Recovery Food: Chicken & Black Bean Chili

There is nothing better than finishing a run on a cold winter morning, and returning home to a hot bowl of this power-packed chili within that oh-so-important 30 min window.  I love a one dish meal that includes protein, fiber and vegetables all in one pot!  I got this recipe from nutritionist Kira Neumann years ago and it has become a family favourite - even my super picky son cleans up his whole bowl.  Cheap, easy, full of flavour and SO good for you.  It passes all my criteria, so I thought I would share it with those of you who need something new on the menu!

This recipe makes a HUGE batch - I usually make it Friday night and it feeds us all weekend. If you want a vegetarian option, just omit the chicken!

Chicken and Black Bean Chili

10 boneless/skinless chicken thighs
2 onions
3 cloves garlic
3 small red chili peppers (opt)
1 large bunch fresh cilantro
2 large cans diced tomatoes
3 cans black beans, drained & rinsed
3 cubes vegetable boullion
1 tbsp salt
2 tbsp paprika
1 1/2 tsp oregano
1 1/2 tsp chili powder
1 1/2 tsp cumin
1 tbsp honey

1-2 limes (don't omit - this makes the dish)
2 yellow peppers, chopped



Cut the chicken into 1 inch cubes and sauté in olive oil in a large deep pan.  Chop the onion, cilantro stalks (save some leaves for garnish), chillies, and garlic in a food processor. Add to the chicken and sauté until soft.  Add the tomatoes, beans and all the spices and honey.  Simmer for 30-40 minutes.  Add the lime juice and the yellow pepper just before serving.  Heat through.  Serve with plain greek yogurt, sour cream or cottage cheese, and fresh cilantro.  This dish freezes really well.

My Experience with Stress Reaction

Short story: I've been off for a while recovering from a stress reaction and metatarsalgia in my foot.  And I'm back.

Long story for those who are interested in the tale of my cranky bone: read on.

The human body is an amazing thing.  I have patients often comment, "I don't understand why I'm in pain?"  I reply with a wry smile, "you should be asking why you aren't in more pain."

We beat ourselves up every day.  We assume poor posture at our desks.  We use poor body mechanics to lift that load of groceries out of the trunk.  We overtrain or ignore the warnings our body gives us that are hinting at injury.  And sometimes there is just that perfect storm that is unpredictable and therefore unavoidable that sidelines us for a while.

Running injury is often not just one thing.  It's a bunch of little things that add up to be a big thing over time.

This fall I dealt with my first show stopping injury.  I first experienced pain in my forefoot in early July, but it wasn't until Nov 23 that I finally completely stopped running and on Nov 28 I had the MRI that confirmed a stress reaction, suspected stress fracture and diffuse bone marrow edema in my second proximal phalanx. I did not take the news well and and was frankly pissed off that the show stopping pain in my foot was coming from a tiny little bone in my TOE! I am back to running now, have resumed my daily dose of endorphins,  and can finally blog about it.

What is a stress reaction?  I have been telling people I have a stress fracture because it's easier than going through this long diatribe.  Stress fractures and stress reactions are both repetitive stress injuries of bone.  A stress fracture usually appears on a bone scan or MRI as a definitive fracture line, whereas if you catch it early enough, a stress reaction is described as it was in my case as "some linear transverse low signal" in the bone.  Combined with the bone marrow edema (swelling in the middle of the bone), this put me in the stress reaction category.  Regardless of what you call it, my bone was pissed off.  And I was too.  A stress fracture is the most feared injury among runners because the only treatment is total rest, and it often requires weeks off from running.  A stress reaction may only require a few weeks and I was consoled by the fact that maybe, just maybe, I would have an accelerated recovery.

Didn't you know you had a broken foot?  Well, no I didn't at first. Ultra runners always have pain somewhere and foot pain is common.  My right foot is a little messed up from a gymnastics injury when I was a teen and it's often a little sore.  My injury wasn't one that happened suddenly while on a run one day.  It developed over a period of several months during which time the pain would come on after running and then go away with lower mileage or rest.  It started with numbness and tingling in my forefoot and pain under the ball of the foot which are symptoms of metatarsalgia, which is all I thought I had at the time.  As a way to cope with and understand this injury, I have been trying to work out the WHY in this equation.  The answer is that there is no simple reason why which is why it got to the point it did in the first place.

My higher mileage weeks with lots of hill training working on mid-forefoot strike in minimal and possibly worn out shoes in July started me off although I can honestly say I am not a high mileage runner overall and I don't blame this on overtraining.  Then racing the Fat Dog 70 with its 13,000' of elevation didn't help.  As fall came I was forced onto the roads more due to family constraints.  At this point my foot was really getting sore so I started replacing some runs with spinning and stopped doing hills.  Late fall is when I do speed work.  That, combined with the fact that the graston I have been having on my hamstring was working so well,  resulted in my top end interval pace dropping by 2:00/mile in less than a month. All that push off on the roads was the final straw.  Up until this point I never had ANY PAIN while running.  Running was the only time I was totally pain free.  This is not a justification, but important to note the power of endorphins and how endurance athletes can train and compete when they shouldn't.  I was in kick ass shape but it wasn't relevant at this point because finally that last week I couldn't walk without a limp and my foot was throbbing and waking me up at night.  I work on my feet all day long which hurt more than anything - I could barely work more less run.

I was still convinced it was a metatarsalgia, and was self treating with footwear (nothing felt good but barefoot was impossible), met pads (made it worse due to all the swelling), acupuncture (helped), laser (helped), ice baths (bandaid help) and ultrasound (made it worse).  The day I did the ultrasound and felt an immediate stabbing pain, my heart sank.  Ultrasound only hurts when the bone is stressed and it hurts as it absorbs more of the sound waves than soft tissue. I walked right downstairs and made an appointment with my sports med doctor for a week later.  I had a bad feeling that I was about to be wearing one of those horrid cast boots and that I wasn't going to be running for quite some time.

Sure enough, my doc (who also runs with me and knows it takes a LOT to stop me from running), listened to my history, took one look at my swollen foot, ordered the boot and an MRI, and told me we were treating it as a stress fracture until proven otherwise. I was actually ready and grateful for the boot because I was just in that much pain.  I didn't care what it took at this point.  I just needed to get better as fast as possible.

I was fortunate to receive the MRI 5 days later confirming my diagnosis.  My doctor confirmed that I stay the course and in the boot.  Her only other advice was "100% pain-free activity," knowing that I was going to stay active no matter what.  So I wore my boot faithfully for 2 weeks.  I only took it off to drive, spin and do pool running.  For driving and spinning I wore a graphite plate in my shoe and did not stand up on the pedals while spinning. Pool running initially hurt, so a friend who also had dealt with a metatarsal stress fracture suggested I wear shoes in the pool.  Brilliant! So I wore an old pair of Merrell Pace Glove shoes and it worked great. It's not like I was going to be running in them anymore.

I was devastated to have confirmation that it was not just soft tissue, but I was confounded that a small bone in my TOE was giving me so much pain.  Not a metatarsal in my foot as we had thought. My toe. Who gets a stress reaction in their TOE!?  I'm not a pointe ballerina.  Then I looked down at my foot and saw the missing toenail on that toe. I am used to losing my big toe nails each season, but never the 2nd toe.  Hmmm.  All that downhill running that I love at Fat Dog where my toes were jamming into my shoes likely didn't help either.

It was a long 2 weeks (but thankfully not 6) of hobbling around at work, lots of spinning interval workouts, strength training, and a few pool running sessions up to 90 min.  I ended up doing more spinning as it was just more convenient.  At the end of the 2 weeks my foot didn't hurt anymore in the boot and it was time to take it off.  I started back with 5 whole minutes of walking on the treadmill and then would get back on the bike for the rest of my workout.  Over the next 10 days I worked up to 60 min of walking and then started integrating running back into my walks.  It was slow, tedious, and frustrating, but I was so happy to just have no pain anymore and be back to running even a few footsteps.  I gratefully kept each test I was giving myself.

I was so excited to run my first 10 mile training run on New Years day with my buddy Scott.  It felt GREAT!  My foot is happily cushioned in my new Altra Neoshell Lone Peak 3.0 trail shoes which have lots of room for my toes and a stiffer outsole to protect my forefoot. It will be a long time before I try to go back to more minimal shoes, but that's fine with me.  I'm running on frozen ground and snow right now.

Scott and I - my big smile says it ALL!

It was exactly 6 weeks from Nov 23 to the day I ran my first 4 miles without any walk segments.  I'll take it.  Most things heal in 6 weeks - soft tissue, tendons, even bone.  Very few injuries last forever.  I really saw the evidence of that and the benefit of following doctors orders to a T.

Going through this injury has NOT been easy.  As sore as my foot was it was much harder on my mind than my body.  My husband told me right at the beginning (when I really didn't want to hear it), "maybe you'll learn something valuable from this that will make you a better runner, physio and coach."  I glared at him.  But he was right.  I have learned quite a bit about injury psychology, the addictive nature of endurance sports, and cross training while not able to run.  This requires its own dedicated blog post coming soon.

I can now talk to my patients from personal experience, have vowed more than ever to train smart, and hope that my experience will help me coach my athletes more intelligently.

On the topic of coaching and teaching, check out my new website www.bouncestrong.com!

Here's to ReBounding Strong!

The Art of the Dance

Sharing again...because this pic says everything I'm about to write here, and more....PC: Sarah Seads

You can take a girl out of the mountains, but you can't take the mountains out of the girl. As the days get shorter and colder here in central Canada, I again struggle to find my running mojo while running in a very flat and soon to be cold place. There are many advantages to running here.  Leg speed.  Temperature fluctuations. Wind resistance.  Great people.  However, I find myself revisiting memories of great runs past even as I already start to plan for 2017 ~ plan for runs in the mountains.  Why do I continually feel pull back to the mountains?

Trail running.  Mountain running. Dancing.

When I first moved off the roads and started running mountain trails on Vancouver Island, I simply couldn't believe that people actually RAN up the trails my friends were taking me on.  Every run burst my lungs, left me with burning quads, and a deep sense of inferiority as the mountain won battle after battle.  I entered trail races with names like "GutBuster" and "Perseverance Trail Run," continually pushing to succeed at running gnarly mountain terrain.  It was work, it was hard.  I was young, tough, and determined.  I grew to tolerate it.  Even got good at it, earning a few podium finishes. But I still didn't really like mountain running.

But it wasn't until I stopped pushing, and started working WITH the mountain that I fell in love with it.  When I read back over things I've written about my best days running, dance metaphor keeps popping up over and over.  From a woman's perspective, a great dance partner leads you confidently.  You can relax and flow with the dance as you match your partner step for step, perfectly in sync.  When you and your partner apply just the right pressure against each other, you move as one to create a beautiful picture of human movement (which is much easier said than done.)

I'd like to suggest that trail and/or mountain running well executed is the exact same thing.  The mountain is your partner, and you need to work together.  As I talk with my running friends and the athletes that I coach, often hill training is met with dread, and races with lots of elevation create anxiety.

Learning to climb in Squamish, BC:
A perfect example of needing to work with the mountain rather than against it

I have watched so many people attack a climb as if they have to beat it into submission, or lean way too far back on their heels on a descent, fighting the pull of gravity down the mountain.  If you push too hard against that climb, it will push back.  If you resist the pull too much as you descend, it will pull harder. If you commit too heavily to a step that isn't quite right on a gnarly trail, it will drag you down.  You need to match your partner step for step, reacting quickly to stay in sync as the path leads you along.  If you don't start dancing the dance the ground wants you to, you'll either blow up on a climb, trash your quads on a descent, or trip and fall.  Not enjoyable.  Not pretty.  Definitely not art.

One of my favourite joy runs of the year - Cumberland Community Forest

But when you fall into step with the mountain trail and let it lead you, the dance becomes easy and the thing becomes a part of you. Kilian Jornet, arguably one of the world's greatest mountain runners, recently posted this video as a perfect example of what I'm talking about.  It wasn't until I grasped this delicate piece of the equation that I started to truly enjoy and eventually fall in love with mountain trail running.  Mountains, hills, trails - these are things not to be conquered, or attacked.  They are to be flirted with, and they are continually inviting you to dance.  And if you accept, I challenge you to join together with nature to make each run an artful masterpiece of fluid motion.  Not a painful picture of warriors clashing as they battle to the death.  Then that summit will be shared and appreciated as much as it was earned. And it'll have you coming back for more.

Now go out and find somewhere to dance.

Fat Dog 70, 2016 - Race Report

The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. Habakkuk 3:19

The more I run ultras, the more I love it.  Starting along this path has been a slippery slope.  I ran the Fat Dog 70 six days ago and I'm still smiling as I process the whole event.  Because it really was an event. An experience.  Not a race.  Not a run.  An experience.

I started the 2016 Fat Dog 70 event at 7:00 am on Aug 13 with the goal of simply finishing the distance, ideally in 24 hours.  I surpassed my goal by more than 3 hours and finished as strong as I could have ever hoped for.  But this run was about more than just me.  It was about more than 1 day.  It was about 8 months of training and developing friendships with a couple special people that culminated in a the most perfect day of my summer.

Shortly after moving to Manitoba last summer from Vancouver Island, BC, I went on a run with Scott. Then a few weeks later I met Todd.  Little did I know where these chance meetings would lead me.  Before I knew it, Todd and I had joined Scott in his plan to pursue his dream of doing the Fat Dog 120.  In December we registered, booked our hotel, and named ourselves the Manitoba Dawgs. Over the next 8 months, we ran together when we could and supported each other virtually when we couldn't.

On Aug 9 we loaded up the truck and started a 23 hour drive from Manitoba to Manning Park, BC.  Todd and Scott where entered in the 120 mile event, and one can predictably assume that the focus of all conversations was the 120 miler.  There was talk of 49 hour cut offs, running through 2 nights, 3 major summits and a general suffer fest.  I frequently heard myself saying, "I'm ONLY doing 70 miles."  When I quietly put my run into context with theirs, it seemed relatively easy.  Not quite as daunting.  After all, I was only going to have to run through one night, not two.  It's all how you frame it.

I desperately wanted my friends to have the race of their dreams.  I spent the first 2 days in BC going to the 120 mile start line, going to the 120 mile race brief, doing acupuncture on the guys, taping them up, making sure they ate well and slept well.  I drove them to the race start, wished them luck, and put my race completely out of my mind until they started theirs. But as soon as they headed up the trail, I allowed myself to start thinking about my race, content to be in my own headspace.

As I headed back into Princeton for my traditional pre-race meal of sushi, I felt calm.  I looked up at the mountains and felt peaceful.  Although I had spent the last year running in the prairies of Manitoba, I still felt prepared.  The only thing missing was Sarah Seads. This would be my first ultra without her. She's the one who got me started, trained with me, coached and mentored me for years. We had a good chat on the phone and after she gave me last minute tips on a course she had rocked the year before (2nd female - 50 miler),  I hung up totally centered and reassured. I had gone for a short run the day before, feeling like I had wrapped myself in an old comfy blanket.  The smell of the forest, the sound of the creeks running, the shady cool of the old growth forest.  This is where I was meant to be.

Back at Manning Park Lodge I finalized my drop bags and my race plan, had dinner with BC friends Rob and Kim, who were also racing, attended the 70 miler pre-race brief, and was sound asleep by 9:00pm, feeling the most relaxed that I had before an ultra to date.  That is, until the phone rang at 9:30.

I was devastated to hear that it was Scott telling me his race was over. He was so upset, but the first sentence out of his mouth was, "I'm so sorry to mess up your pre-race sleep." What a guy.  By the time he made it into the hotel suite and I managed to get back to sleep it was around 11:00.  I felt bad for him, and said a silent prayer for Todd, still out there on the trail.  I was roused out of a second deep sleep around 1:30am by Todd.  I blinked furiously, scarcely believing he was there.  My pre-race calm was shattered by the appearance of both my teammates in the middle of the night.  I started to panic, thinking that maybe this race was more than I was prepared for after all.  I slept fitfully until I woke just before my alarm went off at 5:00 am.

Scott saw me off as I caught a ride to the start with Rob and Kim.  It was bittersweet.  It meant a LOT to me that he was there to wish me well, but at the same time he wasn't supposed to be there. I was now feeling more than a little unnerved about coming from the prairies with no mountain running this year except the Grand Canyon 50, until we arrived at the start to find a little pocket of cell service in an area of total blackout.  A text found it's way to my phone from my dear friend Sarah, "You're still a BC girl in your legs and your heart. You so have this!!! Enjoy!!"  It's like she read my mind and send me just what I needed to hear at that exact moment.  I put the blinders on and my vision narrowed until nothing else existed except the spectacular sunrise and the trail stretching out ahead of me. I was going to have an epic day and I was going to bring it home to Manitoba.  I now had not a single doubt.

Race Start

Myself, Kim, Rob

Race Breakdown

Blackwell Peak to Heather Aid (2.3 miles - 26:56)
It was a slow but steady start headed down off the top of Blackwell Peak, elevation ~6558'. They had to move the Heather Aid station down off the plateau this year.  I didn't stop, but blew on by shouting my bib number to the volunteers, letting them focus on the 120 milers who would need the aid station more.

70 Mile Course

Heather Trail

Heather to Nicomen Lake ( 11 miles - 2:45)
My favourite leg of the whole race.  Heather Trail is stunning.  Wild flowers, jaw dropping views of the Cascade Mountains and Mt. Baker across the border.  And the last part of this section was down hill.  Oh but it was HARD not to let loose and fly.  Over 10K of perfectly graded flowing single track, but I repeated my first third mantra, "When in doubt go slower," and reminded myself that I was only 3 hours into a 20+ hour run.

I chose a pace that was easy, that perfect balance between no braking on the downhills, but not trashing my quads either.  I was amazed how quickly we dropped down to Nicomen Lake, to find volunteers deep in the back country manning an aid station with crisp cool water that they had just pumped out of the lake.  I fill up all 3L of my carrying capacity, thanked them, and headed out.

We ran along this ridge before dropping down to Nicomen Lake on the left.

Nicomen Lake

Nicomen Lake to Cayuse Flats (11 miles - 2:25)
More downhill single track, gently curving in a counter clockwise circle around the mountain.  It totally reminded me of one long Transmission Hill (for my Comox peeps).  It was very shady in this section, but the cloud cover of the early morning had burned off and around noon it started to get really hot.  I pulled out my new Zoot Icefil arm sleeves, got them wet in a creek, and kept them wet as much as I could after that.  I had never run with them before and couldn't believe how well they worked to keep me cool.  As long as they were wet that is.  A nice little bonus for a little experiment on race day. I was very dry and hot coming into Cayuse.  There were 120 milers laid out all over cots and chairs, looking very peaked.  I quickly restocked my fuel from my first drop bag (DB) and continued on.

View from the ridge.  Stunning.  Could have stood there forever.

Cayuse Flats to Cascade (5 miles - 1:10)

The fellows at Nicomen had warned me that this section was...uninspiring.  They were right.  After coming off Heather trail and the epic views afforded by the ridgeline leading down to Nicomen, the relentless up and down in dense single track was suffocating.  It was HOT.  I stopped at each creek and river I could to splash water on my face and drench my sleeves in water.  Seeing as the guys were available, they had said they would crew for me, and I hoped that Scott and Todd would be at Cascade.  Shaun, a retired military search and rescue technician and paramedic was also crewing for Rob and Kim.  He had offered his services for first aid care if needed, and I needed.  I had been suffering from my first blisters in a race ever since Heather trail. Considering the hot forecast, I had chosen lighter socks than usual - big mistake.  My smart wool socks where in my Shawatam drop bag several miles away and my feet were macerating.  I pushed forward, looking forward to some watermelon, cold water and foot TLC.

Cascade Aid
Wow.  I have never felt so important during a race.  I came trotting into Cascade feeling very hot, but strong.  This picture shows me looking not quite as good as I'd like. Scott was waiting for me on the trail.  He briskly told me that the tables were to the left a few meters ahead, and that they had a chair set up for me on the right.  I cruised in to Todd taking pictures, Shaun hustling to take care of my feet, and Todd shoving watermelon into my hands.

Scott filled my hydration pack while Shaun ended up using duct tape to bandage my big toe.  It worked perfectly. I had already dealt with my heel blister...which ended up not doing so well, but I didn't know that until after the race.  My first time with a real crew...and I must say I quite liked having them there.  Before I knew it I was putting on a rather hot high vis vest for the 2 mile stretch along the road to Sumallo Grove, telling the volunteer that #761 was heading out, and off I went!

My awesome crew in action.

Cascase to Sumallo Grove (2 miles [2.6 on my Garmin and every inch mattered] - 31:52)
I look at the time it took me to go 2.6 miles now and I'm floored.  I was moving slowly.  And it was on the ROAD! Granted I took 2 minutes at Sumallo to put ice into my arm sleeves, but still. This was the only road section, it was hot, and it couldn't be over soon enough.

Sumallo Grove to Shawatam (10 miles - 2:48)
Something happened during this section that I felt was the turning point of the race for me.  I had been so hot to this point, still managing my nutrition well, but definitely not peeing like I should be even though I was drinking LOTS.  Around the 30 mile or 50K mark (similar to what happened in the Grand Canyon at GC50), I started to feel great.  This was the point that I would either start to decompensate or improve, and I was so happy that I started to feel better and better.  My middle third rule of running effort that feels "just right" was easy.  The running here was relatively flat and slightly technical, and I cruised along feeling very strong.  I met up with another runner, Richard, from North Van, and we chatted easily along most of this stretch.  The ice in my sleeves was cooling my veins, and I stopped at several creeks to keep the sleeves cool.  I honestly believe this was a key element in my success in this race.  Thanks to Jen Ruland for giving my the idea to use the sleeves.  A life saver.  I wasn't sure if my crew was going to be meeting me at Shawatam as the drive to these aid stations was not exactly easy.  I arrived there feeling awesome.  I already had my hydration pack refilled, had used the sponge bucket to cool my head and neck, had changed my socks, and was eating a little when they arrived.  They were surprised to see me already there.  I asked them to have my poles ready at Skyline when I got there, and took off with words of caution to slow down a little and take it easy.

Shawatum to Skyline (8 miles - 2:14)
Richard and I had been playing cat and mouse, and reminding each other to save it for Skyline.  We all knew that the race really starts at Skyline.  At this point I had gained 5,171' of elevation and lost 9,715'.  The course total was 13,303' of gain and 15,748' of loss.  I still had a lot of mountain to cross, and heeded Todd's advice to pull it back a little.  It was cooling off, evening was falling, and the mosquitos were coming out.  There were not nearly as bad as everyone had made us out to believe they would be, but I did pull out my bug spray and spray my neck and ears.  The arm sleeves came off and I enjoyed the peace of quiet of the course as runners spread out further and further.

Skyline Aid
When I arrived at Skyline Aid, I knew I had this race in the bag.  I knew I was going to finish, and I was going to finish under 24 hours.  I had been following splits of a girl from 2014 who finished in 21:30 and although I had a slower start than she did, I was starting to match her splits over the last few aid stations.  Scott and Todd were waiting for me at Skyline with my poles prepped and ready to go.  They had my drop box out with my battery chargers and grabbed my watch to charge it up for the last leg.  I prepped my head lamps, loaded my pack with a full 3L of water and enough fuel to last me 9+ hours, my estimated time left on course, which left me with a very heavy pack on a back that was getting tired. The last 2 aid stations were VERY remote, and we were told not to expect to get much there other than water.  I took my time at this aid station, knowing that I was about to head into a LONG night.  I ate some pizza, packed a quesadilla for the road.  Someone sprayed my back with bug spray and I screamed, asking if my back was chaffed.  As I lifted up my shirt the look on their faces said it all.  I guess it looked bad.  I gave my crew hugs of thanks, and told them to expect me at 5:00am at the finish based on the splits that I had been following (give or take a few hours).  I looked Scott in the eyes and told him , "I've got this," then headed up the trail into the dusky evening.

Todd, Myself, Scott - their presence gave me such a boost!

Skyline Aid to Camp Mowich (8 miles - 3:39)
If there was a part of this race I was worried about, it was this part.  Not the climbing.  I am an experienced hiker and mountain climber and I know I can get myself up a mountain efficiently.  But I was worried about going through the night.  I was already past my longest time on feet by over an hour.  I left Skyline at 12:47 elapsed time and still have 9 hours to go.  My split told me to expect 4 hours for this 8 mile leg - that should tell you something.  Two miles/hour.  Lots of climbing and hiking.  I turned on my iPod and downshifted into a steady climbing gear.  As I climbed, night quickly fell and my chances for any more epic views vanished.  But the temperature didn't seem to drop that much, likely cause I was working so hard to climb that mountain.  I could see headlamps spread out along the mountainside few and far between, mostly in pairs.  I didn't have a pacer and I was ok with that.  I actually relished the alone time.   Coming into Camp Mowich, I heard that awesome cow bell sound.  The ringing of the cow bell has come to signal a sense of accomplishment to me.  Another leg completed.  This was a very remote camp where volunteers had to hike in 14K to get there.  They topped me up with water, gave me some chicken broth, and warned me that they were out of water at the last aid station.  I was stuck carrying another full 3L of water across all those false summits so infamously talked about.  My loaded pack is over 10 lb with food, and I have never carried such weight for so long on my back without a break.  Even back country camping we would take longer breaks.  It was starting to take it's toll. I honestly didn't need all that water, as I was super well hydrated at this point, but I've learned to never underestimate water needs.

Camp Mowich to Sky Junction (5 miles - 2:04)
Not much to say here except it was nighttime and the stars were out.  I was starting to see things - people's faces which were creepy.  A wolf (which turned out to be a log).  Fleeting shadows that looked like people running.  Nothing too bad.  I turned off my headlamp a few times to look for meteors (there was supposed to be a shower) but no dice.  I just felt dizzy looking up.  There was a LOT of up and down and up and down.  I was happy to make it to Sky Junction for the sole reason that it meant another segment done.  I was solidly in the mindset to get it done. I had an inkling that I might be done earlier than planned at this point, but still didn't know what lay ahead of me.

Sky Junction to Lightning Lake/Finish (8 miles - 2:21)
False summits.  They weren't kidding.  OMG.  I was counting and each time I was SURE I had climbed the last peak, down and up I went again.  I actually swore out loud at one point, just as Heather (the RD) said I would.  My legs were turning to jello, and if it hadn't been for my poles, I'm sure I would have slipped off the edge of a cliff, or went tumbling down a descent.  I'm serious.   My poles were my second lifesaver.  When I finally reached the burned out forest and knew I was descending down for the last time, I was relieved, only to find that there were some very technical sections that still precluded me from truly running.  I just didn't trust my legs to hold me up and hiked on until I felt comfortable to start running again.  My GPS watch was dead at this point and I had no idea how far I had still to go.  I only encountered 2 other people during this section and both gave me wildly different distance estimates. My stomach was cramping and I wasn't handling my nutrition well at this point either.  The last hour I gave up eating and just gagged on the side of the trail when it got too bad.  I was almost done and just simply didn't care. I started to think that I might be done before 5:00 am

Suddenly I came upon a sign that told me there was 700m until Rainbow Bridge, which I knew was 1 mile from the finish.  Whoo hoo!!  I picked up speed and ran it in to the finish line in 20:51 arriving at 3:51 am - over an hour ahead of schedule.  I knew there was no way my crew was going to be there and sure enough they weren't.  So I crossed the line, accepted my medal, and stood there wondering what to do.  As soon as I stopped I immediately got cold, so I pulled out the jackets that I had carried for 70 miles and put them on.  I sat down in a chair in the dark and felt the emotion welling up.  I had just run 70 miles, 114K.  The farthest I had ever gone by 20 miles and 34K.  Longer in time on feet by 9.5 hours.  But first and foremost, I had FINISHED.  I sat there and had a good cry.  Then wiping my tears I headed to the campfire to wait for Todd and Scott.  They showed up about 15 min later, still thinking they were an hour early for me.

After 1.5 hours of sleep and breakfast, we headed back to the finish line for the awards.  I found out I had finished 4th female, about mid pack overall.  It was so awesome to see the last few 120 milers cross the line after almost 49 hours of time on feet.

Prologue
My entire Fat Dog experience amazing. Thank-you Heather, Peter, and team from Mountain Madness.  I got to fill my cup with hours of time in the mountains of BC.  The weather was perfect.  My body held up.  But most importantly, the people made the race.  Todd and Scott are the most solid gentlemen you will ever meet.  They have been such good friends and training partners.  Even after their race dreams were shattered, they still spent the whole day driving all over the region to crew for me.  I can't tell you guys how much that meant to me. Thank-you.  Rob, Kim, Shaun - thank you for sharing your crewing resources with me.  It was great to hang out again.  We met some PCT hikers, other ultra runners, crew members...  Although ultra running is a very solitary sport, there is a whole tribe of people surrounding you through the process.  Very few people get what we do...but those that do provide a special kind of support that is very special and very valuable.

Our Mascot, Bonk #awesomedawg

What did I learn from this race?

• How you frame your race is critical.  The fact that I saw 70 miles as relatively easy compared to 120 miles made the task less daunting.
• Icefil arm sleeves work - when wet with ice in them, wind cools even better.
• Poles are a necessity for night climbing. So glad I had them.
• Training in Manitoba may not have prepared me for mountain running, but it did give me heat training.  I ran for weeks above 30 deg and did one hill repeat day at 43 deg with humidex.  I know that helped.
• Training on the flats helped my leg speed for the flatter sections of the race.  
• Carrying a 10-11lb pack for 20+ hours causes SERIOUS chafing on your back. Not sure how I'll mitigate this next time, but hopefully won't need carry so much mandatory gear next time.
• Postural muscle strength is important for carrying a heavier running pack.  Thank goodness for my strength training regime, but my neck and shoulders are still sore.
• Having a crew of fellow ultra runners is awesome.  I've never had that before and I see the value now. I was very fortunate to have my aunt and uncle support me at Miwok last year and I can't thank them enough for the boost they gave me, but to have some good advice from someone who's been in your shoes is also great.
• I seem to do better the longer I go.  I guess the 100 miler goal for 2017 isn't that unrealistic!

Stats:
Garmin powered out (grrr) so I don't have easy stats.

Nutrition:
Lost track. Ate every 45 min, 2-3 S-Caps every hour.

Gear:
Shoes: Salming Elements (brand new pair, 3 miles of break in, did AWESOME)
Pack: Salomon S-Lab 12 set
Watch: Garmin Forerunner 920XT
Headlamp: Black Diamond Icon
Poles: Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ Trekking Poles

An Ultra Runners Guide to Appearing Normal

(on that rare occasion when you want to)

Ultra Runners are used to being called crazy.  We are used to smelling like sweaty poly-pro and can spot a fellow ultra runner from miles away from the pack and high socks.  We proudly sport our trucker hats and can talk endlessly about our bucket list races and the features of our watches. However, on occasion the need might present itself to not sound annoying or crazy (or at least tone it down a little).  Like when attending a wedding.  Or on a date night.

So here are some things ultra runners can to do fit in a little better in a crowd. At least for a few hours.

1) Take off your Garmin. As much as you think it looks good, it may not go well with your cocktail dress or suit, and will be the surest sign of your true identity.

2) Replace said Garmin with a wide bangle or a watch not made of plastic to hide the tan line on your wrist.

3) Wear shoes that cover your toes.  Lost toe nails are a badge of honour for ultra runners, but look kinda gross to most other people.

4) Get a hair cut. Ladies, shave below your knees when you take off your high socks. Men, trim that beard.

5) Learn to cough or laugh loudly when your stomach grumbles.  You might need to laugh a lot, so hang around funny people.

6) Learn to hide how much and how often you eat.  There are many ways to do this. Hide food in your bag and sneak to the bathroom.  Eat super fast so that you can have seconds before anyone else finishes or notices. Hide extra roast beef and potatoes under a pile of salad. Better yet, eat before you go out.  Then your stomach won't grumble and you can have a second supper at a relaxed pace.

7) Girls. trade your bikini bottoms for board shorts or a swim skirt to hide your shorts tan lines.  Guys, run shirtless once in a while to avoid the farmers tan.

8) At least once per week, listen to the news and read movie reviews so that you can pretend that you are knowledgeable about something other than running (even though you don't care).

9) Stop talking about running.  And when asked how long you are running tomorrow, learn to either lie, or mean it when you say you are "just doing a short relaxing run" when you are really planning 20 miles.

10) Buy at least one outfit that is not poly-pro or merino wool.  And don't run in it.

An Ultra Runners Guide to Appearing Normal

(on that rare occasion when you want to)

Ultra Runners are used to being called crazy.  We are used to smelling like sweaty poly-pro and can spot a fellow ultra runner from miles away from the pack and high socks.  We proudly sport our trucker hats and can talk endlessly about our bucket list races and the features of our watches. However, on occasion the need might present itself to not sound annoying or crazy (or at least tone it down a little).  Like when attending a wedding.  Or on a date night.

So here are some things ultra runners can to do fit in a little better in a crowd. At least for a few hours.

1) Take off your Garmin. As much as you think it looks good, it may not go well with your cocktail dress or suit, and will be the surest sign of your true identity.

2) Replace said Garmin with a wide bangle or a watch not made of plastic to hide the tan line on your wrist.

3) Wear shoes that cover your toes.  Lost toe nails are a badge of honour for ultra runners, but look kinda gross to most other people.

4) Get a hair cut. Ladies, shave below your knees when you take off your high socks. Men, trim that beard.

5) Learn to cough or laugh loudly when your stomach grumbles.  You might need to laugh a lot, so hang around funny people.

6) Learn to hide how much and how often you eat.  There are many ways to do this. Hide food in your bag and sneak to the bathroom.  Eat super fast so that you can have seconds before anyone else finishes or notices. Hide extra roast beef and potatoes under a pile of salad.

7) Girls. trade your bikini bottoms for board shorts or a swim skirt to hide your shorts tan lines.  Guys, run shirtless once in a while to avoid the farmers tan.

8) At least once per week, listen to the news and read movie reviews so that you can pretend that you are knowledgeable about something other than running (even though you don't care).

9) Stop talking about running.  And when asked how long you are running tomorrow, learn to either lie, or mean it when you say you are "just doing a short relaxing run" when you are really planning 20 miles.

10) Buy at least one outfit that is not poly-pro or merino wool.  And don't run in it.

Fat Dog 120 - The Interlude

I can't believe its been nearly 2 months since I last posted!  Over the last 2 months I've basically been healing and recovering from the Grand Canyon 50 and did a hard training brick that had me peaking for the Fat Dog 70 this weekend.

My time spent on Vancouver Island the week after the Grand Canyon 50 was sublime.  It restored my soul and I was in a high from a race that left me with the endorphin kick of a lifetime.  Unfortunately, I felt so good that I overestimated my body's capacity and succeeded in mildly spraining my ankle during a run that week.  It didn't seem painful at all in the first several days, but obviously my body was stressed and didn't do well with more stress.  A little over and up on a root that I normally don't even think about turned into a painful lateral ankle sprain that took me over 4 weeks to recover from. With advice from my training partner and more patience than I am known to have,  I cut back on my mileage and allowed it to heal.

By the time I felt ready to tackle some big miles again, I had 3 weeks left for a hard block of training before I knew I would need to start tapering again for Fat Dog 70.  I did another napkin plan (see Self Doubt 2015) and got to work.

Riding Mountain - Kinosao Lake

I had booked a campsite at Riding Mountain National Park in January for the Canada Day weekend.  I had been told that if I wanted some elevation and good trails, that was the place to go in Manitoba.  So I told my family that we were going camping.  It was really a running trip disguised as a camping trip, but we didn't focus on that and instead focused on the great beach time, lol. I managed to get 40 (early) miles in that weekend with some nice climbing as well.  Riding Mountain is definitely a place we will be visiting again.

Wolf Print?

Riding Mountain - Whirlpool Lake

Over the past 3 weeks I have watched a LOT of sunrises and ran with my shadow for many miles.  I have glistened in the misty dew of hot humid mornings, and pounded out countless repeats on a short hill that gives me 2500' of gain over 5 miles in 120' increments.  I have slept in until 6:00am, and risen as early as 4:30 am, with 5:30 being average.  So average that I now wake at 4:45 thinking I slept in.

I have lost another few toe nails and made peace with my ugly feet.  And I have been systematically fine tuning my pack with the all the mandatory gear that we are required to carry for Fat Dog.  I'm thinking I'll be carrying a 10 pound pack with all water bottles full.  And I've been training with that and it's been taking it's toll.

So now is the time to start the most important part of the training process.  The recovery.  Letting all that stress on my system turn into strength.  Cell by cell, fiber by fiber, I am now rebuilding.  Stronger connective tissue.  Stronger muscles.  Stronger heart.  Stronger mind.  The work is done.  Time to let the magic happen.

Fat Dog will be my biggest test to date.  It's happening in the mountains that I can't wait to return to.  When I crest that first big climb, my mantra will echo Scott Jurek's, "this is what you came for."

4 weeks and counting!!!