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!