Eat Drink Run Woman

If Sunday’s race portends what’s to come in my “13 in 12” streak I’ve got a LONG road (and sometimes trail) ahead of me.

As I was putting together my list of 13 races (marathon distance or farther) I gravitated toward the free ones.  After all, I’ve already shelled out a bunch of money for Boston and Big Sur (not to mention the Goofy Challenge), so free or almost-free were ideal.  So when I saw the Poulsbo Running Club was hosting the free Fishline 50K on Valentine’s Day, I knew it was the race for me.  How better to celebrate the Hallmark holiday than running the trails with my sweetie?

The race is held on a privately owned tree farm in Port Gamble on the Kitsap Peninsula.  We had run a similar course in August for the Port Gamble half marathon, however, this race started at a different point.  It’s moderately challenging with a mix of single track and forest service roads, with a few hills thrown in (most are fairly runnable).

While we’ve been having some great weather of late, the week leading up the race was quite damp.  In fact, I got caught in a squall while running around Green Lake two days prior (at one point the wind and rain were so strong I could barely move forward).  In addition, my work week was particularly busy (regular clients Monday-Friday, Valentine’s dinner Saturday evening) so I wasn’t as well-rested as I would have liked.   Still, I was looking forward to hitting the trail.

The morning got off to an interesting start.  We’ve been having to give our kitty subcutaneous fluids — not an easy task by any means — but by doing it ourselves we eliminate the traumatic trip to the vet.  While I wrapped her in a towel to keep her from squirming too much, my darling readied the 18-gauge hypodermic needle.  Just as he was about to stick it into her she managed to free her front paws from the towel.  As we once again attempted to get her confined I felt a sharp pin-prick on my left forefinger.  Yee-ouch!  (My darling hadn’t placed the cap back on the needle while I was re-wrapping kitty).  As I fished through our first-aid kit for the antibiotic ointment and a bandage, I noticed two spots of blood on my finger.  Turns out the needle had gone clean through!  (Medical professionals, we are not).

We took that as a sign to abandon the task until we returned from the race and got to packing our race gear.  I also packed a cooler with the fixings for chicken Caesar salad wraps to share afterwards (along with a couple of beers, natch).  I also tossed in a 1-pound box of Sees nuts & chews and a bag of salt & vinegar potato chips (we figured we’d burn our fair share of calories on the trail).

We saw several familiar faces on the ferry ride over, and several more at the race start.  The rain didn’t keep many away; there must have been at least 60 runners (some of whom were just running one 25K loop).  We checked in with the race director and chatted with several friends, including Marie with whom we’d be running (this would be day 2 of a triple for her, plus it was her first trail run).  We weren’t looking to run a fast race, we simply were looking to finish and have fun (this would be race 5 in my darling’s quest for 13 in 12).

We lined up toward the back, and although a few runners were behind us, after experiencing some technical difficulties within the first mile (my shoes weren’t tied well, I had to take my jacket off), we ended up bringing up the rear.  Our plan was to run as much as we could, walking only on the hills.  We averaged 14-15 minute miles for the first nine miles, but the slipping and sliding on the mud started to take its toll on my hip flexors.  In addition, the ball of my left foot started to hurt, especially on sections with loose rock, and I began to feel the start of a blister on my right foot.  We slogged on, trying to keep our spirits up.  Still, it took four hours to finish the first loop, and by then we were starving.

As my darling made us some chicken wraps I asked the race director if it would be stupid for us to go out on another loop.  It was just after noon by then, and we knew our second loop would be even slower.  While we had plenty of water and food, none of us had flashlights.  However, we figured we’d finish before it got dark.  Normally we would have bailed, but we each had something riding on this race (not a smart way to think, I know).  Besides, when I heard Mel, the 77-year-old, had headed out on his second loop, I knew there was no way we could wuss out.  But we told the race director not to wait or worry about us; we’d be sticking together and would email him our finish time.

I thought about changing my socks (and even shoes) but since the hot spot had died down I decided against it.  (I thought it might cause more grief, and besides, if a blister did form I had moleskin in my pack).  With chicken wrap in hand we headed out for our second loop (knowing we’d be walking much of it my darling filled his bottle with beer!)  The sustenance rejuvenated me, as did the sun breaks.  It didn’t matter we wouldn’t finish for hours — I was with my sweetie and my good friend.  Life was good.

About a mile into our second loop we spied Monte, who we thought was ahead of us.  Turns out he got lost on his first loop, but rather than go back to the start he decided to continue on with us.  He often vies with Mel for DFL status (dead f’ing last), but since we were walking we encouraged him to join us.  (Good thing too considering he didn’t get the chance to refill his bottles after the first loop).

My sunny disposition started to dissipate about mile 20.  By then our pace had slowed to an average 18-19 minute miles, and in addition to overall soreness, I began to feel defeated.  While I able to run for short intervals in the first few miles, I couldn’t muster up the strength in the latter miles.  When the tell-tale lump in my throat began to form, I knew what was coming — the tears.  As Monte and Marie continued on, I threw my arms around my darling and had a good long cry.

As with the other times I’ve cried on the trail, this provided the emotional release I needed to regroup.  Mind you, I was still hurting all over but I was able to walk at a rather fast clip.  I got a boost about mile 23 or 24 when I saw Mel ahead in the distance (even though he had almost an hour head start I assumed we’d eventually catch up).  I even managed to break into a run, albeit slow.  However, as I got closer I realized it was NOT Mel; it was merely two ribbons hanging from a tree marking the course (got hallucinations?)

We continued to slowly tick off the miles (I think I had at least two more mini meltdowns), and we finally got to the homestretch.  With a mile to go and dusk fast approaching, I was able to once again pick up the pace, and we hit the finish line in just over nine hours.  One of the volunteers was just about to pull away from the parking lot, so we made sure to check in with him.  I was grateful I hadn’t put out the chicken wrap fixings for the others since we all were once again ravenous.  As we  sat on the tailgate of our Honda Element wolfing down the wraps, beer, potato chips and chocolate the race director pulled up (I’m sure he was relieved to see we made it out okay).

This was definitely the toughest race for me, both physically and mentally.  However, I’d run it again in a heartbeat (I’ll be better prepared next time).  Both Marie and my darling went on to run another marathon the next day, while I took a much-needed rest day.  (Besides, I had to work).  I thought about going for a short, easy run today, but my right hamstring had other thoughts.  I have a double coming up this weekend, so there’s no need to push things.

(And BTW — while we were too tired to administer the fluids to kitty when we got home, we successfully accomplished the task sans finger jabbing the next day).