Dances with Dirt 50K

When Pete and I had our first date, I was a little worried he was going to ask: 

                "So... what are your hobbies... what do YOU like to do on your free time?". 

Thinking that I would most likely never go out with the guy again anyway, I told him about my racing. I saw the confusion, awe, and the "wtf" face all at the same time. 

 

                                       "People actually run more than 26 miles at a time?"

Two months later, he began crewing me at my races. 9 months later.. he was toe to toe with me at the starting line at his first 50K. 

I was a little nervous about starting this race, because I was thinking of every scenario possible. 

1. He would tear his knee

2. He would hate me so much and dump me. 

3. He would fall off a cliff. 

4. He would quit after mile 2. 

5. He would be FASTER than me and win. 

I've only ran a race with one other person, which turned into a total nightmare.  It was more about stroking an ego than actually enjoying a race together, and the race was completely ruined for me. However, I learned a lot from that race, and was thankful for the runner I was turning out to be. I wanted to give back and show someone that they could accomplish something that seemed impossible.  With a little push.. Pete agreed to do this as long as I was with him every step of the way. 

We started the race feeling really good.  The first part of the race was a single track trail, which was pretty easy to run.  Pete was doing great.  We ran the first 9 miles feeling good and energized.  After a couple aid stations, we began to take selfies and goof around.  I wanted to keep it as light-hearted as possible, as I knew the day was a little intimidating. 

We got to the bluffs, and took pictures.  We also ran into Tom and Katie, who was another ultra running couple.  We really enjoyed talking with them for a bit, as they really lifted our spirits.  

It was starting to get really warm out, and I knew we were about to run in an open, meadow section.  I did the 50 miler last year, and I remembered how awful the section was, but I also remembered it being SHORT. I was in for quite a surprise. 

My brother Dylan and my friend Ray were running the aid station in the meadows, and were doing an AMAZING job with all the runners. Ray wanted to surprise me, so I was so touched seeing that he was volunteering.. to the point that I had tears in my eyes. Giving up a whole day to cater to other people for free.. just means to much to us runners.  

I realized they changed the meadow section to 3 miles.. to 7.  My stomach instantly dropped, as I knew this would be extremely mentally draining. I tried my best to keep him laughing and to keep the conversation going, but I knew the sun was just beating us down. Pete's leg was giving out, so we were power hiking at this point.  

We finally got out of the meadows, and back to Dylan and Ray.  Pete was feeling horrible at this point, and we still had about 10 miles to go.  I finally made him stop and stretch out his legs, as I was getting worried about his limping.  He was getting testy, so I gave him some space to digest his thoughts.  We finally reached the last aid station, and I knew he was breaking down. 

We finally had our first blow out around mile 28, when he yelled back at me after I told him he needed to stretch again.  

                  "Frayah, I am not an ultra runner, get off my ass!"

As soon as he said this, my temper began to flare. I finally said:

                  "You know what, we can just quit. I mean, its the easiest solution right?"

When I said this, I saw his face getting red, and I knew I might of really pissed him off.  Sure enough, he was started getting as far ahead as me as possible.  We went a couple miles with him not saying a word and looking like was about to explode.  However, he really picked up the pace. We finally hit mile 28, and I got closer to him, as I was really worried about his leg.  As soon as I approached him, he stated on how worried he was that he was disappointing me and his family/friends who were here to watch him finish. He stated on how sick he was of the hills and he just wanted to finish so badly.  

                    "So many people thought you were crazy for even attempting this, and most didn't believe that you could finish. I am beyond proud to be by your side right now, and I know for a fact that you have made your family and friends so proud. I don't care what pace or place we are at, we are finishing this thing because we can.  You impressed the shit out of me today, and we are so close to finishing it". 

His knee completely gave out at this point, so I had to help him at the hills, and keep him aware of his surroundings.  I was worried that if he ran into a rock, his knee would get worse. We finally heard cars, and knew the finish line was so close.  I could see Pete's face lighten up as we finally got out of the woods, and we could see his mother and friends waiting.  We crossed the finish line with so many hugs and tears. 

I have never been so impressed and proud of anyone in my whole life. 

I really enjoyed this race, not only because of getting Pete to the finish line, but because I got to see so many runners who I love so much.  It was nice to have little conversations throughout the race with runners who I rarely get to see. I love technical and hilly courses, which is why this is one of my favorite local races. 

The thing I respect the most out of a runner, is the inability to quit. Placing is impressive, but what really fascinates me about ultra running, is how mental this sport can be.  The most frequent thought a runner has is to quit.  You have to really mentally prepare for a long, draining, stressful, and painful day.  However, the finish line makes it all worth it.  

DFL and Oreos...aka "Quest for the Crest 50K"

I decided that my first race from my foot injury should be the hardest race I've ever done. Why? No freaking idea. I think I was sick of doing things "delicately", "carefully", "careful to not reinjure yourself".. just completely bored out of my mind. I wanted to go back to hardcore... elevation, bloodiness, technical terrains, wildlife chasing me, etc. I got all that.. with 22,00 elevation change in 30 miles, 60% drop out rate, and  topped with some very hard lessons learned.

I debated on doing this race for months, due to my heart being set on doing Kettle 100 again.  Kettle was six days after Quest, and as much as I love to push limits, I've learned to respect my body. It was impossible for me to measure the two against each other. One race had the difficulty that I crave, and also had a ton of great friends attending who I rarely see.   Kettle has my heart and allows me to reconnect with the local running community. It is also flatter than what I'm used to... which is not easy for me. I was looking forward to the mental challenge of focusing more on miles, rather than terrain. I made the horrible mistake of asking other ultra runners on what I should do, and without a doubt, they all said I was able to do both. How did I get into such a crazy community?

After a few months of debating my race schedule, I decided I couldn't say no to Crest. It just had everything I love... elevation, great competition, great friends, and my favorite RD.  Plus, all my races are out west this year, and I've never experienced mountains in NC.  I made my final decision, and started living on the stair master. I admit I didn't have the miles that I'm used to having, but I did train every day with hills, stairs, and leg workouts.

Pete and I decided to roadtrip down, which sounded like so much fun, until we reached Chicago... at 4pm.. on a Friday. This traffic caused us an extra 2 hours, and a lot of impatience. We arrived at the Nuwray Inn at 5 am Saturday morning (we left at 1 pm on Friday). We entered the room, to find out that we scored the "Elvis Room".  We were too exhausted to laugh.. we instantly crashed until 11 am in our little full size bed.

 We spent Saturday exploring the town and the trails.  I didn't have any race nerves, as I was more captivated by the beautiful scenery.  Pete and I explored Mt. Mitchell, saw beautiful waterfalls, and caught up with great friends.  It was the perfect way to relax and enjoying my surroundings.

The next morning I woke up at 3 am, ate some oatmeal and a muffin, chugged a bottle of tailwind, and drove to the shuttle that would take us to the starting line.  Pete and I parked and talked a little before I got on the bus about the game plan.  I finally got on the first round of buses, and sat in the way back to avoid talking to anyone.  I knew I was in for a wild ride, and it was starting to finally hit me.  I didn't know how the day was going to go. It was one of those races where I had absolutely no idea what to expect.  We finally got to the starting line, and were told to wait for about a hour for the next round of buses to come.  Luckily, I found my good group of friends, and we finally were all able to catch up and go over race strategies. I really enjoyed just getting to hang out to people I talk to every day, but rarely get to see.

The other runners finally came, and Sean gave a brief meeting about what the race day was going to be like.  I already knew from hiking the other day, that this was going to be a race full of DNFs.  As soon as I passed Sean, he yelled "You're going to hate me so much Frayah".  I silently chucked, and immediately began to climb. And boy.. did I start to climb. It was the type of climb that instantly took your breath away. I knew the first aid station was 7 miles away, but I honestly had no idea how long we were going to be climbing for.  I met my first friend of the day, Wendy, who let me know that it was a 3 mile climb. As I looked at my watch, we were scoring a 30 min/mile pace. And we were top of the pack! I felt shaky, my legs were instantly in shock, and my confidence slowly dwindling as the mountain didn't see to let up. Luckily, Wendy gave great conversation, and was able to distract me on how awful I was beginning to feel. This was mile 3.

I finally got to the crest of the mountain, and saw the most amazing views of the mountain range.  Wendy kept commenting on how she was from the area, but never realized how amazing the views were. After about a mile of flat running, we started to descend.  And I began to fly.  I lost Wendy, and started passing people left and right. I was flying, and finally loving this run.  I came into the aid station 4th female, and knew I had to go up the hill that I had just flown down.  Luckily, the hill wasn't as sharp as the first climb, and I could shuffle a little to get more momentum.  As I got up on the crest of the mountain, I was finding it hard to run.  There were random boulders in the middle of the trails, and i took a hard fall which made me land into a rock headfirst.  I was very shooken up and couldn't seem to get it together. I was relying heavily on another great descend to catch up.

The second descend was nothing like the first. Random boulders in the middle of the trails, slippery rocks, low trees, etc... i've ran on anything this technical in my life.  I was now beyond frustrated, as I knew I was going super slow and couldn't find a rhythm to get my mind to chill out. My leg was also bleeding, my head hurt, but all I could feel was how awful my toes felt. I was in a deep pool of pity for myself. This is when my mind started to go in the "quitting mode".  I was contemplating on telling Pete at the crew station that I was done. I mean, this was the perfect race to have my first DNF. I was bleeding every where, I could barely run, I was a complete mess. Yep..I was done. This somehow gave me a second wind to move a little faster so I could quit.

I saw Pete right at the trail head, and I could see his look of shock when he saw my condition.  He instantly moved me over to the side, and start cleaning up my leg. I told him that I didn't think I could go on. I didn't want to do the last climb, I just wanted to go back to the hotel. I could hear my whining, and instantly hated myself, but I didn't care. Pete just kept nodding my head, and was stuffing me with fluids, and completely ignoring my whining. I knew I was way ahead of the cutoffs, so I spent a lot of time at the aid station, afraid to finally pull the DNF trigger.

"Frayah, I understand this is getting insane, but I really don't want to deal with you in the car ride home if you quit, I just don't think you will be able to handle a DNF, just finish it.. its only a half marathon left, and nothing like the first two climbs".

I put on my camelback when I realized that no one was going to let me quit easily and peacefully, told Pete how much I loved him, and started back on my journey to the finish line.

I now knew that cutoffs were chasing me, which made me laugh. I've never been in that position before, and I couldn't believe how quickly this race had turned on me. I was by myself for three miles, and I was just constantly laughing at myself. I saw two hikers on the other side of the trail, and started laughing that they will probably pass me too. For some reason, this just made me laugh out loud, and I realized how loopy I was. I slowly lost my sense of humor, as I began to slowly climb back up the mountain.

"Frayah, OMG, I can't believe I caught up to you"

"Andrew, I think I'm dead last right now, I wouldn't get too excited"

I was so relieved to see Andrew, and a little embarrassed.  I knew he puts me on a pedestal with ultra running, and I knew we all expected me to finish at a great time in this course. But I didn't care, I just wanted someone to talk to besides my bipolar mind. He started to fall back a bit with the climbs, and I decided to wait for him, because there was no point of me to try to turn the race around. I knew my feet were done, and there was nothing I could do about it. I promised Andrew I would wait for him, if he would wait for me on the downhills, because my toes were unable to handle them.



We finally got to the last aid station, and saw our friend Justin who was volunteering at the station. He was instantly making us laugh, but that quickly changed when we realized Sean put a surprise 1 mile out-and-back climb.

"That Mother'fer"

I knew Sean would do something like this, as he does at EVERY race he has. I started laughing again to prevent the tears from coming. I was so done with climbing, and as much as I always tell myself "the finish line has to come eventually", I started to not believe it.

Andrew and I went up the climb in silence, as I was pissed, and I knew the cutoffs were getting pretty close to me. We went up to get our stamps, and I started to get frustrated with the downhill. My toes were just killing me, and my leg kept hyperextending. Regardless, I knew I had to go. We got back to the aid station, where I demolished about 5 more kit kats and Oreos (just HEAVEN), and began our 6 miles left to the finish line.

Andrew made great conversation the last stretch of the race, and it went by very quickly.  Around mile 30, he said something that I'll never forget.

"You've really inspired me to do this and I absouletly love reading up on you and seeing all your adventures. You really are a huge role model for me and it's been beyond an honor to run this with you".

When he said this, I realized what this race was about.  It wasn't about placing, it was about crossing the finish line. I looked at Andrew and saw a lot of me in him.  This was his first ultra, and he picked one of the hardest ones in the United States. To think I inspired him to do that, made me thankful to have given him confidence that he could cross the finish line. I would have picked to cross the finish line with him than to place over anything.

We finally crossed the finish line and Sean and Pete were there in open arms with huge smiles on their faces.

"How much do you hate me right now Frayah"?

"Sean, you are such an asshole"

I gave him the biggest, sweatiest hug afterwards. I love Sean with all my heart and has been one the biggest mentors I've had with ultra running. He was there at my first ultra, and really raised the bar for me to do things that are "Epic". I've been so blessed since the day he entered my life.

Pete walked me to the car and stated "Frayah, I am so proud of you". I finally started crying. Hearing him say that, was worth everything. He saved the race for me, and luckily he knows me better than anyone so he wouldn't let me quit. He knew exactly what I needed before I ever said anything to him, and I don't see myself being able to cross finish lines without him.


So.. I got dead last female finisher. My first DFL. Never saw that one coming in my career, but man...... what a race.  I crossed the finish line at the hardest race I've ever done. I now know exactly how to train and how to be a better runner because of this race.  I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of my finish. I feel myself really progressing into a different kind of a runner.  One that never quits, and one that will cross the finish line no matter what obstacles are in my way.

 I'll always finish what I came to do.

Top 5 mistakes

5. Not bringing Hiking Poles
4. Changing my pace in the beginning.  As usual, I went too fast, and was too concerned about not finding a rhythm.
3. Wearing loose clothing. My shirt was getting caught on everything, and it made it uncomfortable to run.
2. Camping out at the aid station for a hour.  This one I go back and forth with, because I did need to clear my head. However, I knew better.
1. My SHOES. The fells were AWFUL in this race, and I will never wear them again in a race with a lot of elevation. My toes were banging against each other too much, and really cost me a good performance


Top 5 Pats on the back:

5. Staying consistent on the first climb.  My breathing was off, I felt like death, but I kept moving forward with no breaks.
4. My nutrition.  I felt pretty good the whole race. I are oatmeal for breakfast and snacked on Sport Beans, crackers, and tailwind for most of the race.
3. My gear.  My camelback was amazeballs. It could fit over a gallon of water and still felt extremely light on me. Thank you Pete!
2. Bringing Crump beer. I love bringing WI people WI beer. It's like they struck gold :)
1. Crossing the finish line. 

Cloudland Canyon

First race of the season! 

I have to admit, I was feeling a little unprepared.  I really enjoyed my holidays filled with pie, wine, and not running. Since my last race in November, I had maybe ran 100 miles over the course of a month and a half. Over half of those miles were cupcakes miles (road or treadmill), and I was also taking care of a broken tailbone which hindered my workouts tremendously. However, I was owning the stairmaster like a boss, and felt very prepared to handle the elevation. 

I picked Cloudland Canyon for many factors... the difficulty level, the race director, and the location.The upper Georgia area will always have a place in my heart, as it is where I started my ultra running.  I also love the location because the mountains are silent killers.  They are constantly beating you down and never give you a break.  However, you get surprisingly amazing views and you leave these races feeling like you absolutely earned your medal.  I know that I will always have a difficult, sadistic, and bipolar course when Run Bum (Sean) is involved.  Somehow his idea of race courses fit my personality perfectly, so his races always are on top of my dream sheets. 

Pete and I got to Atlanta early Friday morning and decided to do some sight seeing before starting our roadtrip to the course. I experienced Wafflehouse for the first time, and became the hit of the restaurant due to my "Wisconsin" accent. We finally arrived to Chattanooga, and I began getting extreme stomach issues. Even though we ate at Wafflehouse, I still had eaten pretty "clean" and it felt more like a virus. I began to just chug water and pray for a miracle. Pete went off to sight see for a bit while I napped (6 am flight and 5 am race start the next day)  and put together food and drop bags for him.  I checked in to Cloudland later that evening, talked to Sean for a bit, and went back to bed to be ready for a 5 am start the next morning.

I was a bit concerned on my gear, as I knew the temperature was going to be a factor.  The temperatures were below average, and we were going to be starting in 20 degree weather.  I had just left a state that had -5 degree temperatures, so I wasn't as concerned as others.  I decided to go with cold weather leggings, UA cold weather long sleeve top, Nike windbreaker, UA beanie, gloves, buff, two pairs of Injinis, headlamp,  and Fell raisers (between those and Kailuas... the fact that there was going to be ice was the deciding factor) .  I felt extremely comfortable at the race start, and knew I probably wasn't going to be adding on any layers. 

We arrived about a half hour early, listened to the race brief, and made sure I knew what miles I was going to see Pete at.  We went over the race plan one more time, and off I went. I started my run with Michelle, who I met at Georgia Death Race last year during some high and low moments.  We keep tabs on each other all the time, so I was thrilled to be able to run with her again. We were catching up with each other for over a hour, which made the miles go by pretty quickly. We were in the front of the pack for about 10 miles, and I had suddenly tripped and immediately lost the congo line. I also had taken a wrong turn and became lost for a good 5 minutes. Luckily, a runner (Jim) found me and we were able to keep pace with each other until sunrise. 

I came to the first aid station, and was so relieved to see Pete after 15 miles of running in the dark. He had everything laid out for me, let me know I was in second, and was concerned that I seemed "off". I told him that I just lost my rhythm when I lost the congo line, and that I was sick of running in the dark. I gave him my headlamp, ate a PB sandwich, chugged down some nuun, and left within two minutes. 

I was a little concerned that Pete was concerned that I seemed "off", so I decided to pick it up. Miles 14-21 were pretty relentless.  The climbs were constant, and there didn't seem to be any downhill. I was dealing with a lot of switchbacks, and also dealing with frozen water. I was making up ground though, and liking the pace that I was at with the hills.  I ran into Jim again around mile 20, and our paces seemed to match perfectly.  Plus, he was amazing company, so our conversations also made the miles seem to fly by.  I realized that I was beginning to get raging hungry, which concerned me greatly as I knew I might be dealing with dehydration.  I decided to stop running for a minute and deal with my water situation.  I finally got my cap unscrewed and chugged down the water that wasn't frozen.  I could not get the cap back on, but luckily, I was about to see Pete again and I could switch out handhelds.  

I switched out handhelds with Pete around mile 26, and he let me know I was still in second and looking much better. I was in really good spirits at this point in the race. I was enjoying the course and the other runners.  I wasn't dealing with any aches or fatigue yet, so I was trying hard to keep my pace.  We got to the next aid station, and it wasn't until I got to the porta potty, that I realized my stomach was turning again. I puked twice but felt fine to run afterwards. However, my stomach was turning more and more after every mile, and my pace had slowed down greatly.  I tried my best to ignore the pain, but nausea has a way of taking over you completely.  Jim stayed with me the whole time, and I had let him know that I was dealing with some pretty bad physical stuff and that he should take off as my pace was horrible.  He refused to leave me, and even waited for me while I puked my guts out in a porta potty for about 10 minutes.  

I have never gotten sick before in a race.  I've dealt with stomach issues, but not to this level.  I saw Pete again at mile 38, and he I could see his concern all over his face. He was trying to convince me to eat something, but I knew I would just puke it up. He said "I know you aren't going to quit, but you need some energy as you have some climbs ahead". Jim found some "hot" chocolate (not hot) and that seemed to settle down the nausea for awhile.  I didn't want to hang out at the aid station, as doubt was creeping in my mind, so Jim I left after about 3 minutes.  

The next few miles were all road, which is my absolutely least favorite thing to transition to.  Pete had checked out this portion for me, so I knew I was entering a mental shit storm.  I was so relieved to have Jim with me at this portion, as he was able to just talk and tell me funny stories without me having to respond.  My stomach was still being jumpy, so I tried my hardest to focus on Jim and not what my body was doing.  Jim saw that I was feeling defeated when we finally hit the trails, and he began one of his epic pep talks.  He reminded me why I was even running in the first place... because this is pure love for me.  I am truly in my element with the trails and distance running.   I may not have the finish I was planning, but we were going to finish it.. and that's what it is about.  This amped me for the rest of the race, and my mental war began to stop.  

We saw the most amazing views from miles 40-45.  We were running through canyons, and through extremely narrow trails with the frozen waterfalls in our view.  I was able to see the whole city of Chattanooga when we got to the top of the mountain, and was really excited to get back down to be closer to the falls. We finally got to the last Out-and-Back and I realized now why the runners were warning me about "the stairs".  All I could see was stairs for miles. I already knew before being told by the volunteer, that I would be going down all of them and going back up.  I silently cursed out Sean in my head and began the trek. After the stairs, we had about 2 more miles to the aid stations.  These climbs were the steepest, so we began to do some power walking to save energy for the way back.  We reached the last aid station and I still had not eaten anything. The volunteers convinced me to put food in my pockets, as I had about 600 stairs to climb on the way back.  

Thank God for stairmasters... as I didn't find the stairs to be that difficult.  Relentless.. yes.  But I viewed it as a nice break.  Jim and I finally reached the top of the stairs, and decided to push ourselves for the last two miles to the finish.  I was beyond queasy and weak at this time, but felt the energy from finally being able to finish.  I saw Pete watching at the last mile with a huge smile on his face, which made me so relieved to see the finish line. I crossed the line, gave Michelle a huge hug right away, cursed at Sean, and collapsed on Pete. 

I was not expecting to start the season this way, however, I'm glad I did.  I got a huge lesson on humility, and this race brought me back to my core reasoning of why I love ultra running. This may have been my worst time for a 50 miler ever, but I couldn't care less.  I love the battle, I love pushing through doubt, and I love just having to have faith in putting one foot in front of the other.  Jim is one of the best people I have ever met, and I'm so blessed to add another ultra runner in my family this year. He saved this race for me and taught me so much about myself.  I was also really grateful and happy that Pete was able to come along and see why I love doing this so much. I had the most memorable race, which has excited me greatly for the upcoming 2015 season. 

GP:5th

Overall: 20

Time: 11:08