Many On The Genny

I remember hearing about this race when it was first announced.  It sounded spectacular, all around the gorge in Letchworth Park!  But 40 miles?  That seemed really far.  My longest race so far was a 50k and that was enough for me.  Or so I thought.  While training for my second 50k, I had a very rough run.  I was planning on doing 18-20 miles but felt so beat up after 12 that I actually took the road, instead of trail, back to my car.  I was filled with self doubt.  I began thinking about some of my running friends I had shared the first half of my miles with and hearing about their experiences.  50 miles, 100k, 99 miles, 100 miles.  Races that went on for 24 hours or more.  I'm not sure if it was an attempt to punish myself, or just a "suck it up Buttercup" moment, but I went home, showered, and on that cold October morning, committed to my longest race ever.  I signed up for Many on the Genny. 

Talking about it was easy.  Training for it was challenging.  The race itself?  A beautiful day in the park. 

Leading up to the race, I studied the map, time cutoffs, parking guidelines, and read everything I could to learn what exactly would happen on June 24.  I was familiar with the second half of the course, but had no clue about the first 20 miles, and was intrigued by the numbered trails scattered between a well traveled road and a menacing gorge.  I joined some friends on a preview run a few weeks before the race.  We explored 20 miles of hills, streams, road crossings, and breathtaking views.  My confidence grew and I knew I could do this. 

Race morning.  Up at 4 am to prepare for the day ahead.  Standing around the start line, I remarked how wide awake I felt for it not even being 6 am yet!  So many of my friends were here, either to run, volunteer, organize, or support this day.  Then we were off!  the first two "mystery miles" took us up the road with the sun shining in front of us.  We then turned and entered the woods, where we would spend the majority of the day.I saw the familiar trails from the preview- the same roots, rocks, mud, slopes, climbs, and descents. Mentally, I broke the race up into two parts, the first 20 miles and the second 20 miles.  The miles passed.  I went through the aid stations, with the nicest volunteers a runner could ask for!  They greeted us with a willingness to fill empty bottles, feed us, even cook for us!  At the halfway point, race 1 ended and race 2 began.  Volunteers flocked around the runners, offering to fill our water and bring us food.  One was kind enough to help me re-pin my bib when I changed into a clean shirt.  I love these people and hope I can be like them someday, so selfless and giving!  They really know exactly what a runner needs.  Seeing my friends and the energy at the aid station made me temporarily forget my plan.  I managed to change my shirt, but didn't replenish any of my personal food that I had eaten (there was not that much) and I forgot to switch to the caffeinated Tailwind that I had packed.  I turned to exit and head back out on the trails, but did a 180 after a few steps.  The kind volunteers asked me what was wrong, I said, I forgot my Ipod!  I knew a little music for the last 20 miles might help me through the low spots I was sure to hit.  With that stowed away in my pocket, I was once again, off.

These next few miles were the only part of the course I hadn't previewed.  I was a little worried, but ended up heading out with a friend of mine who is a very experienced ultra-runner.  She talked about struggling to find the way down and across the bridge during her preview, after someone with good intentions accidentally told her to go back up the steps (going up and down those steps more than once?  Unthinkable!)  but with that knowledge, she led me down the correct path, barely glancing at the well-placed flags. As she went ahead of me, I meandered over the next few miles, taking some pictures, thinking about how awful it felt to be running 20+ miles.  There was a short stretch on a gravel road through some cabins that was mentally very difficult.  I glanced at my watch, frustrated at how little distance had passed.  I knew I must continue so I trudged on.  I came to a trailhead that went back into the woods- almost straight up.  I climbed to the top of this peak and met some youths hiking.  They mentioned something about a 40 mile race, to which I replied, "yes, I am at mile 22".  Their jaws dropped and I continued on.  The trail evened out and got quite pretty.  When I finally made it to the true yellow Finger Lakes Trail, a wave of peace swept over me.  I know this trail, I love this trail!  It was like visiting an old friend.  I perked up and knew I would make it to the finish line.  If it took the rest of the day, I was fine with that.  In my trail runner's heart, I was home.
I realized walking the remainder of the miles wasn't a feasible option so I made a deal with myself; I would run any portion that was runnable and hike the rest.  My definition of "runnable" at this point was quite loose.  The smallest bit of mud, roots, rocks, incline, decline, or semi-questionable footing was determined to be "un-runnable".  Despite this inclusive criteria, some of the trail was still runnable.  I knew I wasn't breaking any land-speed records, but it was slightly faster forward progress and I was satisfied with that.  Over the next 18 miles, I went through the criteria before I took a walk break.  Can I run this?  Yes?  Then do it!  No?  Ok, walk.  But as soon as you can run...  I watched my minutes per mile slowly creep down to a pace that more closely reflected a brisk hike instead of a death march. 
Around mile 23, I started dreaming of the next aid station.  Not necessarily because I was running low on supplies, but because I knew my friends would be there.  They would have food, and laughs, and maybe even hugs! The thought of seeing them made me push forward.  My legs were starting to ache.  Nothing crazy, but finding a way to soothe them would sure make the miles easier.  At mile 25, I came to a stream flowing briskly over the shale.  That's right, we did get some rain last night!  This stream looked like a good place to rest my legs.  I found a ledge to sit on and let the cool water work it's magic!  that felt wonderful!  As much as I wanted to lounge there for quite a bit longer, I slowly stood up and pressed on.  I reinstated my runnable/non-runnable rule and made it the rest of the way to the aid station.  It was a true Hawaiian Oasis in the middle of the woods!  Tropical shirts, hula skirts, bright colors and smiles was just what myself I'm sure other runners needed to push on. 
I had reached the goal I had previously set- making it to Aid Station 4 before I turned on my music.  As I slowly walked away from my friends, wishing I could stay, I secured my earbuds and headed out.  The peppy pop songs on this playlist would help keep me going, maybe even make me want to dance!

Not really checking the map at this point, I pushed on, hearing from other runners that it was a long stretch to the last aid station.  I ran what I could, drank some water and ate some of the fuel I had packed.  My body was tired.  In retrospect, proper fueling is going to be my focus for my next long distance adventure.  My legs didn't feel that bad, but the rest of me was exhausted.  I was in that beautiful daze where stumps start looking like woodland creatures and shadows circle around you; wood nymphs and fairies no doubt!  As interesting and distracting as these mild hallucinations were, better fueling seems like a more sustainable method.  Mental note for next time. 

Onward I meandered.  Ticking away the minutes, miles, gullies.  I found a few more streams that were inviting to my tired legs.  At one particularly flowing creek, I met some mountain bikers going in the opposite direction.  I am sure they were warned that these woods would be filled with disoriented runners,so they kindly paused and waited for me to cross.  Much to their surprise, I walked downstream and slowly lowered myself onto the rocks.  Puzzled, they said, "we may splash you", I smiled and replied, "Please do!" 
I think they also crossed paths with a friend of mine doing something similar, so I'm sure they now know that trail runners are also crazy stream sitters and in the future will let us be. 

The miles went on.  The streams turned to mud.  I caught up to some people and was passed by others.  Man, I wish I had that energy right now, good for them!  My watch started giving me the "Low Battery" warning around mile 34.  It had only done this once before and I couldn't remember how long it actually lasted after that.  I was sad that I would lose some of this journey.  Regardless, I would complete it.  I was told the next aid station was less than 5 miles from the finish so I started looking for it.  I crossed a blue offshoot trail that was familiar to me, and thinking it would be a good place to bring down aid, got excited.  Friends, food, maybe even beer ahead!  I turned a corner and there was no one.  I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.  Where were they?  Maybe around the next corner?  It was too silent.  I wondered how much crying would dehydrate a person at this stage in the game.  Down and up the next gully, there was something off the side of the trail.  Giant blue jugs labelled "drop water"  (or something like that, I was pretty out of it at that point).  Not wanting to miss an opportunity, I clumsily figured out how to remove the cap and fill my handheld.  Another runner and I questioned if this was the last aid station; I said it couldn't be, the last aid station is going to be a crazy party, I know those guys and they wouldn't leave early! 
Back to continuous forward motion.  I chanted my mantra to myself,  each step is one closer to the finish line.  You can do this!  Keep moving forward!  Later I thought about how hard it must've been to carry all those containers of water there.  They were heavy and the trail was not easy to navigate.  Next I wondered if that water was really for us, and how trusting we are to drink from strange containers that appeared in the middle of nowhere.  Oh well, it was delicious water! 

My Low Battery indicator blocked much of the data I was interested in from my watch so unfortunately I no longer had that to push me forward.  I made it to the last aid station and saw more of my friends.  High fives, smiles, and bags of ice!  As I entered the aid station and they asked what I wanted, the only thing I could think of was BEER!!!  Someone handed me what I am assuming was their personal beer that was just opened as it was still very full and in a can.  I drank half of it and passed the rest to the next runner coming through who surprisingly (yeah, right?) asked for the same thing.  I headed out of the aid station and noticed something.  While I was alone for much of the middle of the race, I was now near other runners.  We were clustering together as we made the journey of a few more miles to the finish line.  I'm not sure if it was the waxing and waning energy levels, the fact that we had someone to talk to, or maybe just the reassurance that if I collapsed here and now, at least  there would be someone around to call for help.  Whatever the reason, I was not alone those final few miles.  The trail at this point was very familiar and I looked for the landmarks I knew, estimating how much farther it would be, as my watch had finally died.  The path was not that technical but I still managed to find and trip over every tiny root and rock.  Flying through the air and catching yourself at the last moment before you face plant into a tree or the ground has a strange way of simultaneously spiking your adrenaline and sapping all of your energy.  Walked a few more steps until my confidence recovered and the trail became runnable again. 
I exited the trail head and rounded the parking lot to the finish line.  I crossed, received high fives, hugs, tears, and a swag bag.  I sat down, that felt so good!  While one of my friends cooked me a veggie burger, I stretched and took a deep breath. I was done.  I did it!  40 miles, finish time of 10:49! 

I consider myself a very average runner.  I am not fast, nor exceptionally slow.  I am proud to be average.  Running does not come naturally to me and it has never been easy.  There are days I struggle with every step on a 2 mile run.  I wonder why I do this.  What is the point, is it worth it? This moment when I crossed the finish line, I answered that question.  Yes, it is.  It is worth the hours training, the highs and lows, the pain, recovery, struggle.  I did something that just 3 years ago, I would never have imagined I would be strong enough to accomplish.  I finished Many on the Genny. 

Streaking

One item that I've been wanting to check off my running bucket list for some time was a sustained running streak- at least one mile every day for a certain period of time.  Given the crazy things I have signed myself up for in 2017 and trying not to freak out as I think about what it will take to get me there, I decided to nail this challenge down.  If I'm going to be the strongest, best runner I can possibly be this year, setting goals and sticking to them will help cultivate that discipline that I will rely on to get me to the finish line when my mind and body have checked out.  For the month of February, the shortest month of the year, I vowed to myself that I would do just that- run at least one mile a day for the duration of the month.

The running streak was always something that intrigued me.  I like the thought of doing something consistently, every day, and making it a habit.  But running?  That sounds like a lot of work.  Hard work.  Until now, my own personal record was 16 days.  This year, however, is going to be different.  If I want to improve, I must push farther than I've gone before.  I need to beat my toughest opponent, myself.
So I made a quiet promise to myself- no matter what, I was going to streak through February.

The month started out with much potential.  I had friends to run with, and as a last resort, my treadmill at home.  February 1, I met up with a group to knock out a few miles.  February 2 was a bit of a challenge.  I taught kickboxing in the evening, which is usually my workout for the day.  Instead of showering and putting on my PJs as soon as I got home, I jumped on the treadmill and completed my mile.  Success!  The next evening, Friday, I did a few laps around the backyard to equal about a mile and rested up to prepare for the following day.  Oh yeah... February 4.  The Cast a Shadow 6 hour relay/solo race.

One of the things I decided to try this winter was joining a formal racing/training team, something I have never done before.  Since it would take place over the cold, snowy months, it was a snowshoe team.  Unfortunately, Mother Nature did not cooperate with us this season so nights where we dreamed of fluffy, cleated tracks were instead replaced with water and mud.  Nevertheless, the team was a great group of people to run and socialize with.
Part of the team experience was encouraging us to sign up for a winter snowshoe racing series.  I enjoy snowshoeing and racing with my friends so I signed up for each race of the series.  The third was an annual event based loosely on whether or not Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow; yes and the six hour race ended exactly at 6 hours, no and participants were allowed to finish their final lap as long as they started it before the 6 hour cutoff.  Of course I signed up.  And because assembling a team of 2 other friends to trade off with seemed like a lot of work, I signed up for the 6 hour solo race.

Race day approached.  This was the my first experience with a race that was based on time and not distance.  2.5 mile loops for 6 hours.  I could either run at a relaxed pace, hang out in the lodge and visit with my friends, or push myself and see what kind of distance I could reach in 6 hours.  I chose the latter.  A marathon distance was 11 loops.  If I averaged 2 loops an hour, this was a more than achievable goal.  I plodded on, stopping quickly for food or to use the restroom, and one longer break around lap 7 to prepare for the setting sun and cooler temps.  With temperatures peaking near 20 Fahrenheit, losing the sunlight and warmth would have an impact on a sweaty, tired body that had been wearing the same layers all day.  My friends who had run this race in the past advised me that the twilight hours would be toughest and to prepare for dropping temperatures.  I changed into dry outer layers, added an extra pair of tights, donned my headlamp, and set out to complete the last 4 laps.  I will admit, the last 2 were not pretty; my body was tired and the packed snow and ice caused my lower back muscles to tighten to a most uncomfortable state.  But the notion of a prize was dangled before me; run, walk, or crawl, I would earn this token!  I did finish 11 laps in roughly 6 hours, 23 minutes, including the time I spent in the lodge.  The prize was a very nice fleece throw with the Goose Adventure Racing logo (the company that produced the race) on it.  I was quite pleased with this.  After the awards ceremony and time with good friends, I headed home.  We parted ways with a plan to meet in the morning and run a few miles together.

I have heard of "recovery runs" and honestly, this is not something that I ever believed in.  How could running possibly help your body recover when it is sore, fatigued, and in agony from running a ridiculous number of miles the day before?  Surely sitting as still as possible under a cozy fleece blanket would be a much more effective way to recover from a race.  But it was only February 5, and I was going to try my hardest to actually carry through with this running streak.  So I took my time with my morning routine, did some yoga, and kept my plans to meet my friends at 11 for our "recovery run".  Thankfully, most had participated in the same race I had the day before, either solo or as a relay, and were feeling the day's miles that morning.  We commiserated through 4 miles of one of our favorite trails, taking our time and walking when it became necessary.  Although it was tough to get started and quite painful, I did feel better after running.  My muscles had loosened up a bit and the soreness wasn't as intense.  I headed home with thoughts of eating and lounging for the rest of the day, and of course, watching the last football game of the season.

The next day, 2 days post-marathon, I woke up not nearly as sore as I thought I would be.  Other than some residual aches, the previous Saturday's torture was now a distant, fond memory.  I had been converted, the recovery run works miracles!!!

Because I have friends that are smarter and more experienced than me, especially when it comes to running, I listen and try to learn from the wisdom they share.  A good friend of mine who also has a hectic schedule, and has been keeping a run streak for 6 plus months, shared with me her method of running 1-2 miles in the morning or however many she has time for before work, and getting in a few evening miles as well when her schedule permitted.  I really liked this idea.  This is what I would try next, early morning runs!  For me, this meant waking up around 5 am, letting out and feeding my 2 dogs & 2 cats, while donning my running clothes and shoes to get in a quick 15 minute run on the treadmill before showering and getting ready for work.  So early that Monday, I stumbled out of bed to carry out the aforementioned routine.  As I laced up my shoes, I wondered if the noise of the treadmill would disturb my still sleeping husband; guess I will find out momentarily!  Thankfully, it did not.  I learned that as much as I love sleeping until the last possible second, I loved getting up and cranking out those 15 minutes even more.  I felt accomplished, energized, inspired, and was in a better mood for the rest of the day.  My lofty goal of doing this every single morning wavered as the weeks went on, especially if I had a particularly exhausting hill or speed workout the night before, but I will do what I can and try to keep Monday morning runs at the very least.  My long term goal is to get up early enough to run 2-3 miles before work as I get closer to race date(s).

There were times I wanted a break, times I wanted to quit, and times when I wondered if that one mile was truly worth it.  I stuck to it through the whole month and am still going.  I am not sure how long I will keep up my running streak.  Today being day 33, I still am unsure if this is the way to accomplish my goals.  At some point, this streak will end, and I will embrace all it has taught me about myself, my body, and running in general.  Whether it's just experimental, or something that turns into a lifestyle, I would recommend giving a running streak a try.  You may surprise yourself.