Digesting Seasonal Change:
One Serving At A Time
One Serving At A Time
By Kathy Vaughan
Summer has nearly come and gone. The grasses are dry, the wildflowers are no longer blooming, the Larch have barely begun the phase where their needles turn yellow and fall to the ground. I look back at my experiences over the summer and see that they too are entering a new season.
After completing my first 100 mile trail race, The Pigtails Challenge, in May, I set my sights on all sorts of running goals. My first challenge was to heal my IT Band and then move forward with training and adventuring on the trails. My list looked like this:
1. Maintain a regular stretching & yoga routine
2. Bonaparte Mountain and Pacific Northwest Trail/100 Trail in July
3. Kettle Crest Trail Double Peak Bagger in July with Ras
4. Angel's Staircase 35k in August, a Rainshadow Running Event
5. Devil's Dome Loop Trek and reccie in August
6. The Wilderness Challenge/Devil's Dome 45 Mile Loop with Deby Kumusaka
7. A resupply run/trek with Ras to meet up with Kevin Douglas on the Boundary Trail, in September
8. Pacing Van Phan and Deby Kumusaka on the final stretch of their Double Wonderland run in September
9. Running the 94 mile Wonderland Trail around Mt. Rainier in 3 days, as my 8th time encircling this mountain, in September
10. Baker Lake 100k , as the grand finale in early October
I have established a consistent stretching & yoga routine and it feels good to have been able to heal myself through this practice. As runners, it is so important to be as dedicated to stretching as we are to our training plans.
I had some awesome runs on local sections of the Pacific Northwest Trail, better than planned. Shona Hilton, my great friend, neighbor and running partner, led Ras and I on a scenic 14 mile run to Smith Lake in the Pasyten Wilderness in July. These trails were new to me, yet only a couple hours away. We ran through the Tripod Fire burn area with blackend and silvered trees, recovering well and filled with wildflowers. The trail through the burned forest was in good shape, mostly smooth with some rocky areas. We climbed to Sunny Pass and enjoyed 360 degree views before meandering over the pass to the lake. We were at or above 6,000 feet for most of the run, which was great training for Angel's Staircase later in the summer.
Shona and I did our next long run together from the Whistler Canyon Traihead on Highway 97 in Oroville. This is another section of the PNT. It starts in the Okanogan River Valley and climbs all the way up into the Okanogan Highlands where we both live. We chose to start in the valley and do an 18 mile out n'back. We wanted to get in some persistent climbing and then a good down run, getting more and more technical as we descended. We got just this and it was a great day on the trails with Shona once again. At one point when I was in the lead, I quietly held up my finger and whispered to Shona “We don't want to get sprayed”. This was my way of letting her know we were passing by a cute little skunk that might have a not-so-cute way of letting us know to get out of its territory. We slowed to a walk and it scampered off, its tail held high in the air, yet not releasing its notorious odor. We felt pretty lucky with the way that encounter played out. We had also seen a raccoon family playing alongside the road as we had driven to the trailhead early that morning. These animal sightings reminded us to appreciate the more common, everyday things and to not always be expecting the biggest and the best in our adventures. In the past on this same trail, we have seen Big Horn Mountain Sheep, rattlesnakes, a mama bear with 2 cubs, a mama moose with her 2 young ones, many deer and a yearling bear.
Shona and I also had 2 great evenings together climbing local peaks. Bonaparte Mountain has a great 2.5 mile climb, gaining 2,270 feet and its neighbor, Strawberry Mountain has a 900 foot gain in 1.7 miles of ascent. These were nice runs in the cool air of evening, as this dry Okanogan countryside is very hot during the day. I did get in some good heat runs, which I mainly did solo while Ras was at work and Shona was with her 2 boys. I also cut grass and did other outside chores in the heat of the day to get used to working physically hard in those conditions.
Ras and I had been wanting to run the Kettle Crest Trail in the Colville National Forest for a couple of years. It is a part of the PNT and the northern trailhead is only an hours drive from our home. Ras had led trail crew work there 2 summers ago, and raved about it. We had set aside 2 days to run the length of the trail as out n'back and decided to also attempt summiting the 14 peaks along its route on the way down and the way back. A very lofty goal. Feeling good after a summer of great runs and a 100 miler under my belt, I thought I could handle this trail just fine. We did not know the exact length of the trail or just what the access trails to the summits would be like. We had very little trail beta, but armed with all of our gear, a new GPS, lots of food and calories, a water filter and each other, we set off in the early morning from the trailhead off of Boulder Pass in Northeastern Washington.
An hour in, we reached the GPS way point for the first summit. There was no trail. It would be a scramble up a rocky, grassy slope. This was the smallest peak of the 14. I became discouraged pretty quickly. It was indeed very steep and I could not imagine how I would continue to bag peaks of increasing intensity like this, all day and night and also run the trail itself, knowing that it was at least 42 miles one way. We continued on and went on a roller coaster ride of fun, high times and then low times. The scenery was unique and spectacular. Wildflowers were everywhere. The terrain always changed. At one point we climbed uphill through a couple miles of young alders choking the trail and wondered if we would even be able to find our way along the Kettle Crest itself, let alone the trails to each peak. I decided to sit out one of the smaller mountains, Ryan Hill. I sat alone and waited. Ras returned fairly quickly and offered to lead me up to the summit, that it had been the easiest so far. I had felt guilty not going in the first place, so I went with him and he got in a repeat.
Back on the main trail, we moved along pretty well now, stopping to filter water in a beautiful area that was recovering from a forest fire many years ago. Our spirits were up, and we were feeling like we could enjoy some version of our original goal on this trail. We came to a place where a spring had been fenced off by ranchers so that their cattle would not destroy the spring, yet the cows could still access a water trough. We saw a rough camp set up, two tarps strung between trees and a single orange pillow underneath. Unfortunately, we had both seen it. Beyond this was a crazy long and steep approach to the summit of our 4th climb of the day. We had read in the trail guide that there would be an easy 30 minute walk to the neighboring peak, and thus we thought we could get 2 more summits in before nightfall. We reached the top at 9:00 p.m. We had gotten stuck in a thick mat of blowdowns. They were so old and silvered, that the young trees growing up amongst them were now too tall to climb over and scrambling over all of this was discouraging and taxing. Ras kept looking for the best way up and finally we reached a clearing where we could simply keep scrambling up a grassy 50% grade to the summit. At the top, we could clearly see that the way over to the next summit would take way longer than 30 minutes. With darkness approaching, the going would be even trickier, and seemingly impossible to me, anyway. We retreated to the tarped shelter we had seen at the base of the mountain, deciding to rest and reevaluate.
Even though we had announced this as an Only Known Time attempt, we decided we would have to abandon our effort. We were only about 20 miles in with only 4 summits made. We had left at 6:00 a.m. It was already 9:30 p.m. We had hours of unknown territory ahead of us, we were moving further away from our car and nowhere near hitchhiking opportunities if we kept moving forward, and then found we were unable to finish within the next couple of days when we were expected out. We decided to rest under the tarp, on the bare ground, until morning and then run back to our car. We would attempt the out n'back as a team later and Ras would attempt the peak bagging with a different partner as a separate adventure. This was a really hard decision and the first time we had turned around like this. It didn't feel good to either of us, but it was the more prudent thing to do.
Angel's Staircase was held on August 11th, outside of Carlton, Washington in the high-country above the Methow River Valley. The climb takes runners from about 2,000 feet in elevation up to 8,000 feet in 10.5 miles. Elites such as Jodee Adams- Moore and Nikki Kimball would be at this event and I was looking forward to catching a sight of these amazing lady runners. Many other friends would be running the 60k or 35k course and my daughter Angela would be at the finish to greet me. Ras was running the 60k and Shona and I planned on running the 35k together. After seeing Ras and Deby off on the 60k, Shona showed up with her family for the 35k start. She was feeling nervous but had a solid plan and I was feeling good about running together up into the high country. I'd had my regular race morning banana and coffee breakfast and I was ready to go. Shona relaxed more and more as the starting time got closer and we discussed our strategy together. We mainly wanted to beat the cut-offs, climbing as strong as we possibly could and running our own race. We had 4.5 hours to make it to 8,000 feet.
We started out at a nice run up the forest service road and then began incorporating in power hiking as the grade got steeper. We played leap frog with the other back-of-the packers, but in my mind I felt like we would stay strong and be able to make a solid gain on some of the other runners. A steady effort was my goal as I knew I wanted to maintain some good energy for the 10.5 mile 6,000 foot descent after this climb was all over with. After 3 miles of forest service road and a water refill, we were on the single track. It climbed steadily alongside a creek, making its way through damp forest from storms the previous few nights. Now the temperatures stayed cool and only a little muggy. Our climbing training together and running in the heat was paying off. I carried an extra water bottle with me just to douse myself with. We crossed several creeks which helped with staying cool & wet as well. After an hour or so of queasiness, I felt like my normal trail-self again. I started chatting away with Shona after having being silently settling into the effort earlier. As we gained elevation, so too did we gain confidence in our ability to beat the cut-offs and put in a solid race for the day.
The grade got increasingly steeper and steeper. The trail got rocky and rutted. We climbed out of the forest and into the alpine meadow. We could now see other runners and many had turned around at the summit and were running by us on their way down. I love the trail running community and its positive vibe. Everyone was so friendly ,chatting as we passed each other, or climbed single file up the trail. Not surprisingly, my friend and running photographer Glenn Tachiyama was at the top. What a place to be! He got some great photos and cheered on runners as the 60ks dropped over the ridge to continue their run and the 35ks turned around to descend what we had just climbed.
We saw such great “team spirit”as we made this climb and descent. One runner injured her ankle in the deeply rutted meadow and a friendly couple I had just met, Ron and Angela, were helping her. They had shared Biofreeze and checked the condition of her ankle for her. She had no choice but to hike back down to the forest service road, about 9 miles from where she was. This remote race had no easy way out if you became injured. The aid station volunteers were perfect, offering words of encouragement and filling all of my bottles before I even had to ask for anything. So many runners on their way down, while I was still climbing, let me know it was well worth the effort. Runners let each other pass safely on technical ground and always a positive word was being passed as well. We did gain a lead on some other runners, some because of misfortunes in their own race and others because we were just keeping steady.
I felt great running down. I felt like I could go on forever. Front of the pack 60k runners were flying past Shona and I. They seemed of another world altogether, jumping over downed trees while I crawled over and bounding from one side of the trail to the other with no fear, as they avoided roots, rocks and ruts. I felt this energy and it pulled me down the trail with it. I knew Angela would be waiting and I couldn't wait to see her. I followed Shona on the way up and she was following me down, just as we had thought it might go. It was comforting and natural to be running this way with her. We were helping each other in a quiet, unspoken way we both felt.
About 2 miles from the bottom, Shona changed her tune about running the 60k next year. So normal is this sense of doubt at the end of a hard endurance event, that I knew how Shona was now feeling. My offers of sharing soy jerkeys and a squirt over her head from my water bottle weren't what she wanted. My cheery sense of smelling the oats in the barn was not what she needed. It was time to be sensitive and simmer down. She kept on running with all the strength she had in her, mentally and physically. I could hear her feet hitting the ground as I ran next to her on the open forest service road. We would round a bend in the road and not see the finish yet, but the excitement of knowing it would be there kept us moving forward. Then finally, we saw cars parked and people waiting for their runners. We saw the colorful flags and the way James Varner had now put a turn in the path for us to follow, straight uphill (a very gentle hill) to the tables filled with food and coolers filled with ice cold drinks. I ran straight into my daughter's arms for a big hug. Shona disappeared onto the cool grass.
Later, when Angela carried slices of freshly made wood-fired pizza over to us, Shona said that had been her hardest athletic endeavor. I felt honored to be a part of it with her.
I had left room for spontaneity in my summer schedule. Angela works on a trail crew for the Forest Service and had invited Ras and I to run out to where she would be working on a bridge along the Middle Fork of the Pasayten River. She would be 17 miles out- a perfect distance for an out n'back in a day. Ras and I decided to camp out on Hart's Pass in the North Cascades the night before our run and hit the trail early the next morning. I spent the day Friday packing the car with camping gear and running last minute errands in the small nearby town. By the afternoon, I had a mysterious stomach ache starting.
The pains began coming on stronger and I could think of nothing more than making them go away so I could do this run the next day with Ras to see our daughter out in the wilderness. I thought maybe it was gas, bloating, or just an acidic feeling in my stomach. Ras got home from work and I let him know I hadn't gotten as much ready for our trip as I had hoped because of this stomach ache I was having. I had laid down for a while, which is unusual for me to do during the day. Ras and I loaded the rest of our gear into the car and set off towards Loup Loup Pass. At the local mini mart, I bought Tums and a carbonated drink. Nothing was making the pain go away and it was worsening. Finally, I asked Ras to pull over and I told him then that the pains were feeling all to familiar. As it worsened, it spread an intense achiness around to my back -the classic sign of pancreatitis. I had experienced this before, but had taken for granted that I would not have this return. It would not be wise to go on a 34 mile run in the back country in this condition. We turned around and headed back for home, passing two hospitals on the way.
I was in denial and wouldn't let Ras stop at either of the small hospital choices we had available to us. It would mean going to the ER and I really didn't want to. At home, I writhed around all night long until morning when I awoke Ras and asked him to take me into the ER. He patiently helped me to the car and back to town where I was admitted upon arrival. After starting an IV, I was given the long awaited relief from the pain and sunk onto the surprisingly comfortable gurney. I spent the night at the hospital. The CT Scan showed pancreatitis and no signs of its cause. The blood work revealed the same, but by the next morning was almost back to normal. I went home that evening.
I now look at my remaining list of summer season goals with big question marks. What about going into the back-country after experiencing what can be a life threatening pancreatic attack? What about being such a fit and healthy runner? What about not drinking alcohol for over 20 years, the most common cause of pancreatitis? Am I really following a healthy vegan diet or am I kidding myself? Can I still do these runs?
As it turns out, Kevin Douglas had to postpone his 240 mile Pasayten Wilderness project he had planned for this September, due to a severe ankle sprain. Ras and I wouldn't be resupplying him after all; one summer adventure canceled due to an unexpected injury.
I not only gain physical, but mental strength from running. I have healed emotional and physical challenges through becoming an ultrarunner. I began ultrarunning about 2 years after I first had pancreatitis in 2007, caused by a small cyst blocking my main pancreatic duct. At the University of Washington Medical Center, 40% of my pancreas and my entire spleen were removed. I began walking up and down the hospital halls for the week I was in there and started regularly cross-country skiing within the month after returning home. I continued to hike and go on long walks for the next 2 years. Motivated by Ras' trail running and the community of runners he was meeting, I began to run myself. I started trail running at the tail end of cross-country ski season in 2009. I knew I wanted to run ultra distances, so I trained for a 50k from the beginning. I completed that run, Baker Lake 50k and have continued to challenge myself since then.
Our body's ability to heal and thrive is impressive. Just as completing an ultra distance trail run takes positive thinking, focus, healthy eating & drinking and the ability to take just one step at a time; so does healing from injury or illness. I don't know the long term implications of having this pancreatic condition come back to haunt me, or how it will affect the list of goals I put together in the early part of this summer season. But I am trained as a distance runner. In the ultrarunner Olga King's words, “I've been trained to keep going even when its hard. When it hurts. When it sucks. When I don't want to. I look past it. Relentless forward progress to the finish. Call it what you want: stubborness, endurance, determination, guts. Deep down, I don't know how to give up.”
After completing my first 100 mile trail race, The Pigtails Challenge, in May, I set my sights on all sorts of running goals. My first challenge was to heal my IT Band and then move forward with training and adventuring on the trails. My list looked like this:
1. Maintain a regular stretching & yoga routine
2. Bonaparte Mountain and Pacific Northwest Trail/100 Trail in July
3. Kettle Crest Trail Double Peak Bagger in July with Ras
4. Angel's Staircase 35k in August, a Rainshadow Running Event
5. Devil's Dome Loop Trek and reccie in August
6. The Wilderness Challenge/Devil's Dome 45 Mile Loop with Deby Kumusaka
7. A resupply run/trek with Ras to meet up with Kevin Douglas on the Boundary Trail, in September
8. Pacing Van Phan and Deby Kumusaka on the final stretch of their Double Wonderland run in September
9. Running the 94 mile Wonderland Trail around Mt. Rainier in 3 days, as my 8th time encircling this mountain, in September
10. Baker Lake 100k , as the grand finale in early October
I have established a consistent stretching & yoga routine and it feels good to have been able to heal myself through this practice. As runners, it is so important to be as dedicated to stretching as we are to our training plans.
I had some awesome runs on local sections of the Pacific Northwest Trail, better than planned. Shona Hilton, my great friend, neighbor and running partner, led Ras and I on a scenic 14 mile run to Smith Lake in the Pasyten Wilderness in July. These trails were new to me, yet only a couple hours away. We ran through the Tripod Fire burn area with blackend and silvered trees, recovering well and filled with wildflowers. The trail through the burned forest was in good shape, mostly smooth with some rocky areas. We climbed to Sunny Pass and enjoyed 360 degree views before meandering over the pass to the lake. We were at or above 6,000 feet for most of the run, which was great training for Angel's Staircase later in the summer.
Shona and I did our next long run together from the Whistler Canyon Traihead on Highway 97 in Oroville. This is another section of the PNT. It starts in the Okanogan River Valley and climbs all the way up into the Okanogan Highlands where we both live. We chose to start in the valley and do an 18 mile out n'back. We wanted to get in some persistent climbing and then a good down run, getting more and more technical as we descended. We got just this and it was a great day on the trails with Shona once again. At one point when I was in the lead, I quietly held up my finger and whispered to Shona “We don't want to get sprayed”. This was my way of letting her know we were passing by a cute little skunk that might have a not-so-cute way of letting us know to get out of its territory. We slowed to a walk and it scampered off, its tail held high in the air, yet not releasing its notorious odor. We felt pretty lucky with the way that encounter played out. We had also seen a raccoon family playing alongside the road as we had driven to the trailhead early that morning. These animal sightings reminded us to appreciate the more common, everyday things and to not always be expecting the biggest and the best in our adventures. In the past on this same trail, we have seen Big Horn Mountain Sheep, rattlesnakes, a mama bear with 2 cubs, a mama moose with her 2 young ones, many deer and a yearling bear.
Shona and I also had 2 great evenings together climbing local peaks. Bonaparte Mountain has a great 2.5 mile climb, gaining 2,270 feet and its neighbor, Strawberry Mountain has a 900 foot gain in 1.7 miles of ascent. These were nice runs in the cool air of evening, as this dry Okanogan countryside is very hot during the day. I did get in some good heat runs, which I mainly did solo while Ras was at work and Shona was with her 2 boys. I also cut grass and did other outside chores in the heat of the day to get used to working physically hard in those conditions.
Ras and I had been wanting to run the Kettle Crest Trail in the Colville National Forest for a couple of years. It is a part of the PNT and the northern trailhead is only an hours drive from our home. Ras had led trail crew work there 2 summers ago, and raved about it. We had set aside 2 days to run the length of the trail as out n'back and decided to also attempt summiting the 14 peaks along its route on the way down and the way back. A very lofty goal. Feeling good after a summer of great runs and a 100 miler under my belt, I thought I could handle this trail just fine. We did not know the exact length of the trail or just what the access trails to the summits would be like. We had very little trail beta, but armed with all of our gear, a new GPS, lots of food and calories, a water filter and each other, we set off in the early morning from the trailhead off of Boulder Pass in Northeastern Washington.
An hour in, we reached the GPS way point for the first summit. There was no trail. It would be a scramble up a rocky, grassy slope. This was the smallest peak of the 14. I became discouraged pretty quickly. It was indeed very steep and I could not imagine how I would continue to bag peaks of increasing intensity like this, all day and night and also run the trail itself, knowing that it was at least 42 miles one way. We continued on and went on a roller coaster ride of fun, high times and then low times. The scenery was unique and spectacular. Wildflowers were everywhere. The terrain always changed. At one point we climbed uphill through a couple miles of young alders choking the trail and wondered if we would even be able to find our way along the Kettle Crest itself, let alone the trails to each peak. I decided to sit out one of the smaller mountains, Ryan Hill. I sat alone and waited. Ras returned fairly quickly and offered to lead me up to the summit, that it had been the easiest so far. I had felt guilty not going in the first place, so I went with him and he got in a repeat.
Back on the main trail, we moved along pretty well now, stopping to filter water in a beautiful area that was recovering from a forest fire many years ago. Our spirits were up, and we were feeling like we could enjoy some version of our original goal on this trail. We came to a place where a spring had been fenced off by ranchers so that their cattle would not destroy the spring, yet the cows could still access a water trough. We saw a rough camp set up, two tarps strung between trees and a single orange pillow underneath. Unfortunately, we had both seen it. Beyond this was a crazy long and steep approach to the summit of our 4th climb of the day. We had read in the trail guide that there would be an easy 30 minute walk to the neighboring peak, and thus we thought we could get 2 more summits in before nightfall. We reached the top at 9:00 p.m. We had gotten stuck in a thick mat of blowdowns. They were so old and silvered, that the young trees growing up amongst them were now too tall to climb over and scrambling over all of this was discouraging and taxing. Ras kept looking for the best way up and finally we reached a clearing where we could simply keep scrambling up a grassy 50% grade to the summit. At the top, we could clearly see that the way over to the next summit would take way longer than 30 minutes. With darkness approaching, the going would be even trickier, and seemingly impossible to me, anyway. We retreated to the tarped shelter we had seen at the base of the mountain, deciding to rest and reevaluate.
Even though we had announced this as an Only Known Time attempt, we decided we would have to abandon our effort. We were only about 20 miles in with only 4 summits made. We had left at 6:00 a.m. It was already 9:30 p.m. We had hours of unknown territory ahead of us, we were moving further away from our car and nowhere near hitchhiking opportunities if we kept moving forward, and then found we were unable to finish within the next couple of days when we were expected out. We decided to rest under the tarp, on the bare ground, until morning and then run back to our car. We would attempt the out n'back as a team later and Ras would attempt the peak bagging with a different partner as a separate adventure. This was a really hard decision and the first time we had turned around like this. It didn't feel good to either of us, but it was the more prudent thing to do.
Angel's Staircase was held on August 11th, outside of Carlton, Washington in the high-country above the Methow River Valley. The climb takes runners from about 2,000 feet in elevation up to 8,000 feet in 10.5 miles. Elites such as Jodee Adams- Moore and Nikki Kimball would be at this event and I was looking forward to catching a sight of these amazing lady runners. Many other friends would be running the 60k or 35k course and my daughter Angela would be at the finish to greet me. Ras was running the 60k and Shona and I planned on running the 35k together. After seeing Ras and Deby off on the 60k, Shona showed up with her family for the 35k start. She was feeling nervous but had a solid plan and I was feeling good about running together up into the high country. I'd had my regular race morning banana and coffee breakfast and I was ready to go. Shona relaxed more and more as the starting time got closer and we discussed our strategy together. We mainly wanted to beat the cut-offs, climbing as strong as we possibly could and running our own race. We had 4.5 hours to make it to 8,000 feet.
We started out at a nice run up the forest service road and then began incorporating in power hiking as the grade got steeper. We played leap frog with the other back-of-the packers, but in my mind I felt like we would stay strong and be able to make a solid gain on some of the other runners. A steady effort was my goal as I knew I wanted to maintain some good energy for the 10.5 mile 6,000 foot descent after this climb was all over with. After 3 miles of forest service road and a water refill, we were on the single track. It climbed steadily alongside a creek, making its way through damp forest from storms the previous few nights. Now the temperatures stayed cool and only a little muggy. Our climbing training together and running in the heat was paying off. I carried an extra water bottle with me just to douse myself with. We crossed several creeks which helped with staying cool & wet as well. After an hour or so of queasiness, I felt like my normal trail-self again. I started chatting away with Shona after having being silently settling into the effort earlier. As we gained elevation, so too did we gain confidence in our ability to beat the cut-offs and put in a solid race for the day.
The grade got increasingly steeper and steeper. The trail got rocky and rutted. We climbed out of the forest and into the alpine meadow. We could now see other runners and many had turned around at the summit and were running by us on their way down. I love the trail running community and its positive vibe. Everyone was so friendly ,chatting as we passed each other, or climbed single file up the trail. Not surprisingly, my friend and running photographer Glenn Tachiyama was at the top. What a place to be! He got some great photos and cheered on runners as the 60ks dropped over the ridge to continue their run and the 35ks turned around to descend what we had just climbed.
We saw such great “team spirit”as we made this climb and descent. One runner injured her ankle in the deeply rutted meadow and a friendly couple I had just met, Ron and Angela, were helping her. They had shared Biofreeze and checked the condition of her ankle for her. She had no choice but to hike back down to the forest service road, about 9 miles from where she was. This remote race had no easy way out if you became injured. The aid station volunteers were perfect, offering words of encouragement and filling all of my bottles before I even had to ask for anything. So many runners on their way down, while I was still climbing, let me know it was well worth the effort. Runners let each other pass safely on technical ground and always a positive word was being passed as well. We did gain a lead on some other runners, some because of misfortunes in their own race and others because we were just keeping steady.
I felt great running down. I felt like I could go on forever. Front of the pack 60k runners were flying past Shona and I. They seemed of another world altogether, jumping over downed trees while I crawled over and bounding from one side of the trail to the other with no fear, as they avoided roots, rocks and ruts. I felt this energy and it pulled me down the trail with it. I knew Angela would be waiting and I couldn't wait to see her. I followed Shona on the way up and she was following me down, just as we had thought it might go. It was comforting and natural to be running this way with her. We were helping each other in a quiet, unspoken way we both felt.
About 2 miles from the bottom, Shona changed her tune about running the 60k next year. So normal is this sense of doubt at the end of a hard endurance event, that I knew how Shona was now feeling. My offers of sharing soy jerkeys and a squirt over her head from my water bottle weren't what she wanted. My cheery sense of smelling the oats in the barn was not what she needed. It was time to be sensitive and simmer down. She kept on running with all the strength she had in her, mentally and physically. I could hear her feet hitting the ground as I ran next to her on the open forest service road. We would round a bend in the road and not see the finish yet, but the excitement of knowing it would be there kept us moving forward. Then finally, we saw cars parked and people waiting for their runners. We saw the colorful flags and the way James Varner had now put a turn in the path for us to follow, straight uphill (a very gentle hill) to the tables filled with food and coolers filled with ice cold drinks. I ran straight into my daughter's arms for a big hug. Shona disappeared onto the cool grass.
Later, when Angela carried slices of freshly made wood-fired pizza over to us, Shona said that had been her hardest athletic endeavor. I felt honored to be a part of it with her.
I had left room for spontaneity in my summer schedule. Angela works on a trail crew for the Forest Service and had invited Ras and I to run out to where she would be working on a bridge along the Middle Fork of the Pasayten River. She would be 17 miles out- a perfect distance for an out n'back in a day. Ras and I decided to camp out on Hart's Pass in the North Cascades the night before our run and hit the trail early the next morning. I spent the day Friday packing the car with camping gear and running last minute errands in the small nearby town. By the afternoon, I had a mysterious stomach ache starting.
The pains began coming on stronger and I could think of nothing more than making them go away so I could do this run the next day with Ras to see our daughter out in the wilderness. I thought maybe it was gas, bloating, or just an acidic feeling in my stomach. Ras got home from work and I let him know I hadn't gotten as much ready for our trip as I had hoped because of this stomach ache I was having. I had laid down for a while, which is unusual for me to do during the day. Ras and I loaded the rest of our gear into the car and set off towards Loup Loup Pass. At the local mini mart, I bought Tums and a carbonated drink. Nothing was making the pain go away and it was worsening. Finally, I asked Ras to pull over and I told him then that the pains were feeling all to familiar. As it worsened, it spread an intense achiness around to my back -the classic sign of pancreatitis. I had experienced this before, but had taken for granted that I would not have this return. It would not be wise to go on a 34 mile run in the back country in this condition. We turned around and headed back for home, passing two hospitals on the way.
I was in denial and wouldn't let Ras stop at either of the small hospital choices we had available to us. It would mean going to the ER and I really didn't want to. At home, I writhed around all night long until morning when I awoke Ras and asked him to take me into the ER. He patiently helped me to the car and back to town where I was admitted upon arrival. After starting an IV, I was given the long awaited relief from the pain and sunk onto the surprisingly comfortable gurney. I spent the night at the hospital. The CT Scan showed pancreatitis and no signs of its cause. The blood work revealed the same, but by the next morning was almost back to normal. I went home that evening.
I now look at my remaining list of summer season goals with big question marks. What about going into the back-country after experiencing what can be a life threatening pancreatic attack? What about being such a fit and healthy runner? What about not drinking alcohol for over 20 years, the most common cause of pancreatitis? Am I really following a healthy vegan diet or am I kidding myself? Can I still do these runs?
As it turns out, Kevin Douglas had to postpone his 240 mile Pasayten Wilderness project he had planned for this September, due to a severe ankle sprain. Ras and I wouldn't be resupplying him after all; one summer adventure canceled due to an unexpected injury.
I not only gain physical, but mental strength from running. I have healed emotional and physical challenges through becoming an ultrarunner. I began ultrarunning about 2 years after I first had pancreatitis in 2007, caused by a small cyst blocking my main pancreatic duct. At the University of Washington Medical Center, 40% of my pancreas and my entire spleen were removed. I began walking up and down the hospital halls for the week I was in there and started regularly cross-country skiing within the month after returning home. I continued to hike and go on long walks for the next 2 years. Motivated by Ras' trail running and the community of runners he was meeting, I began to run myself. I started trail running at the tail end of cross-country ski season in 2009. I knew I wanted to run ultra distances, so I trained for a 50k from the beginning. I completed that run, Baker Lake 50k and have continued to challenge myself since then.
Our body's ability to heal and thrive is impressive. Just as completing an ultra distance trail run takes positive thinking, focus, healthy eating & drinking and the ability to take just one step at a time; so does healing from injury or illness. I don't know the long term implications of having this pancreatic condition come back to haunt me, or how it will affect the list of goals I put together in the early part of this summer season. But I am trained as a distance runner. In the ultrarunner Olga King's words, “I've been trained to keep going even when its hard. When it hurts. When it sucks. When I don't want to. I look past it. Relentless forward progress to the finish. Call it what you want: stubborness, endurance, determination, guts. Deep down, I don't know how to give up.”
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