Tag: run

Same ;)

October 4, 2015 / kirsten

Yes, all of us are unique individuals. I had a person tell me last week that surfing for however many hours equates to 25 miles of swimming which by effort on a mile to mile ratio is the same as running 100 miles. Ive never surfed an inch, I wouldnt know.
Ive also seen and heard, I don’t know how many times – the question asked, what’s harder, a century ride or an IronMan or a 50 Mile run etc.
Yo. Really. I don’t know. I suppose we’d all like to think whatever we’ve done is the hardest. Was your run assisted or unassisted etc? Its all debatable.
I know that I’d rather be sitting on a bicycle seat on a down-hill, with no more effort that the wind in my face than running down that sucker. And actually, I can run past people on bikes on the hills where I live. So, there’s that.
They say a mile is a mile. I get it. It is said to encourage the slower runner. I should’ve prefaced to say, I am one of those slower runners. And I can tell you – at least for me – a mile is not a mile. An 8 minute miles is a hell of a lot harder *for me* than a 12. I actually have been more worn out crushing a 5k than meandering a 50k. Depends on the day.
A flat mile is a lot easier than a steep incline. The road and the track and the trail are all very different. So no, a mile is not a mile in running. Going all out on a flat, lit, short loop for 24 hours might be just as ‘hard’ as holding back on a crazy technical mountain single track trail for 30 hours – I don’t know – I have yet to do either – I actually imagine that would be mentally horrific – but I know what Ive done and as much as I don’t mean to discourage anything that anyone else does –Im here to tell you – it is NOT the same.
But here is what IS the same. Doing and trying. Do it. Try. Or else all the pontificating in the world equates to a big fat zero. Get your butts out there, every day – and DO something.
Be well all my friends
Xo
~K~

September 20, 2015 / kirsten

I just ran down the stairs – twice. Yep, ran – Why? Because I can. Why? Because I didn’t push it yesterday. Which might sound like the easier path – and in some ways it obviously is – but mentally when you are given an ~10k loop and 12 hours to do your thing – and you KNOW you can do 8 laps, ****you f#$%#$cing KNOW it – but you only do 5 – well, it’s mentally taxing to say the least. Its hard to let people pass you – its hard to step to the side when you hear footsteps getting closer – its hard to get lapped. Its hard to lean on a tree and wish your fellow runner a good day – let them go – it’s a different kind of day for them – it’s a training day for me. And Im glad I can run down the stairs today (usually I cant even walk, I have to crawl backwards). Im glad I feel ok today. I have the Grindstone in two weeks, and that, however lofty a goal, is my priority.

And for that very same reason, I have offered my Diva Half bib to someone else. Because no tiara, no boa, or tutu or chocolate covered strawberry served with champagne by a shirtless fireman will be worth tweaking or straining or injuring in part of myself a week out from Grindstone. 5 girls will sleep out at my place, and I will cook them pasta and give the a ride and cheer for them – but Im not running it.
Im NOT in my best shape – but Im not in my worst either – and Im not giving up – and I’m sure as hell not going to sabotage myself or act ignorant. The mere race is and of itself enough of a foolhardy ambition to last me a while 😉

I am satisfied with however it turns out. I met so many wonderful people yesterday – many who have run 100s,
several who have attempted and/or accomplished Grindstone – some who tried multiple times. I realize, that like a full-scope-poly or qualifying for Boston – it often takes more than one try. I got to hear multiple personal testimonies describing this very story. Stories of things ceasing up, stories of incessant vomit or passing out. Stories of grit and grime and glory.
And so – maybe I’m just going to learn a bunch of lessons and accomplish nothing more than figuring out what Im capable of that day. There are good days and bad ones. Off and on.

Maybe I wont even distance PR but this adventure is unique to this course – no two distance are alike – that is like no other I have even tried. I have no crew. I have no one to pace me. Im scared of the dark (terrified of being lost and alone). This isn’t a flat, lit, loop track. This is 24,000+ feet of gain and loss on narrow, loose rock with steep deadly drops.

Im going to ride my bike whenever Im home over the next two wks between travel. I might try to find gyms at my hotels when I can. Maybe I’ll even jump in the ocean for a few laps.
Never give up my friends. Much love.

Be well,
<3 ~K~

First Training Session on the road to Boston

May 19, 2015 / kirsten

Spring 2k15 racing season has come to a successful close with a decent full, a decent 50k and my first 100k – I feel pretty good about how it all turned out.
Today was the first training session in pursuit of BQ.
It was good. I did 16 – 200 meter sprints (and 16 jog backs).
The goal was 72 seconds per sprint. I averaged around a minute and change with my best time 47 seconds (6 min/mile) and my worst 1:07 (closer to 8.5).
I finished strong with .55 after 12 at or slight above one minute (6 at sub 60).
Eventually Joey will teach me how to do pace cycles and that will be the key in Oct in NY. He said we’re not ready for that yet though, we’re getting a feel for my speed capability – and who knows when Ive been all about the ultra for a few years now.
I am confident that if qualifying for Boston is a possibility for me, I’m going to do it w this guy training me – and not because he’s cute – because he doesn’t mess around (I only told him a hate him once or twice).
If youre looking for a trainer and live in the NoVA area, this guy is the bomb.
GREAT session!!!
Weekly training =
1 hr spin X 3
1 hr personal trainer (whatever he tells me to do)
On the off days – do whatever I want to include walk, jog, weights, core and bike for anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes or up to a few hrs if I have the time for the trail.
Hope everyone’s doing awesome.
Xo – be well,
~K

dnf

June 8, 2014 / kirsten

I didn’t run the Zooma Half last weekend so I’d be ready & healthy for the North Face EC today. And I was ready. It started out great, I had good coffee, I got to see Dean Karnazes again and the weather was perfect.

More than half way through, I felt good and I was doing well. When I was approaching the turning point in the course, the two course workers were clapping and shouting “There she is, she’s looking great”

I assumed they were speaking about someone behind me that they knew but I didn’t do my usual smile or look back. The course looked a little different than I remembered it from 3 years ago.

After they marked my bib and sent me on my way, I turned and realized they’d been speaking to me.

I felt excited and proud. I looked at my watch and realized I was on point to finish in under 8 hours which gave me an hour of leeway and put me way under the deadline. In that moment I was elated.

I’d not run since the 50 miles a month before other than a few one mile light jogs here and there, and had been primarily just doing strength and core at home. And yet I was going to finish strong.

I waved and thanked them for cheering for me. I started to almost leap carelessly for just a bit.

Then I lost my footing on one of the most technical and rocky stretches. I had just taken off my gloves (because my hands were swelling) and I felt myself flying forward. I screamed.

Suddenly there were other runners coming towards me. One by one they started to show and stand around me. I didn’t realize how bad it was. They were looking for tissues and asking me what they could do. They moved me off to the side. The crowd was growing. I literally believed I would just wrap it up and be on my way.

I kept telling them to leave me and not mess up their times. I wish I could remember all their names and thank them.

The two guys who were cheering for me called the medical emergency staff to come get me. It took them a while to arrive, because the course was super narrow and I was clear out in the middle of no darn where.

The jeep arrived and the EMTs rinsed off my knee. I was squeezing someone’s hand off from the pain. They wrapped it up tight and said it definitely needed to be stitched but that they couldn’t stitch it because it was full of rocks and it needed to be cleaned out, and they weren’t equipped to do that in the field.

“But I want to finish, you wrapped it, I’m more than half done, let me finish, its just a couple more hours”

“You’re bleeding right through the bandages, we’ve already called an ambulance and you need to go to a hospital”

And just like that I was a DNF.

The jeep ride back was an adventure to say the least. Runners who were wearing headphones despite the rule not to, couldnt hear us beeping. The trail was barely as wide as the jeep and the drop was hundreds of feet if we were to go over the edge.

That wasn’t the scariest part of the afternoon though. After an enjoyable ambulance ride, I had to sit and wait for hours for them to clean all the rocks out of my knee.

I wont go into many more details or share the pictures that Im not sure why I took (and if youre super lucky I txt’d to you today). I sure was nervous though.

My normally low 77/52 bloodpressure spiked when they started messing w it to 115/80 (normal for some people but not me).

At this point I was squeezing Steve’s hand and watching w/ terror every poke, scrub, prod and clip. The doctor thought I should look away but I just couldn’t.

Again I wish I knew everyone’s name so I could send thank you cards. I know they were all just doing their jobs but I appreciated them all very much.

Now I have to monitor my knee closely for two wks for signs of infection, as so much flesh is gone there is only so much that could be done and it is basically a raw, seeping wound for now.

This is the part in the story where I say Everything Happens for a Reason and There’s Always a Next Time and {fill in all the similar comments} – yeah, I get it and guess what, I know and I understand and it will all be ok and I need to heal and so on – but today – Im sad – Im very sad – I keep randomly crying.

But I’ll get over it….and I’ll run again.

My first attempt at a 24-Hour Ultra

May 4, 2014 / kirsten

Let me start by saying 17 hours and 11 minutes later, I am sure that was the best racing experience of my life. Having accomplished 50 miles previously in less than 12 hours on a fairly technical course, you can imagine how technical this course was to have taken me that long.

After the 6^th lap I was at about the time I’d finished JFK, I had another 2 laps to go to get to 50, and although still on track for accomplishing 100k w time to spare, it was very much not a priority as much as a fleeting idea or matter of fact that I was completely ready to ignoring entirely.

I made a lot of promises to people who care about me and matter to me, and most of all to myself about listening to my body and just enjoying the experience – nothing more.

First of all – the folks at Athletic Equation put on a second to none organized event with the best support crew and food I have ever experienced – with round the clock cooks providing a terrific spread to a support staff that knows you and takes care of you every minutes. I had nothing to worry about. I cant say enough about all of them.

At the pre-race dinner-meeting a lady got up and told a story. I couldn’t hold back the tears. You know I went into this having been sick for many weeks with three different doctors having no idea why – and subsequently being insufficiently trained to say the least. And her words touched me deep to my core, they were just what I needed to hear and they reaffirmed that I’d made the right decision showing up despite all of the suggestion that I shouldn’t. This lady understood – I hoped we’d get a chance to talk, and little did I know, we would…

So I had no big expectations. I was happy just to be there. From minute I arrived it was a great experience (minus the camping which just isn’t my cup of tea). I knew the area and had enjoyed the trail on a few recent occasions, and was happy to just walk it. I got NO sleep the night before (note the camping comment) and ended up calling my poor husband at 11pm and begging him to drive two hrs and come lay w me to help me try to rest. He did show up which is so nice but needless to say we were both too uncomfortable to sleep. Lesson learned – next year (YES I PLAN TO DO IT AGAIN) , I’ll stay in the bunk dorm not a private cabin – OR a nearby hotel.

Anyways, up at the crack of dawn welcomed by a nice breakfast but no appetite. This [state of no desire to eat] maintains for the next 20 hours – I don’t want to eat anything and if you know me, you know that I normally have an INSATIABLE appetite all day every day. But nothing appealed to me (not that it didn’t look and taste and smell great and I just had no urge to eat anything. I think my focus was mostly on drinking enough, but for some reason I can never really judge my intake on my own.

This is a good time to start talking about the importance of a crew. I remember in my first ultra (50k) I’d separated from my team and was in such a groove I had no desire to do anything but run – I felt great and ran past aid stations w out even stopping – although achieving a PR that has never been even close to broken – I became severely dehydrated and could have killed myself (but felt great ).

Then in my first 50 Miler Steve kept bringing me food all day – then in the last 15 or so miles, I had zero sense of anything – pain, distance, time, depth perception – and of course thirst and hunger – My trainer just kept asking me questions and telling me what to eat and drink.

Last night was very much like this. The crew would check my bag and tell me what I need and I just listened (well mostly I did).

Around 50k Jean showed up. She brought me a gluten free pizza (which ultimately was one of the only things I would eat the whole time) and the most mouth watering brownies I have ever eaten that she fixed for me.

She also brought me things I’d never even thought of like a reflective belt, extra batteries, a hand-held flashlight (that was very bright and ended up being my main light source rather than the headlamp) and so much more. She took over the role of monitoring my intake and telling me what to do and I tried to listen. ((she also joined the race crew and helped many other people))

At first I told her “Sorry you came all this way but I’m done, my race is over”. After 30 miles of running strong and happy and painfree (averaging a sub 2 hr loop each time), I’d landed wrong on a rock and twisted my ankle badly. She took off my shoe and iced me and started talking to me.

She asked me where my ‘enjoyment level’ was – she got me to really look at what I was doing and why and how did I feel.

We decided to do a loop together and take it one step at a time and reevaluate after. But first, we iced it and wrapped it and did a little stretching.

The loop went well – not even much slower than the last 5. More importantly, we ran into Felecia, the girl who spoke the night before. The three of us became an item 😉

For the first several hours of the race Felicia was in the top 10, and on the road to at least 100k if not 75, with time to spare. But she’d just landed wrong like I did, and aggravated her IT band, and if you check out her blog I posted on my page, you’ll see that she has too much planned to risk anything now.

So there we both were – reassessing what we were shooting for and why, moment by moment, evaluating risk and deciding accordingly. We both felt like we could go again and we did – slowly. We talked and talked!

The moon was a sliver and the stars were twinkling high above the towering treetops in the cool spring night air. The sound of the water ever in the background like white noise. Animals were shifting around in the leaves in the dark. We saw everything from snakes to moles and lizards – and well, my peripherals played tricks on me and made tree stumps look like black bears.

For lap 8 Charlie showed up. We really couldn’t have done this lap w out him. This was 8 for me and 9 for Felecia. The track had gone through a lot w/ all the crazy recent storms we just had and even knocked out bridges and creating a few hazards and spots that you literally had to leap over to get by. At this point when we reached rocks and slopes that we’d previously sailed through, Charlie stood and gave us a hand one by one as we came around the loop one last time in roughly three and a half hours – more than twice as long as it took earlier in the morning.

When the clock struck 12 we all cheered in the night. We’d made it to the next day. We discussed it and agreed that neither of us felt the need to go any further and that we were pleased with what we had done. We knew people would say “But Felecia, only one more loop to 100k” and “Kirsten, you have two more in you” – and we both knew those things were true, but it didn’t matter, we were happy and at peace w our decision to cross the lap finish one more time and no more. We will use prudence, she said. And we agreed.

I was happy the whole time. No regrets, no stress – just happy – even when I had pain at the very end. Thats just it – you’ll need bravery, tenacity, loyalty, strength – you’ll need so many things – then mix in PRUDENCE, and proceed.

And when we got back to my cabin to clean and pack, I found a beautiful big banner decorated by Jean with loving messages all over it. All I could do was cry joyfully.

I have a half at the end of the month and another 50 miler one month away, neither of which I currently think are going to happen and I’m ok with that. I’m very much ok with everything turning out however it is supposed to – almost Zen-like peace – and I don’t even need to know or plan – I can just BE.

Psalm 46:10