California Uber Alles

Jill in the Cloud on Black Mountain

This weekend I finally went to visit Jill in her new (relatively new) home in California.  I've felt like a slacker friend, having never really been out to see her since she moved to be near her Swiss beau Beat (he grew up in Germany, and exhibits the occassional German tendency towards order and all that, hence the hilarity of the Dead Kennedys song title).

Jill showing me something?



I arrived on Friday afternoon and she showed me one of her local haunts, which is Black Mountain, the mountain for which "Mountain View" is evidently named.  Because you can see Black Mountain.  Very near to where Jill lives is a fairly extensive system of trails and fire roads that allow for endless trail stuff (walking, running, biking on the bike legal portions).  Very nice.

Pic by Jill - Pt. Reyes National Seashore

 On Saturday we picked up Jill's friend Leah and drove to the Pt. Reyes National Seashore where we did a half marathon distance hike.  We enjoyed spectacular views of the Pacific and I enjoyed the beautiful hilly California coastline.  There is no shortage of spectacular views out there.  Nor is there a shortage of delicious pastries -- I slowly devoured a bear claw as my trail food.

 On Sunday we ran the "Skyline to Sea" trail, which starts up in the Santa Cruz mountains and ends at the sea.  We didn't follow the formal trail precisely, but did go through an incredible Redwood forest.  I kept my eyes peeled for Ewoks.

 We met up with some other friends a little more than half way and it was sort of me and Jill keeping up with the exuberant boys.  I had a weird episode where I was telling Jill I was having trouble keeping up (I believe I was complaining that it wasn't a "fun pace," whatever that means) and my entire throat closed up for less than 20 seconds and I couldn't breathe or talk.  It wasn't asthma (which I have) and it wasn't like anything I've ever experienced.  Once I relaxed, aided by the realization that Jill was a tad concerned, I was totally fine.  Weird, huh?  I think it might have been triggered by the slow acid upheaval of my breakfast all morning?  Dunno.  Anyhow, I lived and it was good.  Or, I have some sort of psychiatric disorder triggered by unfun paces.

Pic by Jill

 When the week was all said and done, I'd run about 80 miles.  The last time I had an 80 mile week was the first time I trained for Western States, or really the last time I trained for anything.  That was several years ago.  I feels sort of good to get some miles in.  Of course, now I'm sore and tired... but really the best part is that I got to spend some quality Jill time and catch up a bit.

Pic by Beat

pic by Jill

Anyhow, it was a great weekend of sun, running and Jill and Beat.  Thanks Jill.  Thill.  I also had the chance to catch up briefly with my friend Rachel, who was my roomate in college for a year and Euro-travel-buddy when I studied in France.  It was so great to see her -- haven't had the opportunity for a couple years now.  I didn't get to do everything I'd like to do, which obviously means I will have to go back soon.

Eleven Miles to Paradise (and musings about my paradise)

Me and Allison, near the end of the run

This weekend my friend Allison and I went to the Paradise Valley of Montana for an 11 mile race called "11 Miles to Paradise."  It follows lovely single track along the Clark Fork River, which is truly beautiful country.  We made a girls' weekend of it, drinking lots of beer at Quinn's Hot Springs Resort on Saturday night.  It was a lot of fun and great to hang out with Alli, who has moved to Helena for work and I don't get to see as often as I would like.  Unfortunately the beer consumption made for a somewhat uncomfortable run, but we managed to finish and I enjoyed myself.

I don't like wet feet, ok?

My friend Dave just blogged about another blog and I am going to blog about Dave's blog of the blog.  Awesome, right?  Except rather than go into a detailed explanation of the genesis of these following comments, I'll just get to the point.  You may notice that Danni & Ted's Adventures is primarily about Danni's adventures.  In large part this is because Ted doesn't actually write blog posts -- if he did you'd know what he was up to - but obviously my running and such doesn't normally involve Ted.  While I'm sure it would be fun if he wanted to do all the same stuff I do (if it didn't just create conflict), it's really fun nonetheless and I probably better appreciate my Ted time.  We don't have to do everything together all the time.  Really.

I enjoy the opportunity to go have fun with my friends, and appreciate how supportive Ted is of my activities and social-butterfly inclinations.  I also value my time with Ted, even if that time is never spent running (in the proverbial chase, Ted would rather be caught than run -- and that might be only a slight exaggeration).  We are coming up on our tenth wedding anniversary in August, and I've been reflecting more and more on what makes our marriage so incredibly awesome (except for the rare occassions where we quarrel, the rarity of which really just makes me better appreciate the awesomeness).  I think while there are some inequities in terms of who does the housework and all that (i.e. Ted does almost all of it, which I truly am trying to be better about) we, on the whole, balance each other and work well together so that ultimately we can still truly enjoy each others' company (I enjoy his at least).  Ying and yang my friends.

So really, Paradise?  (See, I am trying to tie this all together in a theme somehow).  Paradise is the fact that I can enjoy time with friends, enjoy doing things I enjoy doing, and then enjoy being with Ted and have it all.  Life is grand.  Thanks Ted.  I sure love that man.

Don't Fence Me In

I finally had the opportunity to run the "Don't Fence Me In" 30k put on by/for the Prickly Pear Land Trust in Helena, Montana.  This run is about 19.1 miles with more than 4,000 of total elevation gain.  Helena has an extensive trail system that begins in the downtown basically, which is really cool and unique. 

The day was perfect, with cool morning temperatures and clear skies.  I was feeling pretty sluggish after a long difficult week (work and travel wise) so I had no expectations other than to enjoy the day outside.  I certainly enjoyed the day outside, though the course was pretty tough with relentless up and down.  There really wasn't anything flat to speak of.  It was pretty apparent that I'm not in tip top shape... in fact I'm really not feeling so hot these days.

The course is beautiful though with a mix of forest and meadow, mostly on buff singletrack.  The competition seemed pretty fierce with none of my super fast friends even coming in top three in their respective genders (and by fast I mean people who have been known to win or place high at major trail races).  That made me feel better about eeking in somewhere near the back of the pack in 4:22 (somewhere between a 13:30 and 14:00 average pace).  Or maybe I'm just making excuses for myself.  I did spend the majority of the race contemplating what a suffer-fest San Juan Solstice 50 will be if I don't get my act together in short order.  San Juan Solstice has more than 13,000 feet of gain at high altitude, climbing north of 13,000 feet.  This alone might kill me.  So, in a fit of terror I also ran 22 miles on Sunday to bring my week up to 57 miles, a hefty jump from the 15ish/week I've been phoning in.... I think more than miles I need to do hill repeats though.  Does anyone have suggestions for an effective hill workout?  SJ 50 is June 23 so I have about 4-5 training weeks.  Or is it hopeless?

This is a horrible picture of me and my pasty chubby legs but as you can see maybe I also took a hard fall during the race on a fast downhill.  I need to watch where I'm going it seems. 

Finally, last week I visited my Grandmother in the Daytona area and got in a few 8ish mile runs on the beach.  One day it was 95.  I started off being grumpy about the heat but found that if I relaxed a little and opened my mind it wasn't so bad.  In fact it was pretty awesome.  The beach is neato.

Malaise

I has it. Rather than drinking a glass of red, I should be doing more household tasks or at least running or walking. Instead the past several days have felt like that terrible half awake half asleep feeling that sometimes happens during an ill-advised late afternoon nap. I am trying to bear in mind that just last Sunday I returned home after being gone for a week - a huge trial punctuated by a 12 hour adventure race. I reserved the weekend to do things like finally organize and put away ski gear (climbing skins still in the backpack I used more than a month ago is not good!) and do some life maintenance stuff. We did get a few things done but I feel a combination of too tired to do more and anxiety over the not put away gear and tasks that occurred to me as I was putting away laundry. I am a disorganized slob. I haven't gotten much exercise this week. I have been eating ice cream and drinking beer. I have been sleeping too much (which perpetuates the cycle no doubt). If I were Jill Homer I would climb a mountain or do an overnight run to force it out of me. Instead I will keep sipping this red and hope I find the motivation to put my gear away tomorrow.

Grizzlyman Adventure Race

courtesy of GMAR (me and Brian Miller paddling the easier of the Class III rapids on the Blackfoot River)

I've become an incredibly lazy blogger.  And, I think I will first muse briefly about something other than GMAR.  I had a big jury trial this month (the first where I was "first chair") and it ate every ounce of my brain and body.  It was a tougher test of endurance than any race I've ever done.  You work hard all day, devoting every neuron to fighting the good fight, end the day, prepare for the next and do it all over again.  This was only a four day trial.  Being a runner was my saving grace.  I was able to get up in the morning, shake out the cobwebs, work some problems and jump back in the fray.  Ultimately, I won my trial (with the help of a super fabulous underling), which was a huge relief, but more importantly I realized what I already knew, which is that many things are harder, more important and more satisfying than dragging a sled in the snow or frolicking in the woods for hours on end.  Duh. 

Back to the frivolous stuff.  Yes.  Grizzlyman Adventure Race.  This is a 12 hour event where you map checkpoints on a map and go find them.  At some point you must be on your feet, on a bike and in a boat.  Our goal was to win the co-ed division and qualify for nationals but we were beaten by a couple from Seattle whose strategy was smarter than ours it appears.  Mind you, I did none of the strategizing or navigating, and essentially came along for the ride.  In fact, Friday night while my team-mates Brian and Peter did all the hard work, I went to sleep.  (See the preceding paragraph).  On the heels of my week of insanity, I just needed and wanted to play in the woods.  And play I did.  It was fun.  I definitely want to do it again and enjoyed my first "adventure race."  I am grateful to be a runner.

Brew, Basketball and Buddies

Last weekend I went to Kansas City to visit my family and to do a relay from Kansas City to Lawrence (my hometowns) that appropriately went from brewery to brewery (my favorite thing!). 

Boulevard Brewery -- Kansas City, MO

 It was really hot.  The temperatures were at least in the mid 80s and there was definitely some humidity.  Coming from northwestern Montana this was brutal.  It was brutal for the KC folks too though since it's unseasonably warm for this time of year.  My team was a lot of fun though and included my dad, step-mom and a bunch of their good friends.

Our first runner, Luke, is a Division I cross-country runner who is ineligible this semester.  He did the first two legs, over 9 miles, in about 54 minutes.  We were late to the transition -- he waited 5 minutes before we even started leg 3.  We knew we wouldn't be keeping that pace so it didn't especially matter.

Frank destroys legs 3 and 4

 Frank took the next two legs and really did well.  I have no idea what his pace was but it seemed good.  We were able to beat him to the transition, which we all viewed as a success.

Mary Alice and John

 Next, a couple of our guys John and Bill split one leg.  How it is that some of us ran two legs while others split a leg, I have no idea.  My father was the team secretary and evidently approved this dubious arrangement.  Thankfully, both Bill and John survived their half legs and we beat them to the transition.

Mary Alice

 Mary Alice ran the next two legs.  She used to run with my step-mom before my step-mom developed a hole in her knee.  She is beyond question a woman who takes her running seriously.  And she does not let her "masters" status serve as an excuse to ramp down the effort.  She blazed through her legs looking perky and cheery the whole time.  Remarkable.

Danni between legs and Mary Alice

 I ran the next two legs.  Both were hilly and hot.  The first was 4 miles and I was pleased, despite having watched basketball with my family and drank my share of beer (and wine) the night before, to be able to maintain a roughly 8:40 average pace for the first of my two legs.  The second leg I think I ran closer to 9s or slower, but that was fine.  I was so hot I started to feel cold.  At one point I got shivers and thought at first I was overcome by the awesomeness of returning to my country roads of Kansas -- but I then realized it was some sort of heat induced malady.  Oh well :-)

 My stepmom Barb and my dad did the last leg to the finish.  I elected to join them because I thought it would be this wonderfully nostalgic and beautiful thing to run where I used to run AND be with my parents.  I'm sure it would have felt this way if I weren't so incredibly exhausted and unable to keep up with them.  I quickly regretted joining them for the last leg but managed to get to the finish line and the finish beer in one tired sweaty piece.  Fun was had by all I can safely say.  And, we finished something like 60th out of 300+ with our handicaps adjusted.

 Monday night my brother Dave and I went back to Lawrence to watch the Jayhawks play Kentucky.  It was no shock that they lost, and it was just as well since my mother-in-law is a diehard Kentucky fan and might have held it against me if the Jayhawks won (hahaha).  It was great fun spending time in Lawrence with Dave.

sister and brother

old friends

Joining us was my friend Jesse.  I first met Jesse in the 4th grade and then we became close friends sometime around junior high when all of life was high drama and we leaned heavily on our "group" for support and survival during this tumultuous stage of life (that I wouldn't want to relive for anything).  I think I last saw him around college or thereafter but when I went off to law school I lost touch with nearly everyone -- he was living in Japan in recent years.  It was so incredibly fun to hang out with Jesse - he came to watch the game even though he had to bike to the weird sports bar and doesn't particularly love basketball.  The amazing thing is that for me at least being around old friends feels really natural, even if I haven't seen them in a long time.  Don't know if everyone feels that way.

Anyway, a great weekend that ended too quickly.  Time to buckle down for work.  "See you" in a couple weeks.

Sometimes life gives you a free power drill (Ken Jones Classic race report)

Our good friend Brad managed to get us all in (me, Amber and Lora) the Ken Jones Classic ski mountaineering race at Lake Louise.  After the Dogtooth Dash in Golden, Amber and I were already completely sold on Canadian skimo races.  I mean, maybe it's because Canada has a socialist tradition what with providing health care and all, but there's always good free swag at their races.  The Ken Jones classic was no exception.  Also, the volunteers were amazing and the course, while hard, was pretty fun and a huge challenge.

Canada has an actual national skimo team, and they wear fast looking red outfits.  The "C Team" is hoping to have racing outfits soon.  We are told they are very practical and if we do separate tops and pants we can also use them for cycling.  It makes sense that the "C Team" also have a cycling team - at least if it means wearing spandex outfits ironically.

As you can see, it was a beautiful day.  I really couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day.  It was really cold in the morning but warmed up enough to soften the snow but not enough to make it too soft.  There was a boot-pack section where you carry your skis and walk up the snowy mountain and I was worried that it would be slushy and the steps would not exist and I would end up floundering and/or falling to the bottom of the mountain, but this never happened and it was all just great.  I did pretty decently on all the uphills and improved my kick-turns with each switchback.  I was pleased with my uphill performance even though I was slow and probably awkward looking.

 Having learned lessons from the Dogtooth Dash, I went into this race with no fear or apprehension.  This was also a victory.  The first downhill is called the "F Chute" and actually had a warning sign.  I skied up to the edge to peer down and couldn't see the run only rocks.  We had been told if we weren't awesome skiers that we could go around it on an easy cat track.  I chose the "conservative" route since my official rule is that I don't ski anything where I can't see the run.  I don't even feel bad about this because this run was definitely 100% beyond my ability level.  I looked up at the bottom and thought *maybe* on fresh legs I could at least make it down safely, but then again I'm not so sure...

The second downhill was a steep-ish gully and while I think I could normally ski it I chose to side-step and side-slip most of the way down. I was sort of embarrassed and this approach put me pretty far behind everyone else but I made it down without falling -- I didn't want to be trying to get my skis back on during a race on a steep slope. I was too tired for that.

I skied the third descent a little better, though not much, and made it to the last checkpoint with someone still behind me. Pretty amazing. The remainder of the "Enduro" course was a ski out to the base. I got to the place where the Elite and Enduro courses split but couldn't figure out where I was supposed to go. I think the flags had already been pulled and I literally didn't see a place I could ski. So, being tired and functionally $*&%! at that point, I hopped on a chair lift and rode to the top and skied to the bottom and went to my truck and figured the finish was actually where there were no more flags and I was just so slow no one was there still. This was all totally illogical but I was really tired and disoriented.  In hindsight this was a great lesson on the dangers of trying to think when tired.  Bad decision making happens easily and logic goes out the window.  Anyhow, I am officially a DNF.  Bummer.  All I missed was the last 10-15 minutes of easy cat track.  Oh well it doesn't matter but I'm pretty embarrassed.

 The good thing is that in C-Team tradition, I won a great prize in the drawing.  Oh yeah.  One of the people who went looking for me with Amber (again, embarrassing) drew my name for the "best prize" and remarked that "the troublemaker!" won the drill.  How could that happen?  Oh yeah.  It's the C TEAM!!!

And, I got to hang out with my wonderful Banff friends.  Best part of all.

Why do I hate myself?

My friend Beat, aka Jill's boyfriend, aka "the Swiss Assassin" (not really) just finished the Iditarod Trail Invitational in conditions that can only be described as brutal.  Beat pulled his sled through deep snow, broke trail and faced extremely cold conditions for 350 miles.  The adventure was, objectively, actually sort of dangerous.  I suppose Susitna was sort of dangerous, but this was really much more so.  The checkpoints are spaced further apart, the course isn't marked, camping outside is often necessary despite extreme temperatures and wind and the thing is just generally pretty ridiculous.  So why, oh why, does hearing Beat's tales of suffering make me think: "that sounds horrendously awesome."  It had the opposite effect on Jill, who did the ITI on her bike (which is the subject of her book -- you should read it if you haven't already).  She is now saying she questions winter racing entirely and would favor informal adventuring from cabin-to-cabin, sort of like a fun skiing hut trip.  That sounds fun too of course, but so does ITI.  So why am I so intrigued?  Why do I want to suffer?   What is wrong with me?  Do I hate myself or something? 

If I'm being honest, I have to first ask whether I'm trying to impress others with my capacity for self-punishment.  The answer though is that I am actually sort of self-conscious about my fringe interests and get really embarrassed when people shower me with praise.  The truth is that I'm not very good at any of this stuff and with my slowed-down mellow approach, it's not always as hard as people think (I'm not running non-stop for 100 miles or anything).  So no, while I do have my attention and validation-seeking qualities at times, doing difficult things is not a ploy for attention or validation. 

So then, what am I after?  I think Beat or Jill once described their quest for "living intensely" or something of that nature.  At the time I heard that description I thought "gee, I want to live casually, pleasurably and mellowly not intensely."   However, what I get from these experiences that are sometimes pretty punishing is an intense and punctuated feeling of aliveness.  As I adjust and acclimate and wrap my head around a distance or difficulty, it takes even more to get into that gritty zone of doubt and fear that requires me to really rally and overcome.  (This should not be confused with fear of heights, which I hate feeling and really try to avoid when possible).  Needing more to get the fix is pretty much just what addicts and junkies experience.  Hmmm.  The fact that I seriously desire to do something potentially life-threatening to get the experience I am after should be alarming to me.  It is and it isn't.  Part of me thinks it's my taste for adventure.  Part of me thinks it's my difficulty with moderation in any shape or form.  It makes me think I need to just think about something different for awhile.

Another aspect of all this is that my goals, i.e. to experience aliveness and prove to myself that I can overcome things, are not compatible with "racing."  These events I sign up for are, in fact, races.  I do not race them.  I do them as experiences but am not typically interested in competition.  To a certain extent I am competing with myself, but I am more experiencing and participating.  I don't think there's anything really super wrong with this, but it's sort of lame.

Anyhow, back to stepping back and doing something different for awhile.  I think I'm going to train for a marathon.  A road one.  And run on roads and try to run fast and run with purpose.  This will be fun, allow me to push limits of sorts and see if I can improve my times from seven or eight years ago (OMG) when I was sort of fast for me.  This will be a racing-oriented approach with concrete goals that are about getting faster not more mentally powerful.  Of course, mental power is needed to push through the suffering of breathing hard and trying to increase leg turnover, but it's just not the same as ultra endurance running.  It's a pretty normal endeavor for a runner, which I like to think I am even though I rarely run anymore.  I'm going to do the races I am already signed up for but will put some of those other things on the shelf mentally for now (i.e. Bear).  I'd like to quit 100s.  I'm not ready to commit to quitting cold turkey and am not even going to say that I'm not doing Bear, but perhaps a distraction, such as marathon training, will help me be more normal and not want to do the Iditarod Trail Invitational.  I can be kind to myself.  I can.do.it.

Susitna 100 - 2012 edition

The short version: I finished in 41 hours.  Below are the foot finishers.  There were ten foot division folks who dropped.  So 21/31 finished in the foot division.  I was 16/21 (or you could say I was 16/31. which sounds better).   

click to enbiggen so you can read (if you are interested in the results)

The long version:  It is hard to know where to even begin. Probably with last year's race, the memory of which mostly kept me relatively cheerful as I consistently took mental note of the minutes then hours I had gained on last year's time (and ultimately DNF). I won't do a blow by blow pace or mood comparison, but suffice it to say that this year was better, unless you are hoping for tears and drama. Though the journey was not without "issues," ranging from punchy trail, female issues and hating all my food (and consistently feeling like I might throw up when I ate on the trail), on the whole it was all manner of yes.

The race start

Ayershire Road on the way out

I flew into Anchorage on Thursday afternoon where Jill picked me up at the airport. We first had lunch with Shawn McTaggert, whose blog post first inspired me to do this race (I linked to it in my 2011 report which is linked above). Sort of appropriate. This was really the first time I even met her. She is really cool. She ended up winning the 50k (Little Su) even though next weekend she is walking the entire Iditarod trail to Nome. Yes, to Nome. She will be pulling her sled for a month. Clearly it will be some time before I imitate her. Actually, I do not plan to ever do that. Maybe to McGrath, which is the 350 miles Beat will do next weekend.  (By the way, Beat set up this awesome tracking site for my SPOT tracker, which was a Christmas present from my good friends Kim and Krista.  He is the best). Anyhow, you think I'm crazy? Nah, I haven't scratched the surface. I think I hang with a bad crowd... Anyhow, Shawn's husband did the Su 100 too and killed it. Plus he seems really great too.

trail

mashed potatoes trail

We met up with Amy and Dan, with whom we stayed, and it was awesome to spend so much time with my buddy Jill and newer buddies. Amy and Dan are good people. Jill did Su on foot while Amy skied and Dan biked. It is fun to have a crew all preparing for the same "Su-ffer fest." (clever word courtesy of Dan). Friday morning I had a final Pretrial conference by phone though which precipitated some work obsession. Friday night, after having a great dinner with blogger Karen who did the 50k with her husband, my mind fought the power of my Ambien thinking about work. I finally reminded myself that I would have plenty of time to think about work and fell asleep. Thankfully, that was the last I thought of work.

We were fretting about the weather forecast as above freezing temps would mean post holing and a wet slushy slog. Indeed, when Jill and I left our hotel room in Wasilla (right by Sarah Palin's house!) it was 28 or something Saturday morning before the race. Imagine our delight when the temperature gauge in the car dropped to zero en route to Point McKenzie where the race begins. Jill and I both became giddy. There was hope yet. The best part was the giant moose did not step in front of our moving car. Rita, one of the race directors, recommended taking advantage of firm trail before the temps rose then try to be patient when the trail became mashed potatoes. Keeping this in mind, I ran most of the way to the first checkpoint at Flathorn Lake/ mile 22 and arrived in approximately 5:45, half an hour faster than last year. This was especially good since my sled felt heavier than last year despite being ten pounds lighter.

nope not going to Nome

Barbie Doll Corner

What was in my sled? My huge feathered friends puffy, -40 sleeping bag, closed cell foam pad, extra clothes, Hagloffs rain shell, snowshoes that I hate, 10,000 calories of food I hated, an extra water bottle, handwarmers, too many electronics, a Leatherman tool, a bivy sack, extra shoes and socks, Hydropel, foot repair kit and trash bags for overflow. It weighed about 28 pounds. You must have 15. The only thing I would have left and wanted desperately to chuck into the deep snow was my snowshoes. I am glad I had the rest. I left the awesome fur hat Deb loaned me since it wasn't going to be cold enough and forgot Zeke's ashes, which I wanted to spread on the Iditarod trail. Maybe next year :p

Jill looking awesome

Alaska girl and her big fish

Checkpoint for 50k runners

Me with the garden gnomes

By the way, I wore Hoka Bondi B shoes, Drymax socks, Dirty Girl gaiters, lululemon fleece lined running tights, my Melanzana fleece skirt for fashion, a long sleeve lulu top, a powderbak hydration bladder, my country western Club Ride bike jersey for extra pockets and my Mountain Hardwear monkey fur jacket much of the time. I started with a thin hat. Later in the race I donned waterproof socks, the long original Skhoop insulated skirt, my warm wool fleece lined hat and occasionally my giant puffy. It got down to -5 on the Yentna River on Sunday morning.

The first section to Flathorn is so fun. It was sunny and I saw some dog teams. The famous Nome sign is on this section. It is hard to not enjoy the race to Flathorn. (There is a 7 hour cutoff to leave FH which is pretty aggressive on foot really - not sure why they do that). That said, my shins, knees, hip flexors and everything pretty much started hurting from the beginning. I decided that even if it meant injury, I was going to finish the stupid race and endure whatever pain I felt. Luckily, all these things sort of took turns screaming and nothing ended up being a big deal.

Having made the cutoff in plenty of hurried frantic time, my shins and knees and Achilles, though they were going to make the entire journey come hell or high water, were done running. Ouch. Pulling a sled in snow while running is not natural and caused me to tax my hip flexors and run on the balls of my feet which is not my normal way to run. I walked 100% of the rest of the race.

The second segment is from Flathorn Lake to Luce's Lodge on the Yentna River. It is 19 miles. You first cross the "dismal swamp" before decending the "wall of death" to the Susitna River, which joins the Yentna. The entire course is accessible only by snow machine or plane by the way. The sunset on wide frozen river is pretty cool. I really quite enjoyed the quiet and solitude of this segment as day turned to night, and it was also fun seeing the front bikers returning already. There were some sections of horrible soft trail, and efforts to use my snowshoes were short lived and wrought with frustration. It was early though and too soon for me to get too annoyed.

photo courtesy of Jill Homer

Feeling sick and hating my food, especially my nasty homemade candy/protein snacks, I vowed to catch up on calories at Luce's. Best spaghetti and meatballs.ever. Or so it seems after 41 miles of sled pulling. I stuffed my face and took some garlic bread for the road. I wished I had an entire loaf. So much better than my snacks. I'd better hurry back for more....

The next stretch is 12 miles to Alexander Lake. The aurora borealis. Oh my. I was treated to a veritable light show. I have never seen such a thing and may never again. I tried to memorize every column of light and shape shifting surreality. I tried going without my headlamp a bit and just stared at the sky for the whole thing. I almost cried, but didn't. Each time I felt overcome by emotion, I asked myself sarcastically (unintentionally) "are you going to cry about it?". "Um, no, I guess not." "Well you have permission." "Well, you just totally ruined the mood..." So, no tears were shed the whole race, though afterwards at the awards everything was so hilarious to my tired mind that I kept laughing till I cried. A lot.

Jill Homer (photo courtesy of Jill Homer)

Anyhow. Northern lights. Sigh. A couple hours of my life that will forever live in my memory as among the best. My level of euphoria was at its max. I wasn't sure how to photograph it so I am posting Jill's pictures. 

photo courtesy of Jill Homer

Before I knew it I was in and out of Alexander Lake and back to Luce's for more spaghetti. Mmmm. Breakfast spaghetti... I ultimately tossed all but my required emergency calories and lived off checkpoint meals. Not ideal but my stomach dictated this. I have still never puked running (walking, whatever) and didn't want to break my streak. I took awhile at Luce's because I knew the next section was long and would include the scene of last year's epic meltdown. I was a little scared to be honest. And knew it would be a long segment. At least this year it would be light out still since I was many hours ahead of last year. It would also involve walking through the Iron Dog snow machine race with the racers speeding by at 100 mph and spectators on snow machines swarming like Mosquitos. This is a bit surreal, like walking along a NASCAR track. The river is at least a half mile wide yet we were all competing for use of the same strip. At least the fact that the light was really flat slowed them down some. It was actually a fairly dismal day but could have been much worse.

As I expected, the 19 mile stretch was long, but I was pleased with my steady and even keeled mental state. I took a self-portrait of me not being sad or scared or melting down.  The main issue I had was that my iPod shuffle kept playing this incredibly annoying Snow Patrol song that must be one of the worst songs ever.  It reminded me of a song Cartman would sing on South Park if he were trying to get rich imitating schmaltzy alt-rock bands like Cold Play.  That said, another Snow Patrol song (Symphony) was my favorite of the whole race.

Look ma!  No hysteria!

However, walking through the scene brought back intense memories of what it felt like last year. It was odd. I had forgotten the details. I can't say I enjoyed the trip down memory lane. Though I remembered it was the worst I have ever felt in my life mentally, I forgot how that actually felt. I suddenly remembered. It is so dumb because it's not like a real life problem or war experience or anything that matters, but it apparently meant a lot to my brain. I suddenly NEEDED to get off the Susitna River, in part because it was soft and I was annoyed with my slow progress. I asked someone how far I was from the wall of death. Only two miles. Somehow, upon reaching the wall of death (which was icy and required that I crawl up on my hands and knees) I knew I was golden. I was going to finish! Maybe even under 40 hours which was my A goal.

icy wall of death

Dismal Swamp

The return trip across the Dismal Swamp, while soft and punchy, went fast. I developed something I call "nap walking." You close your eyes and walk, but open your eyes when you start to actually fall asleep. It requires some practice and practice it I did. However, when you start postholing you have to stop nap walking and watch the ground.

I passed the scene of where I dropped, though I am not exactly sure where it was. I felt somewhat ambivalent by that point, maybe a little hardened at that point against the weird intense memory of last year's suffering. That was behind me. (It probably helped that rather than being -20 it was +20).

On Flathorn Lake, I forgot how far up the lake the checkpoint is. This pissed me off. A lot. I thought I would arrive half an hour sooner and this made me bitter. My Garmin had zonked out so I didn't realize how much farther I had to go yet. Forty hours or less wasn't going to happen. Trying to be positive, I was relieved that the pressure of a time goal was gone and I could chill at the checkpoint.

I looked over and saw a little doggie looking up at my with its tongue hanging out. Then I saw that there were about 20 of them. I had not heard the team come up from behind me. They were all so small and looked to me like Jack Russell Terriers. Upon arrival at the checkpoint I relayed the team of JRTs and ultimately won the award for "best hallucination." They were real! I swear they were at least JRT/husky mixes....

Leaving Flathorn, where I snarfed reindeer sausage jambalaya and cornbread, I knew victory was mine. What I didn't realize was how interminable the remainder of my race would be. You follow a straight uphill seismic line for, oh, ten or more miles? There was one part where I crossed this open frozen swamp in the Susitna Flats Game Preserve and Dead Can Dance played in my iPod, which I bravely set on shuffle despite last years shuffle disaster (sad music precipitated the meltdown). Boy this was cool. The sky was red and the silhouettes of the black spindly trees were Dali-esque. However, this moment of sensory bliss was soon replaced by a testing of my patience. I created little jobs for myself to pass the time. I obsessed about how far I had left. I so perfected nap walking that it also bored me. Luckily I was tired enough that I decided to tell myself I had fewer miles to go than reality because it was easy to trick myself. Tired logic and math = only 5 more miles until I only have 5 miles left! Much better than 10 miles left.

Brooks, husband of Rita and co-RD drive up on his snow machine and while I was deliriously happy to have human contact, felt like I was being pulled over for DUI (which has never happened by the way though I have done field sobriety tests for officers in training). Brooks was checking my eyes and asking a lot of complicated questions like "how are you feeling?"  I tried explaining that I was channeling all the zen I could and he said he had no idea what I was saying. Fail. I invited him and his companion to walk with me but he declined. I hoped Jamshid, who has 14 or 15 finishes and is a neat guy from Seattle, would catch me. In fact, I stopped to lollygag many times thinking Jamshid was right behind me. Turns out he wasn't and I started repeating to myself "this is the most interminable race I have ever done" and "I am not doing another hundred ever or even going to keep running or possibly exercising even."  I vowed to become a sitter and sleeper full time.

Finally I hit Ayershire road, which involves three miles uphill on the snowy but firm bike path. It all took ten times longer than I wanted it to but I eventually saw the lights of the finish. Jill, who is awesome and finished five hours earlier, was standing in the cold waiting for me. I love that chick. Truly. I wanted to run the last ten feet but couldn't. So I pretended. I am sure it was dumb looking but I thought I was pretty hilarious. I do crack myself up a lot. I finished in 40:59 but despite my protest they recorded 41 hours. My watch was righter than theirs :p

this is what my camera thought of the finish line, which sort of reflects how I felt

I downed soup and Jill drove us to Wasilla. I mumbled incoherently as Jill got lost and almost cried while I slept. We hit no Moose and made it back to near-Sarah's. I have honestly never been so tired in my life. I fell asleep while saying words (not sure what I was trying to say).

puffball finisher (photo courtesy of Jill Homer)

If you have read this and are still asking "why Danni?" -- I think I enjoy this stuff that you may or may not think is dumb because I enjoy pushing the boundaries of my ability and just seeing what I am able to do. Yeah, it is pretty random and punishing, but life is short and while sometimes I crash and burn, I also sometimes surprise myself. Either way, I file it all away for later when life requires that I go to the well. Thus far the journey has always been worth it, even when I fall short, and this year was no exception. It sure is nice to succeed though! Yay me.

P.S.  I have to point out that I am lucky to have Ted as my husband -- he is so supportive and awesome.  Also, I really have great friends who spoil me with their support and friendship.  Yay me.