Thursday, 26 January 2017 08:27

Gemini News – Moab Trail Running Getaway

Colorado River after a day on the trails

Explore the Gemini Bridges area, work your way up to Hurrah Pass, run on the world famous Slickrock trail and have lunch at the iconic Milt’s Stop and Eat- Moab’s local diner established in 1954. Treat yourself to a getaway that has it all in a world-class adventure town. This is a non-competitive trip that is designed to showcase the full spectrum of beauty the iconic Moab area has to offer. Featuring terrain ranging from world class desert trails to the changing colors of the La Sal National Forest, this trip is designed for the runner who wants a backcountry adventure and also enjoys air conditioning and clean sheets at the end of the day.

With a meet and greet at your hotel in downtown Moab, UT, runners will spend the days on stunning desert trails and mesas along the Colorado River. Work your way through the best trails around Moab and the La Sal mountains with their magnificent views of the valley. End your days at the best local restaurants and then retire to a comfortable bed. As all of our Adventure Getaways operate, an on trail guide will assist with navigation and wilderness emergency care. This trip has a maximum capacity of 20 runners and will include fun segments of running totaling between 12-18 miles a day. And there’s always more available for those who want additional exploring!

Click HERE to learn more about Adventure Getaways

Wednesday, 25 January 2017 08:26

Training – #1 Incremental Fitness Improvement

Training #1 Incremental Fitness Improvement

In order to increase your fitness level it’s important to have a year or even several years of a long training plan. Wanting too much too soon is a recipe for injuries and burnout, don’t get greedy and try to make too big a leap in one run, one race or even one year’s training cycle. Endurance fitness is one of the last physiological adaptations that solidifies through training. It may take 1-2 years before a runner is strong enough to step up to the next level of racing. So if you haven’t mastered a 50 mile race then don’t sign up for a 100 mile race. If you’ve never arrived at a race finish-line feeling like you can eat, drink and be merry then you’ve got more work to do before you take the next step to a greater distance or harder course. Be methodical in your training approach and use a running log to have an objective view of the hours and miles that you are capable of completing in a season or year. Review last year logs for clues of how much volume and miles your body is capable of without getting injured. Adding a long term approach to your training plan will keep your fitness level increasing year to year, minimize injuries and having you enjoying every finish line you reach.

Contact:
Cindy Stonesmith CMT ACSM/HFS
Owner and Endurance Running Coach
www.ultrarunnertraining.com

Wednesday, 25 January 2017 08:25

On the Trail – Reminiscing Desert RATS

On the Trail – Reminiscing Desert RATS by Gregg Lemkau

When I opened my eyes on the dawn of the 52-mile expedition stage, I was in good spirits.

A medic had lanced my toes the night before and wrapped them in various tapes. I thought I was ready to go, but after wiggling my toes and stretching my feet the thought of standing made my stomach turn. The blisters had healed and refilled overnight. I awkwardly placed my beaten pads softly on the ground. They hurt. Fluid pulsed once again across the virgin skin. I readied myself for the coming miles and stuffed extra supplies for foot care in my pack. Shoelaces loose and tongue stretched taut, I tried to slip my battered feet inside my shoes. Did some devilish desert pixie swap shoes with me overnight? I ate a bagel, downed some Heed and tried not to think about my extremities and the miles that lay before me.

At the start the Race Director told us that parts of the race today were going to be hot, desolate and hilly. The information was delivered as though it were a departure from the norm. While real competition in this race was limited to a handful of runners, we all shared the palpable charge in the air. Today’s stage was the true test of our resolve. The stage began. We trotted away from the crew and up a hill. The familiar crunch of soles on the trail calmed my nerves. We were damaged goods, having been tested for three days and 70 miles through a sun-baked sea of sand and rock. Today though, lore of the cool La Sal Mountains gave us new legs.

The first nine miles lacked significance. Early walking. Slow progress. Mounting pain. Hours into the stage, Entrada and Navajo Sandstone behemoths began to rise from the desert scrub. The overwhelming awe I felt in the presence of these formations was the reason I was running in the desert, it is why I am inexplicably linked to this hostile land. I was renewed. After three hours on my feet, twice the time it should have taken, I crested a hill and saw the Old Dewey Bridge and the first aid station. I hobbled down the path to the teenage son of a Scottish runner, assisting with the road crossing for safety. He was filthy, sullen and downright pissed-off that his father had dragged him to this forsaken corner of the Earth. We all liked him in camp. I gave him a thumbs-up, and he leaked a hint of a smile. His mistaken gift drove me forward.

It was a relief to get to the station and sit. I was frustrated by the condition of my feet and the crew’s jovial mood smothered me. I drained my toes, re-taped my foot, added a liner sock on one side and got on my feet again. Deflated, I started the long climb to the next water drop alone. One of the guys at the station yelled “what’s wrong – it looks like you are walking on glass!” It felt like I was. Out of habit I checked my Garmin but it was of little use. It had to remain off until mile 25, or it would not hold a charge for the rest of the stage. I had only the passing hours to gauge my progress.

I climbed slowly higher. I grew tired of the slope, and began to cuss at the trail when it offered a false crest. I questioned the path ahead whether it was going to be an “uphill” or a “downhill” and started to sing. From those miles came a short unsavory ditty about the “uphill prick-bastard,” a personification of the never-ending uphill climb. I laughed at my condition and trudged on, running for a minute on a relative flat and walking the next ten. When the trail meandered close enough to the face of a butte, I shouted to see if my voice would echo. My daughter tests an echo by shouting the name of her favorite stuffed animal. Sometimes the walls shouted “Goldie” back at me, and she filled me for that moment. One of the older guys running the race this year caught up with me a few miles before the first water drop. It was a nice change from the solitude of the last hours of solitary climbing, but it made me wonder whether I would finish within the cutoff. He immediately began to fart – seemingly uncontrollably. I ignored it, and asked him about past runs; running veterans are a wealth of valuable information. He began to tell me about trail running in its youth. A pause . . . more farting . . . still he did not address his flatulence. After a few more respectable rips he apologized and then told me he used Boost during races. It made him fart constantly. Apology out of the way, he found it easier to talk through the gas. He was farting more often than not – but it made me smile, and the laughs we shared eased the weight of the climb we were finishing together. At the first water drop we parted ways and I carried on alone – limping away from water, companionship, and an early finish.

To reach the next water drop I had to traverse a blistering canyon and cross the Rose Garden. The Rose (or Rock) Garden is a stretch of steep trail littered with boulders better suited for hiking than running. I had what I hoped was about 120 oz. of water when I left the drop, but was careless in my haste to get back on the trail. After a couple of hours of travel, I reached the interior of the canyon. The stifling heat waves parted only as I moved through them. With burnished skin and a sandy tongue, water conservation was difficult. A small alcove offering shade appeared around a bend. That 10 feet of shade was all the day would provide until sundown. I leaned against the cool sandstone, trading my heat for its soothing relief. It could have been habit forming, so I left quickly. Some time later, at a fork in the road, I began to show signs of fatigue. I found the telltale shoe prints showing which path to take, but decided not to trust them. A mistake could cost hours and probably the stage. Nothing crystallized, so I made the obvious choice against my own will – it was of course correct. Much of the trail at that point was rough, rutted, and unforgiving. Toenails ready to come off. Blisters separated by raw layers of skin. Walking on razor blades. I kept moving. Occasionally I mustered a joggy trudge, but mostly I walked. It is odd how so many hours can pass so quickly when one is enduring such pain. Maybe I have repressed those miles, but I’d like to think I was in a zone – listening to the wind and the earth, searching for signs of life.
A frequent companion traveling those slow miles was the desert fly (latin – buzzicus pissofficus). The noise a fly makes when it follows you in the desert seems altogether different than it does elsewhere. Maybe the difference is based in its confusion that this particular carrion was still moving. “Get off me” I told it. “I stink but I am not dead.” No luck. During the 40 mile stage I swatted at flies, now I just let them land on me. I am unsure whether I wanted the company or I thought it better to conserve my energy for forward momentum. The flies left within a couple of minutes, leaving me alone again with the desert, the sky, and my battered soles.

It was frustrating to feel so strong, yet be so limited by my body. There was nothing to do but keep on moving forward. I arrived at the Rose Garden. There were lots of rocks – from boulders to pebbles, sharp and rounded, laying lateral and perpendicular to my steps. This was no garden. Common gravel was the worst. It pierced my heat-softened soles and drove through to the battered pads of my feet. Every now and then, I stopped to drink and rest. I’d kiss the desert stained bracelet my daughter made for me, thank her out loud, and keep moving forward. I tried to gauge my progress, but matching mesa outcroppings to my stage map proved unsuccessful. There seemed to be an infinite number of them, proving my map-reading skills, my stage map (or both) deficient. I caught a glimpse of a solitary monolith miles away, gracing an entirely different canyon system. Others had traveled this way long ago. Did they also view this relic of the Earth with such reverence? The thought nourished my soul. They pulled me closer to home.

Climbing out of the Rose Garden, I saw someone above me on the horizon. It looked as though he were filling up a bladder. Common sense told me it could not be the next water drop. “Tell me that is water,” I shouted. The person responded, and I decided it was a “yes.” When I got to the top of the hill, I found the RD and no water. Reid asked me if I was out, and I told him I was close. He immediately offered me some water from his handheld but I declined, hoping to get to the drop without his help. He asked me how I felt, and I told him that but for my feet I felt strong. We walked in an unsettled silence. Reid asked me if I would continue the stage after the next aid. I could not comprehend the question. I felt the need to show him I was not unprepared, so I began to tell him the story of how I ended up doing the race. Years before now, when the event was still young, I stumbled upon the site for Desert RATS. There was an immediate draw to spending days running through an unspoiled area most people don’t even know exists. I had only trained for a marathon, but found long runs more fulfilling. In a short email I asked him what it took to be prepared for such a race. He responded, suggesting I had at least an ultra under my belt. I found a 50M I could do, and decided that I was slowly going to work my way towards RATS. I told him “I guess you could say the reason I have continued to run all these years is to be right here, right now, doing this.” There was silence again, but this time it felt right. My mouth now completely dry, I accepted his repeat offer of water. Renewed by his visit, I trudged on towards the next water drop, now only minutes away.

I left the second water drop quickly, anxious to get more miles under my feet, and finally started my watch. I drew strength from the information I knew it would offer. Quarter-miles would tick away slowly, but as long as forward momentum existed, I would reach the next aid. I had saved my music for a time when it was most needed and I could wait no longer. The boys of Wilco and Alterbridge helped me more than I could have guessed. Every song was written for this moment. Each strum of the guitar, every beat of the drum and every note sung massaged the pain from my conscience. After an hour plus of walking on shredded feet, I came over the top of a rise in the desert floor and spotted flags at the second aid station. I took off my headphones, anxious to hear a noise from another being. Within minutes the telltale “woohoo” from John, a volunteer and the father of another runner in this year’s race, bounced off the butte walls. I broke into a jog, knowing that his smiling face would be there, ready to fill me up with a dose of feel-good and send me off on the next leg of my journey. I hobbled the last 100 feet towards temporary rest. Relief filled me when I saw Trevor, the foot-fixing guru. I just sat at first, unable to think about removing my shoes. After water and ginger ale, I slowly took off my first shoe so Trevor could assess the situation. “Woah, you are in bad shape, dude” he announced. I asked if I was the last on the course. “Every runner behind you has dropped. You gonna’ keep going?” He asked. My response was the only one I could have uttered at this point. “I want to see every mile of this race. Fix me up so I can finish this. I think I still have enough time left.” I handed him my son’s mini Gerber knife and some K-tape. He rubbed the blade on an alcohol pad, and dug into my left pinky toe. I gritted my teeth and gripped the arms of the chair. He pressed the fluid out. Stars filled my vision. “Oh man, it looks like you have a second blister under the first one . . . you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Just get it over wit.” I pleaded. Again, Trevor began to slice into my toe. It would not pop. “I am having trouble, it’s pretty leathery skin under there” he said as he sawed through the second layer. It reluctantly gave. He squeezed as hard as he could on the raw skin. The pain was numbing, but all I could do was look at my watch and calculate how fast I’d have to travel the remaining miles to finish the race before the cutoff. There was so much attention on my feet, I’d stopped eating or drinking. Trevor finished his work and I cautiously replaced my shoes and socks and got up to leave. A thousand microscopic needles drove through the virgin skin. The first steps were the most excruciating. I spotted a bag of chips, and asked if I could take them. I’d refuel on the go. As I stepped away from the tent, John began to cheer again. I asked him if he might do it in slow motion to match my pace. His laugh strengthened my stride as I sauntered away. I washed the chips down with cool water, hoping that darkness would come soon. Energy replenished and feet stabilized, I started to jog some. So began the slow climb into the LaSalle Mountains. On went the headphones to let Mr. Tweedy croon away the pain. My pads felt usable, so I did a fast walk on the downhills and straights, and loped on the ups. Up the twisted path carved through the desert facade I climbed for hours, aided periodically by a huge butte blocking the setting sphere of heat. I thanked the running gods for their mercy.
I took off my headphones to take in the surroundings. Deafening silence. Another participant in the race decided to ride the stage that day, and I heard her catching up to me on the trail. It was good to see another human being. We exchanged a few words about the benevolence of the waning temperature. Little else was said. We played leapfrog for a while as darkness approached and decided together to don our headlamps. As we began to climb a large hill, she dismounted and walked alongside her bike. I thought of all the riders on that day – it was no easy task to haul a bike through the Rose Garden. Although my speed was slow, walking the bike was cumbersome, and I said good-bye to Wendy for the time being. I reached the top of the mesa by starlight, inhaled a cool breath of pine-laden air, and watched the fading colors of the forest ahead of me. The La Sal Mountains! The water drop was not far, and I filled up for the trek to the last aid. I put on my long sleeve shirt to meet the advancing cold, and moved towards the looming sentinels.

After four days in the desert, the huge pines seemed out of place. Although I had looked forward to this stretch of the race, it was no easy task to carry on in the dark. My legs were shot, my depth perception was poor, and every time I started to run, pockets of soft sand threw me forward. A new blister along my left heel was forming. The forest on both sides grew ever thicker. The exhilaration of reaching the mountains relented to the eerie silence of the darkening path through the woods. What roams just past that stand of Aspen? What was that noise off to the side? What the hell are those wraithlike eyes looking at me? It took a moment to remember they belonged to cows grazing on BLM land. Whenever I found a sturdy part of the road I jogged, aided by the nighttime jitters. A couple of miles before reaching the last aid station, I saw a light approaching. I knew I had more time, but wondered whether the race organizer had decided to stop me. It was Ajul, part of the crew from Boulder. He gave me his characteristic thumbs up, and filled me in on the status of the other racers. The lead runner had seen a bear on the trail. That was no help in the moonless night. He also told me I was closing in on the last aid station. It gave me a much-needed boost, but not for long. After realizing we were still miles away, I reverted to an uncomfortable shuffle, and Ajul left to find the last rider. No music for now. I heard the sound of rushing water, and knew I must be at the waterfall the RATS veterans had mentioned. “My goal is to cross it in the daylight this time” one had said. I was happy to have reached it at all.
I reached Aid 3 at 11:30 p.m. – the last runner to check in. They were staying open for me, volunteering their time so I could finish. It was humbling and energizing all at once. All of the others had begun their last miles or dropped long ago. I was the worst, the slowest, and maybe the dumbest (for trying this), but I knew I would finish the stage. After a quick refuel, I decided to set off. Too close to home to rest now. Six miles left. Six. A number that during training was short now seemed insurmountable. I knew it would take well over an hour; my walking was labored and slow. I left the last station alone, but it was not long before Wendy passed me up, and I had three new companions for the remainder of the ride. The course sweepers had finally arrived. I was spent, but their enthusiasm was sincere, and it kept me going. I do not remember much about those last miles. My blister ridden feet pulsed painfully. Walking took real concentration. I wanted to crawl into the ditch on the side of the road and sleep for a while, but the sweepers pushed me on. Finally, after a couple of hours of walking, the sweepers pointed out the lights in the distance. Base camp! The twinkling lights helped me straighten my spine, forget the pain, and find enough energy to trot to the finish. As soon as base camp saw us coming they started to cheer, flash lights on and off and play music. They stayed awake to bring home the last arrival. Choking back tears of gratitude, I crossed the finish line around 1:30 a.m., fell into a chair and thanked all of my trail comrades. Camp cleared in a matter of minutes. Happy silence. I accepted a last grilled cheese, ate, gave thanks, and said goodnight. As I entered my tent, a few sleepy runners stirred to congratulate me. I smiled in the darkness and fell to my pad, slowly pulled my shoes off and crawled into my bag.

Given the day’s events, I thought sleep would come quickly. It did not. As I lay down that night, my feet throbbed and legs ached in a way I have never felt before. But my heart was filled with joy. My tired, desert-beaten body sang a song to me – not some silly ditty about the troubles of trail running, but an epic song of ancient mesas, austere monoliths and the unrelenting heat of the red-rock canyons. A song of the sky, a blue so deep and striking one cannot describe it with words alone. A song of the living, breathing Earth under my shoes giving me strength to travel through Her beauty. It came not from one voice, but from the many people I like to call my Desert R.A.T.S. family. It is a song that will not soon be forgotten.

Sunday, 04 September 2016 09:24

2016 Desert RATS Kokopelli 150

Desert RATS Kokopelli 150 2016

By Renee Melly

Stage 1

Wow! What an amazing experience. The pendulum swings that I experienced throughout the day were swift and strong. First the good: I felt great through the first 6 miles…was even holding down the middle of the pack. And the scenery was absolutely breathtaking…pictures just can’t do it justice. You quickly realize how small you really are in the grand scheme of things.

After the first aid station, I felt a second wind but quicklylost it about halfway to the next. Now the bad: I’ve challenged my body in a variety of ways over the years, but this was a totally new experience. At one point, the temperatures registered at 112 degrees. The desert sun is truly merciless. There is no escaping it! Dizziness, nausea and extreme fatigue were so bad that it took me almost two hours to travel the last 3/4 of a mile to the second (and last) aid station. I would take a few steps only to be forced to sit down again because of how badly I was feeling. I no longer cared about finishing the stage…simply getting to the aid station was the new goal, and I wasn’t even sure it was a realistic one. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. If it wasn’t for Glenn, the photographer, who brought me a two liter bottle of cold water and a half liter of coke (of all things), I have no doubt I would still be out there.

But as horrible as the experience was, I also learned the resiliency of the mind and body. After about a 30 minute stay at the aid station with some amazing care from the crew and medical staff, I actually left out running again! I was absolutely amazed at how a little water, coke and nutrition literally brought me back to life! And for those who know me well, I know you are thinking that I didn’t have enough water with me. Actually, I had plenty…the problem was no matter how cold the water was when you first put it in your pack, it was steaming hot within an hour, and, even though I was still sipping on it, it was doing very little to cool my core, which was part of the problem. Despite all of the issues, I finished the stage!

Tomorrow is a new day, but a daunting one…39 miles! My heart wants to give it a go, but my body isn’t quite convinced. I need for my feet, shins, calves, hamstrings and hips to stop cramping first. Even if I fall short, the things I learned today about the resiliency of my mind and body (and oh the amazing scenery), will have made this trip well worth it. Of course, the love and support from home definitely played a vital role! Until tomorrow………

Stage 2

Well, 39 desert miles and I’m still alive :). I wasn’t sure last night that I would even start today considering how badly I was feeling, but a pep talk at our team meeting convinced me to at least start, no matter how long I actually lasted. So I started with no commitment to finish, and before I knew it, I was halfway there…and at that point, I decided that I couldn’t quit, mainly because I didn’t want to let those down back home who have supported me from the beginning of this journey. Not only did I finish, but I didn’t come in last place! My friends and family pulled me the last 10 miles as their encouraging words kept running through my mind. So I dedicate this stage medal to them…because I truly couldn’t have done it without them. This was the most amazing physical feat I have ever accomplished!!! Lessons learned today:

When you focus on someone else’s pain and struggles, you pay less attention to your own.
You can’t possibly know, understand or appreciate the depth of your strength until you truly struggle.
How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time (our pep talk from last night, and the one that got me to the start line today…great advice not only for this race but for life in general)!!!

Love to my support group back home! I truly would not still be in this race without each one of you…you rock!!!!

Stage 3

One would think 9 miles would be an ‘easy’ day, but to the contrary. I honestly believe today was physically harder than yesterday (can that even be possible?). My body is simply exhausted beyond belief. I’m hoping the short day will be enough to refresh us all before the start of the longest leg tomorrow (42 miles). Some random thoughts and tidbits of information:

The trails are desolate, hot and mainly dirt/sand. Shade is a commodity and very hard to come by. I have been amazed at how I will contort my body into small, weird positions just to experience a small piece of shade for a brief reprieve from the relentless desert sun.

The food at camp has been nothing short of amazing. We had chicken and dumplings on Monday, cheeseburgers last night and our chef is currently preparing spaghetti Bolognese for us tonight (and it smells absolutely amazing)! It’s honestly as good as you’d get at any restaurant…surely not the camp food I’m used to ;).
The crew and medical staff have been incredible. They have made all the difference at each aid station as they wait on you hand and foot while you get a few minutes of rest before heading out for another brutal stretch. In fact, I think there are more of them than there are of us ;). We even have a camp dog named Coyote, who patiently waits for any leftovers!
I bathed in the Colorado River today…first soap and water since Monday, and I did it mainly for my campmates because the water is freezing (though refreshing ;).
We have just been hanging out at base camp since about noon today, and the temperatures are so hot that it’s tough to stay cool even in the shade. It makes me wonder how we’ve been surviving these temperatures out on the trail all week! As fate would have it, they are having record breaking temperatures for this race! It hit 116 degrees yesterday on a 4 mile stretch of pavement…brutal!!

With the exception of sore hips, back and feet (though no blisters yet, thank goodness), my body is holding up pretty well all things considered. The cramping only lasted a day. I did a better job of listening to and treating my body starting with Tuesday’s stage. I have found that my body appreciates two cups of iced ginger ale or coke and potato chips at each aid station…two things I’ve never even considered before in races. In fact, I don’t even really like soda, but there is something about the sugar and the stomach settling powers that has me hooked. I now even carry flat coke in one of my water bottles out on the trail. The pickles, which are usually my go to, still taste good but dry my mouth out so I avoid them unless I am in desperate need of some salt.

I’ve learned so much about my mind and body in just a few short days! This truly has been a painful but amazing and life changing experience! Cell phone reception has been non-existent since yesterday with a few brief exceptions along the trail. To my awesome support group back home, I will send more photos as soon as we get reception again. I love and miss you all dearly!

Stage 4

R10

What can you say about 42 miles? There were good moments, bad moments and worse moments. There were extreme highs and lows. The desert was both relentless and, oddly at times, forgiving. There’s a lot that goes through your mind over the course of 15 hours…and, in that time, I realized that this week has taught me two very valuable lessons:

This trip has gently (ok, not so gently 🙂 encouraged me to get back to the basics. I can’t even begin to explain the true joy and happiness a cup of ice water can bring after a hot and desolate 12 mile stretch…or how invigorating a random, though brief, cool breeze can be when the heat is overwhelming…or how pleasant the distant sound of an unknown creature is when you’ve been surrounded by silence for hours. When life gets busy (and it inevitably does), the simple pleasures in life are the first things we forget, but there is beauty all around us if only we’d stop long enough to realize and appreciate it. In the end, those moments are the ones that truly matter and make life worth living…everything else is just a distraction from that.
I learned this week that life, and all that it entails, is cyclical. When things are good, you are bound to eventually experience some pain; however, when things are bad, they will eventually get better. Once you understand this, you are amazed at how easy it becomes to work through the tough times. Sometimes the hardest part is just staying in the game…because life does come back. I embarked on this journey in hopes of finding a piece of myself that I thought I had lost. I was desperately hoping I’d find it in the deserts of Utah, but that didn’t happen. Instead, the desert simply reminded me, through struggle and triumph, that I’m stronger than I think. The answers to all of my questions, doubts and concerns were inside of me all along…I just needed a gentle reminder of where they were.

Stage 5

R14

I woke up this morning, and my first thought was, “It’s only a marathon.” Crazy because, before Desert Rats, the longest race I had ever competed in was a half marathon. The thought of a full marathon was too daunting, and yet now, it was “only’ a marathon. Funny how all things are relative. Today was amazing because the 11 of us who had started this journey together were all participating in this final stage together…no one opted to sit this one out despite the aches and pains. At every other stage this week, I experienced moments when I was mentally strong but physically weak…or physically strong but mentally weak. Today was the first day both worlds came together, and I felt completely strong…mind and body. There were even moments when my eyes would unexpectedly fill with tears because I knew nothing was going to stand in my way of finishing…not a mountain, not the heat, not the threat of a cutoff time, not my mind nor my body. This was it! Six days, 150 miles…and I was going to get a finisher’s medal, and I was going to do it side by side with some amazing people that I met along the way.

R15

All the things that terrified me about this race in the beginning were now fueling me in the end. I even found the energy to break out in a few dance moves at a couple of the aid stations (with fellow runners, and now lifelong friends, Sarah and Nigel)…though I won’t try to convince you that they were good dance moves :). But my favorite part of the day was watching Ulla cross the finish line. She did it with grace and with style, but most importantly with perseverance. She had missed the final aid station cut-off time but asked to remain on the course so that she could finish…and finish she did! She inspired us all! In the end, isn’t that what it’s all about?
R16

Post-Race

There is a great sense of pride in accomplishing something that at the onset you weren’t sure was even possible. You walk around with a quiet confidence and a belief that you can do anything you put your mind to. What a powerful, humbling and inspiring feeling! As I boarded the plane to return home, I stopped briefly before stepping through the door, and, for the last time, looked at the mountainous desert in the backdrop and silently thanked it for such an amazing experience. I knew that I was returning home a better version of myself.

R18

Fast forward a few weeks…

I have successfully acclimated back into the daily grind, often relying on my experience in the desert and the lessons the desert so graciously taught me when life gets stressful. I don’t want to forget what I’ve learned…the lessons are too important. I have also acclimated back to life’s modern conveniences…a soft bed, a hot shower, a good cup of coffee. And as I sit here at a local Starbuck’s putting my final thoughts into words, all I can think about is what I wouldn’t give for the hot sand, the merciless sun, the grueling desert, the endless climbs, the infinite struggle. It’s crazy, but I miss the struggle. I miss waking up to a challenge, not knowing whether I have what it takes, mentally and physically, to meet that challenge. There’s something about testing yourself and pushing your limits that becomes addictive. How great can you be? You’ll never know unless you try something that you think is impossible…that’s right, I said impossible. You may just surprise yourself!

You don’t know me, but, trust me when I say that there is no logical explanation as to why I was able to finish the race. My running resume paled in comparison to all of the other great people who participated. My training the last couple of weeks leading up to the race was mediocre at best. I was neither accustomed nor acclimated to the heat, elevation or distance. My feet, which are usually susceptible to blisters, were blister free unlike many of my competitors. The aches and pains I normally experienced during a simple 5 mile training run back home, suddenly vanished, allowing me to survive the long, treacherous runs, day after day after day. As I tell it, the stars simply aligned perfectly for me in this one moment in time so that I could discover a strength that I so desperately needed to find. For one moment in time, I experienced the impossible…and, because of that, I will forever be a Desert Rat.

R12

Friday, 10 June 2016 09:23

2016 Desert RATS Kokopelli 150 Racer Posts

2016 Desert RATS Kokopelli 150 Racer Posts – Stage 4

Lauren: Today was a welcome reprieve, with delicious food (per ususal), as well as relaxation and cooling off at the River. Yesterday’s 42 mile Expedition Stage was certainly the most scenic, getting up to 8,500 feet, with the majority of the day climbing. However, with cooler temps in the 80’s, some clouds and breezes, I felt the best I have all week and Chris and I moved consistently all day, managing to finish before dark!

Chris: Good recovery day today. Great food, and lots of it, and fluids. Wonderful soak and swim in the Colorado. Great to replenish body and mind. Yesterday was sweet and less sweet (not sour) in that the weather switched to cool, cloudy, with teases of rain in the morning. Got more ground covered in the AM. I atribute this to my talk with the Raven the night prior. I suggested that clouds and rain would be a nice change and parted with some cashews to sweeten the deal. Apparently, the Raven is open to a reasonable bargain. The day started strongish and streched the range of balancing constant forward motion with water consumption. Best way, however, to see and be in a beautiful part of the desert and experiencing it first hand up close and personal. Good to have finished this segment above all. Looking forward to good times with great people and a final marathon back to Moab on Saturday.

Renee: What can you say about 42 miles? There were good moments, bad moments and worse moments. There were extreme highs and lows. The desert was both relentless and, oddly at times, forgiving. There’s a lot that goes through your mind over the course of 15 hours…and, in that time, I realized that this week has taught me two very valuable lessons. 1. This trip gently (ok, not so gently 😉 encouraged me to get back to the basics. I can’t even begin to explain the true joy and happiness a cup of ice water can bring after a hot and desolate 12 mile stretch…or how reinvigorating a random, though brief, cool breeze can be when the heat is overwhelming…or how pleasant the distant sound of an unknown creature is when you’ve been surrounded by silence for hours. When life gets busy (and it inevitably does), the simple pleasures in life are the first things we forget…but there is beauty all around us if only we’d stop long enough to realize and appreciate it. In the end, those moments are the ones that truly matter and make life worth living…everything else is just a distraction from that. 2. I learned this week that life, and all that it entails, is cyclical…when things are good, you are bound to eventually experience some pain; however, when things are bad, they will eventually get better. Once you understand this, you are amazed at how easy it becomes to work through the tough times…sometimes the hardest part is just staying in the game…because life does come back. I embarked on this journey in hopes of finding a piece of myself that I thought I had lost. I thought I’d find it in the deserts of Utah, but that’s not what happened. Instead, the desert simply reminded me, through struggle and triumph, that I’m stronger than I think. The answers to all of my questions, doubts and concerns were inside of me all along…I just needed a gentle reminder of where they were.

Stage 3 Racer Posts:

Renee: One would think 9 miles would be an ‘easy’ day, but to the contrary. I honestly believe today was physically harder than yesterday (can that even be possible?). My body is simply exhausted beyond belief. I’m hoping the short day will be enough to refresh us all before the start of the longest leg tomorrow (43 miles). Some random thoughts and tidbits of information: The trails are desolate, hot and mainly dirt/sand. Shade is a commodity and very hard to come by. I have been amazed at how I will contort my body into small, weird positions just to experience a small piece of shade for a brief reprieve from the relentless desert sun. The food at camp has been nothing short of amazing. We had chicken and dumplings on Monday, cheeseburgers last night and our chef is currently preparing spaghetti for us tonight (and it smells absolutely amazing)! It’s honestly as good as you’d get at any restaurant…surely not the camp food I’m used to ;). The crew and medical staff have been incredible. They have made all the difference at each aid station as they wait on you hand and foot while you get a few minutes of rest before heading out for another brutal stretch. In fact, I think there are more of them than there are of us 😉 We even have a camp dog named Coyote who patiently waits for any leftovers! Bathed in the Colorado River today…first soap and water since Monday, and I did it mainly for my campmates because the water is freezing (though refreshing ;). We have just been hanging out at base camp since about noon today, and the temperatures are so hot that it’s tough to stay cool even in the shade. It makes me wonder how we’ve been surviving these temperatures out on the trail all week! As fate would have it, they are having record breaking temperatures for this race! It hit 116 degrees yesterday on a 4 mile stretch of pavement…brutal!! With the exception of sore hips, back and feet (though no blisters yet, thank goodness), my body is holding up pretty well all things considered. The cramping only lasted a day…did a better job of listening to and treating my body starting with Tuesday’s stage. I have found that my body appreciates two cups of iced ginger ale or coke and potato chips at each aid station…two things I’ve never even considered before in races. In fact, I don’t even really like soda but there is something about the sugar and the stomach calming powers that has me hooked. I now even carry flat coke in one of my water bottles out on the trail. The pickles, which are usually my go to, still taste good but dry my mouth out…so I avoid them unless I am in desperate need of some salt. I’ve learned so much about my mind and body in just a few short days! This truly has been a painful but amazing and life changing experience! Cell phone reception has been non existent since yesterday with a few brief exceptions along the trail. To my awesome support group back home, I will send more photos as soon as we get reception again. I love and miss you all dearly!

Lauren: Today was a good day for me, as grasping 9ish miles was much easier today, “only” a few hours! Vivian and I missed the first turn off the road so we got in about 10 miles today. Felt the heat and kept my heart rate under control on the hills, and was able to actually push an actual running pace down the last few curves into the finish. Having an amazing experience thus far, the people the place…because I have nothing better to do.

Chris: The desert is an amazing place that can constantly surprise you. When you think you have a handle on some part of it or its essence, it changes and informs you, “Not so fast. You aren’t as clever as you thought.” You strive to meet it on its terms, but in the end, the desert decides what that will be. Today was a recovery day following my new lesson taught by the desert yesterday. “Think you’re drinking enough…Well atcually you’re not. Here’s a little reminder of what hot is.” All the while, you soldier on wanting to continue your time here. Rather than wanting a full reprieve, really what you want is a better way to continue to experience all of this. A day of drinking, refueling, many cold soaks in the Colorado, all so that we can head out in the morning to run the longest leg of the event through another day of high heat, yet to try to use the lessons that the desert tught you the day before. Well fed and hydrated at dinner, planning a better night sleep to continue the journey.

Ulla:
Day 3. Only 9 miles. Walking slowly. Lots of bisters!
Stage 2 Racer Posts
Lauren Vig:
Brutal stage with 8 miles of pavement, 4 of which I covered on foot, with temps topping out at about 111 degrees F. Couldn’t keep cool enough, burning face, stopped any meanureable sweating, sweet Chris taking care of me over miles 17-26, where I called it quits about 2 miles from the aid station. He continued on strong after dropping the dead weight (me). A lot of carnage on the course today, but also a lot of tough-assed troopers. Still wating for my “tough son of a bitch” to finish!

Ulla:
Day 2. Hot, hot, hot!!!!! I don’t think humans are supposed to exercise in those temperatures. Dropped out at 28 miles. Very happy to be in basecamp, well fed and watered instead of being still out on the course.

Renee: Well, 39 desert miles and I’m still alive :). I wasn’t sure last night that I would even start today considering how badly I was feeling but a pep talk at our team meeting convinced me to at least start, no matter how long I actually lasted. So I started with no commitment to finish and before I knew it, I was halfway there…and at that point I decided that I couldn’t quit, mainly because I didn’t want to let those those down back home who have supported me from the beginning of this journey. Not only did I finish, but I didn’t come in last place 😉 My friends and family pulled me the last 10 miles as their encourgaing words kept running through my mind. So I dedicate this stage medal to them…because I truly couldn’t have done it without them. This was the most amzaing physical feat I have ever accomplished!!! Lessons learned today: 1. When you focus on someone elses pain and struggles, you pay less attention to your own. 2. You truly won’t know, understand or appreciate the depth of your strength until you truly struggle. 3. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time (our pep talk last night, and the one that got me to the start line today…great advice not only for this race but for life in general)!!! Love to my support group back home! I truly would not still be in this race without each one of you…you rock!!!!
Lauren Vig:
Stage 1, 20 mi, completed in about 6.5 hours! Felt good for the first third, horrible for the second third and stable enough at a walking pace for the final third. It was hot but what got me was a new experience of too much sugar, which was difficult to recover from. First ever experience of dry heaving, dizziness, and racing heart rate, with the heat, was just a little more stress than I could handle. Going with a different strategy and some leftover chicken broth for tomorrow. Dinner was delicious, just what I needed! Now rest and recover.
Chris G.: Beutiful desert run. Melting temperatures held at bay by lots of water and ice. It’s good to thank the desert for allowing us safe passage as it knows we have more days ahead. Thank you desert.
Theresa K: Survived Day One! It was hot, hot, hot!! Had to walk the last stage due to the heat.

Ulla: Survived Day 1. The heat is really a challenge. Lots of walking !!!

Renee: Wow! What an amazing experience…the pendulum swings that I experienced throughout the day were swift and strong. First the good…I felt great through the first 6 miles…was even holding down the middle of the pack. And the scenery was absolutely breathtaking…pictures just can’t do it justice. You realize how small you really are in the grand scheme of things. After the first aid station, felt a second wind but quickly lost it about halfway through. Now the bad 😉 I’ve challenged my body in a variety of ways over the years but this was a totally new experience. At one point, the temperatures registered at 112 degrees…the desert sun is truly merciless…there is no escaping it. Dizziness, naseaua and extreme fatigue were so bad that it took me almost two hours to travel the last 3/4 of a mile to the second (and last) aid station. I would take a few steps only to be forced to sit down again because of how badly I was feeling…I’ve never experienced anything like that before. If it wasn’t for Glenn, the photographer, who brought me a two liter bottle of cold water and a half liter of coke (of all things), I have no doubt I would still be out there. But as horrible as the experience was, I also learned the resilency of the mind and body. After about a 30 minute stay at the aid station with some amazing care from the crew and medical staff, I actually left out running again! I was absolutely amazed at how a little water, coke and nutrition literally brought me back to life! And for those who know me well, I know you are thinking that I didn’t have enough water with me. Actually, I had plenty…the problem was no matter how cold the water was when you first put it in your pack, it was steaming hot within an hour…and even though I was still sipping on it, it was doing very little to cool my core, which was part of the problem. Despite all of the issues, I made the cutoff! Tomorrow is a new day, but a daunting one…39 miles! I’m going to give it a go, but need for my feet, shins, calves, hamstrings and hips to stop cramping first 😉 Even if I fall short, the things I learned today about the resilency of my mind and body (and the amazing scenery), will have made this trip well worth it. Of course, the love and support from home definitely played a vital role! Until tomorrow………

Megan (Medical crew): It was really great to get to meet all of the race crew and the racers. This is one of my first experiences in heat over 100 degrees, and wow, I’m glad to have people around who have experienced it before. Good luck to everyone for the rest of the week.

Mitchell (Med Crew): Today it was really really hot. I’ve never experienced triple digit temperatures before. But it was fun. Did my best to make sure the runners were happy and had all they needed. I’m super stoked I got to do a little hiking today. Only a few miles, but the views were phenomenal. Hopefully all the runners are good and ready for the next day. I’m glad I decided to come.

Katie: Today was the beginning of my 3rd Desert Rats. I have never finished stage 1 before, and today I not only finished, but by some miracle took 1st for the ladies and 2nd overall! Tomorrow Reid is making me (and the other top 50% of runners) start 30 minutes later. I also have to/get to wear the Race Leader bib. I suppose this is an honor, but I dont want that target on my back! Reid says we can eat an elephant one bite at a time; I think thats a good perspective so Ill be thinking about that tomorrow- and hoping I can finish the whole stage since Ive yet to complete day 2 on foot also!

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