Wild Azalea Trail Challenge 2018

About a year ago, I started trail running, and over the course of 2017, I took on some unexpected and slightly insane challenges, including my first two ultra marathons. I had signed up for a 50K the weekend after Thanksgiving and ended up not being able to go thanks to a case of a bronchitis-ish upper respiratory infection, so I was itching to get back on the trail for some good distance running. For my first race of the year, I signed up for the Wild Azalea Trail Challenge, a race situated mostly on Louisiana's longest continuous trail, the Wild Azalea Trail, which is 23.9 miles long. I could have signed up for the half marathon, but then I would not have seen the whole trail, so I decided to go for the 27 miler.

I have been more consistent with my training than ever before and was even doing a little speed work in the fall. (And maybe I'll go back to track this week...) The weather was set to be perfect for running (mid-30s when I started, in the 50s by the finish), so I set a somewhat lofty goal of averaging 15 minutes per mile throughout the race. (For reference, I ran the Chicago Marathon on a warm day at a 13:09 pace, but I know I am slower on the trail than the road.)



Saturday morning, I started my day with a bagel, a banana, and coffee at the hotel, then I had half of a donut and half of a banana at the church where we were waiting to start the race. Some of the ongoing conversation on Friday night had been the volume of food I consumed, and I was on track to keep the conversation going. (I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I ate a McDonald's combo PLUS a double cheeseburger on the drive down, then conquered a large bowl of pho after the pre-race meeting.)

Pre-race photo with my new friend Stefan, who is from my hometown. I can't seem to make it vertical. Stefan is super speedy and won the 27 miler!

27 Miler GOATS before the start





The race started with around 1.6 miles of road running, so I banked a little bit of time to slow down toward the end of the race. I was anticipating hills throughout the course, and the extra time was good to have early. I put myself in the back of the pack and enjoyed the scenery of the trail. In the first mile of the trail, I passed one runner, and we leapfrogged for a while before I eventually left him. Alternating running and walking every minute, I was ahead of pace and feeling good, even on the gradual uphills. At the first aid station (just after mile 4) I caught up to another runner (whose name I later learned is Marty), and we spoke briefly, both agreeing that we were having a good race so far. I grabbed a mini Snickers and continued running.

Sign going into the trail: "You're not almost there!"

This first third of the race went swimmingly. I had seen a few of the 50 milers on their way out, and we cheered for each other in passing. I tripped and fell at mile 7.44, but fortunately I had on leggings and a jacket, so I didn't sustain any cuts or open wounds. After 8 miles, I had saved up over 6 minutes of time for later in the race.  "I can add a minute per mile to my time starting at mile 21, and I'll be fine," I naively told myself. Then, the real hills came, and I realized that I was going to need that banked time well before mile 21. These hills were steeper than anything I train on. I managed to make it to mile 10 before I was out of banked time; feeling hopeful that the rest of the hills would not be as brutal, I thought I might still finish under 7 hours. Letting go of my 6:45 goal, I texted my friend Megan, who was running the half, and told her I was probably not going to make my goal thanks to the hills. Tim and Lauren were cheering me on and checking in on me as well; I don't usually text during a race other than occasionally hearing from Richard where he is on the course, so this was unusual for me. I caught up to Marty, and he was also hoping for seven hours but not counting on it. I eventually fell behind him. Megan and James FaceTimed me for a moment, and I gave the report that I was feeling strong enough to keep moving, just not quickly, as my knee was starting to hurt. I was surprised by how much talking to them for a few minutes lifted me up.

At the halfway point, I stumbled upon a manned aid station (the others were tables of fluids and snacks on a table) and started chatting with the race staff. Marty was there eating a tamale, and when they asked me if I wanted one, I thought, "What the heck? The wheels have fallen off, and I'm probably going to walk the rest of this...so sure." At the pre-race meeting on Friday night, there had been an announcement about a tamale eating contest, but I guess I forgot that it was on the race course, not at the end. Marty ate two tamales, and I was leading the women's division with two. Then my competitive side came out, so I ate a third. And just as I was about to walk away from the aid station, a gap opened in my stomach, and I managed to eat a fourth tamale. (They were truly delicious, might I add.)

Tamale time! This is before I knew I was going to eat four.

I speed walked ("glorified hiked" as I called it) most of the rest of the race, trying to keep my mile times under 20 minutes. Every mile, I would calculate what my finish time would be if I did the remainder of my miles in 20 minutes, and I found joy in seeing my calculated time decrease whenever I finished a mile in 17, 18, or even 19 minutes, especially once I got my calculation under 8 hours. I continued voice texting with a few of the GOATS and learned that Paul was having some pretty bad leg pain about three miles ahead of me; he said he might wait on me to catch him and finish with him. As much as I dreaded the uphill climbs, the steep downhills were as bad or worse, as I don't feel confident that I could run down them without falling on my face. I fell again around 17.6 miles and laughed before deciding I needed a sip of Fireball.

"It's not a trail run unless someone gets lost." Oh please oh please don't let it be me.

At the last aid station, I caught up to Marty and his friend Scott, who had been ahead of us for the entire race. Scott reported pain with his IT band, and the three of us took a moment to commiserate over our walking finishes before I went on ahead of them.


Just before mile 22, I thought I had caught up with Paul; he seemed to be crouching on the ground ahead of me. I called out his trail name, "Schemer!" but he didn't reply. Surely he had not fallen asleep on the trail. Turns out, he hadn't, and I was hollering at a jagged tree stump. Trail delirium can be like that. I settled it with another sip of Fireball.

With about 4 miles to go, Stefan texted me to let me know he was heading back to Rome but that he'd enjoyed meeting the GOATS, and the finish line was awesome. A little later, a 50 miler passed me, and he told me we only had about 3 miles remaining. My watch had me just over 23 miles. but the 50 mile runner had run this section of the trail before, so I trusted him and concluded that my GPS was off a bit from the twists and turns in the shaded forest.  Megan texted to let me know that she and Paul were waiting at the finish line to cheer me in, so I told her I would let her know when I hit the blue diamond trail, which was the last mile. Recalculating, I figured I was going to come in under 7:45. That was a good feeling. 

Finally, with a third of a mile remaining, I ran into Paul (actual Paul, not a tree stump) who was coming to finish the race with me, despite his leg pain. We speed walked together, and as the finish line came into view, I ran for the first time in a few hours. My friends were there cheering for me, and I felt so excited and proud to finally be done. I knew the whole time that I was going to make it eventually, but finally crossing the line made it real. I was handed a medal, and Preacher made sure I got a beer in my hand as soon as possible. Following a few photo opportunities, I joined the other finishers by a fire to chat about our day and cheer in the remaining runners (including Marty and Scott)! I also learned that I was the winner of the tamale eating contest (at least in the 27 mile division), which means I will receive free registration for the Wild Azalea Trail Challenge next year! As much as I question my sanity and reason for doing these things while I am on the trail, the truth is that I'm always looking for something crazy and fun to do, so I'm sure I'll be back as my schedule allows.

Triumphant finisher photo -- I think James took this one.

DeLane, Megan, and me shortly after I finished -- I think this is from Megan's phone

All smiles post race and post-hills (photo courtesy of Megan)

A few of the GOATS who were around when I finished (photo from...James?)

Up next is Rendezvous Louisiane this weekend, with a Quarter Marathon on Saturday and a Marathon on Sunday. I can hardly wait!


Cross-posted to storiesinmyskin.com

When Tragedy Strikes and Fear Creeps In

One Thursday back in June, I met a friend in downtown Shreveport for drinks around 9:00 pm. I'd had a pretty long week at work and was vacillating between staying home that night and letting myself go out to socialize. The socializing won, and we ended up wandering to different locations downtown until nearly 2:00 am. When we climbed in my car and started to leave, I heard what I thought was the sound of my entire vehicle falling apart.

Turns out it was a flat tire.

Despite flat tires being a thing that happen to people every day, I lost it. Some kind person appeared out of the darkness and helped change my tire as I sobbed hysterically over what is, by most accounts, not a big deal. At a time when I was exhausted and wanted to go home and sleep, this bump in the road seemed insurmountable.

When I made it home in the middle of the night and climbed into bed, I recounted the events of the evening to Richard and cried, "Why does anyone even bother to leave their house?" (Sometimes I have a flair for the dramatic.)

---

Before I fell asleep Sunday night, my brain was already looking ahead to this Sunday, October 8. That's the day I'll be running the Chicago Marathon, something I have looked forward to and trained for since early this year. Pre-race jitters are experienced by most runners, I think, especially the night before a big race, but with hopes for a PR at the front of my mind, I guess the jitters started early.

Shortly after I awoke on Monday, however, I began seeing headlines about the shooting in Las Vegas. Whenever these tragedies strike, I never know what to say. I especially don't know what to say when it keeps happening. Among posts about gun control and re-shares of an article from The Onion entitled "'No Way To Prevent This,' Says Only Nation Where This Regularly Happens," a friend of mine who frequently attends concerts posted on Facebook, "When it's at a concert, it hits a little too close to home." Among the compelling, convincing posts I read, it was this short post that I found particularly poignant. I started to think about how I would feel if an event close to me was threatened by such a terrible act before I quickly remembered that the marathon has already been impacted, just a few years ago.

In 2013, when the Boston Marathon was bombed, I was just a few months into training for the Chicago Marathon, my first marathon. Someone somewhere posted on Tumblr that if people were looking to crush spirits, marathoners were not the ones to mess with. I reblogged that post because I believed it to be true. Now that I am among the marathoners, I know it is true. So much of being a runner, especially a marathoner, requires persevering and refusing to give in to the negative influences on our thoughts. Sometimes those are internal, and sometimes they're external. No matter what, though, I never let the fear win.

As I prepare to return to Chicago, to once more run the city that made me a marathoner, I would be lying if I said I am not scared. I find myself asking the same thing I asked Richard a few months ago: why does anyone even bother to leave their house? Is this marathon worth taking two separate planes to run in an unfamiliar city where people might try to hurt me just because they know there will be a large number of people gathered together for what is supposed to be a happy, triumphant event? I know there is plenty of good in the world and even more to appreciate about life--I am often the one who points out the positive aspects of life when other people are down--but I guess everyone is discouraged sometimes.

Since I run to honor my dad, I thought about what he might say if I could call him. At this point, I would not miss this marathon, but I feel confident that my dad would also want me to keep the plans I made. He would not want me to let fear win.

Now that my pre-race jitters have shifted to fear, I pray this week for the strength and determination of a marathoner. I'll probably also throw something in there about swift feet, but most importantly, I pray for our country and our leaders as we can maybe, finally, find a way to stop these tragedies that lead us into a state of fear. Meanwhile, may we all have the unconquerable spirit of the marathoners.

Krispy Kreme Challenge - Training Run 2

As my husband's patients would say, "It's been a minute." Turns out training for a marathon, having a full-time job (especially one that is particularly busy at this time of year), studying for a standardized test, and trying to do regular life stuff (like drink water and eat real food) typically rank higher on the priority scale than training for the Krispy Kreme Challenge, but I'm still hanging in there, and some of the other running stuff I'm doing is helpful for KKC training.

Perhaps my most exciting development this week was that I went to a one mile time trial on Wednesday morning (more on Wednesday Morning Track another day) and ran my mile in 9:11. I am not sure I have ever run a mile that fast in my life; initially, I thought, "This is probably my fastest mile since those Presidential Physical Fitness Test runs in elementary school!" but I specifically remember my mom writing a note for me so I didn't have to do the mile in 6th grade. I really hadn't been feeling well, but considering the condition in which I run multiple miles now, I was in good enough shape to do the mile on that fateful day in 2000. I don't remember how I did on the mile in 5th grade. Nevertheless, I ran my fastest mile in a while on Wednesday, so that was cool. If I can get up to running five miles with 9:11 as my per-mile pace, I'll have a whopping fourteen minutes to eat my donuts during the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

Today, Tim and I met for our second KKC training run. (Lauren was missed!) I was up before the sun, taking my preventative Imodium and picking up donuts so we could start our run at 6:00 am. This time, we kicked up the mileage by one mile, and I doubled the donut intake to four donuts. Here's how we did according to my watch (which was a little more generous than Tim's was--he had us right at 6 miles):

1st run - ran 3.06 mi in 45:07 (14:45 pace)
Donut/transition: 6-8 minute (I need to start actually timing transition)
2nd run - ran 3.04 mi in 45:06 (14:50 pace)
Total time: 1:37-ish

Once more, nobody puked or died. I have to wonder if someone will eventually puke, though.

Training hard

Our overall pace dropped a bit today, but we were consistent across the miles, which is important. I think I'd prefer to run the miles evenly if I can, but I still also hope to be fast enough to have some time banked for the second half in case life happens on race day.

I'll be honest, doubling the donut intake from two to four was a little more challenging than I thought it would be. I went out and socialized on Friday night, including eating a pretty substantial Peruvian meal at 10:00 pm, so perhaps I was still a little full from that (though what I remember about the timeline of digestive process tells me that's probably not actually the case). Eating that last donut was not a piece of cake (it was a donut!), but I think I could have eaten up to six donuts and still run the second loop.

I'm slightly overwhelmed by the thought of eventually eating triple the amount of donuts that I ate today. Today, when I ate four donuts, I reflected upon lessons in economics class about diminishing returns. My professors used beer and Krystal burgers as their examples, but I think donuts are a similar case -- if this is how #4 feels, how will #9 feel? When those dark thoughts creep in, however, I remind myself of other training achievements that overwhelmed me and are now regular occurrences, like running six miles. I'm continually impressed by the things my body can do, and I fully trust in my ability to train up to eating a dozen donuts. (Did I really just write that sentence?)

Overall, training is going pretty well. I'm getting faster and eating more donuts. I haven't yet combined the faster pace with donut consumption, but it's still early. Today, I'm especially grateful for the support of friends in this training journey. Plus, who wants to binge on donuts alone?

Tim wonders why he agreed to this.

Krispy Kreme Challenge Training Begins

Something I've learned about running is that there are a few ways to do more with a running routine. Many people choose to go faster, while others prefer to run longer. Quite a few marathoners set their sights on qualifying for the Boston Marathon. Heck, I'd like to be there someday, but right now I'm not putting enough focus on the whole "running faster" thing, so I might not qualify until I'm at least 70 years old. That's fine. I'm nothing if not persistent when it comes to this running stuff.

A few years ago, I found myself going down an internet rabbit hole when I saw some friends doing a 5K where they had to eat a donut every mile. I thought that sounded disgusting, yet I was intrigued. What I ended up landing on was this Wikipedia page about the Krispy Kreme Challenge. Involving more mileage and more donuts than the 5K my friends were running, the Krispy Kreme Challenge was the kind of ridiculousness I can get behind: 2.5 miles, 12 donuts, and 2.5 miles back--in an hour or less. The fact that it takes place at NC State, the school which has held my athletic support longer than any other institution, is just glaze on the doughnut. Why run 3.1 miles and eat 3 donuts when you can run 5 miles and eat 12 donuts? The Krispy Kreme Challenge would be my new way to do more with my running, and it's a pretty sweet (pun intended) option between where I am now and someday qualifying for Boston.

Most Saturdays, I have a morning running date with my friends Tim and Lauren. We talk about lots of things, including our hopes and dreams, and on August 5, I shared with them that a shorter term goal I've set for myself is completing the Krispy Kreme Challenge in February 2019. Their initial reaction was the same combination of disgust and intrigue that I experienced when I was first exposed to the KKC, but less than a mile later, they were on board to help me train. We decided that today would be our first training run, and I said I'd pick up a dozen doughnuts for us to split. They talked me down to a half dozen, and we decided we'd run 2, eat 2, and run 2.  Then yesterday, we decided we'd cover the full 5 miles of the KKC. Here's how we did:

1st run - ran 2.8 miles in 37:52 (13:28 pace)
Donut/transition: 9-ish minutes
2nd run - ran/walked 2.2 miles in 33:51 (15:21 pace)
Total time: 1:21-ish

Bonus: nobody puked or died.

I have run 5 miles in under an hour, and I have eaten four doughnuts in a sitting. I've never combined the running with doughnuts other than a donut around mile 8 of the Louisiana Marathon this year, and I think I threw half of that out. So, I need to get faster, and I need to eat more doughnuts. And I need to get faster at eating doughnuts.

My target race date is around February 2019. I'll need to bank time in the first 2.5 miles to possibly run the second half at a slower pace. I also have to eat more doughnuts than I've ever eaten in one sitting, and I need to eat them quickly. Training is going to be brutal at times, but what an honor it will be to fulfill this dream. I'm excited to share more training reports as we progress. I think our next one won't be for a few weeks, as I'm pretty far into training for Chicago Marathon on October 8, but we're going to step up to three doughnuts. I might even go for four. I also intend to do a better job tracking our time in transition. Stay tuned!

Earning and Privilege

Marine Corps Marathon training is well under way, and I have been thinking a lot lately about this year's race and how I hope to finally earn the finisher's medal that I missed last year.

Earn.

It turns out I've been thinking about that word, too.

While vacationing in North Carolina and traveling about last week, I skipped a few runs, so I am currently playing catch up. I have also been sleeping late, which is something I said I would not do last October. Not wanting to miss another day of training, I set out this afternoon to hopefully run 7.5 miles, the long run I skipped on Saturday. Before I left, I posted the following on Facebook:

When I run on summer afternoons, I have to self-talk as if I am a small child. "But once you finish your run, you can go get ice cream!"

I drove downtown and parked a few spaces down from Kaleido- sno, a local cafe that sells New Orleans-style snowballs. A snowball would be my post-run treat; surely after 7.5 miles, I could still stumble to my car and grab the necessary cash from my purse. By then, I would have earned a cold, sweet snowball.

After I parked, I popped my trunk to throw my purse in and started my warm-up walk. I am not sure I had even made it onto the sidewalk before I was approached by an unfamiliar woman, dressed neatly but certainly looking tired. We chatted briefly about how hot and humid it was outside, then she asked me if I would give her a ride to West Rome. Explaining that I had just gotten downtown to go exercise -- hadn't she seen me get out of my car? -- I offered to call her a cab or get her something to eat. She thanked me and asked for bus fare. I explained that I do not like to give cash but would be happy to buy her something to eat while she waited.

"Bus fare is only $1.25," she said.

Reluctantly, I reached into my car and fished $1.25 out of my Sonic fund, the money I keep for when I decide I need a slush or limeade. I just wanted to start my run. How am I supposed to know how much bus fare is, anyway?

The truth of the matter is that I have recently read several stories about people asking for rides before robbing or harming the drivers. How could I discern her true intentions? I did not want to be the next victim on the local news website, I just wanted to start my run. I have a medal to earn, after all.

As I left the deli and the woman, I caught a glimpse of my sorority crest on my Camelbak water bottle and started to reflect on the past few minutes. What kind of example was I being, as a sorority woman but also as a human? When faced with an opportunity to help someone, had I stayed true to my personal value set? Maybe, maybe not. Was my training run -- one that I was already five days late for -- really so important? I didn't think I had been rude, and I definitely did not feel comfortable giving this woman a ride, but something still didn't feel quite right.

I set off on my run and thought again about the marathon for which I am training and the medal I hope to earn. There it was, that word again. I thought back to the woman. I found myself in a position where I could help her, or offer her something, and I did...sort of. There were deeds I could have done that I did not do. As much as I like to think I have made many of the "right" choices, much of my position in life is not something I necessarily deserved over anyone else. The car the woman saw me climb out of was a gift from my parents when I went to college; they earned the money to purchase it. Was it fair for me to turn her away?

As I struggled through my run -- the dew point was 74! -- I decided to be content with my choice to give her bus fare. I pushed through the training, even though I opted to turn around 1.5 miles in and try the 7.5 miles in the morning. Tired and beat down from a challenging 3 miles, I looked around for the woman as I headed back toward my car and my post-run treat. (I definitely felt I had earned that much!) I didn't see her. Hopefully, she found a bus back home.

I love the way training gives me time to reflect and let my mind wander, but today's situation remains unresolved. Without knowing what she would have actually done if I gave her a ride, it's tough to really know if I did the right thing. After today, I do think I am slightly more aware of my own privilege and how many things I had been given in life. I remain aware that race medals are earned, and I will move forward with my training as planned.

Here's to 7.5 miles tomorrow morning!

I Run for Army Sgt. 1st Class Kristoffer B. Domeij

I signed up for the wear blue: run to remember Memorial Day event. (You might remember me mentioning wear blue: run to remember in the Marine Corps Marathon.) The goal was to have 10,000 people running at least one mile, and I committed to run five. Each runner was assigned a soldier who has died in the Global War on Terror, and I was assigned Kristoffer B. Domeij. In 2011, at the age of 29, he died of "wounds suffered when enemy forces attacked his unit with an improvised explosive device." Wikipedia tells me he holds the record for the elite ranger with the most deployments--14-- to be killed in action. Wow.

When I talked to RWD, who is 29 now, about the run and my assigned soldier, he commented that 29 is actually kind of old for a soldier in Afghanistan. How can it be that there are so many men and women RWD's age and younger who make these tremendous sacrifices for our country? With our wedding only a few weeks away, I struggle with the idea that as we are just beginning our lives together, so many people are unable to have those same experiences and joys. I am truly in awe of their sacrifices.

As yesterday was Memorial Day, the plan was to run last night, but that was derailed by the tornado watch/warning and ensuing rain that struck my town. I went out this morning instead. Although I am a dedicated run/walker, my goal was to run the five miles straight. With people out there giving their lives, the least I could do is run five miles...right?

Halfway through, the fact that I had not eaten breakfast began to settle in. I was hungry, and all I brought with me was a bottle of water. I was in the middle of a neighborhood where I didn't know anyone, so I decided to alternate jogging and walking every quarter mile for the rest of my outing. Proudly, I finished the run for Sgt. Domeij.

Although I reflected on many things as I ran this morning, perhaps the most staggering to me is the comfort I am afforded thanks to the freedom that is protected by the men and women who serve our country. 

When the weather was bad last night, I didn't have to go out in it. 

When I was tired, I could stop and walk. 

When I was hungry, there was food waiting at the end of my route. 

When I was thirsty, I had a bottle of clean water to drink.

Of course, I am also thankful for the ability to run. It is an honor to run for someone who gives the ultimate sacrifice for people like me.  

Late Night Thoughts for the Class of 2015

I've been thinking a lot about gifts lately. RWD and I are now just three weeks away from our wedding, and we have been receiving packages in the mail each week since we sent invitations. I love getting presents as a visual, tangible reminder of the person who gave me the gift. Currently, many of our wedding gifts are stacked together waiting to be sorted out, but each giver has a box. I love being able to look into a box and know exactly who sent its contents.

It is not surprising, then, that I love the fact that working in education allows me to compartmentalize things into school years. Quite easily, I can separately file away the events of one year and the members of each class in my brain, which can be quite handy. I also enjoy having the summer time to rejuvenate before the school year starts again. Although time goes by faster and faster, I try not to let the years run together.

Tomorrow, I will wrap up my time with the Class of 2015. This week has been filled with events, meals, and parties to celebrate the accomplishments of some outstanding young men and women and send them off to the next part of life on a positive note. Just this week, we've had a banquet, a breakfast, and a party, not to mention the official ceremonies! One of my favorite events each year is my school's Senior Recognition Ceremony, because I love seeing my students celebrate together and get recognized for their years of hard work. I am always tremendously proud of them. They deserve it.

Just after midnight, I met the seniors from my floor by the front desk in our regalia to celebrate it finally being graduation day. Seeing my girls in their regalia made me so excited. Even though this has not been the easiest year of my job -- Were any of them ever easy? -- I have had a great group of seniors, and I am so proud of all of them. To continue the gift idea, I finally feel like we are tying the bow on a lovely package.

Of course, things are not quite that simple. My own life is testament to the fact that things will not always stay separated into neat little boxes, no matter how hard I try. In a few weeks, all of those wedding gifts will be out of their boxes and spread throughout the home RWD and I will build together. When everything is integrated into our household, I will still remember who sent the bath sheets I cried about on Match Day and that one of RWD's fraternity brothers purchased our silverware. In a few months, my seniors will all head in different directions to become better versions of themselves and make their marks on the world, but they will still remember their high school experiences. Those experiences will affect their decision making and impact their lives long after the mortarboards hit the ground in a few hours. While the idea of neat, compartmentalized boxes is appealing as an idea, it is not realistic or even the best way to approach life; if we do not allow our years, relationships, and experiences to overlap, we cannot give to others the best versions of ourselves.

Congratulations to the Class of 2015. You have been a gift to me just by being yourselves. Now go out there and save the world...but don't dance with boys!