track me through dense forests and up switchbacks.  Maybe you just find James just as hot and awesome to work with as I do. It’s possible.

So Phil, go out with James. Have fun beeping the mile splits as we ride along, but don’t forget – We’re runners first.

Posted in nerd alert | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments »

Running shoes galore

June 28, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Current Shoe Rotation

Current Shoe Rotation

You know you’re a runner when your running shoes take up a significant portion of your closet space…

For Most Road Runs: Mizuno Elixirs

For Other Road Runs and Dry Easy Trails: Saucony Pro Grid Tangents (2 pairs)

For Track Workouts: Saucony Fastwitch

For Nasty Badass Trails: Adidas AdiZero XT

Posted in life, running, trail running | Tagged , | 2 Comments »

Race Report: White Salmon Trail 1/2 Marathon

June 20, 2009 by heatherdaniel

So here is how it went down. Friday evening I was wrapping up my first week at the office and was totally pooped. I wanted nothing more than to crawl home and sleep my way through the weekend. However, it’s clear that I do not excel in lazying around my apartment for extended periods of time so when one of  my running friends called me up and reminded me that there was a 1/2 marathon I should consider, I was already halfway convinced that it was a good idea. Then he reminded me of the following salient points:

#1: It was free, as in absolutely no entry fee

#2: It started at a brewery

#3: It finished at a brewery

#4: And I wouldn’t even have to drive

Well, with that kind of a setup, how could I say no?  So this morning I woke up bright and early, put on some dirty running clothes and ran the White Salmon Half Marathon, A.K.A The Free 1/2 Marathon, A.K.A The Summer Solstice Brewery Trail Half, A.K.A That One Race in the Gorge, You Know, The Free One.

Prerace: I figured this would be excellent training for a ridiculous trail race I’ll be running in just a few weeks (holy crap, I can’t believe it’s that soon). My carpool buddy and I arrived at the scene about 20 minutes before the start to find runner-looking types milling around. I jumped out, beelined to the restroom, grabbed a cup of coffee that was available to the runners and got myself race ready. Shoes. Bodyglide. Hat. Check. Check. Check. I strapped on Phil (Garmin 405) and wandered back to the runners.

Even as a free event, there wasn’t much of a crowd. I think maybe 60 runners tops.  The race director, who couldn’t have been more pleasant, lead the way to a squiggly chalk line on the road that spelled”Start!” We lined up. He said the course would be well-marked. I wondered aloud what the course was like and someone responded, “Steep!” Well, OK, I thought, let’s see what steep looks like. And that was about all the information I got.

Start of the White Salmon 1/2 Marathon (photo by Bob Lynes)

Start of the White Salmon 1/2 Marathon: photo by Bob Lynes

Race: Then we were off! From the get go I could see this race was going to be dominated by a core pack of strong women. We started conservatively and I spent the first couple of miles chatting with Mandy from my trail running group. She is a fierce and fit runner.  We hit the singletrack that rolled for a bit before climbing a series of steep switchbacks. I passed the lead woman about that point and she hooked on to the back of the front group. There was one guy up ahead and that was it. We really were a strong group of women out there! I was impressed!

The three of us powered up the inclines. I tripped and fell hard. Mandy jumped ahead and put on the gas. I followed close behind. Within another mile, Mandy had dropped me and I had  put a significant gap between myself and the third place girl. The inclines were steep and difficult, but I felt strong. I later heard there was about 22oo feet of elevation climbing and that was mostly accomplished in the first half. I would believe it. There were some steep hills to climb! But it was worth it.This was one of the most stunning trails I have ever run. Just check it out:

Beautiful Single Track - Photo by Bob Lynes

Beautiful Single Track - Photo by Bob Lynes

View from the course

In the last half mile I took a wrong turn and lost about 2 or 3 minutes of time. I had to backtrack up a hill but I was able to finish strong and quick and ended up placing third overall (!!!) and second in womens. In fact, women took 5 of the top 7 spots in the race. Way to go, girls!!!

Results:

Time: 1:54:55

Third Place Overall

Second Place Woman

Posted in Trail Factor, race report, trail running | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments »

New Work: Funny Comment

June 16, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Yesterday was my first day at my new (dream) job. It was fantastic, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was the new kid in school. During lunch I chatted about office workflow, schedules and upcoming projects with another producer. In the conversation she mentioned that the studio director and she were both impressed with my ultra running and that was part of what convinced them to bring me in for an interview (yes, running is on my resume). So while I was definitely qualified and am a great match for this job, I have running to thank for getting me in the door.

Obligatory Running Notes:

Ran 79 miles last week and feel great

Participated in a clothing optional 5k dash/streak. Finished second overall (first place female) and confirmed  that while clothing won’t make you faster it certainly provides dignity

Completed track workout that consisted of 16×400 repeats with 20-30 seconds rest in between. I highly recommend this workout. It’s fantastic.

Posted in portland, trail running, work | Tagged , , | 6 Comments »

Long Run Bonk

June 10, 2009 by heatherdaniel

I am currently wrapping up a quick visit to Sacramento to spend time with my family.  I arrived Friday evening and have been eating and drinking non-stop.  My dad grilled steak. My older brother made blue cheese burgers and grilled zucchini that made my taste buds weep with joy.  And my mom knows that I cannot say no to frosting and has tempted me with all manner of baked goodies.

Basically it’s been one big feast of food since I arrived. I can only hope that all my running is helping to balance it out.

Right now I am preparing for a beast of a trail race (more on that later) and I’ve been mostly sticking to trail work. However, while in Sacramento I decided to do a long run on a local bike trail. My dad worked out a plan for me: from the house, down a long non-descript street and around Natomas Lake would make 20 miles and change. It would be perfect for a long Sunday run. As I drank my coffee Sunday morning I realized I’d  failed to pack my hand held water bottle. No worries I thought. I’d just hit up the water fountains on the bike trail. That ought to be fine. Famous last word, right? It did not turn out to be fine. It turned out to be a mini-disaster.

It began like a normal long run.  I felt little slow and creaky at first, but soon my miles splits were dropping into the sub 8-minute range. 7:20, 7:15, 7:30, 7:33. . .  and they stayed pretty steady, hovering between 7:30-7:40. Perfect. Perky. Unflappable. On the bike trail, I hit three water fountains all within a mile of each other. I took small gulps at each as the sun was climbing higher. I even ate some Luna Moons at the third water fountain before crossing to the opposite side of the lake. Things seemed to be going so well. Miles 6- 10 were textbook. But then something curious happened:

Mile 11. No water fountain to be seen

Mile 12. Still no water fountain

Mile 13: Still no water fountain. It’s been six miles since my last sip of water.  Did I mention it was toasty hot?

Mile 14: I’m still feeling O.K. but I’d dearly love a drink just about now.

Sadly, each mile ticked by and none of them produced a magical water fountain. I couldn’t eat because I didn’t have water. My mile splits were steady but my legs were not as responsive. My mouth was sticky. My skin baked.

Finally the lap around the lake complete, I headed toward the house.  It was only three or so miles to the front door, but first I had to trudge up Heart Attack Hill (so named by my dad because it’s steep and there’s a fire station should you require CPR upon reaching the summit). About half way up my legs just kind of puttered out. I was still moving, but I was no longer running. It would be a stretch to say I was jogging. I had simply run out of fuel. I crested Heart Attack Hill and knew that it was only another 1/2 mile to a gas station. More importantly, I was pretty sure that the gas station had a convenience store. Thank the running gods!

Has there ever been a longer mile? I staggered, salt-crusted, red-faced and nasty, into the air conditioned cool of the mini-mart. I grabbed a Fruit Punch Gatorade and plunked $2 on the counter. Would I like my receipt? I feebly shook my head, I was too busy trying to rip the plastic seal off the bottle. Would I like my four pennies back? No, no I would not. I staggered back into the sunlight where I gulped the Gatorade furiously. I ingested half contents in one fell swoop and had to hold back from drinking the rest. No need to risk a side cramp.

I began to shuffle in the direction of my parents house, concentrating only on survival. I feel like absolute crap. I was SO tired. SO thirsty. SO hot! But after a few more minutes things seemed less dire. The electrolytes kicked in. My sweat production picked up and so did my pace. Gatorade, you were awesome!

Lesson Learned: Don’t forget the hand-held water bottle!

Posted in running, trail running | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments »

Jobless no more!

June 6, 2009 by heatherdaniel

Confession: I have been unemployed for the better part of six weeks now.  I wasn’t sure how I could casually write about joblessness without breaking down in tears or being smooshed under the weight of  self-pity.  To back track,  my position as an Associate Web Producer at a Portland-area ad agency was eliminated along with my paycheck. The layoff was unexpected and it left me terrified.  I sobbed for a few hours, went for a run to clear my head and then biked  back to the office to pick up a few personal belongings.

I never made it back to the office that day. A car collided with my bike only a few blocks from my apartment.  First laid off and then hit by a car. On the same day. As I skidded across the pavement my first thought was, “!@#*&%!, This is the WORST !@#%^! Day EVER!!” It was closely followed by a second very real worry, ” My Legs!”  That I might be both unemployed AND unable to run evoked a true panic.  Let’s be honest. Finding yourself  sans job in this economy in a town with the second highest unemployment rate in the country may be… I don’t know…  a bit of a bummer, but being struck by a car mere days before a major marathon felt a whole lot scarier. Luckily, Stella, my road bike, took the majority of the impact and  I was able to race in the Eugene Marathon (time of 3:07 and fourth place woman) only ten days later. I do not suggest adding car/bike collisions into a pre-race taper program. It’s just not a good plan.

So. for the last six weeks I’ve been diligently, nervously, and apprehensively following every job lead, every whiff of opportunity and running, running, running when I couldn’t stare at my computer screen any longer. It was tough. Very tough.

All of that changed this week. This week was a true roller coaster.

Monday: I had run a intense hill workout with Trail Factor the day before:  about 12 miles of fire lane work that left my legs burning and weak. But I struck out on a 19 mile trail run on Monday for a back-t0-back long workout. I finished the day much as I had started it. Exhausted. Unemployed. Unsure of my future.

Tuesday: I started track practice but suffered a mysterious and sudden hamstring cramp. I was forced to cut the workout short and left to wonder if all the trail hills had left me a bit too tired. I iced my unemployed hamstring that evening and prepped for the following morning’s interview. I was excited about the meeting, but my cranky crampy hamstring cautioned me against getting my hopes up. It was a big deal to even be invited back for a second interview. Similar to a race situation, I calmed my nerves by laying out my clothes and packing my bag the night before. The only difference? I didn’t need Body Glide or a bib number for the interview.

Wednesday: BIG DAY! At the conclusion of the interview that I thought went well, I inquired when I might hear back from them. “Very soon” was the only reply. Oh no. Oh no! Oh no! So not a good sign. I calmed my fears with wine and a friend that night and tried my best not to fret. Between the stress of the interview and fretting about it that afternoon I decided to forgo an afternoon run. My hamstring agreed that it was probably a good idea.

Thursday: Discovered that two glasses of wine is really my limit. I awoke with a thick dry mouth and a foggy head. But there was a message in my inbox inquiring f I could come into the office to discuss next steps. I danced. I clapped my hands. I yelled, “Woohooo!!” at my houseplant. Then I immediately downed a cup of coffee, tied my shoelaces and squeezed in 10 miles. That afternoon’s interview was fabulous and it ended with a job offer. I felt like pumping my fist up in the air and screaming. It felt like I had won the lottery. This isn’t just a job. This is the job I truly want! I celebrated with at home by watching Hulu in pajama pants

Friday: I woke up in the middle of the night and pulled out the offer again just to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated it all. I woke again so I could meet up with the 650 club (named such because we meet at 6:50 in the morning) to run about six miles of trails. I tacked on another three or four to round it out. I dropped off the signed offer, met the rest of the team  at the office, and flew to Sacramento that evening.

Saturday: Today. On vacation and totally not stressed. Running in my hometown always feels a little strange. The roads seem deserted in comparison to the busy Portland streets and the air seems drier. I ran six miles this morning and another five in the afternoon.

Summary: 68.7 miles running this week

Details about the job: I couldn’t be more excited. I will be an Associate Producer for an ambitious Interactive Design Studio. They specialize in interactive displays and physical installations for museums. Their work is compelling, interesting and fits my personality. Who would have thought that what seemed like such a terrible string of bad luck would turn into such a great opportunity. I can’t wait to get started.

Posted in Trail Factor, running, work | Tagged , , , , | 16 Comments »

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