My Dancing Queen

This post is dedicated to my friend Joe... 

February 16, 1980 - August 18, 2012

The animal lover:

The cross dresser:

Lover of women:

Fashionista:
Yes, his shirt says "I heart Strippers"

Some assholes playing gangster games Friday night into Saturday morning resulted in his untimely death. 

Having never experienced death of someone without warning I'm figuring out how to deal with the mourning, the grief stages all while holding on to every piece of time spent with this person in the last couple years. Joe and I went to high school together and started our college educations at American River College. I would often laugh in total disbelief at the vivid memories he had of our conversations from ARC. I don't know if I just have a really bad memory or perhaps he was just able to recall more than me because he is much brighter than me. Sometimes I just plain thought he was making it up. 

I was lucky to receive a friend request on Facebook from Joe in December 2010 - I accepted and he asked me to join him for dancing. I put off the invitation for several weeks mostly due to my own shyness and not knowing how to dance. He assured me he would come over and teach me the moves before we went out to blues dancing at the local Firehouse 5. He came over with a bottle of wine to help with the confidence (liquid courage) and then taught me the basic steps of Blues. He made it easy, so easy that when he told me I was a natural I believed him. 

One thing was for sure that evening, I fell in love with dancing Joe. On the dance floor watching him move with other women (and men) I was absolutely gawking. I've never seen anyone move with such grace, style and sexuality (in flip flops!). By the end of the night we were all drenched with sweat and I was starving. Joe was kind to escort me to Burgers and Brew - it had to be close to 11pm and a Sunday night! This was very unlike me to be out so late and on top of that eating grilled cheese sandwiches and french fries. We spoke of relationships, his dancing community and running. I knew instantly that this was a different person from high school. The high school/college Joe I knew was very quiet and didn't say a whole lot. In fact, I think I just found him a bit odd. Not in a bad, creepy way but in an intriguing what-is-going-on-in-his-head sort of way. 

Joe and I quickly became friends and had a few adventures that I'm grateful for. Tree climbing, trampoline jumping, swing/salsa dancing for crowds, staying up way past my bedtime. He put me through a track workout that had me walking funny for 2 days and then we'd gorge at Mark and Monica's pizza.

Through all these things I learned more about Joe than one does knowing someone for years and years. He had that kind of open, infectious personality that left you energetic after spending time with him. 

There is no saving grace in a situation like this. So I'm just going to say that I'm grateful I had the privilege of knowing him and sharing/exchanging thoughts with him while I had the chance. I will miss his charisma and I'm not too sure that he could have lived his life any fuller in his 32 years. 

Miss you. 

Western States Recap - Part 2 - The Best Pacer. Ever.

Part 2 - 10:30PM


Read Part 1


After the 30 mile slog fest of Safety Patrol I went to my moms to take a shower and mentally prepare myself for pacing duties. I hit a low. I tried napping with no success because I was stressed about making sure I would get Florida Dave, and myself, to the finish line in under 24 hours. I had chafing on my back from my sports bra and dirt embedded into my skin and underneath my toenails.


My runner had to be in worse shape than me since he would have 50 more miles on his legs but I couldn't convince myself that I was going to keep up with him. I envisioned him pushing me more than me pushing him. Around 5pm my mom pumped me full of red sauced noodles and parm and I was revived (I'm noticing a trend here...) I was spunky to the point that I was already talking about pacing Florida Dave for his 4th and final 100 miler for the season, the Wasatch 100 (Florida Dave is nuts. He's going for the Grand Slam this year. Four 100 milers within a month of each other. Did I mention he was nuts?)


By the time I was shuttled to the Green Gate walking entrance, I thought I had about 20 minutes or so until my runner and his first pacer, TJ, would arrive. I was wrong. 


I waited...and waited... He was due at the river crossing at 9:30 (excellent time for a sub 24). The river crossing, once through the waist high, cold river, is about 1.5 from the Green Gate so when it approached 10:15 I decided to mosey on down to the river. I hadn't done this yet because I was reluctant to add another 3 miles to my total of 50 for the day. But I was cold and I needed to see what the heck was going on down there. I was genuinely starting to get worried for him. As I approached the bottom of the hill I spotted the Dave and TJ. "Dave!" I shouted excitedly. I got a high five which was followed by a "WALK A LITTLE FASTER, TJ!". We were power walking up this hill and Dave was crackin the whip on TJ. I saw his agitation immediately and all too quickly assumed that the next 4-5 hours of my life were going to be hell. Dave seemed like a nice guy when we were running that trainer together...maybe he turns into a barking beast when he's in game face mode. Whatever. This was his day and I was in for the bludgeoning verbal abuse if that's what was in store for me. 


Me: I have your duffle at the top
Dave: Oh good, I need a Boost. TJ, is there a Boost in the duffle? 
TJ: Tyler, is there a Boost in the duffle? Did you grab one from the cooler?
Me: Err.. you just told me to grab the duffle, TJ... 
Dave: TJ, is there a boost in the duffle?
TJ: I don't know, Dave
Dave: Why don't you know, TJ? 


It went on like this for a few minutes. They reminded me of 2 siblings having a go at each other because they've been sitting in a car for too long together. 


We reached Green Gate, changed headlamp batteries, stocked up and headed out. There was about 1/4 of warmish Boost left in the duffle and like any good sport, Dave took what fate had given him and was OK with that. I saw him snacking on a few things at aid and was happy that I wouldn't have to be watching his caloric intake too much at this point. He still seemed to be stomaching things OK.


From here on Dave and I fell into a nice groove real quick. I stayed in front and ran on the descents, flats and short climbs and power walked the long hills. We got into a mode of reaching a climb, 5 second walk, run again. He would say "Okay, walk" or "Okay, run". The last 10 miles these audible "Okays" turned into grunts and moans. He never once cried or whined and I'm proud of him for that. 


Mile 10 - 15 or somewhere thereabouts was rough for me. We were both quiet and just getting through it. We reached part of the Quarry Road and I felt myself starting to fall asleep (yes, while running). I've read about this happening to people before. You just start to zone out. We were still keeping good pace though. I knew if I could keep us under 15 minute miles we'd be well under 24 hours and we were pushing typically a 11-13 minute pace (unless we were power hiking a hill). 


We reached HWY 49 at I have no idea what time but TJ was there, with Boost, and really excitable: "You guys keep gaining time on the 24 hour mark! You're doing great!" I've ran this section of HWY 49 to no hands bridge at least half a dozen times and I was really looking forward to the descent (that you have to climb to get to). As soon as we toed down the descent I couldn't really see that well. My light was starting to dim already and my footing wasn't great; Dave took the lead and bounded down that hill like a gazelle. He called back to make sure I was fine and I was. I just couldn't see too well so I took it easy on that hill and told myself I'd catch up with him at that aid station. But I didn't see him there. I ran straight past aid yelling, "I LOST MY RUNNER" and I was running as fast as I could to catch him. I passed about 3 or 4 other runners telling me "You go get 'em!" like I was the runner... I didn't correct them. 


Right past No Hands I looked off to the right and saw 2 eyes peering directly at me. Shit. I immediately stopped in my tracks. I knew there were 2 runners about 40 feet behind me. I don't know why this put me at ease. I guess knowing that people would at least witness my being mauled by a mountain lion made me calm. I looked again to the right and tried to make it out. Just a deer. Run.

I ran as fast as my eyes would let me. My vision got really funky. I got this "tunnel vision" going on where there was just a black outlined circle directly in front of my face and everything else was dark. I'm still not sure if this had to do with my headlamp going dim or having not slept for about 26 hours. I would never forgive myself if Dave was able to actually get so far ahead of me that I couldn't catch him. Finally I looked up and saw someone, alone, up ahead. 


Me: Dave is that YOU?
Dave: TYLERRRR! 
Me: You think I'm gonna let you get away from me when you've ran 50 more miles than me today?! 


Just after I caught up to him we saw the lights start creeping up from Robie Point. The coolest thing about this race is the support. Volunteers drag generators to the middle of nowhere (namely aid station somewhere around mile 88) and blast music and have a plethora of Christmas lights inviting you in (only to shove you out 3 minutes later). Robie Point is mile 98.8 or so. I looked at my watch. "Dave! You have 25 minutes to run 1 mile to be sub 23!!"


Right about here we see TJ and run the final mile. This is Dave's first time doing Western States AND his first time running a sub 23 100 miler. Not too shabby. 
                             
                  Here is Dave looking more spry than his 2 pacers

Western States Recap - Part 1 - Safety Patrol

Saturday, June 23rd, 2012                          Above: Me and my fearless driver/dog watching mom


Part 1 - 1:00AM


We woke at 1am after about 2 hours of solid sleep (due to my crazy chihuahua~this is the wrath I deal with living downtown and having 6lbs of fury who doesn't like the drunkards walking past the house on Friday/Saturday nights). Everything was packed the night before from a list I had delicately laid out days ahead. I would never be this organized had I not agreed to pace a new friend the last 20 miles of WS100. Apparently when I have someone relying on me I am capable of taking it to the next level. A quick stop to pick up my mom who agreed to be crew/dog watcher/driver and we headed up the hill to Squaw for our pacing duties (the first 30 miles of WS course). 


The way to Squaw it started storming. The heavy kind of rain where you have to slow down because you can't see 10 feet ahead of you. It must have been my lack of sleep that made me so blasé about the whole thing. Meanwhile, Kevin is in the back seat stressing out about finding garbage bags to cover himself with/making it there in time to get our safety patrol items/heart rate spikes/etc. etc. Such is normal before an event and I've come to appreciate it as it makes me appear the calm and calculated half. 


We made it to Squaw around 4:20am and picked up our plastic baggy of gauze, ointment, band-aids and an extra large red SAFETY PATROL t-shirt (hey just my size!) My mom made an 80's knot on the backside for a snug fit.    

                                  Here we are! Ready to save lives! 26 minutes to start!

                   
        
                                 


We started climbing up the hill with 2 other safety patrolers to get a head start on the runners. It was dark and the higher we got up the mountain the windier it got. WS starts with a nice little climb of 2,200+ feet up to Emigrant Pass within the first 3.75 miles of the start. By the time we reached the first aid station around 4 miles or so it was starting to hail and gusts of wind were coming at speeds liable to knock someone my size right over. I buried my head down and kept on climbing. Thoughts were something like "I want my mom, I miss my dogs, why the hell did I get out of bed for this..." Upon reaching the summit Kevin wanted to empty the debris from his shoes and take a photo. Normally I'd be OK with this but when I'm sucking wind and keeping my legs a good 4 feet wide so that I don't become a rescuee, this idea wasn't all too pleasing, "HURRY UP". I couldn't feel my fingers and the glory of running the first 30 miles as safety patrol was starting to turn into a slog already at mile 5. 




Feeling Fresh Again with Glenn Misono!

By the time we made it to Red Star (mile 15 and some 4+ hours later **yes, I said 4 HOURS for 15 MILES**) I was shivering and the volunteer must have noticed I wasn't doing all to well because he guided me directly to the hot chicken broth. This changed my life. I was ready to go out and save someone again. It was at this point one fellow from Sweden was dropping. We had a good chat up to the aid station and he was a veteran of the race. He'd flown all the way from Sweden and dropped at 15 miles because his "head just wasn't in it today".... 

Looking around I could see I was one of very few people somewhat dressed for this kind of weather. Most people were in shorts and little shirts, no gloves and no water proof gear. Little clothing is typically what weather calls for in this race. I heard several times that this was first time it was hailing. They were these little pellet size hail that even my hat couldn't keep from smacking me. It felt like someone throwing ice cold gravel in your face. Those manning the aid station at Devil's Thumb said they had so much left over ice they had to throw it out! As rough as this weather was it eventually led to the male and female record being crushed! 


Another 3 hours and we were heading up the final 4 miles up to Robinson Flat. This was so beautiful but I was dead tired. I was going on that delirium where something not so funny makes you laugh like a drunk at his own jokes. This is great for Kevin because he becomes a comedian when I approach this inebriated state. Looking around I was starting to feel like Alice in Wonderland, no really. 

We came in with the back of the packers, as planned, about 30 minutes before cutoff at Robinson Flat. We had been on our feet for over 8 hours ensuring safety. The only thing we came across was a dude taking a pee in the bushes who had left his bottle out for someone to wait for him. Thankfully, no rescuing was needed. Runners are tough, especially runners that embark on 100 miles. Typically if something is going wrong, mentally or physically, they know what the ailment and cure is. Beyond 30 miles though its a bit trickier as runners tend to forget who they are and why the hell they are running the middle of the night. More on that in Part 2.

The Western States 100 is upon us

There is a definite buzz in my head in anticipation of the upcoming weekend. I must have learned of the Western States 100 not more than a year ago. I probably didn't think much of it at the time (other than "wow, humans can run 100 miles?")  and yet, here I will experience a good portion of it this Saturday thanks to Kevin and newly made ultra-runner friend, Dave from Florida. 


Our Saturday will start around 2am when my mom (good sport as she is) drives me and Kevin up to Squaw Valley for the 5am start of the 30 hour race. Kevin's dentist runs the safety patrol for this race and graciously Kevin and I offered (mine was more of a beg) our leg's services. Glenn was more than happy knowing that Kevin was now an Ironman and capable of the duties necessary for the task. 


We will run about 30 miles in the mid-back pack of runners to ensure safety (imagine that!) Thankfully Glenn didn't require references as to the quality of my nursing skills... This will be my first time running at this altitude and my first time on this part of the course. I will most definitely stop for photo ops and I'm giddy at the thought of watching these crazy bastards (I can say that because I wish I was one of them). 


After 8 or so hours I hope for food and ice. Because 20 more miles will ensue around 10pm or so when Florida Dave gets to Green Gate. I met Florida Dave on day 2 of the WS training runs Memorial weekend. I fell into my groove early on..and Dave ended up behind me. We got to chatting, as you do, and I learned that Dave flew out from Florida for the 3 day trainers before the debauchery that was to take place this weekend. Well, apparently I was good at faking it because Dave thinks I'm strong enough to pull off 50 miles within a 24 hour period without the same muck that took place at AR50.... I hope Dave doesn't have the sappy story of "I had to drop my pacer back there because she's crying and vomiting on herself". Dave, if you do, I apologize up front. Because if this does happen, I'll probably be cursing you at the time. 

DNF club

As was said on Sunday by a fellow runner: "Well everyone has to have 1 DNF, you just got yours out of the way!" I hope this is true because I never want to experience that walk of shame again. Everything was going great. The trail was sufficiently tough but I was getting through it. Even the extra loop the 50K'ers had to do was an enjoyable slog. I was running up the hills, slowly, and cruising the descents. I felt my ITB start to flare up a bit around mile 12 or so. I ignored it. In the past I've experienced this before and sometimes it does go away as with most aches and pains that come with distance running. For example, the beginning of the race the lateral of my right foot was talking a bit. This is something I've had come and go since spraining my ankle over a year ago. But it warmed up and a couple miles later I didn't feel a thing. This was not the case for the ITB. It spoke and then it yelled. And then I talked myself into pushing just till the aid. Got there, filled my water and as soon as I walked on my knee did the buckle it does when there is the stabbing pain of the ITB. A new friend, Joe, I had been playing leap frog with noticed this immediately and asked if I was OK... "um.. the ITB is talking". He used it as an excuse to walk for a bit. He took off and I followed suit lagging behind. It was a climb and typically the ITB doesn't scream when climbing.. It had gone into a light manageable whisper. I climbed for maybe mile and then the 6 mile descent began. As soon as I tipped forward the knee had that ice pick jabbing sensation on the side and I yelled a 4 letter word through the trees. I kept going hoping it would go away but it didn't subside. I stepped on a root sticking out of the ground and rolled my left ankle (thankfully trail running has acclimated my ankles to such stress) and there went another 4 letter word down the mountainside... By this time my state was succumbing to the pain and I started questioning whether or not I wanted to hobble the next 6 miles to the next aid station or walk back 2 miles from the aid from where I just came. 


I stopped and took out my phone, turned it on and not surprisingly there was no signal. I started thinking about Kevin waiting for me and my sub-5 attempt. At that point a sub-5 was already not manageable but had my ITB been OK perhaps sub-5:30 would have been do-able. I started playing a risk vs. reward scenario in my head. I have another 50K planned this Saturday, that I never intended on "racing" and the following Saturday is the much anticipated safety patrol for Western States. Safety patrol is priority for me at this point. 


I walked a bit more down the hill but it was screaming and so I made the decision to turn around and start walking back the 2 mile walk of shame to aid. I've been playing a game in my head ever since. If I would have just walked it out for 10 minutes, would it have enabled me to keep pushing with a walk/jog to the finish. The answer is, of course, yes I could have done that. It would have been painful but I would have finished what I started. I guess I find solace in that being that its Tuesday and I'm still walking funny and have symptoms of ITBS, perhaps DNF'ing stopped me from doing further damage. I see the Healer, Dr. Chu, today to get the deep tissue work over I need and hopefully a motivating pep talk on how to proceed. If I must, I'll drop the 50K to a 25K this weekend and make it a slow enjoyable run. 

The good in all of this is that the next time I blast a 50K it will be all that more fulfilling. 

I'm back!

What I've been up to: 

Last weekend consisted of hiking Mt. Tallac in Tahoe. I'm thankful to Kevin for introducing me to hiking, something I had never done before (why hike when I can run?) I thought hiking would be a light workout, something pale in intensity on the workout scale when compared with running. That is, until, I lost the hiking trail on my way up Tallac and found myself bouldering up the side of a mountain! The three of us that broke off the group included Jacob, a 12 year old, myself & a man named Brian, who had hiked Tallac a number of times but was his first time in about a year. 


On the way up Tallac Jacob had mentioned he had hiked Half Dome before. He is definitely tougher and stronger than the average 12 year old. Knowing Jeffrey, his dad and person responsible for the trip to Tallac, it must be good genes! As soon as we started with the bouldering Jacob took off up the mountain. I kept turning around and asking Brian if we were going the right direction, "is this the correct trail??" while grasping with all muscles of my fingers clenched around the protruding rock. "I can't tell from this angle" he responded a few times before I figured as long as we were going up we would eventually summit. 


About 4.5 miles and 2.5 hours later Jacob and I were enjoying views from the tippy top of 9700+ feet Mt. Tallac. Jacob expressed he had never bouldered anything like that before. He has an adventurous future ahead of him. 


The following day I was cycling around the massive Lake Tahoe that I, even at 9700 feet, could not completely wrap my eyes around. It seemed a bit more daunting from that angle. My mom and I successfully completed the ride in around 5 hours (riding time) and could not have asked for more gorgeous weather. Previous years were not so lucky.


Tomorrow brings about the long awaited Skyline to Sea 50K which I hope to break 5 hours. I have not been on a training regimen since CIM last year. I'm enjoying the break from being on a dedicated plan and I find that I enjoy running enough that I don't necessarily require a plan to complete the races I sign up for. However, not being on a specific plan does leave me nervous about finishing a race with a time goal in mind. I didn't even look at the pace that would be necessary to break 5 hours until this morning. While not impossible, an average 9:30 pace will be difficult..but then again, that's the point, isn't it? The Western States 100 training runs (day 1, namely) had enough descending to amp up my quads to take a licking tomorrow. And a recently discovered hill in Folsom, thanks to a new runner-old friend of mine, has me slogging up hills, not fast but with ample speed to keep an overall descent pace. 


I figured this morning with an 18 week training plan, thanks to the one in the back of Dean Karnazas' 50/50, my journey for a Boston Qualifying CIM will begin end of July. There will be lots of tweaks to this plan. The first "long" run starts out with 7 miles, which I've been gladly doing and then some a couple times during the week. Most importantly will probably be doing the 2x/week speed work. 1 interval workout and 1 tempo workout. Fellow runner and friend, Derrick, recently joined Buffalo Chips and speaks highly of the speed workouts he's been doing with the group. I think I will follow his footsteps there and join sometimes in August.


Until the more intense speed workouts begin, I will fancy myself doing races/rides with nothing more than finding peace and pleasure within them. This race is calling my name and although I haven't signed up yet... I have a feeling these 50 miles will see me: 


http://www.insidetrail.com/ai1ec_event/trail-endurance-challenge/?instance_id= 


10,000 feet of climbing sounds like a good sufferfest! I hope the next couple weeks will lead me to a wise decision on this. 

Running funk(y)?

Recovering from AR50 has been pretty breezy physically but mentally has been a bit more of a challenge. It may be because of the stomach issue or it could be that I don't really have a "schedule" in front of me... So I signed up for the Skyline to Sea 50K to give me a goal... I'd like to break 5:00 and I think I can given that its mostly downhill and the climbing is about half that of Way too Cool. 


I like that I'm starting to get to a point in my running life that says I don't need a schedule to get out there and run. It makes running a bit more casual and fun. And I know that even though I don't have a race i'm training for I can still get out there and do speed work and long runs because of the pure joy of it. (That and I've gained 2 pounds since AR50 and I'd really like to lose those...)


I'd like to start encouraging people who like to run but don't really have a goal in site to get out there and maybe if they have someone with them it will help. I'd like to see my friend Eli do his first half marathon and perhaps Kevin do his first marathon. And if I can assist in training or running it with them I would be honored. I like to see people make breakthroughs in their current physical condition. Its huge. We're so much more capable than we think. As long as one trains smart (and not too hard, too much, too fast) there really is no limit. The limit comes first mentally than it does physically, in my opinion. These mental breakthroughs allow us to learn more about ourselves and that might be one of the reasons why were are here on planet earth...right? 


Ending on the philosophical note, I'd like to add this: