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The idea percolated for weeks until it was full-strength: I would celebrate my 40th birthday with a family fun run in Oregon. No need for birthday cake, candles or elaborate food. Instead, there would be custom race bibs, swag bags, and medals for each finisher. And, as with all the best events, a great course would be essential.

I decided to return to the scene of one of my favorite road marathons (oh, I have so many favorites!) on the Vernonia-Banks Oregon State Trail. Click here to read about the Vernonia Marathon & Half Marathon in 2012.

It all took place Sunday, a few days before my birthday.

A handful of us met early for the 14-mile run on the rails-to-trails path. We finished at Anderson Park in Vernonia, where my assistant race directors (i.e. Mom and Dad) managed about 40 family members getting ready for the shorter loop. Runners decorated their bibs with colored Sharpies and pinned them on with golden safety pins (shiny and lucky, in my opinion).

My pre-race briefing was about like this: “Do the loop counter-clockwise. Don’t pass Uncle Tim.” And they were off. A mess of kids of all ages running, walking, or wheeling 2.5 miles around the Vernonia Mill Pond.

I should have actually marked the course, as there are two intersections. This would have been tricky, since I was running the 14-mile course the hours before the pond loop run. We didn’t lose anyone, but my own guys missed the turn pack to the picnic area, and ended up doing the loop twice. No harm done – my husband really enjoyed the quality visiting time with our son.

For those times over the years that I pondered where I would be on May 21, 2013, I don’t think I imagined it quite like this! Today I am 40 years old and happy about it. I have specks of sparkle in my hair and the remains of blisters on my feet from last week’s 100k race.

My life is rich with family, friends, health and joy. I am especially grateful that I get to share it all with my wonderful husband and experience life as a Mom to the two most amazing little people I have ever met. Now, on the other side of the hill, I will strive to balance the creation of new memories with the savoring of old.

Today we are home in Truckee and I will continue to celebrate and honor life the best way I know how: with a trail run on The Flume perched high above Lake Tahoe. Onward.

This weekend I was ecstatic to be one of only 81 runners to finish the inaugural Gold Rush 100k trail race, as less than half the starting field (177 runners) got to cross the finish line. The scorching heat turned the potentially fast, net downhill course into an oven that was difficult to escape.

Nonetheless, it was a banner day for me as I finished my longest race to date, thanks in large part to my phenomenal pacer/crew, Betsy Nye, and the never-ending support of my family, especially Alex, my six-year-old son and fan #1. This report will be a general recap of my day, and I will write later in detail about the course and also some ultrarunning lessons learned.

Inaugural Event

One could scarcely tell that it was the first running of the race. The nicely spaced aid stations were ample, well-stocked, and well-staffed. Course markings were also ample and easy to follow. Pre-race communication was solid, though the race website could benefit from some organizational help.

The course offered 14 aid stations –  12 of them fully stocked with liquids, ice, gels, and full ultrarunning buffets. The exceptional volunteers at each station were likely experienced runners themselves. In fact, one of the euphoric moments of my day was when we approached the  last full aid station at Guy West Bridge. Someone on the course had told us that it was 2 miles to the next aid and then 7 miles to the finish. Betsy and I both heard this as 9 miles total to the finish.

As we approached the aid station 2 miles later, I heard someone cheering for me by name. I was surprised and delighted to see friend and super-ultra-runner Jack Meyer volunteering at the station. Next I saw the sign in clear print: “5.3 miles to finish.” This combination of personal support and being closer than expected to the finish brought happy tears to my eyes and sent me shooting off over the bridge.

When I slowed down again, Betsy – part coach, part therapist – told me, “Now, I want you to just pretend you are going on a short run but you’re just a bit sore and tired.” Yes, I did have some aches, pains, blisters, etc, but the day was cooling and I was finally recovering from the heat of the day.

About that heat…

The heat really started to affect everyone by late morning. I had passed through the Folsom Point (half-way) aid station at about 11:15am, and was buoyed by seeing Javier and the kids and also by Betsy’s excellent crew handling of me. However, I forgot to refill on ice and the next section of the course was a couple of miles on pavement in full sun. This pavement section was necessary to connect the South Side Folsom trails to the American River equestrian trails.

I was reduced to walking for much of the next 10 miles, despite the flat or slightly downhill terrain. I refilled on ice at the next aid station, but that was completely melted within a mile. I formulated a fantasy in my head whereby I would walk to the finish, but I somehow knew that Betsy wouldn’t allow this. At least my little fantasy kept me in a pretty good mood, and I was actually able to enjoy this part of the day despite the circumstances.

I was surprised that there was very little access to river or lake water up to that point in the course, especially since the course follows waterways start to finish. We had crossed a couple of streams along the south side of Folsom Lake, where I  was able to use my hat to thoroughly douse myself. After that, it had been at least a dozen miles before the course got close to water again.

Finally, the trail was within 10 feet of Lake Natoma. I slid down the bank and submerged everything except my face in the murky water. I was starting to recover from the heat, but was still not in great shape. I picked up Betsy for pacing about 2 miles later at the Fish Hatchery (Hazel Bridge) aid station.

Back to work

As I suspected, Betsy wasn’t going for the implausible “Let’s walk to the finish” plan. I was still pretty overheated when she joined me, but she was able to coax me into a slow jog by calling it “shuffling.” Each time we refilled on ice I felt better. But as soon as it melted and dried, I could barely move faster than a swift walk.

And when I did get too hot each time again, I spent my time desperately scanning the trailside for access to the river that wouldn’t take me too far off-course. I submerged in the river at least another 3 times. Each time I bolted away from Betsy like a naughty 5-year-old… threw my pack on the ground, and told her, “I’ll be real quick, I promise!”

Eventually the day cooled a bit and I was able to move again. I plugged some tunes into one ear, which I rarely do. The music moved me along – almost too fast to be sustainable – but I finally got into a nice slow run and let myself sing out loud. Really, because running 100k is crazy to begin with… how much crazier does it make me that I’m singing to the music in my head?

Finishing

I passed a handful of runners as we headed along the river toward the final water station at Sutter’s Landing, 1.1 miles from the finish. I picked the tip of a tall building in downtown Sacramento to focus on and it pulled me along (read about Y’chi in ChiRunning here). We passed under a railroad bridge. I smelled the train grease and thought of trains going to Downtown Truckee. Then, just like that, the course popped out in the center of Sacramento.

I loaded up on ice at the last water stop and felt super-charged to run the final mile on easy asphalt city streets to the finish line at Historic Sutter’s Fort. It was my fastest mile of the day. Betsy and I came around the corner to see my kids playing in the sprinkler on the park lawn. I called Alex to run with us – I crossed the finish line 13 hours, 19 minutes, and 32 seconds after I crossed the start line that morning. And I had a huge smile on my face.

Reflections

Saturday was a good day for me. It takes a combination of experience, hard work, and luck for a good race day to come together. While I don’t have a ton of experience, I value the advice of those runners kind enough to share their experience with me. I trained well for this race and did a sincere taper, which included spending the better part of Thursday and Friday sitting on the patio at Coffeebar. There was some good luck in the timing of my menstrual cycle (sorry if this is TMI, but it is reality for us gals). And I just felt good going into the day.

Even though we endurance runners frequently say that “just finishing” is an accomplishment, this is one case where I truly believe it. Earlier this year I was volunteering at the finish line of the USSA women’s nordic ski national distance championship race. The woman who finished last was having a crappy day. She said that she spent the past two hours wondering which would be worse, coming in last or DNF-ing (DNF = Did Not Finish).

I assured her that finishing is better than not finishing. I also asserted that a DNF is better than a DNS (DNS = Did Not Start). And finally, all of that is better than “Not qualified or motivated to show up in the first place.” So to those 96 runners who crossed the start line but not the finish: it may not have been your day, but at least you trained, showed up, and put yourself out there.

A beautiful prelude to the Big Sur International Marathon, my family ran the untimed 3k fun run this morning. Camera in hand, I thoroughly enjoyed a chance to run with our kids along the scenic Monterey Bay.

In classic 6-year-old fashion, Alex employed the sprint-walk pacing method. Clara, our 8-year-old, provided a sharp contrast as she ran easily and steadily the entire distance. The sea-level air went down like liquid oxygen for our little Truckee-Tahoe runners.

Alex took off with a sprint after the start, weaving in and out of other runners at full-throttle. Thankfully, his very short legs are still easy enough for me to chase. Big sister and Daddy passed us not too long after our second walk break.

Now, Clara has been training for a 5k run with our local Girls on the Run program. She cruised by smoothly and confidently. “Are you tired?” I asked. “No, not at all!” Clara and my husband finished up the run and proceeded directly to the local coffee house in Pacific Grove.

The run starts and finishes at Lovers Point Park on the shoreline of the Monterey Bay. It is an out-and-back course that heads away from Pacific Grove on Ocean View Blvd., then turns around at the American Tin Cannery in Monterey. Runners return on the paved bike path, where each finisher passes through the finish arch and receives a medal.

Volunteers presented adults and kids with separate medals. The kids’ medal was super-cute, but actually a rubberized shoe cut-out. Alex immediately demanded to to know why his medal was not made of “metal.” I happily offered him my “adult” medal and we proceeded to the coffee house.

The announcer reported that 3500 runners (kids and their adult running buddies) were set to participate in this morning’s event. The run is part of the award-winning JUST RUN program that promotes fitness and healthy lifestyles in grades K through 8. Some 35 school groups participated in the program.

It was a fun and well-organized event, with all the bells and whistles of a formal adult race, including a four-wave start. Pre-registered runners had their names printed on their bibs. We registered on race morning, and were still treated to adorable race t-shirts featuring a “jogging jellyfish.” A race announcer entertained and informed the crowd and the course was well-contained with barriers and fancy start and finish arches.

Oh, and did I mention that it traverses one of the most beautiful coast lines imaginable? Happy and shooting pictures from start to finish, I am finally where I need to be, mentally, for my first running of the Big Sur International Marathon. It was difficult to leave the brilliant sunshine we have been enjoying in Tahoe lately. It was even more difficult to endure two kids for the five-hour drive. But now we are here, breathing liquid oxygen, my camera battery is charged, and I am ready to run 26.2 miles along the “rugged edge of the western world.”