Mount Madonna Misery and Mourning

Most of the time I write posts about how Duke has left me for the trail. I try to find something funny or poignant to focus on as I highlight the fact the my husband is always out running while I'm at home entertaining myself with something mundane like parenting. Ironically I now found myself writing posts about my adventures and not his. There is a reason for this sudden change in behavior but that is another long post. This time around I am again writing about my latest escapade while out in the woods.

At this point I guess I need to officially announce that I am signed up for Skyline to the Sea trail marathon on October 6. This just happens to be my birthday. I know what you are thinking, "Martha, that is a horrible gift to give yourself. That's something only an idiot would do." Well, you're not too far off except that idiot status is reserved for those people who run ultra marathons. Like Duke. I am most definitely not in that category! But, being that I do have to get through this marathon without killing myself, I do need to train. Which brings me back to my escapades last weekend.

Actually, last weekend wasn't all fun. It started out that way. This particular race has the option of camping out at the race start in the lovely redwoods of Mount Madonna County Park. I signed us up for two nights of camping/partying and a nice long training run/race of 25k in the middle of the party. Duke was NOT going to run this race but decided he should probably start paying me back for all the times I crewed him. Again, a turn of events that I will have to explain in more detail in another post. As I was packing things up at home, I realized that I was mumbling to myself about a drop bag. I shook my head an grumbled to Duke that I couldn't believe I was talking about my own stupid drop bag and not his. He had the smarts not to make a comment back.

Friday morning I packed the car by 10 am and took off with Kim to the campground. Kim helped me set up camp and the we then headed back to town (only an hour away) where I went to a work thing and then picked up Duke to head back to the park. Friday night was fun, sitting around the camp fire, getting to know people. We all went to bed at a reasonable time as we were running in the morning. In the middle of the night I realized that I was very glad that I had put the rain fly on the tent as the fog was collecting on the trees and dripping on us like heavy slow rain. I knew that this would make for a cool race day and I was grateful as the heat makes running impossible for me.

Getting ready

It was COLD!

Look at those magnificent redwoods!

That morning as I was preparing myself mentally for the longest run I have attempted in my life, to date, I was texting with a dear friend out on the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation. I mentioned that I would be running that morning. He wished me luck and said that his two relatives who run often express that running is prayer, that it is carrying the love and prayers of the People. I knew that as per usual, I would open sacred space as I started to run and send prayers through the earth for all my relatives. ("All my relatives" is a term that Native Americans use to refer all of Creation, the two leggeds, the four leggeds, the winged ones, Mother Earth, etc.)

The first four miles were mostly downhill and I felt great so I went faster than I normally would. As I was "flying" down the trail, I was talking to the trees and was so happy to be out there. At one point it occurred to me that maybe I might have blown out my quads from going too fast downhill. I didn't think much about it and started up the first big climb. At the second aid station, about 8 miles in, I was feeling a little extra tired and my stomach was a little touchy. Luckily they had ginger ale! I drank two cups of that, ate a waffle and started down the trail again definitely feeling a bit better. But then the next 1000 ft of climbing came and by mile 10 my legs felt worse than they had after I had gone 14 miles a few weeks before. I knew something was off. And then my left knee and hip started to scream at me.

Before I was aware that I blew out my quads.

By this time, I started to realize that the first loop was longer than the advertised 17k and I began to wonder if I was going to be able to finish the second 8k loop. About a 1/2 mile from the start/finish/aid station, I ran over the top of an owl feather. Now owl means many different things to different cultures. For me, it can mean healing and wisdom, but it can also mean death. I knew when I bent down to pick it up that my very dear friend and elder had passed away. I didn't have proof but I knew in my heart that she was gone. I had been waiting for the feather since the middle of the week as I knew she was close to passing over. Just after I started to run again I ran over another one! I knew it was a confirmation. By the time Duke saw me I was half in tears from physical and emotional pain.

Duke walked me into the aid station and said he wasn't sure that it was an owl feather. It didn't matter as I knew in my heart that she had passed. I complained to Duke that I was in a lot of pain in my knee and hip and that I wasn't sure I could finish. Shrina, one of the coordinators, told Duke to run with me for the last 8k. I said to Duke that if she really was gone, she wouldn't want me to quit because of her. I took some Aleve, drank some ginger beer, ate, swallowed some electrolyte capsules, and started down the trail with Duke following me. Good thing he was, I tried to go down the clearly marked path "wrong way runners"!

The next 8k had me "running' 19 minute miles. Every time I tried to run I would say "ow, ow, ow" when I landed on my left leg. Duke didn't say a word about my complaining, he just kept his own conversation going with me. I think he commented on how beautiful the trail was but honestly, I really can't remember what we talked about. I finished 2nd to last. It took me an hour longer than expected.

After I had recovered, I went to thank Shrina for her support. She asked me if I knew for sure if my friend had passed. I said I needed to get on Facebook to get confirmation and that the coverage was too spotty at the campground. She pointed to a spot and said that they had found coverage right there. I got online and sure enough, the first thing to come up was that she had died. Not the best way to end a race.

I would like to say that I felt very triumphant at having run my longest course to date. But truly, I was in pain and was blown away by everything that had happened. I look back on it and I realize that I was carrying the prayers for both my elder and her husband (who is also a very dear friend of mine). Even as I write this I find that I can't find the words to express how I feel about the experience. But I will say this, I don't regret a minute of the weekend. The trails, the sacred trees, the people I met, and the support that was given was beautiful. It's pretty much why Duke and I love this community so much.

In Memory of Jacquie Lyons

You are truly back with your own kind, The Angels

Jacquie Lyons

Ken Lyons

Boredom meet Broken Arrow

About two months ago, Duke and I were talking about the schedule for the summer. This included discussing travel plans to several of his races here in the US as well as Europe. I knew that he was training for some pretty steep terrain in Switzerland and France so his races here in the US needed to be in preparation for later on in the summer. Hence, his two day skyrace plan for Broken Arrow in Squaw Valley: 52k on Saturday and 26k on Sunday. He had asked me to go along and hang out. What’s more quintessential “ultra runner widow” than sitting around all day, at the finish line, waiting for the Greater Idiot to finish killing himself slowly, by myself? “Gee honey, how about a romantic weekend away in the mountains...while I go running?” So in a fit of stupidity and desperation to be relieved of boredom, I signed up for the fun little 11k portion of the weekend. Fun.... I think there were more “fun” things I could have done for the weekend but as luck would have it, I was already committed.

We arrived in Squaw Valley around 4:00 and worked our way over to the race check in. It became very obvious as Duke gathered his swag that the more you choose to slowly kill yourself on the trail, the more swag the race gives you. I guess it’s their way of saying we are sorry for your suffering, but not really.

Of course we couldn’t help but notice the various celebrity runners that were attending the event. In particular was a woman that I have known about for a few years but never thought I would see in person, Mirna Valerio. For those of you who don’t know this name, you are in for a treat. Mirna is the author of the blog “Fat Girl Running” and has used her popularity to influence the way we view what a traditional athlete should look like and how they should perform. This is of great interest to me as I do NOT view myself as a runner and most definitely don’t see myself as an athlete. Let's just ignore the fact that I was signed up for 11k of trails the next day with 2300ft of climbing. (UGH! Who’s the effing idiot now?!?) She is an inspiration and I wanted to meet her.

Duke and I found a place to eat dinner that happened to be outside, facing the main thoroughfare of the Olympic Village. As we sat taking pictures of one another we saw Mirna walking by us. I called out her name without even thinking. (Good thing I had Spot as an excuse to bring her over for a picture.) Mirna looked towards us with a puzzled face. I yelled that she didn’t know me but would she come over for a picture. Being the gracious gal that she is, she sauntered over. We explained about Spot the turtle that runs with Duke and asked if she would take a picture with her...and then me. Mirna not only took the picture, but most definitely posed for it.

Duke’s attempt at a photo in action.

Mirna posing with Spot

Spot the Soprano Runner!

In the Spotlight.

We got to talking about her next race and she said she would be in Sandpoint, Idaho. I exclaimed that I grew up in Montana just an hour and a half away from there. I got on my phone and was showing her where it was on the map and then happened to mention during the course of the conversation that I used to drive two hours in the opposite direction to Whitefish, MT every Friday for my piano lesson during high school. She said that was some commitment. “Are you a pianist?”...She didn’t ask if I played the piano, like so many do, she asked if I was a pianist. Yes, the semantics are important to those of us in the industry. I said yes but that really I am a singer.

“Oh! I’m a singer too!”.

“Really?! What do you sing?” (I’m thinking she’s going to say pop, jazz, gospel.)

“I sing soprano,” she says with a smile and a flip of her head. How very soprano-y of her. Ha!

“No kidding?! As in a trained singer?”

“Yep!”.

“Where did you go to school?”

At this point Mirna mumbles “Ummmm Julliard preparatory and Oberlin (Conservatory)...”

“What?!?!?! Holy crap! You really are a [trained] singer! Oh my god! I am starting an opera company for people like us that are a little older and want to keep singing. You have to come sing for me!!”

“Done!” she exclaims. Wow. I mean seriously, what’s the likelihood of that sort of thing happening in the middle of Olympic Village while waiting for a skyrace to happen?! In the meantime, Duke is watching this happen and was probably thinking “Hey! I thought this weekend was about me?”. (Sorry Hon, it’s always about the soprano(s).) By the time we finished chatting, plans had been made for lunch and the subsequently dinner the next day.

Which brings me to the next day. Duke started at 7:00. I had a much more respectable start time (especially for a soprano. I never sing before 9:00 if I can avoid it!) of 9:00. As I lined up, in the back, for this attempt at keeping myself occupied and free from boredom, I couldn’t help but notice that I was one of only a handful of people wearing a running pack. All I could think of was, jeez, I sure am high maintenance! How soprano-y of me! I had water, food, toilet paper, glide, chapstick, stomach pills, you name it, I had it. You’d have thought I was running 111k not 11k. SMH But, it gave me comfort to know that I was covered for most eventualities. In the end, I only needed the water and one honey wafer.

Duke at the start. The sun was so bright my eyes were watering!

The moon was still awake to greet us.

Going up the initial single track climb was about what I expected it to be. As we progressed, there were three of us women that hung back together. The oldest of us kept the lead which was a godsend. She was slow and super steady which kept me from pushing too fast and therefore saved me from giving myself my proverbial headache. By the time we got to the major climb I was warmed up and was slowly moving my way up the hill.

The trail turned into a creek.

Starting the first big climb.

Half way up!

Not sure why I was smiling, but it was definitely beautiful up there!

As I hiked by, a man who had stopped to take a picture commented on how beautiful the day was and how glad he was that it wasn’t 30 below with wind. I agreed and added that I was glad it wasn’t 100 degrees either! I turned around and somewhat flippantly said that I had “set up sacred space” so that we would have the perfect weather. Expecting a blank look from him, I was shocked when he started to ask me questions about what that meant and if I was a shaman. I replied that I wasn’t sure how to answer that as I feel that the term “shaman” is thrown around way too much and I most definitely am not a shaman. He agreed that it was used too much but continued to question me. I finally said that he could maybe say that I am a “healer”. Obviously I have never written about this on this blog so to say it to a stranger is just as out of character! Ironically, this weekend that was supposed to be boring was turning out to be a series of amazing events.

The next crazy thing to happen, after glissading down the snow field, was meeting up with Duke right as he came down from the second part of his loop. He ran ahead of me and waited for me at the end of the race to give me a high five, and a kiss, of course. I ran across the finish line, stopped my garmin, and that’s when the next incredible thing happened. I had finished 45 minutes to an hour and 45 minutes, faster than I had expected to. Bonus! Not bad for a day “hike” and for someone who just “moves”. Did I mention that I am not a runner? The icing on the cake was Bree Lambert and her husband Joe Sanders showing up just minutes after I finished. She gave me a big hug and was stoked for my surprisingly fast (for me) finish.

Again, not sure why I was smiling, or laughing in this case. Guess I was just glad not to be bored.

Spot helped me celebrate my finish and wait for Duke.

I was rather shocked at this result considering I am not a runner.

Spot helping me recover.

Duke finished his 52k in a very respectable time and we joined Mirna for dinner. As I watched her converse with Duke about music and running, I was once again confident that this was a wonderful connection. After dinner, Duke and I crashed in order for him to “hit the slopes” again the next day.

At 7:00 am the next morning, I was waiting in the cold (again!) for Duke to start running but this time it was with Bree and Mirna. They all took off and I was left to my own devices for the morning. Bree came in and placed first in her age group followed by Duke finishing in under 5 hours. Duke and I got some lunch and then waited for Mirna to make an appearance. As the clock counted down closer and closer to the seven hour cutoff, I mentioned to Ethan (the race director) that I sure hoped that Mirna would get there. He told me not to worry, that she would show up. I questioned as to whether it would be within the cutoff. He replied, “That time is only a suggestion. If they are still willing to be out there suffering, we are willing to stand around and do nothing and wait for them!” That about sums up the whole welcoming attitude of this race!

Two Running Sopranos.

Bree Lambert with me at my finish.

Duke and Bree taking selfies with Spot at the start.

Bree with her husband Joe at the end of her 26k taking home the prize for first place in her age group.

Duke at the end of his second day looking a little broke but definitely not bored!

Still smiling though!

I guess if Duke is willing to be out there and suffer, I’m willing to tag along and have wonderful encounters with lovely people and places...provided I’m not bored. In this case Broken Arrow definitely broke my boredom!

Western States With the Idiot Ultrarunner

So I finally figured out how to avoid being an ultrarunner widow! I volunteer my husband and myself to crew races. This ensures that he isn't running and must help the runner we are crewing therefore he is with me ALL weekend! Pretty brilliant, right?!

The idiot ultrarunner!

Let me back up a bit and explain. Back in February, I was working out with Bree Lambert. Well, not working out WITH her, more like training with her. We have an exchange, I give her daughter voice lessons and she puts me through the wringer at her gym. Actually, we talk a lot while I pretend to be working hard. (Don't tell her I said that, she thinks I'm getting a major workout!) During one of these lovely chat sessions I discovered that she hadn't put her crew together yet for Western States.  I thought to myself, "Gee, we helped at the Duncan Canyon Aid Station last year and it wasn't too bad. We could help out Bree!".

"Bree, Duke and I could crew you. Would that work?"

"Would you really?! That would be awesome!",  exclaims Bree.

And so the journey to another Western States began. Apparently I am a glutton for punishment.

After two crew meetings with the other crew whom we were to leap frog with, the plans were made and we were all geared up to help Bree. Friday we met for the pre-race meeting in Squaw Valley. Spot the Ultrarunner made her appearance with Bree as well as several other superstars. That turtle really gets around!

Spot getting kisses from our lovely Bree.

Spot with the infamous Jim Walmsley, Spot's owner Kim, and the Ultrarunner Widow

Spot seen here with Gunhild Swanson. See Spot smile? She knows she is with greatness!

Spot and Kim with last years winner the Pixie Ninja, Kaci!

That night we headed to Duncan Canyon to stay overnight so that we could help out at the aid station in the morning until Bree came through. The weather was hot that day but the night was very pleasant although I could have done without the mosquitos. Morning arrived sooner than I would have preferred but such is the luck of those camping in the back of their van in the high Sierra's. I guess Duke had it slightly worse, he slept on the ground outside the van so that our daughter and I could be inside. Did I say that we were together all weekend....??

As was predicted, Jim Walmsley came through way ahead of schedule. The next lead men came through at a more respectable time or at least a less idiot inducing pace. (Refer to Duke's blog the greateridiot.blogspot.com to get this inference.) Bree came in slightly behind schedule but still within the top 20 women. She needed to change her shoes due to the amount of mud and snow that she had come through. This was a change in the race plan but not outside of the unexpected. We got her on her way and headed to where we would see her next, Dusty Corners.

Bree coming into Duncan Canyon with a smile on her face. Thanks Tonya Perme for the picure!

We got set up at Dusty Corners and began our wait. Again we played the "Hurry Up and Wait" game. Bree's early arrival time came and went. Her late arrival time was getting closer. We began to worry a bit. But we knew she is a seasoned runner and would arrive shortly. When she did come in, she was looking a little frazzled. We got her cooled down, fueled up, and I had the honor of giving her a pep talk. Spot did her best as well, of course. You would think it would be the ultrarunner on the crew to give this pep talk. Was Duke even there?? Oh yeah, he was the one making sure everything was in order so that I could talk to Bree. Good thing there was two of us.  We got her on her way and she headed out. The next time we would see her was Forest Hill. In the meantime, her other team would catch her at Michigan Bluff.

Spot makes everyone smile!

Unfortunately, things didn't get better for Bree. She was late to Michigan Bluff. We were able to get texts from the crew there and found out that due to her late arrival she would need a headlamp sooner than expected. Duke hopped in the van to get one to her, leaving me with Bree's daughter. (We had dropped our daughter off earlier at the hotel so she wouldn't have to sit in the van for the next few hours.) Hmmmmmm, Duke leaving the kids with me for another woman...

Duke managed to get the light to her in time and Bree left Michigan Bluff with darkness falling. This was NOT what we planned. Duke returned to Forest Hill (OK, so he didn't leave me for another woman) and we hunkered down to wait for Bree to arrive. By this time her daughter was so worried she kept walking up and down the main street of Forest Hill to rid herself of nervous energy.  Spot did her best to keep her occupied.

Bree's daughter Summer with Spot at Forest Hill. They look like they are the best of friends!

When Bree finally arrived at Forest Hill, Summer threw herself into her arms and hugged her like she hadn't seen her in a month. I'm sure it felt that way! And I think Bree felt like she had been running for a month. Her foot was banged up from climbing up and down Devil's Thumb and her spirits were not far behind. But in the end it was her foot that was the deciding factor in pulling out of the race, not her spirits. We all were grateful that she wasn't hurt any worse and that she would recover quickly. We later found out that when going up the escarpment at the start of the race, she fell through the snow with her right leg up to the top of her thigh and that was just the start of dealing with the snow and mud!

It was difficult to watch them cut off her tag. I am so proud of her for not being an "idiot" (which Bree is by no means an idiot, ever. And again, refer to this blog greateridiot.blogspot.com) and making the smart decision to pull out.

How does that turtle keep getting in the SPOTlight? Must have something to do with her name...

Bree wasn't alone that day. Several of the projected top 10 men and women ended up DNF'ing. The conditions were atrocious between the snow, ice and mud and then the triple digit temperatures. It's amazing that anyone finished!

You know who else wasn't alone? ME! Apparently, even though I didn't sleep with Duke and he took off to meet another woman, he still was with me for 48 hours AND at an ultramarathon! I even have pictures to prove it!

We really were in Squaw Valley together!

And with our daughter...and Spot

Trying to beat the heat at Dusty Corners.

No that isn't Duke. Occasionally I sit on other Asian men's laps. Duke took the picture. Not sure who is sicker....

Did I mention it was hot? This was the day before at the top of the escarpment. Kim needed to cool off.

100 Mile Race to a Better Marriage

It's been over three months since Duke finished his first 100 mile race, The Marin Headlands,  and I still am having a hard time putting into words that surreal weekend. (And it's the first time he's really been back to training were I am home by myself again with time to write. #ultrarunnerwidow) The weekend started off with the usual 4:00am wakeup call. (The things I do for my husband.) But that was only to be the beginning. We drove up to Rodeo Beach in Marin County from our home in the South Bay. During the hour + drive, the sky began to get light but the clouds and fog decided to hide the face of the sun. No cheery sunrise for me that Duke is so often gleefully bragging about seeing as an ultrarunner. "Oh Mart, it's so great to get up in the dark and start running because you get to see the most gorgeous sunrise!"  Sure you do. We arrived with plenty of time for him to check in and visit with the other runners (or idiots if you prefer, #idiotultrarunner). 

The runners lined up and the race director, John Brooks, gave a short but sweet speech and without any fanfare, the runners were off. Duke had said he didn't need me at the first aid station but as I was grabbing coffee in town, my instincts heard to go back and meet him. It paid off as his shorts he was wearing were chaffing and he needed the ones that were in the van, not his drop bag. He changed quickly and was on his way.

Duke at the start wearing his Marine Corps T-shirt.

The next aid station I saw him at was around mile 25, Tennessee Valley. He was looking good and feeling great. (See picture below.) I would see Duke here several times and it was here that our dear friend Ramiro arrived to pace Duke. For the next 24 hours, he would either keep Duke company or sleep with me in the van. Nothing like being the ultrarunnerwidow and sleeping with another man when your husband is running!

The next time I saw Duke was under the Golden Gate and this was where I would go to sleep and wake up that night. Not too shabby! It was also here that Duke arrived with a small limp. He said that he had gotten a calf cramp but that he thought it would work itself out. I did some Reiki energy work on it and sent him on his way. I saw him again at Tennessee Valley and he indicated that his calf was better. He looked tired but in good spirits so Ramiro and I left to go get some sleep under the Bridge.



Duke arrived under the bridge early that morning. He was definitely tired but his nutrition and hydration seemed to be completely on track for him to continue. He left the aid station that morning after having some hot oatmeal that I had made for him and with Ramiro to accompany him. I headed back to town to get them hot breakfast sandwiches and to get myself warmed up. I haven't mentioned that this entire time the wind has blown incessantly and the fog has been thick enough to cut it with a knife. The only way to get warm is to get in the van and turn it on or crawl in my sleeping bag and pull it over my head. Again, the things I do for my husband.

With breakfast sandwiches in hand, I arrived back at Tennessee Valley in time to meet the guys as they slowly came through. By this time Duke had been up for over 28 hours. He was looking a little worn down. What I didn't know was that his calf was still cramping and he was in pain. They took their food and headed down (up) the trail. They were to make an 8 mile loop out to Muir Beach and back to T.V. With the pace he was going I estimated that he would be back to T.V. in about 3-4 hours with his arrival time being around noon. By 1:00, I was getting nervous. Most runners had already come through the aid station. I began walking to meet them. What I thought would be a short 1/2 mile walk turned into over a mile before I finally spotted Duke limping down the steep fire road coming off the ridge. He was moving excruciatingly slowly and I knew that he was in trouble. I used what cell coverage I had to post on FB for prayers and energy for him to all my friends that do energy work. I even called a dear friend up in the far corner of MT to ask her to send healing Reiki energy to him. When I reached them, I had Duke lie down and I ran Reiki in his leg. When I touched his calf gently he yelled out at me in pain. This wasn't good. We got him up and started walking him down the trail. The closer we got to T.V., the better Duke started to walk. I mentioned this to him and he started to feel a bit better.

By the time we got to T.V. he had and hour and a half to finish the last 4.1 miles. With how slowly he was moving, he wasn't going to make the time cutoff. The aid station leader was on the phone with John, the race director, when we arrived. Duke asked him to ask John if there was any leeway with the cutoff time. (That's the nice thing about small races, it's all about helping people succeed.) He told Duke that if he thought he could finish within reason, that he would get his buckle. I was going to walk Duke in but he grabbed some food and took off before I could grab my water bottle and change my pants. Ramiro caught up to him and I went back to the van to drive back to the finish line. When I arrived only a handful of people were left out on the course. As the minutes ticked by, I saw each person cross the finish line and I anxiously waited for Duke to come over the ridge. The official cutoff time was 4:00. At around 3:50, I saw Duke appear over the top of the ridge. I started screaming to him, "Motivate your ass down that hill, Marine!". I was screaming and had tears streaming down my face. He came across the finish line with just over three minutes to spare. No extended cutoff was needed! I had never been so proud of someone in my life nor had I felt so keenly the pain, pride of accomplishment and sense of deep personal growth of another human being.

Ramiro and Duke celebrating together.

Duke's calf muscle after running with it cramped for 55 miles!

Duke couldn't walk without help when he was done. He body was shocky and he couldn't get warm. That night we were in bed and I reached over to touch Duke's forehead. He was burning up. I panicked and hauled him to the ER. They ran some X-rays, gave him an IV and took some blood tests. I found myself sleeping in my car again that night while he was in the hospital bed. It turns out that he was fine but I was glad to have the confirmation. When I woke up the next morning, I had no voice. If you've read my previous blog posts, you know that I'm a singer. That is NOT a good thing to lose! It turns out that I had also made the ultimate sacrifice for the weekend. Was it worth it?

The Marin Headlands race is a much smaller race with an intimate atmosphere to it that I actually began to really appreciate. When the runners started to line up, what in hindsight was an auspicious omen, turned up on the hillside. A coyote was spotted very close to the starting line. Why was it auspicious, one might ask. Here are a few things that the coyote spiritually means to the Native Americans and those of us who follow an earth based spirituality:

• Jokester
• Adaptability
• Playfulness
• Reveal the truth behind illusion and chaos
• Beware of the dark side of things and play on your resources
• Paradoxical nature, personality difficult to categorize

As I look at that list, I see the attributes needed for a runner to finish a major race such as this. When things get tough, making a joke can really ease the tension. Duke is a master at bad dad jokes so he's a natural at keeping things light on the trail. 

Being adaptable speaks for itself. If you aren't adaptable, you aren't going to finish the race. In fact, you probably won't even start!

 A sense of playfulness must be required to keep the fun going for that many hours. You can't take yourself too seriously or you will get to caught up in your own brain web of self doubt. 

Which then brings me to seeing one's own personal truth amidst the chaos, i.e. "am I tough enough to finish this journey?". It seems to be that runners have to look at the pain as being an illusion otherwise they would just quit, or they go to the dark side. And the dark side is when the Jokester needs to be used again. 

The last quality of the coyote, "personality difficult to categorize", well, those of us that live with an ultra runner know what this means. They are in a category all of their own! Having a paradoxical nature maybe one of the main things that keeps an ultra runner going. The fact that they can contradict their own brain into believing that they aren't in pain and that they can keep going is an amazing feat!

When that coyote presented itself, I choose to believe that it was telling Duke and the other runners that it was there to support them and give them the courage they needed to accomplish their goal for that weekend. Each one of these races is a journey into the physical, emotional, and spiritual depths of ones being. Although most of us can't understand why these runners do what they do, we can certainly understand the need to access those deeps parts of our souls. Crewing Duke through this deep process was an honor. I watched that part of him emerge that is the strongest and yet the most vulnerable. And yet, when we are at our most vulnerable, that is when we are the strongest. When two souls get to share that intimate process, a connection or re-connection is made. We both said that we felt stronger and more emotionally bonded after the experience. Who knew that a stupid 100 mile foot race could make a marriage grow stronger! So, yes, it was worth it!