What A Hullabaloo

I woke Wednesday, the day before the Steep Canyon 50K, feeling like I had been kicked by a horse. My head congested, eyes swollen and itchy, achy all over. As I contemplated my current state, running 50K the next day seemed impossible. I made it through the day after implementing every conceivable over the counter tactic I could to thwart my condition: Dayquil, Nasal spray, Nettie pot flushing, 1/2 box of Kleenex and copious amounts of water to name a few. That night, I went directly to bed thinking nothing of what race day would bring.
Thursday, race day I woke feeling just a little better than I had Wednesday. I groggily pulled myself upright, swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat. "It was going to be a long day." Nothing was typical about this event. That was certainly by design of race directors Peter and Charles. First, the race was on a Thursday, who has a race on a Thursday? Second, start time was 1000, that, just odd. The Steep Canyon 50k was the kick off to a weekend packed with run, fun, music and beer to raise money for Oskar Blues CAN'D AID FOUNDATION who's "do-goodery" is dedicated to diggin' in and makin' a difference where you can in your community, pretty cool.

Peter and Charles at the start

The events which are the 50K and relay options unfold simultaneously on a 11ish mile loop of predominately single track trail starting at Osker Blues Reeb Ranch barn and climbing a fantastic route layed out up into Dupont Forest gaining some 16oo' before it returns to the ranch and subsequent loops.
Plenty of post race banter was focused on the inaccuracies of the distance and elevation statics, there always is. I don't really care and I suspect the race directors don't either, it is all about being out on the trail after all, right?
Step by step details of my day would certainly deter you from continuing from here so I will spare you that. As you are already aware of how I was feeling at the start, I chose to abandon all previous goals in lieu of simply participating. If I had told myself that it would be OK to quit because of how I was feeling, I probably wouldn't have started.
My approach was simple: go as far as you can and enjoy yourself. I surprised even myself the first lap finishing it in 2:24 (40 minutes faster than the day I had epiced the loop in the pre-run, see previous post). The second loop was a bit of a slog in 2:40. I was ecstatic but exhausted and everything about the day seemed to begin to weigh on me as I began my third and final loop. I was tired and I am sure every bit of sickness had been forced out of my body. The 90 degree heat of the day had reminded me of being in a sweat lodge and I was beginning to feel the affects of it. At this point, I decided I would finish and I did. However, loop 3 completion took me almost as long as the first 2 combined. In any given event, this outcome would have been unacceptable. However, I finished with two unbelievable ladies and such a HULLABALOO was made of our "Lantern Rouge" finish that my finishing time just didn't matter. (Lantern Rouge is the term used for the last place finisher in the Tour de France)

What a Fantastic event! Kudos to Peter and Charles for putting it all together. The course was beautiful. The music and over all event vibe was second to none. The venue was just idyllic, the cause admirable. What more could you ask for in a race? Thanks guys!!

Me at the finish

*I do want to give credit to event photographer Tobias Albrigtsen. Typically event photographers seem less than thrilled with their roll. Being out there all day snapping shots of typically nonplussed runners would be loathsome. Previous event pictures and those of others rarely seem to be worth the finger click that produced them. I said as much, jokingly of course, to Tobias while on the trail and he responded "I know how to take pictures, mine are different." Man he was right! Great Job Tobias!

I guess I "epiced"

Words are often redefined. Bad meaning good comes to mind as does New England's classic "Wicked." At one point, epic had seeped into our vernacular to describe something specular or very impressive even AWESOME! The term is quite common with sports casters describing an "epic shot" or a climber describing an "epic route" up a rock face in Yosemite Valley. Failure has the potential to be epic as well with "Epic Fail" being tossed around to describe an unfortunate pole volt attempt or air drop gone bad on a mountain bike.
Epic by definition pertains to a long poetic composition centered upon a hero and his achievements, so the new use of "epic" is rather easy to pallet. Unlike bad as good was or maybe still is in some circles. I don't know.
 Recently "epic" and "epic fail" morphed  further into "epiced" a reference to something even BIGGER!! Example: If you find your self out of water and food, without shelter and suddenly muster your last glimmer of strength to finish in the dark on the edge, flirting with death itself you apparently have "epiced."
Stories of climbers, runners and adventures who have "epiced" have become fodder for countless pod casts, blog posts and magazine articles. It all seems kind of careless really until it happens to you although I can not responsibly say what I experienced was a good thing either. It just makes for good story.
Last weekend, I found myself with some friends on a trail run. Typically, I don't run with others they are almost always faster and more experienced than I am and I don't want to hold anyone up or feel I have to run faster than I would like to.
Unfortunately my ego got the better of me from the start. It was a beautiful afternoon. Everyone was running and chatting, I felt good. Heck, it was only 10 miles, I have been diligent in my training. They said they would walk the up hills, I was sure I would keep up. Everyone was supportive and encouraging so I went with it.
But.... someone up front kept running when we hit the first climb. They didn't walk, nobody walked, and I didn't either. I kept up, I felt great. We ticked off that climb a short downhill and another climb, we were moving right along. The group started to spread out and an eerie feeling set in that the back of the pack was falling behind. I had never run this trail, neither had the couple people still with me. The three of us had certainly slowed down. Fortunately, the lead pack would stop at trail intersections to make sure we were hanging on and did not miss a turn. I hated they had to do that but appreciated it, for sure.
It was ridiculously hot! I sucked my hand held dry and eventually all the enthusiasm drained out of me. My head whirled, sweat soaked every stitch of clothing, my feet cramped and calves ached. I felt like I was being beat with sticks. I ran, walked and trudged forward in a daze. Fewer and fewer members of the lead pack waited at junctions to account for those bringing up the rear. I felt like I was running on a hamster wheel, time stood still. The three of us had no idea where we were, how far we had gone or how far we had to go to get back to our cars.
We were long out of water and had eaten everything we had. The support and encouragement of the others kept us moving forward. We stopped, stuck our heads into a creek to cool off, refreshed we continued with a bit more spring in our shuffle. As if on queue Charles, one of the guys who had been in the lead pack ran back to check on us and told us we had a mile, maybe a mile and a half to go. Relief poured over of us and we pushed up and over the next few climbs. When Charles said "this is it, the last down hill!" it was music to my ears. I could smell the barn! We ran that hill a bit out of control energized by the cheers and encouragement from those who had already finished. Dales Pale Ale's where thrust into our hands as we rejoined the group. The three of us gathered ourselves, sucked Dale's and water and fell into conversation about are adventure. A lot was said about how tough we were. "Epiced?" Nah!  I don't think so. I hated feeling that way. I was just glad to make it back.