Silk Road Mountain Race - Days 1 and 2

As my last post from several years ago notes, an event excited me for the first time in ages: The Silk Road Mountain Race - a tough 1200 mile self-supported bike packing race with over 100,000 feet of climbing that goes all over Kyrgyzstan.  (Bike packing is where you ride with all your gear).  Photos of Kyrgyzstan captured my imagination the second i started Googling.  It immediately struck me as a significant “reach” to complete it, but having never done anything like this I had no clue whether it was reasonable to try.  Originally registered to race in 2020, I finally went this past month after ramping up my training best I could.  (I hired an amazing coach: Danny Suter, who got me in as good of cycling shape as was going to happen given my life and time constraints).

To summarize: it was next level, stupid hard, and also an adventure of a lifetime, though the experience ended up leaving a different mark on me than I would have expected.  The adventure wasn’t the one I thought I was seeking, but it was maybe the one I needed.  I experienced growth and clarity in unexpected ways that aren’t really about “racing” or being a certain kind of person who does sporty or badass shit.

Day 0/1 - Friday, Osh

Check-in was fairly smooth though my sense of panic was only heightened by meeting other racers and feeling generally as though I had no business being there.  I gave a guy from Abu Dhabi a puncture kit since I had an extra, and a guy from the Scottish Highlands, whose name sounded very foreign and difficult to understand when he said it, gave me his extra container of tire sealant.  Unlike in other races I’ve done there’s no shop to pick up missing items.  We were sharing as we could at this point.  However, during the race you’re prohibited from helping each other unless you’re part of a “pair.”  Or unless it’s a “dangerous situation.”

The pre-race meeting only caused me more panic as the RD mentioned there was some stretch, maybe 50k, somewhere vague, without water.  I only thought of my questions about this later when there was no one to answer them.

Brad, Emily, and I had a pizza delivered to our hotel and went to bed to sleep a few hours before the midnight start.  Despite arriving days earlier, my jetlag was still horrible and I was very sleep deprived.  Naturally I set my alarm for 10:45 rather than 22:45 and awoke to Emily knocking that it was time to leave.  In a state of half asleep frenzy, I got my stuff and got out the door.

The start was beneath a giant statute of Lenin, and we were supposed to do a mellow group ride until outside the city.  Naturally it was, for me, a too-fast pavement pedal with a cop car on my ass as I frantically tried to stay with the pack.  Emily and Brad were quickly out of sight, and I pedaled as hard as I could until the cops peeled off. 

There was a reroute for the first segment of the ride, but my GPS rejected the changes and a giant error message blazed across the screen and I couldn’t get rid of it.  So, I was just following people but had no clue whether it was the right way.

Soon we were on dirt road climbing what seemed to be a canyon.  It was very dark.  I chatted a bit with the Scottish guy whose name I learned by reading the roster was actually Barry, and a Canadian woman named Mel.  Next thing I knew I was in some dead end canyon in the dark with Mel and clueless as to what happened and how we got there.  I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so generally discombobulated in a race.  My panic had mellowed into a more even sense of general resignation.  

We figured out that the road was above us and managed to get ourselves and our bikes on the right path.  I have no clue if I followed the route but there was much pushing up varied surfaces.  It was all so dark and surreal.  I’m not sure I ever woke up fully.  

Eventually we were spit out onto what seemed to be a legitimate gravel road.  Somehow this allowed me to stop, take a deep breath, and settle into what would be a long but now enjoyable day that actually involved some bike riding.

I enjoyed pedaling some miles with Mel and we bitched about the sprint out of the city.  Eventually the sun came out and at some point Barry was there again.  He mentioned having stopped to make coffee and I decided that’s what I needed to calm myself and start the day.

After my coffee, I was a new woman.  I looked around and saw that it was pretty cool.  We were in mountains and passed through little villages.  I chatted quite a bit with Mel and Barry and we made our way up towards the first pass, Jiptik Pass.  We passed a yurt camp where we could have a cup of tea (coffee?  Tea?  I forget) and there was a large group of riders stopped.  Barry and I stopped and chatted with some great people inside.  There I met Jenny (Scotland), whose race story is insane and involves all sorts of sickness and injury, Jenny’s husband Matt, Eleanor (USA), whose race would be the inspiring one, Sammy (Australia), this mountaineering woman who has climbed Everest and is considering K-2 (!!!) and does Enduro racing which I previously knew nothing about, and Rueben, an exceedingly calm Belgian.

We drank our tea and continued on.  It had been suggested that if we weren’t going to clear the pass in daylight we should stay at a yurt camp below the beginning of the climb to the pass.  It was a beautiful ride up to the camp and I arrived around 3:30.  I had energy to ride longer but didn’t expect I’d be up the pass and down any sketchy parts on the other side by dark.  So, I had to stop there after only about 100k of riding (and pushing).  This was the first clue that my best laid plans for daily mileage would be foiled due to practicalities such as this…. To finish I needed to average 80-85 miles per day.  A dubious beginning for sure.

Perhaps the more disturbing thing was seeing Brad and Emily already camped at the yurt camp.  Brad wasn’t well.  That was disheartening.  I ate one of the meals I brought with me and passed out early, ready to make up miles the next day.

Day 2 - Jiptik Pass (close to 14,000 feet) - the hardest thing I’ve ever done

Day 2 started well enough.  We were already pretty high up and I wasn’t acclimatized so I started by pushing towards the pass trying to keep things easy.  The scenery was stunning and it promised to be a great day.  The trail petered into a single track of sorts that was washed out in spots.  One spot in particular seemed a bit dodgy, dropping off into a deep and steep ravine, but Barry had just gone across and helped me get me and my bike across safely.  Brad and Emily caught up from behind and we all continued up.  

Pretty much it all fell to shit in short order.  There had been at least one if not multiple rock slides so the task at hand was essentially mountaineering with fully loaded bikes.  This involved heaving my heavy bike over steep and sometimes loose rock fields.  My friend Corinne recommended taking things 5 miles at a time, but I began having to take things 6 inches at a time.  We later joked that it was like climbing Mt Siyeh in Glacier National Park with a fully loaded bike.  It’s not really far from an apt comparison.

I felt so weak, inadequate, and hopeless.  I had to hold the brakes for dear life, quickly release and push with all my might in one grunting heave, hope to advance the bike a few inches, grip the brakes, move my body up a few inches, and repeat.  The geometry of me and my bike made it almost like an awkward bench press.  We were barely making progress and it was just so so so hard.  I had trained to ride my bike, not to do whatever feat of strength I was attempting.  I turned to Brad at one point and said weakly, trying really hard not to cry: “this is just so discouraging.”  Emily helped me push a couple times - I tried to help her back but I was basically useless.  I was a puddle of lame. 

“Danni, just hold the brakes.  Ok let go.”  Brad had laid his bike down and appeared next to me, taking the brakes of my bike.  “Go walk up to where Emily is.”  I let Brad push my bike up an especially difficult talus field and walked up to where Emily was maybe 20 feet above and burst into tears of desperation.  “It’s like the hole” she said, remembering another time that was terrible, that time ski touring.  (It’s kind of funny the things we do for “fun.”).

After a bit of progress, we took a break and I collected myself a little.  Slowly, we finally inched our way up to the pass.  I was so happy when Barry yelled from above: “20 more minutes!”  I think it took us 8 hours to go a few miles and about 4,000 vertical feet.

“I am just so weak” I announced, feeling I needed to explain myself, having left my dignity somewhere below the pass.

“No, this was really hard Danni” assured Brad.  He seemed to mean it.

It turns out this pass was objectively hard, it wasn’t just that I’m uniquely weak and pathetic.  Sammy described it as harder than climbing Everest.  I was quick to believe myself inadequate rather than consider that it was just hard.  There seems to be consensus that Jiptik was absurd - some people found it “harrowing.”  At least I have some mountaineering experience and wasn’t freaked out on top of everything else.

So a word about receiving help.  Clearly this was against the ethic and express rules of the race.  But what it was at its core was my close friends who won’t just watch me flounder in obvious distress and me being so hopeless and discouraged as to want only to get off the f’ing mountain.  I felt so deep over my head that I knew with certainty that I didn’t belong on that mountain (with a bike at least) or anywhere near the SRMR.  I know that Brad and Emily will always protect and help me and I would do the same for them both.  This was my first moment of clarity - friendship and humanity were the only considerations that mattered in that moment and I’m ok with it.  I know not everyone feels the same way, but we are sometimes thrust into shifting priorities by instincts and forces that do not involve a lot of intellectualizing.  I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses, but I really also just didn’t give a shit if I was DQed.  I felt deeply that the whole concept that I was in a race was farcical already on day 2.

The top of the pass was spectacular, and we stopped to enjoy it with Rueben.  He brought a nice camera so I hope to see some of his photos.  Then, exhausted, we started down the mountain.  At one point I fell.  Again, I didn’t want to cry, and whispered that I just needed a minute.  Brad just sat next to me and hugged me.

We camped at a lovely yurt camp with Korean tourists riding horses and feasted on Plov, a traditional rice dish that had roasted garlic, veggies, and an egg.  I fell asleep to a performance of traditional music happening in a nearby yurt and didn’t let myself contemplate my situation.  That situation being 11-12 miles completed on day 2.

Inspired Again

I have been fortunate enough to enjoy some really outstanding adventures and have had some incredible opportunities to recreate in various formats in beautiful places.  Ultra-endurance adventure racing of all kinds has exploded in recent years and the options are nearly limitless.  Despite this, it has been a really long time since the idea of a particular "racing" adventure has completely consumed me with excitement and inspiration.  Perhaps the problem with ultra endurance racing is that it's easy to start to take certain types of races for granted.  For example, when I first decided to run the Susitna 100 it seemed like a completely insane idea and I felt like I was making plans to visit Mars.  I was absolutely consumed by the idea.  By White Mountains 100 last winter, I absolutely knew I could do it and it was a manageable and entirely understandable undertaking.  I did not wonder whether I would finish but rather how quickly I could finish.  My head was already entirely wrapped around it.  

I thrive on challenges that are within my reach but nonetheless more of a reach.  I finally unintentionally (this was Brad's idea though I'm not clear on whether he and Emily are also planning to go) found a potential challenge/adventure that gives me chills to think about.   I had to apply and won't know if I'm even accepted until January or so - but hopefully it will work out and I will be accepted.  This would combine all my loves -- obsessing about gear, bikes, training, nutrition, claiming to drink less beer, recreating with Jill, and travel.  Stay tuned!   

I'm not sure to whom the photo credit should go - I found this on the internet?

2019 White Mountains 100

A couple of weeks ago, I ran the White Mountains 100, which takes place near Fairbanks, Alaska.  It's 100 miles on snow-machine trails on BLM land and one can choose to bike, ski, or run/walk the race.  There are 3 indoor checkpoints at miles 40, 60, and 80 (roughly).  There's also a water stop at mile 17, a warming tent if needed a little more than half way (which saved my freezing ass in 2013), and a trail shelter around mile 90.  The race is really well supported despite being a wilderness back country winter activity.

BACKGROUND

For background on what drew me to 100 mile runs in Alaska, here is my write-up from the Susitna 100 in 2011.  I didn't finish and had a somewhat terrifying experience (all in my head).  http://montanacoffman.blogspot.com/2011/02/susitna-100-race-report.html.   I went back and finished the race the following year without incident.  I then completed the White Mountains 100 in 2013 in 45 or so hours, mostly without incident.  That was my last attempt to run 100 miles until last year.  I got pregnant the summer following the 2013 White Mountains and have only recently started to get back into shape ("in shape" being somewhat relative).

I'm not entirely sure why I registered last year, but it is clear in hindsight that I should not have.  I didn't adequately train (or train at all for that matter) and wasn't mentally committed to the concept.  After having a baby who woke me up all night for more than a year, it has become harder to see the point of exhausting and sleep depriving myself on purpose for recreation.  I dropped out of the race last year at mile 40ish with an asthma attack and a frozen inhaler that didn't thaw for hours.  I don't think my attitude was especially good from the beginning of the race, so while I was stopped in my tracks by asthma I might have dropped anyhow.  I just had a good (mandatory) excuse.  I suppose I can liken it to the relief I felt when I learned that my child was breech and I'd need a C-Section.  I'd planned an un-medicated "natural" childbirth -- since that's a thing and it didn't really occur to me to question whether I should commit to such a thing -- but quickly realized what nonsense that was when contractions began in earnest.  The receipt of a spinal block, while obviously not part of my "plan," was such sweet relief insofar as I was excused from natural childbirth.  In any event, it didn't  bother me to be forced to drop and I left Fairbanks last March adamant that I was done with these ridiculous events and would never sign up for another one.  I really did mean it.

Sometime between last March and this fall, when the White Mountains lottery occurs, I seem to have decided I should throw my name in the hat just in case I changed my mind.  Next thing I knew, I was enthusiastically training for the race and excited to be returning.  (My training was comprised of a handful of 20-30 mile runs).  Mostly, I don't like quitting and just needed to prove to myself that I could actually still do it.  It has become painfully obvious to me now that I'm in my mid-40s that I absolutely must not only train if I want to do difficult athletic things, but I also need to generally take much better care of myself.  Since last fall I've cut back on beer, increased my running, and lost some weight (which I likely regained this past week on vacation, but I digress).  

PRE-RACE MISCELLANY

My friends Jill and Wendy were also doing the race, and we had a lot of fun before hanging out in Fairbanks at new friends Connie and Eric's house.  I was also able to see my friends Mike and Tiffany who live up there.  It was generally a good vacation separate and apart from the run.  The weather forecast was unseasonably warm, which was fine with me so long as the trail didn't get mushy.  Remarkably, the trails were remaining solid despite the near 50 degree temperatures and sunshine.

I'd trained this winter for really cold conditions - mostly because it was really cold here.  Oddly, my last long run in the Grand Canyon, where I was wet in 50 degree rain all day, turned out to be the most similar weather to the actual race (for half of it).  The warm conditions actually made it tough for me to figure out what to wear and what to bring.  This year's White Mountains 100 was sort of like two separate races.  One where I was energized and joyful, running on hard packed trail and basking in sunshine, and a second, where it was dreary and I felt ambivalent, plodding along slowly through heavy wet snow.

THE ACTUAL RACE

The first half of the race was truly enjoyable.  The sun was shining, I was making great time, and I was feeling generally great.  I was subsisting primarily on Tailwind, a sports drink that doesn't make me sick and is caloric, plus a few random other snacks I carried with me.  I had made some chocolate snacks that all melted into a big gross blob of goop and ended up being tossed.  I never bonked despite probably averaging only 100 calories/hour plus whatever I ate at the checkpoints, which probably ended up being another 1000 calories.  Near the end of the race my stomach was growling about every 30 minutes so I actually ended up eating more near the end, which is uncommon for me, but generally speaking I didn't require too much food.

I rolled into the first checkpoint before noon, which is really good for me, and rolled into the Cache Mountain Checkpoint at mile 40-ish around 5:30.  This was ahead of the unambitious plan I had sketched out for myself ahead of time which made me feel happy.  Through this entire 40 miles, I felt truly "in the moment" and enjoying myself, while also remembering how cranky I had been last year.  I spent some time running with Jill, which was fun.  She's faster than I am and she was spending less time at checkpoints so she got a couple hours ahead of me by the end.  I made it up to the highest point of the race, the Cache Mountain Divide, just as it was getting dark, which was pretty neat.  

Cache Mountain Divide

The infamous "ice lakes," which are really just huge areas of overflow, were nicely frozen and the temperatures stayed reasonable all the way to next checkpoint at Windy Gap at mile 62ish.  I rolled into Windy Gap around 12:30, had some meatball soup and whatever else was there (I forget), changed my socks and headed back out, still feeling pretty good and way ahead of schedule.  For reference, in 2013 I was at this checkpoint at least 5 or more hours later.

this is what overflow looks like (frozen)

Sometime around 2 or 3 am, it started snowing that wet sloppy kind of snow that makes everything wet and also is irritating in the light of a headlamp.  Temperatures were right around 33 or 34 and it was just sort of dark and wet.  The trail started getting softer and snow was accumulating.  Most of the section between Windy Gap and Borealis at around mile 80ish was just dark, wet, and slightly nauseating with the fat snowflakes reflecting in my headlamp.  It's much like headlights when driving in these conditions.  Annoying.  Eventually it started getting light-ish (it was so cloudy it didn't really get all that light) and I entertained myself by following Jill's footsteps, which often veered off the side of the trail.  She appeared to be falling asleep.  She was also dragging her feet.  This kept me entertained for awhile.  I also started listening to a book to distract myself from the fact that I wasn't enjoying myself as much as I had the day prior...

might as well be Montana in the winter

I got to Borealis around 8:30 or 9 in the morning.  I think.  I spent an hour there as I was at this point cold, wet, and getting really stiff.  This checkpoint had Ramen noodles which is my favorite food in the world so that was a great thing.  I made the coffee/hot chocolate that Beat had ready for me in his thermos and forced myself back out into the blech despite really not wanting to go.  

The last section had the advantage of having distinct parts: the section to the trail shelter, the section from the trail shelter to the top of the Wickersham Wall, which basically looks like a wall and feels like one too, and from the top of the Wall to the finish.  I continued listening to the vapid "China Rich Girlfriend" until I found myself at the finish.  Until her tracks were erased by a snowmachine,  I continued to follow Jill's tracks in amusement.  I hate to admit this but the audio book really saved me from sinking into any real suffering.  It seems a little like cheating, since most 100 milers REQUIRE some level of deep suffering and misery.  I never felt more than a little uncomfortable during the race, and I credit it to the audible book which I started listening to as soon as I started asking myself WHEN WILL THIS END?  Which, by the way, was about 7 hours before it ended.

I finished in about 33:50, though the official results have me finishing half an hour later.  This was about 12 hours faster than 2013.  In hindsight, I'm not sure how I was able to take 12 additional hours, but I did.  Jill, Wendy, Beat, and Jorge were all at the finish waiting for me, which was really nice.  I had a burger and snuggled a puppy and we headed back to Corrine's for showers and more food and sleep.

me finishing, courtesy of Jill Homer

GEAR

I'm always interested in peoples' gear - if you're like me, this is for you.  I left my pole pogies behind and only even wore gloves during the second half of the race.  My gloves got soaked so I'm glad I also had overmitts and chemical handwarmers.  I wore a short sleeve Lululemon swiftly, long sleeve Arc-teryx vertices hoodie, which has a built in balaclava, and a pullover rain jacket for the wet part.  I brought a light Mountain Hardwear ghost whisperer puffy, which I never needed, as well as Jorge's Mountain Hardwear ghost whisperer windbreaker, which I did wear some.  I also worse Jorge's Skinfit pants that zip down the sides, which were so awesome and perfect.  It's never good to try new gear on race day, but I lucked out.  When it got colder I wore my warmer fuzzy hat.  I brought a Cold Avenger face mask in case the wind picked up or the temperatures dropped, and had some safety gear an an extra shirt.  My layers ended up being just right though I'm glad I had the puffy just in case.  I wore GoreTex high ankle shoes, which I think gave me a million blisters an heat rash on my ankles, and DryMax socks.  I wore Khatoola microspikes from Cache to Windy Gap due to the ice at the ice lakes, and used my trekking poles most of the race.

THOUGHTS

This was my sixth (?) 100 mile finish, and one of only two where I didn't find myself experiencing any particular level of suffering.  I barely even hallucinated.  I'm not sure if I'm just now starting to get the hang of the distance, or whether it's the part where I trained.  Either way, while I had a great time and in the abstract would like to do it again, it seems a good place to put an end to running 100 mile races.  It takes a lot of time to train and the training particularly wrecks weekends.  It's best to end on a high note I think.  I'm glad that I can, after all, still do it.  I suppose that doesn't mean I should.  I can quit anytime.

Huh...

Those with children probably knew this already, and they definitely tried to tell me, but the period of time when children are babies and helpless ends pretty quickly.  I am the parent of a kid.  She starts kindergarten in the fall.  She is chatty and can get milk out of the fridge and pour it for herself.  She sleeps all night and even typically sleeps late enough that I have zero excuses to not get out and run in the morning.  She's pretty easy going, travels well, fits fairly easily into most plans, and is almost always fun to hang out with.

So here I am, five years later, and suddenly noticing that life is really going by.  Is it true that I am going to blink and she will be graduating?  It certainly seems true that I need to physically work much harder and prepare more to achieve the same mediocre results athletically.  I'm suddenly aware of the passage of time in a new and acute way.  I'm close to halfway through a normal working life (of course as an older mom the chances of my retiring before 70 are probably slim).

Huh.  Life goes by.  My life is good, but it seems to be accelerating with each passing year.  This must be how it is.  I'm not going to bemoan it or complain or buy a sports car.  It is what it is.  I'll officially be mid-40s this summer.  A middle aged mom.  And I'm happy - despite my lack of ideas for making time slow down.

That kind of parent.

I've always been a little disturbed by "those" parents.  The ones dragging their toddlers to the ski hill when they can't possibly be enjoying themselves.  Too little to really learn much of anything much less how to ski. 

What sort of monstrous parent shows her toddler videos of other toddlers skiing?  Only one who plans to catapult her daughter into a life of fruitless comparison and unattainable standards.

 

 

Well... I am not that kind of parent.  I totally let Clara scrape up her new skis (a present from Hanukkah Harry a.k.a. Keith Brodsky) on the patio since the snow is a little daunting for her still (boy, she turns 2 in February I sure hope she gets with the program soon!).  And I taught her one of the most important things about resort skiing: it's all about gluttony.  Greasy pizza?  Check.  Sweet treats as snacks?  Check.  It was actually a really fun day and reminder 987497897 that my pre-parent judgments should have been checked at the hospital door.     

 



 





Back in the Saddle-ish (?)

If you at all follow this blog (which I doubt anyone does anymore...) or my Facebook, you know that an annual tradition in my world is "Fat Camp" or a backpacking trip involving Meghan Hicks and now Amber, perhaps Dave and whomever else.  This year Jill was able to join us since she had some sort of respiratory illness that ended her Tour Divide early (bike race from Canada to Mexico).  Amber's co-fish-biologist-nerd buddy Lora also came which was a real treat. 

 

Last year Fat Camp didn't happen, which is good because I wouldn't have been able to go due to work obligations and having an infant.  This year I still have work obligations but now that my infant is a toddler it's a little easier to abandon her like the crappy mom that I am.  (I kid, she's totally fine... I hear happy parents are good parents etc.).  As you likely know, my Fat Camp friends are all fit athletes.  I have never been much of an athlete but I once was fit at least.  I haven't been exercising much and I don't have much of an excuse anymore.  I won't belabor this point but I am starting to feel the effects of the combination of age (I'm 40 now!) and inactivity (and beer consumption, yum).  But boy oh boy this trip reminded me of the point of staying fit and active.  How else can you experience the beauty of places like the Wind River Range in Wyoming (where we backpacked)?  It helps to not be a *total* beer swilling fat-ass.  Luckily it's not too late for me quite yet and I feel inspired and motivated to resume getting out as much as I can and even bring Clara with me so she can grow up liking all the same stuff I do so she wants to hang out with me all the time.  That's totally going to happen right?    

by Jill Homer

Getting out for this trip, where we didn't even do the huge days we normally do (we did I think 56 miles in 5 days whereas we normally average 15-20 miles a day), was a good wake up call that I need to get back into shape and that I really need this kind of stuff to stay balanced.  It's good to get outside.  Thanks friends for a wonderful trip.  I don't want to get too ahead of myself but I think I might be back soon.

By Lora Tennant

Almost a year of motherhood

I was inspired by Jill to update my blog -- I will be honest, I haven't been reading blogs but I happened to read hers today and it made me feel like I should update my blog.  It has been so long since I updated this blog that the photo uploader seems to have moved on into some new method of accepting pictures and the old way doesn't work.  I am having difficulty uploading pictures but the few people still checking this are probably also friends of mine on Facebook and have already seen all my pictures anyhow.

Clara is going to be one in just a couple weeks.  It's hard to believe and amazing how much she has grown and developed into a little mini-person.  It has also been kind of a loooong blurry year.  A great one, but being pregnant seems like decades ago.  In the way that I used to obsess on races and training I obsess about milk supply, baby nutrition and baby sleep.  I haven't really cared particularly about much else and I don't feel apologetic about that fact.

However, now that Clara is almost one I am trying to start running again and am hoping to get back into some semblance of shape.  I turn 40 this summer and it seems that fitness becomes less optional as you get older.  I don't want to hurt and fall apart as I enter middle age.  I am signed up for White Mountains 100, which is the hardest race I've done heretofor which seems like a good way to work on my fitness -- it's in about two months so I'll do some something or rather and then by the time I finish the race I should be fitter.  If nothing else it should make for a good story.  I'm still all about good stories. 

Keeping my Head Above Water

Working full time as a litigation attorney and being a mom to a baby is hard y'all.  I am loving Clara so much and loving being her mom.  And I don't want to be a stay at home mom.  But I'm still finding my groove as far as managing everything goes.  I've been having to travel which has been rough in a number of ways and am super busy at work.  At times I feel like my brain is going to explode.  And my heart too because time spent away from the cutest of babies (Clara in case that's not obvious) often feels like time wasted.  I know I'm not the first person to struggle with this situation and I know that I have a number of options available to me.  I am going to make it work -- no question in my mind -- but like anything else that's important it's going to be hard work and cause some stress.  So this is all to say I'm pretty stressed out.  But life has never been better so there you have it.

Loving the Bouncy Chair

Oh, running?  No, I haven't been getting much exercise.  One groove-hitting at a time.  I can't get it all sorted out all at once.  That would surely throw me over the edge.

Motherhood -- weeks 0-7

The past 7 weeks have been a blur.  My days involve feeding Clara every couple of hours and trying to catch some sleep at night between feedings.  I seem unable to nap during the day and when I've tried, she has woken up and protested.  It's wonderful and exhausting all at the same time.  I don't really have the mental energy for much else though I have been out and about some.  

she sometimes smiles now if you smile at her!

I was cleared to run this past week and ran a few miles pain free.  It felt so wonderful!  However, my hamstrings were pretty sore from having not run in 6 months.  I guess hiking and the other stuff I've been doing don't use the same muscles. 

Really not much to report which is the report.  Caring for a newborn is all consuming yet there's not really much to say about it.  I go back to work next week which should be interesting.  I'm so grateful that Ted gets to take a few months off and spend some quality bonding time with our little girl. 

Birth Story -- A Race Report

Clara Shelly Coffman



Birth stories aren't supposed to be race reports, but because of my total ignorance of the fact that I no longer control things and my hubris, my birth story was a race.   A race to get home while on a work trip...

On Sunday February 24 I flew to Billings for a mediation.  Although I would be 37 weeks on Tuesday, it seemed totally reasonable to attend an out of town mediation on Monday.  I mean, there was no way I would be early.  In fact, I was quite confident I would go late and was researching whether I should ask to be induced at 41 weeks.  Because, you know, I get to decide these things.

I landed in Billings at 11:30 p.m. on Sunday night.  Walking to my rental car I felt a trickle in my pants.  "Did I seriously just pee myself?" I asked myself.  I'd heard of such things happening late in pregnancy.  Oh how embarassing.  I had been advised to super hydrate to avoid blood clots and I figured that was what I get for overhydrating. 

I checked into my hotel room and seemed to still be leaking.  This wasn't pee.  I panicked.  Should I drive home?  Bad idea -- it was the middle of the night and a snow storm.  I called to see if I could get an earlier flight home the next day.  Nope.  I reluctantly decided I should go to the Billings Clinic to get checked out.

At the Billings Clinic I tested positive for amniotic fluid but it didn't appear I was still leaking and an ultrasound showed plenty of fluid.  It also showed that little Clara Beara was breech.  The doctor said "C Section for you if she doesn't turn!"  Thanks lady. 

I did confirm that for $2000 I could get a private plane home with little notice.  With that knowledge in my back pocket I wearily went to mediation -- having not slept basically all night.  I leaked all day and knew I just needed to get home.  I did NOT want to give birth in Billings.  Alone.  I didn't really tell people at work, except my client, that I was in labor when the contractions started around lunchtime or call my doc because I didn't want anyone to make me stay in Billings.  I figured if things really seemed to be progressing I would go back to the Billings Clinic or maybe give birth in Salt Lake City where my layover was.  Both places have good hospitals.  In any event as of 4:00 a.m. I had lots of fluid and figured I had 24 hours to get home and safely deliver (based on my understanding of protocols when your membranes rupture).

I got my case settled :-)

My contractions were about 30 minutes apart and super easy all the way until I landed back in Kalispell at 11:30 p.m. Monday night.  I showered and went to bed, hoping things would stay low key until morning at which time I had a pre-scheduled doctor's appointment. 

Around 2:30 I woke up with a SERIOUS FOR REALS contraction.  Then they kept coming!  Ouch!  Realizing that this unfun labor would serve no purpose since I was likely having a C-Section I called the doc and headed to the hospital at 3:00 a.m.

Clara Shelly Coffman was delivered by C-Section at 5:34 a.m. on February 25.

The C-Section was actually sort of fun.  I planned an all natural suffer-through birth but enjoyed witnessing surgery.  I didn't mind the spinal block by the time I got it -- I was having back labor which offers no breaks at all unlike contractions which give you a few minutes respite. 

3.5 weeks post-partum and I'm feeling pretty good if tired.  I can walk a few miles and abdominal weakness seems to be my limitation -- doing too much makes my back hurt.  I lost 20 or so pounds the first week but am hanging onto another 10 or so pounds.  I am optimistic that by June 2015 when I turn 40 I can be in better shape than I was when I got pregnant in June 2013. 

She is beautiful and we are so in love with her.  It's true all the things parents say...

OK she's screaming time to go...

34 Weeks - Whitefish Whiteout

 

I did the "uphill" division of the Whitefish Whiteout -- ski mountaineering race -- a couple weeks ago.  Remarkably, I still made it up in 67 minutes, only 20 minutes slower than last year when I weighed 30 pounds less (I gained 10 between April and June while trying to get pregnant and was up 20 pounds as of a couple weeks ago...)  So, while my weight increased by 23% my time slowed by 42%.  I think.  Math is hard.  In any event I am not only giant-er I am not allowed to go as hard as I possibly can and am, well, really pregnant.  I did wear a spandex race suit, as you can see above, which was not only amazingly flattering but made me aerodynamic and therefore fast.  I actually won the womens' uphill division (though I was also the only woman).  Speaking of weight, I seem to be on track to gain a total of 30 pounds which is in the middle of the 25-35 recommended.  If you add in the extra 10 I appear to have gained in the few months preceding pregnancy I will have gained enough that I will probably not be one of those women who is in her pre-preggo jeans within a week of delivery...

In other news of greatness, Joanna came to visit last weekend.  We have been friends since we were 4 years old.  Although I was completely useless and did nothing but eat all their snacks, I was there for the birth of her first and she is my birthing inspiration.  She made it look pretty easy though I know it wasn't.  I hope to be like her and have a smooth sailing peaceful "natural" childbirth (to the extent that birth is really anything other than natural).  It was nice to catch up and hang out even if it was just a quick weekend.  We cross-country skied in Glacier National Park which was pleasant and a nice workout. 

I am otherwise just trying to gear up for the big big dance.

28 Weeks - Pregnancy Fitness

With only 12 more weeks to go, I am optimistic that I will get through pregnancy with a minimal, if any, loss of fitness (it's not like I started at some amazing level or anything).  I've been hiking, skinning up the mountain (and very slowly and carefully "safety gliding" down) and I think my heart will get through this in good shape and my quads might even benefit from the workouts with extra weight.

 

I realized the other day though as I was skinning up the mountain that my real challenge will be maintaining any modicum of fitness once the baby is here.  It's not like I won't be able to take her out for walks or hikes and stay active.  It's not like Ted won't be an amazing parent and facilitate some exercise time for me.  Even then, I can imagine that it might be an incredible challenge.  I can also imagine not really caring that much and being more focused on all things baby and no things personal self-care.

Hopefully I will surprise myself, just like I am currently surprising myself.  And hopefully I will pull through and not need the size XXL clothes I am accumulating for my outdoor pursuits. 

24 Weeks and Goals

Running may be pretty much out of the question unless my ligaments magically decide to be normal at some point during pregnancy, but hiking slowly up the ski hill feels like magic.  Normally I try to go nearly anaerobic when I do this, but obviously I am required to slow down at this point.  It takes about 50% longer than "normal" to get up the mountain but it really feels good and seems like a promising form of pregnancy exercise.  So, my goal will be to be able to keep slowly slogging up the mountain at least long enough to participate in the "uphill only" category of the Whitefish Whiteout, our local ski mountaineering race.

 

conditions are currently abysmal, they are preparing for opening day on December 7 by packing the snow with Cats which is the worst possible surface for skiing -- well, not as bad as a sheet of ice I suppose

If I can do it under 1:30, which seems possible, I might not even be last person up the mountain.  Wouldn't that be embarassing for the imaginary person I beat!  Not that I am trying to humiliate people but it would be sort of cool to 1) participate and 2) not be last up the hill.  We shall see.  As with everything else I'm just rolling with it.  Like a big fat roly poly.

Pregnancy and (not) Running and Pregnancy

These pictures are from a hike I did last weekend in Glacier to Firebrand Pass with Amber.  It was an amazingly beautiful day.  Possibly my last good hike of the season.  To quote from Game of Thrones: "winter is coming."  While hiking and walking feel pretty good, I might be done running until after I give birth.  Everything is just off and it's painful to run.  I think it's round ligament pain.  I don't especially have anything to prove so I will just back off.  It's a little bit of a bummer, especially since I am not really supposed to downhill ski this winter either, but I'm sure I will figure out a way to keep my mind and body entertained.  I have some projects I should do before the baby comes in March (I will probably find an excuse to not do them, they are the horrible cleaning types of things) and cross-country skiing will hopefully work out for me.



Impending parenthood is certainly getting more real.  My belly is visibly expanding and I can feel her move (it's a girl!), especially late at night.  This "realness" is prompting all kinds of feelings and thoughts, especially hopes and dreans of what the future holds for my daughter.  Namely, that she will be a confident and self-assured person who can stay true to herself and navigate this world with grace and while having fun.  It's a tough world and women still face all manner of nonsense.  I hope I can prepare her well for anything she might face and, above all, that she readily learns critical thinking.  

It's a strange thing to feel love for a complete stranger who could not even live on her own outside the womb right now (I'm 20 weeks).  Maybe it's hormones, maybe it's instinct, who knows.  I would not have ever imagined feeling this way about someone who is not yet really quite someone (Ted likens her to a baby bird or perhaps a lizard). 

 

It's an exciting time.  March can't come fast enough.  When I next return to hike in Glacier I will likely be a mom.  To a human.  Mind blown.