Tuscobia Winter Ultramarathon: But what does it mean??

Term: Tuscobia [origin of place name]

Definition: From the American Indian word "tuscola" meaning "a level place". 

[Source: Milwaukee Sentinel, Aug. 29., 1939.]

I've never gone to a race and had strangers walk up to me knowing who I was (and not I'm not referring to the fact my name was scribbled so elegantly on my bib). What a bizarre feeling! Because of social sites like Facebook and dailymile I was connecting with racers before the big day and after just a few moments I was able to match the person before me to the person I knew online. It was surreal and very much like running Tuscobia was, my first (and last?) winter ultramarathon. According to Outside Online, it's the "slighty saner" winter ultramarathon so it can't be that bad, right?

At a Glance
Location: Tuscobia State Trail, 74-mile abandoned railroad grade trail in northern Wisconsin
Total Race Distance: 35 miles (although by the talk afterwards it might have been a smidge closer to 36)
Time to Finish: 9:45
Elevation Gain: Maybe 450 ft

Wunderground.com

   
Starting Temperature: About 22° F

Ending Temperature: About 17° F
Quotes of the Day: "Wow. How boring."
                             "But what does it mean?"
                             "I'm over it"

Toughening Up
The physical challenge of running on snow didn't worry me too much. I felt prepped enough from the sand running I did earlier in the year. Surprisingly for being utter extremes the two are similar in perceived effort. As long as my core and extremities were warm the burn from breathing in the chill never phased me. For the most part I feel like my training for this wasn't about mileage but learning how to layer. If I didn't dress warm enough I could freeze like I did at Kickapoo. Adversely if I dressed up too much I would end up sweating which could chill me to the bone. Learning what layers worked in order to keep me warm without provoking sweating proved a task but come race day I had layers tuned in for as low as 15 degrees and had run in temps as low as 11 degrees. Any lower and I would just have had to hope extra layers were enough.

Final Picks for Race Day
Winter hiking boots
Bra, merino wool socks and undies 
Outerlayer jacket (waterproof, wind-blocking, breathable)
Midlayer top (merino wool blend)
Pants (with a brushed interior)
Base layer (merino wool -- packed but not needed for this race)
Two water packs, one for undercoat with water, one for over coat with food/coconut water
Insulated water bottles for outer pack
Hat, wool mittens and water resistent mittens
Required safety gear: reflective vest, 2 flashing LED lights, headlamp
Salt capsules, chapstick

Race Start

For the first time in a very long time I arrived at a race early, way way too early. I had a whole hour to kill and although I was loving the late race start of noon, I was exhausted from tending to my sick daughter the days leading up to the race. Standing around killed what peppiness I had acquired from coffee. I soon found myself at a gas station buying a Mountain Dew just to stay awake but as soon as I returned the gang was leaving to climb onto the shuttle bus. Only one other time have I been shuttled from the finish to the start but that was merely a 10-minute shortcut across the route for the San Diego Marathon. We followed the trail, all 35 miles of it, to Ojibwa. It was best not to think how long the bus ride took knowing we had to make our own way back.

Off the bus and mingling I was fluttering to keep my core temp up. I wasn't gonna bunker down before hand like I did at Kickapoo. Thankfully there were great people to meet and by far the most organized chaotic start line I've been to yet.

Fellow BAMR and 2nd place female, Maggie
Photo Credit: Maggie's hubby

Photo Credit: Phillip Gary Smith

Pick Your Posion: Bike, ski, run or snowshoe

Miles 1-17

I must have been giddy over this race because I never did my self checks beforehand. You see, I hate sloshing. That rhythmic swish-glug-swish-glug coming behind me from my packs annoys me to no end. Within the first mile I stopped to dink around with my packs to stop the slosh. I took off again and a young guy filled with happy-nervous energy got a shock.

• Him -- "Hey! How you feeling? Feeling good?" 
• Me -- "I don't know man," shrugging shoulders. "I'm thinking of quitting."  
• Him -- Cue jaw drop. "But we just started!" 

I felt the need to inform the guy I was just joking around. Of course it was too soon to be thinking of quitting. I hadn't even hit 2 miles yet! More sloshing started and I stopped to tinker with my straps once more. Damn the slosh. At this point I had an outrageous number of people pass me with these two gals being the last, and they would end up being the last runners I would see in front of me for the rest of the race.

I eventually made it 5 miles out from Ojibwa and hit Winter, a check-in station and only station until mile 24. After the race I found out some people dropped out at this station and one person never even made it. Looking back it seems my joke wasn't as funny as I thought. 

I was trying to play catch up to anybody in front of me but I couldn't catch even the slightest glimpse of anyone. I heard a creek up in the tree branches overhead. Stupidly I thought of the movie Predator. The infamous drum cadence crept between my ears. That'll send a shiver down your back alone out on Tuscobia.

I couldn't help but kick myself for wasting so much time tinkering with my gear. I kept a steady pace and then just stopped in my tracks. I had an overwhelming sense of boredom rush over me. I actually asked myself, "Do I really want to run this?" I never answered myself but I did start running again.

Up ahead after no more than a mile I caught glimpse of a bar across the road. I found myself standing on the trail side of the highway. I still couldn't catch sight of anyone ahead. I paused and looked behind me. I couldn't see a soul. So I crossed the highway and waited at the bar for a quick spell. When I came back out still no one. I pressed on.

Miles 17-35

It didn't take long for night to start settling down. I stopped to throw on my vest, get my blinkers going, have a snack and swap my empty pink guava coconut water for my mango coconut water. All of a sudden a shuffler approached me. It was another racer! We exchanged a few customary how-you-dos and he soon drifted behind. The sky was complete cast over so there was no chance of getting by with using any moonlight. My little bubble of world was stark and getting cold. I stopped to layer up. 

Nightfall came down and crushed my vision and that's when my body started behaving strangely. At first it was slurred speech which I assumed was just my typical Elmer Fuddism sinking in or it was from my face being exposed to the cold. The dizziness started to bother me, not that I was worried just that I was annoyed to be feeling it at all. I was also drifting really bad across the trail any time I would turn my head to the side. When I would take a moment to glance behind me the twisting would really catch me off balance. I didn't fully realize this for many miles though. 

The tiny little blink of light from the other racer slowly faded out of view only to be quickly passed by another. The new mass of lights seemed to have a decent pace. I toyed with the idea of slowing down so I would have someone to talk to. What madness I was speaking! But a slight dizziness was spreading over my head and I thought maybe slowing down wasn't such a bad idea. I thought if I walked a bit the racer would catch up. After half an hour the racer was closer but in order to wait for him to catch up I had to stop completely. 

In it 'til the end

 His name was Wayne, and he was more than happy to make conversation. This was his last race on a year long challenge to complete over 1000 race miles. I don't think I have ever run 1000 miles in a year so that pretty much blew my mind. I loved comparing war stories and finding out about races I've never heard of. We both were glancing behind us occasionally except when I did so I would just about crash into Wayne and get nauseated when I straightened myself back up but only for a sheer moment. What started off as amusing turned into frustration which turned into legitimate concern. I felt confident nothing was seriously wrong beyond some sort of exhaustion setting in and was content to just shuffle to the end. 

Meanwhile, on the trail...can you guess which was my fave? 

"I like your stamina, Call me! 867-5390" 

"Your legs will forgive you...eventually"

"Who needs toenails?"

Each time I stopped to take the above pictures I paused for no more than 30 seconds and yet each time I was already chilled and close to shivering when I moved on. I would shuffle hard for a bit then fall back to walking. I wanted to take off running but thought better of being alone on Tuscobia. I could feel that my body was on the verge of some point of exhaustion but I hadn't figured out what that was quite yet.

Finish

It took 9 hours and 40 45 minutes to touch the final marker. I was beyond stoked to leave the hypnotic tree tunnels behind me with barely any soreness throughout my body. It didn't take long to get stiff though once I stopped. Racers amnesia graciously kicked in immediately.

Boo-yah!!

Ultramarathon chicks....just the right mixture of sassy and sweet

 The crew did an amazing job keeping us all fed when the race was over. I had Reuben pizza for the first time, some insanely delicious soup, cookies, cake, cheese...freaking yum! After relaxing for 1.5 hours I made the drive home. I was missing my daughter and ready for some solid sleep.

Just a couple little blisters. The right middle is being stubborn with healing.

Recovery

I have had a hauntingly familiar feeling weigh me down since the race. So far I haven't bothered getting a check up, but it sure feels like I'm anemic again, which isn't surprising considering the 6 hellish weeks of red demon torture leading right up to the race. I feel the need to sleep 'round the clock and have needed to focus more to make basic motions at times. My concentration is currently out the window. The second day after the race I tried snowshoeing and couldn't catch my breath no matter how hard I labored. The lack-of-breath feeling sickeningly reminds me of my horrid track days in junior high when I was made to run the mile but physically couldn't. I often faked an Achilles tendon pain or cramp as an excuse why I couldn't finish. I thought my lack of breath was a sign of laziness and being physically unfit, not that I didn't have the oxygen in my blood to perform the task. I'm working on increasing iron sources from my diet as an alternate means of supplementing iron which never worked for me in the past and only created problems. 

I'll see if the fatigue lifts by Monday otherwise I will  finally consider checking in with my doctor. After all, I do have a marathon 15 days out.

Pin It

Even the Great Fall...Please Get Back Up!

In the first few months after giving birth I was up late one night nursing my daughter and fantasizing about my return to running. That ultra goal was constantly nagging me, and I was trying to figure out if I could continue the demands of nursing while taking on an ultramarathon training schedule. It just had to be possible. To my delight I came across two women who proved to be the very inspiration I was seeking.

Shannon Farar-Griefer....man I love this woman's story. She was very much a non-runner until an ah-ha moment while nursing her child started her on the path to becoming the woman she is today. I dove into her life story and tried finding more info specifically on if she did ultras while nursing. I found that she continued running long distances while pregnant (wish I had seen her website when I was pregnant--that would have made me a lot less anxious!) but no answer to my question.

Then I came across Robyn Flores. Her tiny little TMI paragraph at the end of her Keys 100 Mile Report gave me the inspiration I needed. I contacted her and she was nice enough to specifically answer my questions about running ultras and breastfeeding. She never responded to my followup email but that first email was practically gold to me. Her advice was a great starting point to my return to running.

After relaxin stopped making my hips feel like they would slide apart, I dove into getting my running legs back. These two women are very dear inspirations to me. I think of them constantly throughout training. I've meet only one of them. Shannon was at a health expo and introduced me to her Moeben line, probably my favorite race gear in my possession. Her Moeben line, much to my dismay, seems to be non-active as I never received responses to inquiries about starting a charity campaign with them for Team BfB, and there has been no recent activity about the company for the past 2 years.

Thanks to Facebook though I've been able to get my Shannon-fix (personal page only, Moeben appears dead with only me posting lately) and my Robyn-fix for the past year.  I have eagerly followed Shannon's quest for the Grand Slam. I was constantly checking the live feed yesterday to see her progress but she suffered a bad fall during the Western States 100 and had to drop. Love you Shannon! Heal up and get back out there! My Robyn-fix is momentarily dead too since after announcing she would again attempt the Keys 100 (very much to my excitement) she has deactivated her Facebook account.    


I wonder if either of these women ever realize how much of an inspiration they are to others?  I would probably faint if I ever got the chance to run with either of them. 

Pin It

PCT 50 Mile Trail Race: Getting My Hike On

Total Distance: 50 miles

Course Description (from PCT50.com): Out-and-back course mostly on single track trail along the Pacific Crest Trail in east San Diego County.  The trail features numerous climbs, particularly on the “out” portion, as well as some rocky sections.  It begins at an elevation of approximately 3,000 feet, reaching 6,000 feet in the Laguna Mountains.

Elevation Profile (from PCT50.com): 7,500 feet of elevation gain, with about 2,500 gain within the first part of the run. 

Time: 13:45

Racers: 142 Starters/117 Finishers, 82.4%

Almost two weeks after running my first 50 mile trail race I am finally getting around to posting about it. Calling it a “run” is misleading seeing as how I ran no more than 40% of it. No matter what you call it though I still covered 50 miles of trail in one day on my own two feet. I have never gone that sort of distance unless on a bike. It was exhilarating, challenging, but most notably it was fun!

Prerace

The race was only an hour away but we drove over the night before and stayed in a cabin at Lake Morena. . The cabin was an instant hit. My little girl loved the built-in bunk beds, and I loved the smell of lumber that engulfed you when you stepped in. We drove around the area a little bit, checked out the starting point, fueled up and then spent $30 on supplies to roast up some killer smores. Man, those little local shops sure can jack prices up, can’t they? We hiked a little bit around the lake which was downright lovely. I set up my racing mama flat, munched as much as my nerves would allow and tried to settle into a relaxing evening before my big day.

Milla fought sleep pretty hard and went to bed later than I preferred. We eventually all settled down to sleep only to wake up at about 1 in the morning to find out our air mattress had a leak. Milla was having problems getting comfy (who could blame her though) so slept on top of me most of the night. I woke up at 3 AM with a pain in my neck from the poor sleeping position I was in. I wasn’t planning on getting up for another half an hour but at least I didn’t oversleep. On the way to the way back from the bathroom I was already shivering. Good thing I packed several layers to wear. I was taking the early 5 AM start option and knew I would have a flare up of Raynaud’s phenomenon in the first hour of running. I grabbed some more snuggle time before waking Milla up and heading to the start.

Race start

I eagerly waited in line to collect my race number and shirt. After collecting and stating I was opting in for the early start I dashed back to the truck. I was a messy bunch of nerves as I finished getting dressed and then nursed Milla for the last time that morning making sure to drain both sides and not block feed like normal. Milla has always been good at helping me out with those kinds of things. Before I was up to the starting line (actually still sitting in the truck) the countdown started just like at Oriflamme. I had to go. Maybe next time I’ll be better prepared. Probably not though. I looked back at him and Milla one last time and was the last one in the early start option to hit the trail. It was very dark and using a light was a must. Love, love, LOVE my knuckle lights!

Sure enough before I even finished the first half mile my toes turned cold and stung. Damn Raynaud’s…I hate it. I walked with a purpose over the first climb trying to pump blood as I wiggled my toes with each step. My fingers were wiggling away without me thinking about it. When I get nervous I often find myself moving my fingers up and down the euphonium scale even though I haven’t touched the instrument in about 7 years. Sometimes when the cold sets in the only way to warm up is direct heat contact, but I didn’t really want to sit on the side of the PCT pressing my feet and hands against my belly to warm them up. I had a nice distraction from the stinging when I passed my ultra running guru, Vick (aka the old guy on the course). I had first met him during Oriflamme and here we were again. We chatted for a ways then parted.

The stinging went away though as soon as the sun came up and hit me. There is such a calm that comes about me when I run into a sunrise. Moments like these make dealing with the vasoconstriction of my digits much easier.

I might have shaved some minutes off my finishing time if I would stop taking pictures but I can’t help it! It’s so beautiful out there!

Electrolytes do the body good

The old saying “Walk the ups, run the flats and downs” or whatever version you come across is golden advice for an ultra virgin and exactly what I did for this race. I was not toying around with the possibility of muscle cramps again and knew the desert heat was yet to come. I also remembered I would not be drenched in sweat as the heat would wick it away. I also stuck to the often heard advice of “Drink early, drink often.” Since Oriflamme I have changed up my electrolyte intake. I still use Metasalt pills (I did have half a bottle left after all) but instead of three pills every hour I took two pills every 30-45 minutes and brought a watch with me so I could keep an eye on how much time has passed. I’m still learning to get a feel for times while running on trails. It’s not natural to me yet to know how much time has passed and how far I’ve run. In addition to using Metasalt while drinking water from my waterpack, I also brought along O.N.E. Coconut Water with a Splash of Mango and drank 4 of them over the course of 50 miles. If you don’t already know, coconut water is the trump card when it comes to consuming electrolytes. I’ve been experimenting for months with it and was having a hard time stomaching it. But with O.N.E.’s newest mango flavor I finally found coconut water that I not only could stand to stomach but that I really, truly enjoyed. This combination of electrolytes proved itself worthy and did not fail me. In fact, I did not have one muscle cramp the entire race. This was a huge change from the 50K.

Halfway

When I hit the halfway point I was feeling a bit tired but overall quite amazing. I needed some clarity so I threw my card in the bucket and had a Mayesa for a pick-me-up during the charge back to Penny Pines. Knowing my little girl was waiting for me this time made the trail zip by as I was super eager to see her. I needed her help to finish this one pain-free.

I had a lovely entourage waiting for me at Penny Pines. I probably would have cried if the massive task ahead of me wasn’t already weighing heavily on my mind. My bestie, Megan, had come with her family and were all standing there waiting with my daughter. I waved and said hi to the group and called Milla’s name but she was busy playing with her boys, Jack and Maddox. I wasn’t missed quite yet.

I was hungry and told them I would be right back after grabbing some food. Somewhere I saw the big grin of one of the Dirt Devils, David. It was kind of bewildering seeing him. Although he told me he and his family were going to be there I had forgotten. My brain felt out of focus again so I felt that meant I needed more calories. I can’t remember what all I ate throughout the day but oranges were my first grab followed by potatoes or potato chips if they had them.  There is such a wide assortment of food choices at these aid stations it’s overwhelming trying to choose. With two handfuls of potato chips I returned to my family and friends. Still slightly bewildered and with muscle soreness starting to creep up my legs I knew I better get a move on. I chatted between bites and then reached for Milla so she could help her mama out. Thank goodness Milla will still nurse even when I’m a sweaty monster. Megan captured the picture below of my nursing session at mile 27, and it is hands-down my favorite picture of Milla and I together. The lady has got a good eye for these sorts of things.

I was sad to leave them behind but, dang, there were still 23 miles to go. I wish I had changed socks. I was feeling hot spots all over my right foot but for some reason I had a silly fear that my foot would swell when I took my shoe off and I wouldn’t be able to put my shoe back on. I should have listened to the early warning signs and changed socks because those little hot spots turned into big problems later. Oh well!

Minor freak out

It was hot out. I could see heat radiating off the boulders. Yikes! I was getting familiar with the faces of the others who were holding my pace. One chick in particular with long braids made some wonderful conversation. Oh, here’s an interesting thing I never realized about, well, me…I think I have a fear of rattlesnakes, particularly when I’m alone. Snakes that are caged up in an aquarium or as a pet being held by their owner don't freak me out, but snakes out in nature apparently scare me. I will jump out of my skin if I see something slither away (big bugs also do this to me). I may even let out a yelp. Somewhere between mile 28 and mile 34 (like I said, I’m not good with knowing distances yet) I heard the familiar rattle. I immediately stopped in my tracks and saw the rattler slide under a bush. Okay not a problem, I was willing to wait for him to move on like every other time I’ve come across a rattler. Except, he didn’t move on. He just stayed nestled under the bush with his tail sticking out. No one was ahead and no one was behind me. I started breathing a little quicker and then before I knew it I was about to cry over this stupid snake. What if he never moves?! What if I try to pass him and he gets mad and strikes me? 

Thinking back on it I was being ridiculous. Clearly I had enough room to pass but on race day I was freaking out. Before I got too crazy in the head two other girls followed up on my trail. I looked behind me at them and immediately they slowed, eyes wide, and asked, “Snake?” "Yup," I said. The weird thing was as soon as there was someone else around I didn’t feel scared of this snake anymore. We start talking and the one girl asks if we can just walk around it. I told her she could try but I’m gonna wait until it moves. Neither of them couldn’t see it. One of the girls took a couple steps forward, saw it, then backtracked behind me. The girl with the braids was one of the two girls and  started commenting on my good observation skills just as the snake moved, very slowly, further into the bush. I bent over, drew the word SNAKE in the sand with my finger and with that we passed. I highly doubt anyone saw my scribble, but it made me feel better attempting to warn the next passerby.

Trail demons aren't gonna stop this chick!

I kept up well with electrolytes and calories but those hot spots were hurting bad. I was feeling mad that something so little was slowing me down. Each step hurt. I must have been comprising my gait because my left fascia started cramping a little bit until I evened out my stride. Sometime after passing what would have been 50K I realized how good I felt. This was so unlike Oriflamme, and I was having fun testing out my legs knowing this was the furthest I’ve pushed them. I was also excited that after years of talking to other runners I had finally run around Penny Pines and been to Todd’s Cabin and run past Dale’s Kitchen. I had no trail demons to battle this race. I’ve accepted certain changes in my life so they left me alone today. Other than a 5 mile stretch of loneliness and pissiness while dealing with being bit repeatedly by flies, I was having an awesome time. I was more than happy to arrive at the last aid station and leave those damn flies behind. A kilted man claimed the title of my favorite trail aid of the day with his quirkiness. Actually, now that I think of it, he reminded me an awful lot of my friend, Charlie.

I had a painful time running the last section to the end. I knew there were blisters popping up on my foot and again I should have taken the opportunity to tend to them at the last aid station but forgot all about them until I started running again. They were hurting. But I did make it to the end. I was continuously being applauded for smiling. I didn’t really get why that was such an “amazing” thing until I saw some dehydrated guys at the last aid station. I got it then…they looked rough. And by the way, where did my love handles go? When I walk with a purpose on the trail but am getting tired I tend to ball my hands into fists and dig them comfortably into my squishy sides. I tried that during this race and it felt awkward. I just couldn't get my hands nestled. Then it dawned on me that I was digging my hands into hip bones. I couldn't help but get ecstatic over this. These love handles have been jiggling on my sides for years, and I was finally burning that fat away. Not only was I on cloud nine but the realization that my stride was longer from being forced to swing my arms at my sides just added to my good mood. I was getting my hike on and nothing was going to stop me! 

Finish

One thing I remember specifically about the end of Oriflamme was the blind finish. I couldn’t tell which bend was the last, and it was pissing me off (of course my attitude that race was rotten). The PCT50, however, had an amazing view of where the end is. It was exhilarating watching it get closer and closer as I made my tender-footed way down to the bottom. The sun was giving up for the day, and it was finally getting comfortable out. I was passed by a lot of runners near the end but I didn’t care. I was proud of myself and damn proud to be a back of the packer. At one point I heard, "Hey, weren't you pregnant?" I turned around and there was Trasie, a chick I ran with just a few times back when I was in my first trimester. What a blast chatting with her. After the last bend I saw my daughter who was helping pass out the medals to the runners at the end which I thought was pretty cool. I can say it now, I am an ultramarathoner!

Milla was begging for a booby snack, but I had to get those socks and shoes off first. Look at those feet, yuck! I often here women say “don’t bother with a pedicure before the race” but I say get some paint on those toenails anyways. The hot pink contrasted nicely to the plastered dirt on my feet. When I finally washed my feet the nail polish held up well anyways. So go for it if you want to. Oh! And the Dirty Girl Gaiters did their job and kept rocks and sand out. I can’t imagine running trails without them now.

Aftermath

After a well deserved shower I inspected the damage to my feet. Left foot: 0 blisters. Right foot: 5 blisters (2 tiny ones on my heel, 1 huge blister under my pinkie toe, a mess of rubbed off skin on my fourth toe, 1 on my second toe, and 2 nasty ones on my big toe). I am still not sure what happened with this foot. Neither my shoe nor sock was wet. I didn't notice any rocks stuck in my shoe. It was just a weird thing. I haven't had a blister in years. All I know is that it was painful enough to stop me from running when I could have. Two weeks later and the skin on my toes is still raw and tender to the touch. Don't ignore hotspots!

Pin It