Joint Commissions is gone. We can now breath again at work.
I received an email from my mom (love you!) today who, as one might expect, gives me much more credit than I deserve:
"So the big Bear Mountain looms next week. You've done this before so I'd think it would be a calm anticipation. But, you've done this before and know exactly what you're getting into, so I guess it's an antsy anticipation!"
I read this just after getting home from my long run in which my mind was in full ohmyohmyohmy what-have-I-got-myself-into?!?! mode. It is SOOOOOO not a calm ancitipation. Hah! It is the hurry up and wait version of Joint Commissions, only this time all I have is myself to exorcise the demons.
I remember from my first ultra (Bear Mtn last year) being consciously aware of the invisible line that, when crossed, meant I was then heading into mileage territory never before experienced. At that point it meant I had crossed 26 miles and had another five or so to go. Five is a relatively calm number. What is five more when you have already done five times as much?
This year, I will cross that invisible line at mile 31. Remaining, for my *ahem* pleasure, will be another 20 miles. Twenty. TWENTY MORE! The statement is no longer calming -- what is 20 more miles when you have already done 1.5 as much?
If you just shook your head in amazement at the executive functioning "skills" that got me into this situation then, well, I second your sentiments. If you nearly wet yourself out of fear for me, I third your sentiments.
Today I was testing what carrying my hydration bag sans-bladder for
the purpose of gear (Clif Mojo bars, extra socks, Aquafore, head lamp,
etc) since the aid stations are just close enough to use a bottle. I
ran in slightly more clothes than I normally would have so as to better
prep for what may be 60 degrees or may be 75 degrees. (Weather.com:
figure it out!) I was breaking in a new pair of shoes (same as two
previous pairs) so they'd be good to go. All the while my mind had a
fully schizophrenic time with itself. The calm, planning, rational part
of me said: This feels okay, no problems with anything, this could work for another 8 hours. The cynical part of me said: What,
are you crazy?! Of COURSE it'll blow up by mile 40. EVERYTHING will
chafe during a 10+ hour day. Of COURSE the bag will get uncomfortable
despite carrying less of a load. Of COURSE you won't want the extra
pair of shoes from your drop bag until you are already beyond that aid
station.
I had to stop the mental clamor often. The mediator: Just remember: eat, drink, pick up your feet, just keep moving. I'm not so sure that either voice was convinced.
Thankfully, this year I have kittehs to distract me throughout the week. Merus is being followed by the vet for long-standing gingivitis she acquired before I adopted them, and Sadie was due for a check up. After the initial rundown with the tech, this is what ensued while waiting for the Dr. O:
Sadie went up and down of her own accord, happy to explore and happy to return for more attention. She made everyone swoon in her usual Little Princess of Wormness ways. Merus went up to follow Sadie, remained hunkered in a tightly tucked ball throughout Sadie's examination, gave an occasional meow to remind us she was there and not happy about knowing what was to come. Merus came down via the vet tech, claws and arms splayed. I swear her tail sprouted its own paw to hang on for dear life. They both survived, including the rides on the subway.
Now what to do -- start my next book? Clean? Ideate an itinerary for the week my family visits NYC for graduation? Attempt to plan and coordinate my gear and plan A/B/C/D... for a race bigger than my know-how (see above)? Study another section of my licensure review book (what I probably should be doing)? Research intervention ideas or background info on a few patients that are more difficult (another more acceptable choice)? Eat some Nutella? Nap with the kittehs?
I am now officially stalking next weekend's weather. Yesterday weather.com labelled rain for 5/2 through 5/4. Current predictions place 60% chance of rain on 5/3 followed by sun and temps in the low 70s for 5/4 and 5/5. Pretty sure this will change every day until Bear Mtn gets here.
I also received my first pre-race info email from TNF while at work yesterday. The countdown has snuck up on me. Trying not to be neeeervooooous...!
In the mean time, The Joint Commission (aka Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations) is at my hospital for its tri-yearly assessment. You know you are due for a visit, and you may know what window of time may be expected (i.e. we knew it would be some time between March and May of this year), but they show up on whatever day they want to show. Means as of 7:30 Monday morning e-ver-y-one is in a constant state of alert and panic. You may normally take pride in your performance of x, y and z correctly, safely, sanitariliy (pretty sure I just invented a new word there). Guess what -- the real way to do things is via x1, x2, x3, x4, x5, x6, x7... ad nauseum, and we haven't even moved on to the y factors yet. We won't even get to z for another two days.
Total. Sheer. Panic.
Okay, so panic may be a bit of an overstatement. But manic applies, as does anxiety and wishing to be elsewhere. One of the aides happened to have this whole week booked for vacation. He gets to miss all the craziness. I envy his unknowingly timeliness.
Meanwhile, I had to give a literature review presentation yesterday to the brain injury rehab staff during lunch. I was more anxious about Joint Commission than about the dang presentation, although the craziness of the week meant my memory and concentration were a bit sparse. Not that it mattered. The presentation went like this:
me: "Constraint-induced movement therapy has lots of research supporting its use for chronic stroke, but for acute stroke and acute rehab its efficacy and, if so, meaningful parameters are up for debate. In this first systematic review by Nijland in 2011..." *whoomp* the office door flies open.
floor manager: "Sorry to interrupt, they will be on this floor in 5 minutes. Mandy, what do you think of Mr. So-and-so A as a potential patient to trace?"
Mandy: "Well..."
[insert 2 minutes of logistics]
floor manager: "Okaygreatthanks. Sorrytointerrupt." *whoomp* door flies shut.
me: "Soo... does anyone remember where I left off?" *laughter* "Oh right. So this article looked at the only randomized control trials that..." *beep*beep*beep* Mandy's Vocera (i.e. fancy walkie talkie) goes off.
floor manager: "What about Mr. So-and-so B? Were there any problems with him? What about blahblahblahblah for Mr. So-and-so A?"
Mandy: "Well, either would be fine, but..."
[insert 2 minutes of logistics]
office manager: "Okaythanksbye."
me: "So, um..."
Granted I didn't have as much time to prepare as I'd have preferred, but the commotion from Joint Commission did not help my flow. So it goes. At least it is done. Looking forward to next week when Joint Commission is finally gone and things return to normal. Just in time to get nervous about the race....
Last week I came home from a run only to find this:
From what I can best put together, the blame goes to Sadie and her sprinting drills. The tear is a 90 degree angle, each arm about two inches long. My small needle and thread sewing kit was nearby but I needed a patch of some sort, plus I hadn't the energy and I needed to head back out soon for something else. So I patched it with the quickest way accessible: scotch tape.
I pointed out the patch to Nathan so his just about 6 foot long self wouldn't tear the patch off while rearranging in his sleep. He laughed at me for a good ten minutes straight. I swear I could hear Red Green joining in with the laughter from far away. Nathan: "Seriously??" Another minutes of solid laughter. "That's so ghetto. You have to document that." *Sigh* Don't worry, I already did.
With the race last weekend and my hobbling recovery while working nine to ten hours a day, the patch has not yet been replaced. But! It has also held for a week now. Hazzah! Today I have off since I will be working this Saturday and so will play a little Suzie Homemaker for a handful of things.
"The Traprock 50k is a 3 loop course of approximately 10.5-11 miles per loop. There will be two separate races (one and three loops). It is a rolling course with 50% technical single track on the Metacomet Trail. The balance of the course in double-track.
Consisting entirely of rolling forest roads or single track that can be extremely rock, the course will provide a true test of the runner's fitness and mental stamina. You should only consider entering this race if you are confident you have sufficient running experience such as having completed a recent road or trail marathon."
The course loops around Penwood State Park in northern Connecticut with a total elevation gain of ~2300 feet per loop, or ~6900 throughout the race (3 loops total). This was meant to be a tune-up race for TNF's Bear Mountain 50mi, which has a total gain of 7038 feet. Captain obvious here didn't consider that the equivalent elevation has a 20 mile difference in how quickly it accumulates. Needless to say, this is the first race where I literally swore at the hills.
Mix that temperatures in the 70s without acclimation, and you've got yourself one heck of a butt kicker. Or, in my case, inner thigh kicker.
Nathan and I left Friday evening after I got off work. Our "economy special" turned out to be a Fiat.
Our rental car. Toot toot.
Had to post it because it was so weird. Manual shifter with an automatic clutch. Weird.
We stayed overnight at a CT hotel in the vicinity of Bradley International Airport. I got up Saturday at 5:45, went to get coffee from the lobby. Another woman had barely entered the lobby when she asked if I was doing running the 50k. Barely awake, a 25 minute drive from the race, and already the day was taking shape. We swapped a few stories before heading back to our rooms. That got me excited. Ultra races tend to be filled with very supportive people, those who are very inclusive and open minded and concerned about those around them. You smile and cheer each other on. There's usually none of the eat-my-dust-I'm-better-than-though-with-better-suped-up-high-tech-clothing-than-you like that found in road races. Another reason why I like races out in the woods.
The drive went without fail -- always a good sign when Google Maps ends up correct. The parking lot was super small. We were one of the last to snag a spot in the parking lot adjacent to the start, and I was thankful for the wee little toy car. Soon followed check in, donning race gear, lubing up, getting through the bathroom line, and putting my drop bag next to the race route.
The pre-race meeting started a little after 8:30. Two Londoners were announced as racing the 50k, then going on to run the Boston Marathon on Monday. Brave souls. As we grouped for the start, I saw a shirtless and head-shaved dude jump to the front of the line. I turned to the woman next to me, saying "if anyone runs the first hill, it'll be the naked bald guy."
Loop #1 was all about discover -- what will I get myself into three
times over today? Eighty meters from the start was the first climb, at
least 45 degrees. Many of us ran the bottom of it, swept up by the
excitement of the start, though soon caved to hiking. Naked Bald Man,
as expected, ran up the hill and was out of sight pretty fast. So
started a day full of endless hills.
The hill that started (via up) and finished (via down) each loop. Hills never look their true form in photos. Had you fallen while on the way down, you'd surely have pitched head first into a rock and ended up with a spinal cord injury.
Rarely did the route level off into something on which you could relax. The few gently rolling bits were composed of lots of loose rocks or a broken road that had lots of gnarly peaks and cambers and was thus was no less easy. The one blessing was the the first ~5k of the race was the most technical, including the good sized Stairway to Heaven that I'd consider a trail equivalent to Hospital Hill in Kansas City (for those who know of it). After that first 5k the intensity would ease off a bit, so each loop would get "easier" by the time you became even more tired. Supposedly. There loop also included an out-and-back lollipop, an ascend along a ridge where a vertical drop-off teetered some three inches from the edge of the trail, some winding through a collection of smaller up/down/up/down twists, some suffering over the aforementioned broken road, then most of the gnarly initial 5k all over again but from the other direction.
First loop felt good. Finished it in 1:37:46, held place as 2nd female the whole time. Only one stumble -- no fall -- just before the lollipop from not picking up my right foot enough. Had some nice conversations with a group of guys, including Greg who is training for Western States (one of the pinnacle US ultras) and another who ran Western States in 2009 and had lots of good stories to tell. Came into the home base aide station in good spirits and with a good outlook for the day. Grab more gels and fluid, and zip-zip head out for the second loop.
About five steps up that initial hill the fatigue started to hit me. Surprising, since a mere five minutes earlier I was feeling okay. Maybe it was the accumulation of that long downhill to home base but with delayed effect? It was getting hotter, not a cloud to be seen. Aid stations were no more than 4 miles apart, so I ran with a bottle and my usual sip-and-switch-hands every 5 minutes. I was running on my own at this point, since the fellas from before had taken a few of the technical downhills a little jollier than I. My old lady knees need to take the rockier downhills a little more deliberate, a little slower. Hit Stairway to Heaven with heavy legs. Not even half way into the race and I was talking to myself. Deep breaths, use your hands, take your time.
I realized then that I forgot to grab more GU Brew powder from my drop bag, so I had only water to go with. Big difference between fluid with no salt and fluid with 250mg per ~20 oz. Would I regret it? Didn't know. Made a point of eating gels or small food bits often to try to make up the difference. I tried Heed at the next aide station, the electrolyte drink by the brand Hammer. Hammer supports lots of smaller races, which is good of them, but damn if their Heed drink is NASTY. Not the race directors' fault, not Hammer's fault; my own digestive system's fault. I regretted getting Heed by about 10 minutes after that aid station. Made myself drink it, because with the heat I needed to keep drinking anything I could get.
I saw the lead woman heading back from the lollipop as I was heading onto it. She called out "I'm pretty sure you'll pass me on this lap." Hah! I love the thought, but that's definitely not going to happen. I kept cheering her on. She looked fresher than I felt. Maybe she felt the same about me? Either way, she was holding steady and I wasn't interested in any kind of pursuit. I then hit the exact same rock with the exact same stumble, only this time my left foot was the culprit. Duh, Laura. Duh. I blame the second loop's clumsiness on being distracted by the Heed nastiness. At least this time I didn't have three witnesses behind me.
The climb up the ridge felt harder, felt super slow. Still running alone at this point. By the time I hit the aid station at the start of the broken road I caught back up to Greg. Or maybe he was slowing down to my speed. Either way, we mutually commiserated while trudging along. By the time we hit the ascend towards the start/finish he was definitely slowing. At this point of the race, nearly 2/3 done, you cruise at whatever speed you can cruise regardless of whether this allows running buddies or not. Maybe stumble is a better descriptor than cruise. Whatever. Point being, you gotta rely on your central pattern generators to their full out extent.
The 17k started an hour after the 50k, so Nathan was done by the time I looped through the start/finish. I had a pretty flat affect by this point. My second lap time was 1:48:56, 11 minutes slower than the first. And while trying to podium was not on my to-do list for this race, it was nice to try and hold position if I could. I was downing as much soda and oranges and GU gel as I could at every aid station, but it was getting harder to eat. I didn't get as bloated as the KC 50k last August, but some sorta abdominal funkiness was developing.
Third lap was hard. The initial climb was exhausting. A dozen steps into my final ascent of the Stairway my right hip adductor muscles started to spasm. Think of a charlie horse, then apply that to your entire inner thigh.I've never experience that before. Had to stop and rub it a bit. Tried ascending in step-to pattern with my left leg, only for those inner thigh muscles to spasm as well. What the hell? I'd take one step and cower in pain. I tried smaller steps, got the same response. I ended up physically grabbing each inner thigh and holding on while adamantly gripping my gluteal muscles to try and make them turn on more and hopefully do more of the work. Again, thankful that no one was around to see such shenanigans. It was still a struggle, but I finally got to the top. Oddly enough, running at that point had no semblance that the spasms had ever taken place.
This time I did not trip while on the lollipop, probably because I was walking more sections than before. I was really surprised that no one had yet caught me, considering how much I had slowed down. I saw some familiar faces headed out while I headed in. Didn't see the lead woman, so she was flying like I expected. As I left the lollipop I saw a few more familiar faces. Everyone was at a similar interval as before, so that meant we were all having problems in our own ways but nonetheless the entire race had universally slowed. Well, maybe not Naked Bald Man, but he's in a different league. At the aid station just after the lollipop, one worker asked "You doing okay? You don't look quite as fresh as before." I grumbled through my orange slices about my thighs really feeling it. He offered some of their saltier grub. I turned it down since the sight of it made me a little nauseous. Anything but fluid would cake in my mouth and clog my throat.
Ascending the ridge didn't feel as bad this time around, probably because the Stairway had been so difficult. I ran some of the small hills that I'd previously hiked, since apparently a plod-along "run" was less painful and less spasm-producing than hiking. Near the top I tripped again with my left foot. Didn't fall, but whacked my left fourth toe something good. Spent the entire up/down twisty section wondering if the toe was bleeding and if I still had a nail.
Eventually I hit the last aide station at the start of the road. They were also out of soda. It may seem counter intuitive to drink soda during a race, but when you're stomach is slightly (or at times largely) upset as is common in endurance races the high fructose corn syrup can go a long way to help settle things down. Much like drinking ginger ale or sprite when you have the stomach flu. Plus, in these cases the caffeine can be a big help, even if purely for mentation's sake. But most aid stations were out of soda on this last lap, and they were out of oranges. I consoled myself with the knowledge that there was about three miles to go. Three looong miles.
As I started to head out the woman who had held 4th for much of the race, Elaine, came tearing up to the aid station. Where the former 3rd place woman was at was unknown. I tried to chat a little and compliment her on having something of a kick left over. She was in the zone -- flat facial expression, ear buds blasting music, an invisible cord pulling her forward with much more pep than anyone else around. She gave a small grunt of a reply and took off.
I stumbled along next to another guy who had slowed to my pace. Here was when I started groaning every 10 seconds. It's a mix between kittens who purr to console themselves when scared and Harry's self-consolation and insomnia entertainment in When Harry Met Sally. F-i-n-a-l-l-y hit the the ascent toward the finish. Started hiking, inner thighs spasmed again. Stop, grab, groan, proceed. Spasm. Stop, grab, groan, proceed. Forced myself to "jog," which kept the spasms at bay. Just. Keep. Moving. Forward.
Third loop took 2:36:34. I sat down about 30 feet beyond the finish line. It felt wonderful. I managed to hold third place. Full results (including loop splits) here. Apparently the announcer was calling out bizarre non-factoids for every finisher. A lovely race staff/volunteers brought me two ice packs for my old lady knees. I kept them for the car ride home to use on my wasted inner thighs. Very grateful for that. Probably the main reason I can walk today.
Overall, a very well run and VERY well marked course. The joke made in the pre-race meeting was that if you managed to get lost on this course then you should stick to road racing. I whole heartedly agree. Like I said earlier, half of me feels confident about Bear Mtn next month while the other half is nervous about the 20 extra miles. Hmmm. We'll see. If I totally freak out in the days leading up to the race I can always downgrade to a shorter race. In the mean time I'm glad today, the day after Traprock, is a Sunday. I couldn't imagine performing maximum assist transfers on these legs. And I'm still pulling dirt goobers and salt chunks out of my nose this morning.
Here's a little comparison of what the winner, Naked Bald Man -- otherwise known at Ben Nephew, who is sponsored by Inov-8 and has quite the respectable ultra record -- looked like in his finish at just over 4 hours as compared to my own shuffle to 3rd female and 16th overall at just over 5 hours 33 minutes:
Today marks the end of my 4th week of my final affiliation -- meaning this coming Wednesday I'll hit half way. Time is flying out the window. To do: fill out my midterm, put together a literature review presentation (topic tba), process paperwork for graduation, apply for the licensure exam. My parents have confirmed their flight and hotel for graduation. It'll be their first time visiting NYC. I'm super excited to show them where I've spent the last ~7 years.
But all that will wait until after this weekend. Tomorrow is the Traprock 50k, my test run for the big dance in May (Bear Mtn of insane mileage). Full honesty -- I get a little nervous about how last year's big dance has become this year's "prep" race. What did I get myself into?!? I'll find out in the coming weeks.
The nice thing about trail races is the steeper inclines and rockier surface can necessitate lots of hiking, so you are not running 100% of the time. Makes for a longer day, but not as all-out-until-you-vomit like road races. Plus being in the woods is calming for me. But don't get me wrong -- my heart usually is beating out of my chest for the entire week before a big race, regardless of what it is. Lots of pausing for a deep breath! Whew. At least having so many patients requiring maximum assist for transfers and other therapeutic activities supplies distractions for 9 hours a day.
