Today I remember

a great pair of running shoes.

Their laces / tired

so many miles run / roots stepped over

these are East Coast shoes / forest shoes

running through North / South 

the Carolinas

and running / 100.

They were good shoes / putting in their miles

laying down time / on the streets

trails

Teaching me / how to find new paths

reassuring new running buddies / me

you can go farther than you think.

A final trip / a homecoming

the Grand Canyon / dirt turning everything

Sedona Red Rock / red.

It’s a legacy they’ve left 

so much for the next pair / to live up to.

Who knew old dirty shoes / could define

and know / so much of who I am.

A trip back to Arizona / too much

to see / to do

So let’s get started.

Airports / airplanes / the desert.

I took my favorite person

to my favorite place

Me / Blake / sister / dad /

50 friends / runners

drove North.

took some pictures / had some fun

cried / over spilled ice cream

and decided /tomorrow will be a long day

time to get some sleep.

We woke up early / too early

packed our things

and hiked. / And hiked. / And hiked.

and when we were done / hiking

the North Rim

we saw theannular eclipse of the sun/ the first one

one our continent / this century

and went to bed

to do it all again / the next day.

Remembering
all those years ago
that cold
tired night
on the North Rim
not sure if I could move
forward

after a day
23 miles

7 down
8 across
8 up

6000 feet of
climbing.

Run back or
ride the bus:
Do I have more
to give?

That is always the question.

Dan and Marty
telling me
I’d be running

8 down
8 across
7 up

6000 feet
up

“with or without shoes-
so be awake
with your shoes on.”

And Amanda
an ultra marathoner
an I can do more
I can go further
type of girl

Came to life.

Tonight:
years later

A run in the woods
taper
back in time for
sunset
dinner
and
plane tickets

home

annual
Grand Canyon crossing
two weeks away.

A recent article…

100 Mile Intrigue: Embracing the Unknown

There’s something mythical and mysterious about the 100-mile distance. It is the most intimidating, intriguing, and respected distance commonly raced in trail running. I’ve felt this way about 100 miles since long before I ran my first one – The Susitna 100 in 2006. Before I even knew that an entire sport of ultrarunning existed, I knew about a few of the well-known 100 mile races: Western States, Leadville, Hardrock, and Wasatch. I was both horrified and strangely drawn to the idea that 100-mile running races existed. I never thought I would actually run 100 miles, but I always had an inexplicable curiosity about running that far. It was as though I was curious to run a 100-mile race because I wouldn’t quite believe they existed until I did.

Several years and eight 100-mile finishes later, I no longer doubt whether these races really exist and if people really do run them. There is, however, still something magical and intensely appealing to me about the distance. I think this appeal comes from several places, but mostly from how challenging, unpredictable, and unknown the experience of running 100 miles on trails in the mountains is.

Despite the rapid growth in the sport of trail running, the 100-mile distance is still only attempted by a small minority of trail runners. If you take it a step further and compare it to the marathon or other popular road racing distances, the amount of people running 100-mile races is essentially non-existent. Someone with a lot more patience than I could probably look this up, but my guess would be that more people complete a marathon worldwide in a month than have ever completed a 100-mile race.

It is this lack of precedent combined with the immense challenge that makes 100-mile races so mythical and appealing. So few people have actually attempted to run 100 miles that there really is no proven right way to do it. (I’d like to use the statement that the book hasn’t yet been written on this subject, but one only needs to look as far as the editor of this website to find an actual book on this subject, so this kind of shoots the metaphor dead.)

There are many theories on how to best prepare for and race 100 miles, but you find very little consistency within these theories. Every successful 100-mile runner has found an approach that works for them, but no one’s approach seems to work for everyone. In a recent column on this website, Ian Torrence talks about the necessity of a structured training program which includes a balance of endurance runs, stamina workouts, and speed training. I have only met Ian briefly in passing, but with a resume of over 150 ultramarathon finishes in a nearly 20-year career, he is someone I take very seriously when he writes about how to prepare for an ultramarathon. The problem, though, is that when I take into account my experiences of racing 100 miles, I have found no personal benefit of a structured training program. I am not alone in this area.

The three fastest runners ever to run The Western States 100 – Tony, Kilian, and myself – have something in common in our approach to training that is hard to ignore: we each simply go out and run in the mountains with essentially no structure. The runner who has won more 100-mile races than anyone in the world, Karl Meltzer: the same thing. Unless of course you count shoveling snow and sledding as stamina workouts or speed training. Ian, however, also isn’t alone in his belief in a structured training program being an “essential element of successful ultramarathon training.” As evidenced in the responses to Ian’s column, many 100-mile runners seem to benefit from a more traditional, structured training program that includes regular stamina and speed work. What works for one often seems to have no benefit for another, but it is the success of these diverse approaches that makes the 100-mile distance so elusive and intriguing.

The question then that begs to be asked is who is right? How can so many people disagree on something so intrinsic to the sport as to whether structured training is necessary to be fully prepared to race 100 miles? The answer, of course, is that no one is entirely right, and no one is entirely wrong. And herein lies the appeal of the 100-mile distance: none of us really know what we’re doing when it comes to 100 miles, and the aspiring 100 mile runner who has yet to race her first step, has a better chance of figuring out what works best for her than anyone else does. I have people ask me all the time what advice I would give them for preparing for their first 100 miler. I usually give them a few basic logistical tips, and then tell them that all they can really do is go out and run until they find out what works for them. And, lastly, I tell them to be skeptical of anyone who tells them that they know definitively what type of preparation is going to work best for them.

Eventually, the practice of running 100 miles may become so commonly attempted that a definitive best method will evolve and come to the surface, but I think this will be a sad day for the sport. So much of the intimidation, intrigue, and appeal of running 100 miles comes from the reality that none of us really know what we’re doing.

…from irunfar.com

ahh…
Ahhh…
Aaaahhhh….

CRACK

CHOO!

Sneeze.
Broken rib.

Sitting out for a bit.

It started like this:

Check weather.com-
No rain heading our way.

Pack the camelback-
Water for us, the dog
and some snacks.

Hit the trail.

Hear the thunder-
“I’m not afraid of storms”
I tell Blake
“so tell me when we need to
head back.”

Run-run-run.

Thunder.
Rain.
Lightning.
Rain.

Wet dog
and people.

Mud.

We avoided puddles-
til it was futile
we realized
as the dog stopped
every two minutes
to shake.

More rain.
Rain.
Rain.
Equals mud.

Shortcut through the woods-
back to the car
shivering on the drive
home.

Run into the house
to avoid getting wet?

Hot shower
hot dinner.

Serious training-
to be continued…

Two months ago
I ran 103 miles.

Then
I came home
Returned to my normal life
Only my body
My brain
Remembering
Reminding me
That something
Remarkable
Had happened
Been accomplished.

I hobbled around
For a couple of
days
weeks
Tired
I fought with blisters
That would appear on my feet
Seemingly
Out of nowhere

And still do.

When it gets cold
My feet ache
Like I’ve got marbles in my shoes
a result of 30+ hours on gravel
I can only guess.

And when I got that cough
Over a month ago
And tore some cartilage
Or something
In my ribs
It still hurts after any
Sudden movement

It’s hard to sit still
So it continues to
Be a bother.

But once in a while
More often recently
Thankfully
After a long day at school
A lazy Saturday of sleeping in
I hit the trail
For hours at a time
Getting comfortable once more
On not so tired legs
Walking when I want
Finding my pace

The runner in me
Waking up again.