A couple days after I volunteered at Primal Quest, John and
I exchanged the following via text:
Me: You'll never guess where I just was...
John: Waffle House?
Me: That would have been a good guess if there was one
here! I just got a pedicure :)
Got some foot calluses removed!
John: You're right, never would have guessed.
First pedicure of my life, the idea being that maybe I could
fix my big toe blister issue by removing the stubborn calluses on my big
toes. The salon lady was very nice
about it, but I had to stifle a laugh a couple times watching her expression as
she looked at my toes. I don't think
she gets many ultra runners for customers.
She had to pull out a special box with the right tools to scrub on my
feet, and she did a great job of removing most of the thick skin without
rubbing anything raw. Thank you ma'am!
Now for the test - the Stagecoach 100 mile race. It wouldn't be a perfect test, since there
were no river crossings and no rain, so perhaps having dry feet the whole time
was really what helped. But in the end
I had zero feet problems, so yay for pedicures and a dry course!
That's not to say I didn't have problems... I trained pretty
well this summer for climbing mountains, not so well for actually running 100
miles. Might have been better if I
could have flipped my two 100-mile races (runnable Stagecoach in June and the
big climbs of Bryce now), but oh well, what can you do?
The main reason we were here now is that the 2014 version of
the Stagecoach 100 was cancelled for huge rains and flooding. Ian, the race director, was super kind
enough to bump my entry forward a year, and I couldn't pass up that offer. After all, the idea of running from Flagstaff
to the Grand Canyon had captured my imagination. Time to go then!
Ian giving last minute instructions:
Walking over to the starting line:
Countdown to the start...
And we're off!
The first mile was an easy climb from the starting ranch up
to meet the Arizona Trail. We would be
following the AZT for much of the race and I was pretty excited to spend that
many miles on such an interesting trail as this. I had seen the first section during a training run last year and
again really enjoyed the climb up through the forest. The singletrack coming up (and over) from Flagstaff is super
sweet. Lovely, gentle switchbacks,
obviously built for biking and great for running as well.
I spotted two blond women in the front part of the pack,
then several ladies around me during the first climb. I was going to try to actually "race" this one for
once, so while I wasn't pushing hard, I was also not taking it easy. It was good to try to figure out a little
bit about the competition even though it was way early in the race.
The first question was exactly who the competition was. Some runners were going only 55K, others
were doing various versions of a relay.
The relay runners started 10 minutes later, so it was pretty clear they
weren't solo 100 milers when they zoomed by on the climb. The 55K runners had higher bib numbers, so
eventually I would figure that out and start looking for those.
I went back and forth with another woman and her friend for
the entire climb (and much of the first 34 miles, really). She was super nice, and expressed amazement
that I was out to run 100 miles. That
answered that question - not the competition.
She came in 2nd for the 55K women, nicely done.
My legs felt great, and mostly I dialed in my effort to keep
my breathing from getting out of hand.
The first part was up at 8000-9000 feet, and we haven't been staying all
that high in elevation recently. I
wasn't sure if this would affect me, happily I never noticed any obvious
issues.
One "big" climb (not all that big for me compared
to recent forays) and then it was time for a short downhill run to a road (a
detour from the AZT) that took us to the first aid station. Along here I first met a guy from
London. We had different patterns of
run vs. walk and never talked for long, but I saw him plenty of times and
always enjoyed listening to his British accent.
The road to the aid station was an out-and-back, and here I
could finally look at race numbers without being so conspicuous about it. The first blond lady was just finishing the
out-and-back, and she was a 100-miler (race bib #16). No other women with low race numbers (i.e. 100-milers) until I
reached the aid station, and there was the other blond lady just leaving,
wearing #20 and a red shirt and sporting a red pack. I called her "Red" (at least in my mind).
I filled a SPIZ baggie and a bottle with water, then asked
the woman who was taking numbers if there were only two women ahead of me in
the 100-mile race? She verified that
was indeed the case. Datapoint #1,
check.
Back on the road, other women coming toward me, a few
100-milers in the mix. Lots of
"good jobs" back and forth, lots of smiles. 10 miles in, a good start, and I was running well. It was nice to have several dirt road miles
to get a jump on the pace chart.
I ran/walked up the road, following Red and going back and
forth with other runners. We climbed up
a trail back to the AZT and started a long, long, beautiful downhill run
through the trees. The aspen stands
were gorgeous, many of the leaves already yellow, all of them waving at me as I
ran by.
I stopped to drink some SPIZ and lost sight of Red in front
of me, which was probably for the best.
It was great to have a long easy downhill run, but I didn't want to tear
it up too fast and beat up my legs any more than I already was. A few bikes coming uphill, a few guys
passing me or vice versa, and eventually I reached the next aid station.
The woman greeting me noticed that I was running 100 miles,
and #20 was still in the aid station, so she made a (loud) point to let me know
I could pass her right there. Calm
down, it's only 21 miles in. I went
through my drop bag quickly, got a little water, and started out just as the
other woman was also leaving. Hi, how's
it going!
I stayed ahead of her through the next section, not pushing
or anything, but not letting up on the solid pace I had going. I enjoyed the 3 miles of singletrack even
though it paralleled a nice road and went up and down a bit more - there was
more shade in the trees and the trail was nice. At the mile 24 water stash I stocked up in preparation for the
next long section and the start of the warmth of the day.
For the next 10 miles we would be running on a
sometimes-rough doubletrack road through junipers and pinyon pines. Occasionally it reminded me very much of
Texas Hill Country, probably from the flatness, desert-ness, and the limestone
rocks. There would be occasional
glimpses of the prairie ahead, but mostly there wasn't much to see and a long
way to not see it.
I started feeling a twinge in the back of my right knee,
which seemed strange. I've had various
knee pains in all my running years, but this was a new one. Hmm.
Eventually I figured out that it might be the top of my calf that was
pinging instead. Also strange, but
better than a knee problem, I think.
Finally when the twinge turned into a precursor to a cramp,
THEN I figured it out - leg cramps, right!
This I am familiar with. OK,
time to slow down just a bit, work on relaxing the muscles, drink more
water. Maybe it will all just go away
if I'm careful.
A parked truck and two trail angels appeared - well, they
were race volunteers, but they had been sent on a mission to help poor hot
runners who were still 3.5 miles from the aid station. Do you need water? I don't need water, but do you have ice? Why yes we do! Oh yes please! I was
super happy to walk away from there with a cold bottle of water. Thank you so much, a nice surprise!
My tummy was pleased and overall I felt cooler (there was
also a thin cloud kind of shading the sun from being so bright). However, my legs were on a downhill slide,
at least in terms of cramping. Other
muscles started thinking about seizing up, both legs, calves, shins,
thighs. I did everything I could to
keep moving while not letting any muscle actually form a cramp. Lots of ghosts of cramps. I resorted to a lot of speed-walking, tried
gently running, but mostly couldn't.
I popped an electrolyte tablet and hoped it would help
soon. If I needed to stop and rest I
would, but I preferred to get to the aid station first so I could be doing
other things while I rested. In the
middle of all this, runners started passing me, including the lady in red. Hello again!
Finally at Cedar Ranch, the mile 34 aid station and end of
the 55K course. I found my drop bag and
a couple people (including Ian the race director) helped fill my bottle with
ice water and get me some cold soda. I
rummaged through my drop bag, catching the fact that I needed to carry my
lights with me. Good thing I had a note
in the bag, I almost missed that. It
was the middle of the afternoon, I was a bit hot, and it wasn't obvious that
the sun would be going down before I reached another drop bag.
Alright, let's see what the legs have. I started up the 5 miles of road to the next
aid station, following quite a ways behind a runner in fluorescent orange. I think he was part of the relay team that
had cheered me in to the aid station just now.
I looked back once and didn't see anyone following me. With all the activity at Cedar Ranch I had
lost track of Red. Well, maybe
eventually I could figure out where she was.
I alternated speed-walking with running, back to speed-walking
as the leg cramps were still threatening.
They didn't seem quite as bad, but obviously not going away
quickly. Long road. A few cars, but all the drivers were being
extra nice to go slowly and not kick up too much dust. Some wind, helpful for cooling.
Tub Ranch aid station was a lot quieter compared to the
previous one. Sadly they didn't have
any ice, and no soda except Coke. I was
avoiding caffeine to keep from bumping up my heart rate in the heat. No matter, water is fine. And a banana, maybe that will help.
Walking up the next little switchbacks I spotted a rock in
the shade and decided that would be an excellent place to sit for a
minute. I remembered I was carrying a
packet of Vitalyte and figured that would be nice to put in my water
bottle. Except when I opened it, the
powder seemed old and cakey. Better not
to risk it. Bummer.
While I was playing around, a woman in white came running up
the hill. A relay runner? Nope, a
100-miler, #33. In fact, I had noticed
her on the earlier out-and-back because her number was on upside-down which
made me laugh. We said hello and she
cruised on by.
OK, no Vitalyte, on with it then. I topped out on an open plain and saw the woman running ahead of
me. Oddly, she would stop, look back
and spend a couple seconds seeming to try to figure out where I was and whether
I was running. She would run for a
while and stop and look again. It
seemed a bit early in the race to be that concerned about someone chasing
you. She went on up the next hill and I
followed with my run/walk pattern at a bit slower pace.
Oh look, a giant powerline in the distance! The next aid station would be under that, in
several miles. My legs handled the next
gentle uphill quite well, and once at the next flat section I was able to run
more and more. Two cows stopped what
they were doing to stare at me. Cows
are funny.
Right before the Oil Line aid station there was a short
slightly steeper incline. For some
reason (maybe because I was pushing harder to reach the aid station), my thighs
took this opportunity to really get into the leg cramp game. Cut it out!
It was starting to cool off as the sun got lower in the sky, this
cramping business has to stop at some point.
The two guys at Oil Line were great. Not only did they have ice (yay!) but they
filled my bottle with it, AND they had some slices of lime in a bowl. Why yes, I would love a slice of lime. They couldn't believe how many takers they
had been getting for the limes. They
seemed to be enjoying their stay in a beautiful spot, helping runners and
chatting with them. Not long after I
arrived, the woman in red and the guy from London showed up. We meet again! That answers that question.
The woman asked about other ladies in front of us, and the
aid station guys said that one was way ahead and the other had just recently
left. Sounds right to me. We all departed at about the same time.
Red took off on a run.
My legs responded with the worst bit of cramp threats yet. I couldn't run at all initially, stuck with
walking across a lovely, flat, beautiful stretch of Babbitt Ranch. Mr. London came by asking when I thought it
might be dark. Soon, I told him, maybe
in 45 minutes? Well, that's when the
sun would be going down anyway, a welcome relief in my book. He took off on a walk/run, managing
something quite a bit faster than my legs would allow at the moment.
Come on legs, let's go already! There was plenty of juice left in them, plenty of strength in my
muscles and "get up and go" just waiting to be let out. Not being able to use it (yet) was
frustrating, watching people run away from me wasn't great, but at least I was
holding any actual cramps at bay while walking as fast as I could. My stomach was also feeling quite full (from
the banana, too much soda, maybe the lime wasn't a good idea?) so it was fine
with me walking.
Eventually I could run 20 steps, walk 10, run 20, walk
10. Run 30! Walk 10. An amazing,
colorful sunset took my mind off my velocity troubles for a while. Then there was the full moon to the east,
also beautiful!
Photos John took of the sunset:
And moon rise:
I pulled out the race map and memorized the rest of this section, easier to see while it was still light. I went through several very wide, shallow washes, counting them to track my position on the map. More running, yay! A few rocks, no problem, I can walk that. More running. Light fading. Time to get out the lights.
By the time I hit the road going northeast I was running the majority of it. It had turned into "work" but that was expected by this point. Running in the dark now. I put on my buff and light gloves as it was finally cooling off (yay!). I enjoy running in the desert at night. One more turn, this one to the northwest, then I could see lights around the 54-mile aid station. It wasn't pretty (my effort to get there, not the aid station), but I made it!
The aid station folks found me a chair, much
appreciated. I noticed #33 working with
her drop bag, well then. No sign of
Red, but she could be either in a crew car or long gone. Never could tell with her, so I assumed she
was long gone. I pulled on a long
sleeve shirt and light jacket, ready for the nighttime temperatures.
A guy asked me what time I had been at mile 38? That made me laugh, because normally I never
have any clue. Then I realized I had
been texting John with my progress, and actually could tell him. Surprised myself there. Good time to send another text, while
sitting in a chair instead of walking in the dark. 4 hours for the previous 16 miles, 12 hours for 54.5 miles,
nothing special but decent numbers especially considering the leg issues.
OK, get on out of there.
Right as I was about to leave, another 100-mile solo woman walked
in. It's a party for 3rd place!
I missed the trail entrance and had to walk back a few feet
from where I started down the road, but got reoriented in the right
direction. A guy pointed to the lights
of #33 across the field ahead. Someone
suggested I could see everything without a light, the moon was so bright. Sure, everything except the rocks under my
feet...
It wasn't so much a trail across the field as a
"trail," following cairns and markers and flagging. The footing wasn't terrible, just not as
smooth as it had been. I caught up to
#33 before the first little uphill, asking how she was doing? She said she was OK but it wasn't super
convincing. She obviously had leg
speed, I should probably take advantage of any low spots in the competition. If I could, at least.
And my legs could!
This section turned more technical than we had seen so far, and it was
perfect timing. I was happy marching up
the small hills and stepping over rocks, running the short open sections,
picking my way down the short descents.
Again it totally reminded me of Bandera and central Texas, making me
feel right at home in the darkness. I
was happy with my bright flashlight helping me find the markings as the trail
went from more to less obvious and back again, zigzagging a bit through the
trees.
It probably also helped to get a shot of adrenaline from
passing a woman and finding myself back in 3rd place (at least that was my best
guess). And without any cramping
concerns, finally! I wasn't ready to
call it completely gone yet, but the signs indicated it might be. Geez, 20 miles dealing with muscles on the
verge of cramps, not ideal.
I couldn't remember how many miles to the Moqui aid station,
and I was too focused on watching the trail to want to stop and check the
map. I remembered most of this section
from my pre-race map study and reached the aid station without wondering (for
too long) how far ahead it might be. I
checked behind me at the start of the short out-and-back, not seeing any lights
across the field. So far so good with
putting some distance on 4th and 5th place women.
There were lovely globe candles showing the way to Moqui,
very cool. The folks there were
friendly and helpful, filling my bottle and a SPIZ baggie for me. They told me I was 3rd place female,
excellent info (and I hadn't even asked).
The guy from London was there, hello again! He left right before me and again pulled ahead, except not as
quickly this time.
Still no sign of anyone coming up behind me on the
out-and-back and looking back across the field. It was good motivation to keep up a decent pace and hang onto 3rd
if at all possible. I was pretty sure
the first place woman had it in the bag unless she self-destructed. Ms. Red was unpredictable - would I see her
again?
The less-than-ideal singletrack soon gave way to a nice
doubletrack road, and as much as I had been making good progress with the
technical stuff, I didn't mind the switch to something easier. My legs, however, had other ideas. What NOW?
First was a pain on the top of my right foot that I didn't really
understand. I loosened that shoelace,
and it eventually did go away, but right at that moment it wasn't helping
things.
The bigger problem was my right IT band, something I have
been dealing with for a few months.
This one (the opposite leg from a year ago) mostly gives me problems on
uphill running when it does show up (which wasn't too often). This section was a long, gentle uphill. And any running was now aggravating the IT
band. Oh for goodness sakes.
You know, this might have something to do with the lack of
long running training for this event. You
think?
I worked on it as I moved, focusing on posture, activating
my glutes, tightening my core. Back to
walking 10 steps, running 20, walking 10, running 20. I know this routine well by now.
I can't even imagine how many times I counted to 10 that night. While walking I tried to knead my right butt
muscle and that seemed to help the most, I was often able to run 30 steps after
that.
Elk started making all kinds of noise, bugling calls from
different directions. Very cool. I wondered what the guy from London was
thinking about that, did he know it was elk?
I had the chance to ask him but forgot because when I came upon him he
was searching for the next trail marker.
It was just on the other side of a gate, and together we figured out
that the trail continued along the fence.
Then he was gone again.
I had my iPod on by this time, listening to a couple
podcasts to help pass the time during the long night hours. It didn't help prevent a low point a mile or
2 before the next aid station. I didn't
realize until later, but the slight uphill grade had turned into a real uphill
grade through here. I just felt really
slow, moving through molasses slow.
There were extra rocks on the trail.
My right leg was still giving me issues. I knew I had lost the chance to break 24 hours, not a big deal,
but it had been fun chasing that goal for the first half of the race.
Then I could hear the aid station, because they were playing
ridiculously loud music that was thumping all the way out here. Great, another stupid loud aid station. But hey, at least it's not an out-and-back
course, so I have to deal with it only once this time. And even better news, John was waiting for
me! Yay, hi John! Big hug, that was so helpful and perfect
timing.
He led me through the aid station to a chair that was
partially sheltered from the noise and the bright strobe light (???). I didn't have too much to do, thank
goodness, and had already told John I was hoping to move faster this race
including through aid stations. So he
helped me right quick change out a couple items and put some anti-inflammatory
gel on my knees. Oh, and I was right
next to a real bathroom, happy to sit down for that too. I think I stayed only a couple minutes (ish)
and then both of us were glad to get out of there. Thank you John!
I was totally buoyed by that experience (including running
away as fast as I could from the loud music).
The gel seemed to helped my IT band almost immediately also. I cruised up the trail to the water stash at
the road crossing. The next section
would be long, so I filled up on water in preparation.
So begins the "Coconino Rim run." This is perhaps the most (in)famous part of
this course. Deservedly so. It's somewhere around 10 miles long, maybe
actually a little less but it feels like rather more. It follows along the top and just below a rim that isn't quite
the top of the Grand Canyon, but not that far south of it. Lots of twisting and turning, but more
importantly lots of down and back up, down and back up.
The first several down/ups were fairly substantial, at least
compared to all the gentle slopes of the previous 70 miles. Then we hit the bike detour, or actually, we
didn't take the bike detour but instead plunged down into a deep drainage. I was following a guy down the switchbacks
and his light just kept going down, down.
Where is the bottom? Oh, there
it is. Time to climb way back up.
Happily, my legs were doing great. And they were good with the climbing, so I put them in cruise
mode and climbed out of that sucker.
Well, that was something new.
Happily again, the rest of the dips and climbs were not
nearly as steep or deep, eventually becoming fairly shallow. But neverending. Seriously, it didn't end.
Well, OK, it did end. But it
took forever.
I must have been moving more slowly than I thought I was,
because after at least an hour and a half (I know because I was timing my SPIZ
servings for every 90 minutes) I came across a sign saying "Grandview
Trailhead 5 mi." What? Is that a 5?? Yep, it's a 5.
Well, this gave me a lot to think about. Mostly, where is this Grandview
Trailhead? The one I know is up off
route 64 at the rim of the Grand Canyon, I remember it quite well from last
year's explorations. But that doesn't
seem right, I knew the AZT doesn't go that way across the Canyon. Is that a spur trail to the Grand Canyon
rim? If so, how far is it and can I
subtract some unknown # of miles from this "5" number to figure out
how far until the next road crossing?
But what if that trailhead is actually at the road crossing
(or the next one soon after)? Is it
possible I still have FIVE MILES of this rim trail to go? Can that be?
Only one way to find out!
It was a big motivator, and I figured this was a great time to switch to
music on my iPod. More downs and ups,
winding around, but now I was actually moving at a decent clip. I found the "Grandview TH 3 mi"
sign in about 30 minutes, so that at least made sense. I kept hoping I was wrong about needing to
go 3 more miles on the Coconino Rim, but after another 30 minutes there was a
"Grandview TH 1 mi" sign...
I passed London somewhere in here, neither of us really in
the mood to chat. I think I muttered
something about where the heck is that trailhead?
Finally - the road!
the road! Yes, the honest to
goodness road. I was thrilled to be
done with that part of the trail, couldn't believe it had taken that long, and
ready to get down to the next aid station.
I ran well down the road, had some IT band pain on the steepest portion
of the downhill, did some "race walking" to get down it, and ran up
the last little bit of the "out" part of the out-and-back to Hull
Cabin.
Hi John! I'm so glad
to be here! I told him I had still been
working hard in the last section, it was just so slow and long. He told me that the 2nd place woman (#20,
the lady in red) was still here. Now
that's interesting. She was having an
Achilles problem, bummer to hear. 1st
place was long gone (probably almost done by that point) but it might be a race
for 2nd.
John had my drop bag items all laid out on a table so I sat
briefly and swapped out a couple things.
I was really happy that my feet were doing great, no need to change
socks or work on blisters. That was
saving a ton of time and my feet were happy little campers. At least something was working! I also declined all aid station offerings,
as my stomach was doing a lot better since I started sticking strictly to the
Ensure/SPIZ that I had brought.
The guy from London walked in as I was about to leave. I was ready to go chase Red, so unless he was
also thinking of picking up the pace I didn't think I would see him on the
course again. John walked with me a
short way and pointed out her light down the road. Let's do this.
I jogged down to the turn and started back up the long
hill. My iPod was out of battery so I
had left it with John, and it was a good time to focus anyway. I caught up to Red and her pacer, chatted
briefly with the guy, and moved on ahead.
Last big climb, done! I was
actually surprised how quickly I found the AZT again. After a short little run through an interpretive trail section, I
found the actual "Grandview Trailhead." So that's where it is!
Not the same as the one on the Grand Canyon rim. Good to know.
So am I really going to spend the last 20 miles of this race
running to hang onto second place? You
bet your booty! I realized that I made
it past 75 miles without switching to "death march mode" for the
first time in a while, awesome. My legs
were still working, better even than for many of the previous miles. It might just be adrenaline and it might run
out, but for now, let's go.
It was a nice, mostly gentle downhill run to the next aid
station. I settled into a comfortable,
relaxed pace and threw in some speed walking here and there to mix it up. Mostly beautiful trail, a welcome change and
I was happy to be able to take advantage of it. I occasionally checked for headlamps behind me but never saw any.
Then there was a woman running toward me. What is that about? She was doing the relay but had gotten
turned around and confused. She asked
if I was running toward Tusayan (the finish line)? Yes, come with me! She
turned around and followed me, explaining that she had come across some
switchbacks that seemed familiar so she thought she was going the wrong way and
turned around. She met another runner,
but somehow their conversation about which aid station each was running from
and to was confusing and she decided to keep running in the backwards
direction. Finally when she found me
she was ready to believe that she needed to turn around.
I think I convinced her she was now going the right way, but
she wanted to stick with me just to be sure she wouldn't get lost again. I was actually picking up speed as the downhill
got a bit more pronounced, down into a drainage, and she stayed with me the
whole way even though it might have been faster than she wanted to run. I was still running from Red and needing to
gain as much time as I could while my legs would let me.
Down the drainage, through a gate, over a small hill,
there's the aid station! The folks
there had been waiting for the relay runner, I think they were all happy to see
each other. And I was happy to see
John, yay John!
One more quick turnaround, a bit more gel on my knees (so
helpful!), deciding how much water to carry, forgetting again to drop off my
phone now that I wasn't texting updates, also making the mistake of carrying my
flashlight even though I wouldn't need it 15 minutes from now. Ah well, at least it was a fast transition.
I followed the next relay runner lady (teammate of the one
who came into the aid station with me), more gentle downhill until finally the
turn to go uphill for a ways. She ran
uphill while I speed-walked it, so it took until the next downhill to finally
pass her. It was more good motivation
to keep the pedal on the gas as long as I could handle it. I checked back once in a while, no sign of
Red. But she has leg speed, she could
show up anytime, and she had proven to be mostly faster than me while
moving. I was not looking forward to a
possible showdown to the finish, that would probably be the last straw for my
legs and I could envision every single cramp/IT band/pain reemerging at that
point to take me down. Better to keep
moving as well as I could, under control, at all times now.
Elk everywhere! They
were very active as the sun came up, making all kinds of calls. I even saw one with a huge set of antlers
running away. Super cool.
One last long, long, gentle downhill run and then I started
seeing things that looked familiar, was I almost to the Coconino Wash? Another 1/4 mile and there it was, the wide
wash that the trail would follow for the next several miles. I had run this a couple times in training so
I knew it was rather long, but at least I knew exactly what to expect for once.
The sun was up behind me, the flat trail stretched out
ahead. Run, walk, run, walk, just get
there as efficiently as possible.
Landmarks, always love having those to shoot for. Tank #2.
S-turn. Tank #1. Big rock on the left. Down tree to go around. Hearing the helicopters of Tusayan. The last aid station at mile 97.5!
I told them thanks as I walked through, no need of anything
except getting to the finish line. I
was thankful I had run this section before, both last year and this year before
the race. It's not an easy last couple
miles. Uphill, rocky downhill, a touch
of sand, more uphill, another little rocky downhill. Hey, there's John!!
John joined me for the last bit, through the tunnel and then
on the crushed gravel path, up one more tiny hill. Chatting and laughing. We
crossed a paved road - what is this surface?
It was the first pavement I had walked on since leaving our campground
the prior morning. Funny.
John helped watch behind me for anyone chasing, happily no
need to sprint!
The final stretch down to the finish line:
And... I made it!
Winning a nice wool blanket as 2nd place female, thanks Ian!
It turns out I had plenty of leeway to hang onto 2nd place,
but I was glad to have pushed myself.
It wasn't a sub-24, but not too far off, and I was pleased to be running
well at the end. It would have helped
to also run well in the middle, but I guess you can't have everything. Especially if you aren't exactly trained for
the running part of it :)
What a beautiful, fun and interesting course! I really enjoyed it, loved most of the
trail, the scenery, the concept, and the wonderful race organizers and
volunteers. Stagecoach 100 - highly
recommend it!
