2013 Fort Ebey Kettles Marathon Race Report: The Perils Of Crosstraining

2013 Fort Ebey Kettles Marathon Race Report:

   

The Perils Of Crosstraining

or

Blood On The Living Room Floor

by Ras

     My wife is the coolest in the world. In the winter she lets me ride my trials bike in the house. A lot of trials riding is done at very low speeds or from a stand still, so I can practice basic moves in a small area and get in some good cross training that works my core as well as all of my stabilizer muscles, improves balance, develops explosiveness, and heightens my reflexes. That's how I ended up bleeding on the floor of the living room.

     Two days before the Fort Ebey Kettles Marathon I built a small wooden box, about 18” high, 3' wide and 4' long to practice trials moves on. I made it decent looking so that it could be inside and could be covered with a cloth or quilt to serve as a seat or ottoman. I thought it would be pretty challenging and take a lot of practice to get up on, but was able to within my first few tries the very first time I set it up. Then I was able to get up on the box, get up on my rear tire and balance, then pedal kick off, landing smoothly and perfectly. I was stoked, so stoked I tried it again.

     Kathy had just sat down on the sofa a few feet away and was beginning to eat dinner. (Yes, I was still riding my bike after I'd been called for dinner. I realize this is a bit immature, and I have no defense of my behavior. The last time my daughter was home from college she said I was like a teenager, because I had been running, snowskating, and riding my bike all in the same day, so my immaturity may be more pervasive than I had hitherto realized.) I rode up to the box, got my front tire on, balanced, jumped up and forward to bring my rear tire on, stood the bike up on the rear wheel on the edge of the box, and went to pedal kick off. That's when things went sideways.

     I landed with my weight too far back, and my rear tire washed out. I fell backwards, hitting the back of my head on the edge of the box at the same time that the handlebars hit me in the forehead. (InB4 shoulda worn a helmet.) The next thing I knew I was laying on my side on the floor, blood was dripping from my head in three places, and Kathy was screaming. I just laid there for a moment trying to figure out what had just happened. I was hurt, although I didn't think I was injured, but Kathy's intermittent screams and panicky offers of help were overwhelming, and on top of it all I couldn't stop laughing. The ridiculousness of it was too much, and it kept setting me off laughing. I needed a moment to lay there and bleed and laugh and take mental stock, so I asked Kathy to get me a cold, wet cloth.

     I hoisted myself up to a seated position on the wooden box I'd been so happy with just a moment before. Kathy handed me the cloth and I pressed it to the back of my head. She asked what else she could do, and I said, “I just need a minute. Why don't you clean up the blood.” For some reason, hearing myself say that made me laugh even more.

     I was further amused by Kathy alternately grumbling to herself under her breath and hurling concerned interrogatives at me; “I don't even know what you were doing. Why weren't you wearing a helmet?! Now you're gonna hafta crew me at Fort Ebey. You have a contusion! You can't run like this. What are the symptoms of a concussion?” And the more this dear, sweet woman expressed her consternation, concern, and dismay, the more I laughed. I was especially entertained by the idea of asking the symptoms of a concussion from the very person you suspect of being concussed. Even now, replaying the incident in my mind it brings me to laughter. My favorite part was about an hour later after Kathy had inspected the cut on the back of my head and the two on my forehead. She lead me over to the couch, brought me a bowl of pasta and a beverage, then stood back, crossed her arms, glared at me with a unique blend of frustration and concern, and said, “Now you're kinda fucked up.”

     And I was. I didn't have a headache or nausea and my pupils were evenly dilated, but my neck and shoulder muscles on the right side were painful, tight, and locking up. I may not have had a concussion, but I probably did have a minor case of whiplash. Whiplash shmiplash, it was only twenty six miles. I'd be fine.

     Two days later, before the start of the Fort Ebey Kettles Marathon, I was feeling well. The bruising on my forehead was so slight that my mother didn't even notice it when we visited her the night before. My neck had loosened up and everything was comfortable, and I was ready to run some trail.

     I had a baggy of almond butter, a baggie of chocolate hazelnut butter, a baggy of coconut butter, a baggie of wasabi almonds, a bottle of water, and a small flask tucked into the back of my shorts for mixing up Hornet Juice (which at some point was not riding correctly, and ended up giving me a tramp stamp abrasion that was both painful and funny). I wasn't using a drop bag and just carried all of my calories from the beginning, although about half of what I had brought would make two full circumambulations of the course and end up right back in my ultra bin. When all was said and done, I ran the race on very few calories, a thousand at most, felt great doing it, and recovered quickly and well. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

     I left my big Phat Pharm gangsta puffy in the car and went to find Kathy, who had headed to the start area a few minutes earlier. As the start of the race drew near Kathy looked me up and down, then asked if I was going to wear my sweat pants during the race. I looked down and realized I had forgotten to remove the cheap cotton sweatpants I had been wearing while readying my gear at the car.

     These are my very favorite pants to hang out in at home and for apres run, but they are not appropriate running gear. I had bought them a number of years ago on the way to a grappling tournament in Seattle. I purchased them along with a hoodie at a Big 5, and wore them both in the car with the heater on full blast in order cut my last few pounds before the weigh ins. The very first time I washed them they shrank severely, and have since been known as my man-pris. Much as I like them, I had no intention of running a trail marathon in them. I darted back to the car, pulled the sweatpants off over my shoes (which is a wonderful challenge to one's sense of athleticism and maturity), tossed them into the car, and made it back to the race start in order to talk with friends before the race.

     Kathy and I were running separately, each pursuing our own race goals. When the start was sounded I circled around the back of the mass of runners and up the left side of the marked course, settling into the lemming line just as the wide starting lane turned into single track.

     Fort Ebey Kettles is a great course. The trail is constantly winding, climbing, turning, descending, wending, and weaving it's way through the woods and along the bluffs of Fort Ebey State Park. With over 5000 feet of climbing it is not a particularly fast course, but the trail is non-technical and very runnable and just plain fun. Aide stations are there to refresh and revive you every 4 ½ miles, so a single Amphipod bottle was more than adequate. And the course was amazingly well marked, especially considering that there were over 100 trail junctions along its length.

     A number of times throughout the race I had runners behind me comment on the footprint design I was sporting on the soles of my Altra Lone Peaks. I took this as a good sign regarding my form, since I was lifting my feet high enough for the bottoms of my shoes to be seen. I also soon realized that most of the runners around me where running the half marathon, a single lap of the loop course. This didn't bode well for my pacing, and I began to wonder if my joke to Eric Barnes about “going out too fast and then blowing up” might perhaps be more prescient than mere merriment.

     I finished the first lap in 2:20, refilled my water bottle at the aide station, and headed out for my second lap. I slowed a bit on the second lap. I hiked a lot more of the hills. But only two runners passed me during that second loop, so while I had slowed I was still moving fairly well. No one was running near me, so I turned on an audiobook on my mp3 player and let my mind chew on a good murder mystery as I wound my way through the woods of Whidbey Island.

     I try to keep things as positive as I can, and my splits reflected that; extremely positive. I finished the race in 5:29:53, making my 5:30:00 goal by a fat 7 seconds (coincidentally, the name of one of my favorite 80's hardcore punk bands). I finished twelfth overall, 10^th men's, and only 1:05:43 off of the men's course record. And as usual, I came in First Rasta with the Rastafarian Course Record. Give Thanks for Life.

Read Kathy's 2013 Fort Ebey Kettles Race Report HERE

Changing Perspectives - From Mountains to Sea: 2013 Fort Ebey Kettles Marathon

Changing Perspectives - From Mountains to Sea: 2013 Fort Ebey Kettles Marathon

By Kathy Vaughan

     After having completed 7 ultras, I decided to run an actual trail marathon. I was persuaded by the Ft. Ebey Kettles Marathon put on by Northwest Trail Runs and held on February 17^th. My mother-in-law lives only a couple of miles from this beautiful state park on Whidbey Island near Coupeville. Post race meal & accommodations could be provided by my folks in the nearby town of Anacortes. I could have lunch in Seattle the next day with my daughter Angela, who is a sophomore at the University of Washington. It would be a perfect opportunity to visit with family and have a great snow-free day of running on the west side of the mountains in winter.

     It turned out to be a near perfect day. The weather was windy and cool in the morning when my husband Ras and I arrived at Ft. Ebey State Park to check in and get our bib numbers. We knew parking would be limited and decided to arrive plenty early. We would finish getting ready from our car and likely visit with other runners we knew. There is always someone new to meet also, as trail runners are a friendly bunch. This is part of the fun of race day.

     I have usually run my ultras with Ras, but today I would be running on my own. I had mixed feelings about this, but overall was totally excited about the new challenge. I had been spending some long solo days cross-country skiing in our nearby groomed sno-park and felt prepared to go for it.

The course is 26.25 miles long on rolling terrain with a total elevation gain in the 2 half- marathon distance loops of 5,200 feet. I thought this would feel like a lot of climbing. In my training, I had put in about 12 snow shoe climbs on the Sitzmark Ski Hill where I had spent the early part of my winter working as a lift operator. During my half- hour lunch break, I would strap on my snow shoes and climb the nearly 700 feet to the top of the small ski slope. It was great training and a fun way to spend a lunch break at work. The 360 degree view from the top of all of the surrounding mountains –Bonaparte, Mt. Baldy and Big White, off in the distance in Canada, and all of the Okanogan Highlands with its plowed, winding country roads, made the climb worth it each time.

     Cross-country skiing had also been a big part of my training for this race. I had tallied up 183 ski miles since running Rainshadow Running's Deception Pass 50k on Whidbey Island 9 weeks prior. I had enjoyed some amazing days skiing through the Bonaparte Mountain area near my home and the Rendezvous Mountain area in Mazama, the foothills of the North Cascades. On one solo outing, I skied past a bloody carcass, being feasted upon by a mixed group of hungry birds—bald eagles, turkey vultures, ravens and magpies. I didn't pause to see what larger critter might be lurking about. I did know that nothing this intense would happen as I ran a supported race solo in a state park on Whidbey Island!

     One of my best winter adventures leading up to Ft. Ebey was the Highlands Challenge I did with my friend Lisa. She had the great idea of skiing all of the trails in the Highlands Sno-Park, only 8 miles from where Ras and I live. I know the park really well and was completely game for the challenge.

     We started at 9 am and had a wonderful day skiing 28 miles of trail in 8 hours. We skied through meadows, climbing up high, then flying downhill, exploring every trail through the park. The trails were groomed and the snow conditions perfect. Although the wind blew all day, we hardly noticed because we were able to keep moving so well along the nicely prepared trails. We used our cars as aid stations sometime around 4 that afternoon and finished by headlamp, skiing downhill the last 1.5 miles in an intense snow-plow, in icy conditions that had come after dark. We didn't have enough light in these conditions for the last 1k, but we still reached our number one goal of an epic day.

     I was feeling strong on race day and ready to meet my goals. Always, my first goal is to finish. Next, I wanted to finish in 7 hours, finishing the first loop in 3.5 hours or less. If that didn't happen, 7.5 hours was my next goal time. And as usual, I did not want to finish last (commonly known as DFL in the ultra running scene). In addition to these goals, I wanted to remain peaceful and calm in my mind, being kind to others and to run strong, feeling positive throughout the race.

     The race started right on the beach. All 4 race distances started together, so it was a big group of runners that climbed up the short slope to reach the single track that would take us into the forest. It was a pleasant start. I felt so relaxed and ready for the run. I had positioned myself towards the back of the runners and thus ended up at a dead stop as we funneled onto the single track. I kept patient and soon was running at a perfect pace, feeling no pressure from behind and grateful for the smooth trail. The pack I was in was quiet and focused. I appreciated this sense of calm over the raucous girls and loud trail talk that had put me on edge during the start of my last 50k in December.

     Ft. Ebey State Park is situated in the narrowest part of Whidbey Island. This area is pocketed with forested depressions in the earth called kettles. This made for great curvy dips into these kettles and then short climbs back out again. In between kettles, the narrow, twisty trail was lined with thickets of small douglas fir, cedar, wild rhododendrons, blue spruce, hemlock and other evergreen bushes that don't grow in North Central Washington where I call home.

     The contrast in environments from where I had traveled 7 hours just the day before made this trail welcome and interesting. I had been in snowy surroundings since the end of November. My running had all been on snow plowed roads in the 3500 foot elevation range. The temperatures had been as cold as 5 below, but were normally in the mid 20's. I had made some excursions onto the neighboring forest service road also, running on snowmobile pack. This soft, wooded trail felt awesome. The green all around and the damp, ocean air was so invigorating. Singing birds and chattering chipmunks sounded new to my ears. Mountain chickadees had only just returned to my yard back home. The closest I'd come to seeing any wildlife, was finding tracks of snowshoe hares, white tail deer, coyotes and voles on the snowy trails where I cross country ski.

     So everything fell into place for me on race day. I hit the first aid station just minutes before I thought I would and that pattern continued on throughout the run. I felt awesome. Its funny how different ones' perspectives can be though. The guy working the last aid station looked down at his watch, jotted my number on his clipboard and said “You're doing another loop, huh? So you're the one we'll be watching for. How many of these have you done?” It was fun to respond to him that it was my first marathon; I'd only run ultra- marathons before, six 50k's and one 50 miler (not to mention many unsupported running adventures, some of them with back-to-back days featuring more than 26 miles).   And besides, there was at least one other runner behind me from the marathon distance.  I knew I'd also passed a decent number of half-marathoners. I wasn't the final runner coming through on this first loop. The marathon was the longest distance being run at this race. There was also a 10k, a 20 miler, and a ½ marathon.

     My favorite section of trail was right on the water front. The course had us twisting through trees and kettles and then suddenly coming out along a bluff trail. This section had ancient, sturdy, yet withered trees along it. After passing these, the trail took us onto a grassy bluff where we could see the start/ finish and ½ way aid station point, but kept us looping down to the water instead. On my first time through, paragliders were hanging out here, part of a -scene that happens here regularly, it seemed. One paraglider was taking off alongside the steep bluff trail I was climbing. He kept having to climb higher to try to catch air and his sail was right over my head. It was crazy! Finally he took off and I watched us he floated out over the cold Puget Sound far below.

     I couldn't wait to run through this area again and it kept me motivated to keep moving well. I don't know what it feels like to be fast in these races or to even be in the middle of the pack. On this day, though, I did finally feel what its like to just keep on running well for the full race distance. I was steady all day,4 minutes off an even split. When I hit the final aid station the second time through, a younger, more encouraging guy was there so I had to let go of my plan to flip the other guy some attitude that I was not in the DFL position after all! Only a couple more miles and I would be along the water again. I ran beside those mystical old trees a second time and came out to the opening to see Ras snuggled under blankets in his big puffy jacket at a picnic table, a cold Red Bull right there, my warm puffy jacket in sight also.

     Something happened then. I smiled so big I thought I would burst. I almost cried with joy. I took off towards the water, looping down along the ocean shore and up the steep bluff trail, the paragliders long gone now. I'd passed the last one hiking up the trail with his gear loaded into a humongous backpack. The sun was lower in the sky. My breathing became audible. I began to pump my arms, in what could have looked ridiculous, for more power along this smooth, well-worn trail. I was alone and working hard, adrenaline was surging through me as I felt the finish and the renewed energy from seeing Ras. Living in a high mountain desert area, I'm not often around the energy of the vast Pacific and I could definitely feel it now.

     I knew I was reaching my goals. I was coming in under 7 hours; the time was 6:38 when I saw Ras. I had been in great spirits, never bonking mentally. I had climbed well all day and I was not going to come in last. I only had one brief moment of panic when after this magical moment along the water, the trail passed through another kettle before coming back around to that start/finish zone. I couldn't remember doing this on the first loop for some reason. I thought I'd missed a course marker. But I soon saw some familiar sights and knew I was still on the right track. I pushed it through to the finish with a time of 6:50:09, less than a minute behind the two runners in front of me and 20 minutes in front of the final two.

     This course was marked perfectly and there were lots of good munchies at the aid stations. I have it on my list of runs for next year already and I do recommend it. Those of us who run trails in Washington state are blessed. From the steep, dry climbs in the Yakima River Canyon; the rugged alpine zones and wildflower meadows of The Wonderland Trail around Mt. Rainier; the lush old growth forests along Baker Lake; exciting rocky gullies, boulder fields and the volcanic blast zone on The Loowit Trail around Mt. St. Helens; to the solitude and distinctive seasons of the Okanogan Highlands, I love exploring and running trail. Whether running a supported race or going on an unsupported adventure run, there is always a moment where I am blown away by where I am and what I'm doing. Ft. Ebey Kettles was no exception. 

The Start Of Something Big

The Start Of Something Big

   

Redefining Human Endurance

or

Running Around In The Woods For The Fun Of It

by Ras

     Without indulging in hyperbole, I can honestly say 2012 was a fantastic year for me. I am still processing my running adventures for the year. My mind is still metabolizing the experiences, breaking them down to the point where they can be assimilated and made a part of me. To some degree I am still living 2012's adventures, as they continue to resonate within.

     I was able to cross a number of items off my "Things I Might Not Be Able To Do" list. Admittedly, the list keeps growing, but so far I have been able to do everything on it that I have attempted. I know the elusive "Thing I Cannot Do" is is lurking out there somewhere, and one day it will best me, but not before tens or hundreds or thousands of it's kind lay vanquished in my wake.

     In another sense I was already beginning to live my 2013 projects during the fall of 2012, when I first began mentally masticating a half-dozen or so doughnut-shaped trails. I have already run these projects in my head numerous times, trying to foresee challenges and brainstorm solutions in advance.

     I often see my life energies function in this way. The past inspires and informs the present. And the present influences and shapes the future. And I'm this churning, chaotic ball of ideas and possibilities ricocheting around the space-time continuum. 

     For 2013 I am honored and amazed and humbled to have been chosen as an Ambassador for Altra Zero Drop Footwear. This is meaningful for me on more than just the level of free gear, which is itself a blessing. Altra is a company that designs its shoes in accordance with their principles of allowing the foot to function naturally so that the entire body can run naturally. And they chose me as one of their Altra Ambassadors because they believe in me. 

     I see this as an expression of a larger pattern in the trail and ultrarunning world. I foresee the rise of a cadre of "elite back-of-the-packers," runners who may not be that fast, may not end up on the podium, but who represent the broader face of running; running's 99%, as it were. 

     So big tings a gwaan, ya see it? And you literally can see it. On my Altra Ambassadors profile page all of my projects for 2013 have been leaked. http://blog.altrazerodrop.com/ambassadors/ras/
Who's gonna swoop me?

2012 Highland Halloween Hundred Trail Un Run

By Kathy Vaughan
2012 Highland Halloween Hundred Trail Un Run

      It quickly became known simply as “H3”. I decided to host a Middle of Nowhere Trailrunners group run from the big house I live in with my husband Jason, better known as Ras, the last weekend of October. I named it the Highland Halloween Hundred Trail Adventure and came up with a variety of distances for runners to choose from-a 20 mile out n'back starting our house ; a 40 mile out n'back from the same starting point; an 80 mile out n'back; and offhandedly, I threw in the 100 mile option for hardcores. My friend Tonya Hoffman responded almost instantly and said she was in for the 100-this was now a true mileage option. This was getting exciting. Time to plan some logistics.     Ras is busy with the work that he does in the fall and told me he wouldn't be able to help out much with the planning; he might not even be able to participate in the run. Haha. I should have known better because within a week's time, he was offering a 120 mile distance option and making arrangements for our free “Un-Run” to be on Ultrasignup. He would be running the 120 mile option himself. I was happy to have him on board.     I had included the word “Hundred” in the name of the event because the 100 trail is the name of part of the course for this run. The run begins literally out our front door and down our ¼ mile, fairly rugged driveway. At the bottom of the drive, runners hit a gravel road for another ¼ mile before turning left up a forest service road that doubles as the Pacific Northwest Scenic Trail. This continues on a gradual 900 foot climb for about 4 miles before reaching a small divide with Haley Mountain on the right. The trail drops downhill from the divide and after 1 ½ miles, bottoms out at a large parking area called Wilcox Trailhead. Here there is an outhouse and Ras' silver Subaru, complete with a course marker, fresh water and drop bags for the runners. This is where they start on the actual 100 trail.

     This trail has only recently gotten maintenance and become an official part of the Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail. Our daughter worked on the trail just a couple of summers ago. It is a unique and lovely trail. It is mainly mixed single and double track. It follows the highlands for a few more miles before beginning a rolling descent through forest and ponds. The trail eventually goes through rocky areas, narrow and magical, now covered with autumn leaves. I have been through this section and seen a rattlesnake and seen bear in the forested sections. Once I saw a mama moose and her two young ones in a meadow. This is wild country. Another favorite sighting was a herd of Big Horn Mountain Sheep I saw with my friend and running partner Shona Hilton in the early spring, running uphill so effortlessly. We were in the lower section of trail in canyonlands, high scenic rock walls and shrub grasses all around.      This initial 20 mile section of trail ends at the floor of the Okanogan River valley. I would drive to this trailhead with the runner's drop bags. I would also set up an aid station with 2 hot soups I had made, vegan chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin bars I baked, Halloween candy for the spirit of things, coke, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, chips and oranges. Runners done with their adventure could catch a ride back to our house with me.

     Ras & I were really happy to see the names accumulate on Ultrasignup. Friends were sending us messages on Facebook that they planned on attending. It was coming together and we were honored to be hosting such an event. Our friends and solid 100 mile running gals Van Phan and Deby Kumasaka had signed up for the 120. Jennifer Hughes had signed up for the 40, but would consider adding distance. My friend Tonya decided on the 40 miler and her husband Allen Skytta the 20 miler. Our friends Tim & Angel Mathis were undecided on their distance, but in the end, their story is one of courage and a true sense of kindred spirit for other runners on the trail achieving goals.

     Thursday evening Ras and I parked the silver Subaru at the trailhead and put out some course markers. The next day, I spent in the kitchen doing what I love, cooking & baking vegan food to share with other people. It would be fun to give sustenance to these runners that would be out in the elements that Mother Nature had provided for the weekend.

     Snow was at the top of her list and the entire area was blanketed with it. It was uncharacteristically early, although snow lies on the ground here in the Okanogan Highlands for most of December through April. Our home is at 3,500 feet in elevation. I had pictured runners enjoying nice dry trail , surrounded by autumn colors and fragrance. I knew it could be cool, but the snow was really quite a surprise.

     We warned everyone of the conditions and that the forecast was for more of the same. Everyone showed up. It became very real on Friday night as I watched the fit runners carry in bins filled with supplies for running ultra distance. I had rooms ready for everyone, chili in the crock pot and a good fire going in the woodstove. They had all driven through rain, snow, wind & fog from mostly the Seattle area. It took at least 6 hours to arrive and the run in the winter-like conditions was on everyone's mind.

     After a fairly typical pre-ultra run restless night of sleep, Van, Deby, Ras and Jenn were on the starting line at 7:00 a.m.

     The conditions were harsh, at best. The darkness of pre-dawn met the runners as they left the warm coziness of the lodge. I took a picture, tried to blow a cheezy whistle I had found and cheered as they took off into the lightening sky. This first time out, the runners went through our property on a course Ras had marked the afternoon before. It was snowy and slow going, but finally the runners hit the forest service road. Shortly, they saw our neighbor out on a very early morning walk with her young husky dog. She must have been surprised at the sight of the four runners!

     I took the drop bags to Ras' car at the trailhead and then hiked out towards the runners with camera in hand. I could hear them before I could see them. The snow was deep and the fog was as thick as a good pot of split pea soup. Deby threw her arms up in the air and was surprised to see me. They were finishing their first 5 ½ miles in deep snow and they were in great spirits. They did what they needed at the car and then took off on the start of the 100 trail, a 14.8 mile stretch to the valley down below.

     I drove slowly home through difficult visibility and on icy roads to meet Tonya on her way out the door. She was getting ready to start the 40 mile out n' back solo. She was dressed warm and had everything she needed. I went outside with her and ran the first stretch through the snowy trail on our property. And then she was on her own.

     When I got back to the lodge, Allen was getting ready to split some firewood. He was enjoying the woodstove and the memories it brought back to him of growing up in the country. I cooked up some African Peanut Soup for some more variety and Allen helped me load the car with the supplies and drop bags we would need to take to the trailhead in the valley.

     As we pulled up to the trailhead, Allen pointed out the runners in their bright rain jackets up high along the rocky trail. They had already hit the bottom and not seeing us, were on their way back up. I was bummed to have not gotten the timing right for their aid, but nevertheless, Allen was a huge help and we set up the table, soups and snacks within minutes. They saw us and soon Van, Deby, Jenn and Ras got what they needed from their drop bags and had some hot soup. They drank soda and coffee and shared their stories of the snowy trip down the 100 trail.

     Allen joined the group as they took off for the 2^nd time that morning. I would see them again at the lodge. For now, I would wait for Tonya. I made sure the soup was still hot and that she could access her drop bag when she got to the car. Soon I heard a hoot and there was Tonya, scampering down the trail like a mountain goat, a huge smile on her face. It was so great to see her and I served her some soup. She sprinkled her cheez-it crackers on top and this was a perfect way for her to get ready for her return trip to the highlands and the warmth of the lodge. I was impressed with her positive cheerfulness, confidence and sense of adventure. Soon, she was off.

     I loaded the car and drove up the hill. I must admit, I felt sad that I was not out running myself. At Baker Lake 50k, just a few weeks before, I had rolled my ankle twice and finished the race. My ankle was still tender and with the snowy conditions, a long run wasn't possible for me on this day. I had planned this run in part because I had wanted to run that trail once again before snow really flew and I would switch mainly to cross-country skiing. I thought it would be fun to share the trail with others and thus organized this event. But, life happens. I decided I would go on a shorter run when I got back home. I had enough time before the runners arrived to enjoy some time on one of my regular running routes, the forest service road that everyone would be running down later that evening.

     Angel & Tim were due to arrive that night. They would get to our house around 9:00. I was really looking forward to it. But before they would arrive, Van, Ras, Jenn and Deby got to the lodge. They were all cold, hungry and tired. Ras' hands had gotten dangerously frigid and he made the decision to not return to the trail. Van and Deby decided 100 miles would be bad ass enough. Jenn decided to go out for one final 20 mile stretch making her total distance a 100k.

     It was now very dark and raining relentlessly. The ladies showed great strength and motivation as they left the lodge into the night. I will hold that image in my mind when I need to draw from the experience of tough ultra runners I personally know. I feel honored.

     Ras was relieved and filled himself with hot soup. He planted himself by the woodstove and stayed there warming himself for what seemed like hours. Allen arrived, then Tonya. She ran a great 40 miler solo, in the snow, with huge bear prints everywhere. They each enjoyed some hot soup and drinks also and greeted their dog who waited for them patiently.
 
     Ras and Allen reconnected after having spent some great bonding time on the Wonderland Trail together in September when Ras completed the Only Known Time for a Double Reverse Wonderland Trail Run.

     Soon our dogs Jesse and Puzzle began to bark and this told us of Tim & Angel's arrival. They came in and visited and were soon off to bed. They would go with Ras and I to the valley in the middle of the night to meet the runners. They would then join them on the trail by headlamp and run through the night until dawn. Wow. They had just arrived from Seattle, would ride down in the dark to some unknown trailhead and then start out on this 20 mile adventure in snow. Angel had not run in the night before. I really admire the bravery and willingness they showed to do what would help Van & Deby most. A very kind and selfless couple, for sure. I am happy to know them. All weekend, I was overwhelmed by how blessed I was to be spending time with all of these special folks.

     Allen & Tonya nestled into bed by the woodstove and Tim, Angel Ras and I piled into my car at midnight to drive into the valley with drop bags and hot food. It was very cold at the trailhead. We bundled up in blankets and visited some, finally resorting to piling in the car and letting the heat run for a while. Soon, headlamps were moving rapidly down the canyon trail and the ladies were making their final descent to the valley floor. Jenn had completed 100k!! She sat on the the ground in elation and began to dream of reading a book by the fire after a hot shower, soup and some sleep.

     Van & Deby stayed focused like the experienced and well-trained 100 milers that they are. They had soup and got what they needed from their drop bags. They made sure they had fresh batteries and dry, warm layers. They were determined and not once did they waiver from their plan of heading back into the night, back up the snowy trail once again. But this time, they were greeted with the welcome news that Angel and Tim would be joining them for the remaining dark miles. They were very happy to hear this and were soon on their way. Jenn, Ras and I returned up the hill to the lodge. I got a few hours rest while Ras visited with Allen. Jenn showered and rested as well.

     In the morning, Shona would arrive to go on a run with me. Our plan was not fully in place yet, but when she got to our house, we could clearly see how we would fit into the picture. We would start Deby & Van out on their final out n' back to complete their 100 miler. They would have 15 more miles to go and knew where that turn around point was already. According to their Garmins, each out n' back had actually been 42 miles, rather than 40.

     We got some great group pictures, Deby took a short rest, Van had some potato soup and a quiet moment and soon we ladies were on our way up the forest service road. Due to the deep snow on the trail through our land, the runners had been using the driveway to access the forest road. I will forever have different feelings about this forest road I run, ski and bike year round. Spending time on it with Shona and these two impressive ladies, was as special as it gets. They were hurting, tired, had stomach problems . A good amount of snow was still on the road. They hiked and ran up this grade and then danced down the steep, snowy down-hill as soon as they hit it. They are so used to moving well when they can, they just took off so fast. They got what they needed from the silver Subaru aid station for the last time, and then Shona and I said good-bye.

     But they were not alone. They had two big, blonde labradors with them. These two dogs had joined Angel & Tim, following them all the way to our house. Ras chased them off, but they showed up again on the forest service road as the ladies climbed it their final time with Shona and I. They actually enjoyed the company of the dogs. The dogs turned around regularly to make sure Van & Deby were still coming along behind them.

     When I got back from my pacing adventure I enjoyed some food myself. I wanted to shower and think about what to make the ladies for dinner after they completed this amazing journey. I decided on spaghetti and salad. Soon I heard hoots and hollers and called out to Ras that the ladies were coming in the home stretch. It was such a blast to see them run through our yard with tired, yet bright smiles on their faces. They joined hands and thrust their arms into the sky. These two ladies just completed the First H3 and with their finish, earned First 100 mile Women, First Overall, and First Masters, as well as setting the corresponding course records.

     I am inspired by each ultra runner that came to this event. Ras and I want to do it again next year and we've heard a few folks say they'd like to come back. Maybe a winter storm will come through again. But maybe the sun will shine during the day and a crisp, clear sky at night will reveal a full moon. Whatever the elements, they will be the perfect back-drop for a Halloween un run, just spooky enough.

Deby Kumasaka's H3 blog on Running At Will

Tim Mathis' H3 blog on A Little Runny

Jenn Hughes' H3 blog on Run Pretty Far

Rolling Mindfulness: 2012 Baker Lake 50k

By Kathy Vaughan
Rolling Mindfulness: the 2012 Baker Lake 50k

     I awoke in the darkness to a clear sky with endless stars and the scent of dried maple leaves in the air. It promised to be a perfect day for running in the woods. But these were not just any woods and this was not just any day. It was my one year anniversary of having completed my first trail ultra marathon, the Baker Lake 50k. I was here to run it again and I had goals in mind. I wanted to beat last year’s time by a full hour and a half. I was confident that I could. I had been on some really challenging trail adventures throughout the summer including running a supported four day trip on the 94 mile Wonderland Trail that encircles Mt. Rainier; a 32 mile loop run in the Mt. Rainier National Park starting at Chinook Pass and running along the Pacific Crest Trail to the Ohanepecosh River valley through old growth forest rich with some of the most scenic streams and waterfalls I’ve seen anywhere; a circumnavigation of Mt. St. Helens on the 32 mile Loowit Trail; my first 50 mile trail ultra near Lake Chelan, the Echo Valley trail race put on by Evergreen Trail Runs; and many long runs out my back door in the Okanogan Highlands where I can access sections of the Pacific Northwest Scenic Trail.

     The Baker Lake 50k begins at Kulshan Campground. My husband Ras and I had camped there the night before and we would take the early start together at 7:00 a.m. In the dark of the morning, I made us coffee and we went through the routine of getting ready for the race start. I filled my water and perpetuem bottles and pinned on my number. It was pretty cold and I decided to start in a hat and gloves, along with my rain/wind shell to stay warm enough. It was fun to see friends in the start area as I took my drop bag to the tarp where volunteers would transfer these bags of personal items for the runners to the half-way point. This was also the turn-around and single aid station for the entire 31.5 miles. It was important to have what you needed with you and be prepared with a complete drop bag for the turn-around. My drop bag had a neoprene ankle wrap, fresh perpetuem bottles, cliff blocks and some nuts. I planned on refilling my water bottles, dropping off layers, snacking and being on my way as quickly as possible.  I had to get here in 5 hours to beat the noon cut-off time and I knew that I could.

     My friends Shona and Steve Hilton would both be running their first 50k. I run with Shona once a week usually and Steve and Shona both run regularly with the trail running group I started, Middle of Nowhere Trailrunners. I was excited to be on the starting line with Shona. Steve would take the regular start.

     The race director counted down the start and off we went.   We started on pavement as we began to climb towards the crossing of Baker Dam, just around the first couple of bends. I heard gasps and exclamations as runners looked to their right and saw the glaciated Mt. Baker and the rugged defined peak of Mt. Shuksan. The Baker River was far below at the base of the dam’s spillways and to the left were the still waters of Baker Lake. It felt strange to be on this huge man-made concrete structure as I looked at this incredible mountain scape, with the distracting golden and burgundy colors of fall all around.

     After the dam crossing, the course turned to dirt road for a 1.5 mile gentlish climb to the all single track Baker Lake Trail. I made good time on the road section and had visualized doing this prerace. Now I was on the single track and I wanted to move well. I knew the trail was rooty and rocky in places with mostly gentle climbs and in contrast to what I had been running recently, I felt I could run efficiently and beat last year’s time.  I also wanted to set a 50k PR. I have been a pretty solid back-of-the-packer. My goal is to become a bulk-of the-packer. After 18 months of trail running, I was now feeling like I could be that. My background in trail time comes from about 20 years of backpacking, hiking and 15 years of cross-country skiing.  I don’t have a running background, other than a short stint in track in junior high school. I was not fast or talented, but I enjoyed running outside in the spring air with my classmates. I think of fresh cut grass on the school grounds as I remember those days. I’d usually get weezy from it and I felt like the wimpiest runner on the team.  

  

    My goal was 7:30.  I had run a 7:51 at Spokane River Run in April, the day after James Varner’s infamous Yakima Skyline Race. I had run the 25k with around 5,000 feet of elevation gain and was happy with my finishing time, even though I came in just seconds behind Adam Hewey who was the winner of the 50k race! 

     As I started down that inviting single track, I could feel myself open up and really get going.  It felt amazing!  I was so happy with how quickly I’d climbed that road and I was full of glee as I sucked in the crisp air and looked around at almost fairy- tale like surroundings. The trees were huge and the ferns almost as tall. Various colors of green mosses and lichen were everywhere and to the left were these mountains, towering over the race as it took place.

   It happened pretty fast. I was down with a rolled ankle before I could even realize what was happening. I was not happy. I’d barely hit the single track. My legs felt strong and fresh. Everything was perfect. But, I had lost focus. I was not being mindful and I went down. Then, before I knew it, the pack went by me as I lay in the soft moss to the side of the trail. Yes, the early-starter pack. I had been in front of the early-starter pack!    For me, this was a huge victory already. If even for that short time, I had been able to hit a comfortable pace in front of other runners! Too bad I could not sustain it.

     One nice guy suggested I get up when I was ready and start walking slowly to see if it would work itself out. I didn’t know what my game plan was yet, but Ras was running with me and he was willing to slow down with me for a stretch to see if it was injured or not. I was surprised at how soon I began to feel like I could run on it. I wanted to so badly, but I was practicing patience. I was bummed that so many runners were now in front of me and that I would likely never catch up to them. I did not want to DFL. No way. That was one of my other goals. Back-of-the-packers have to include that one. 

     Soon I was off. I was running well again before I knew it and Ras pointed out that I could still reach my goal time. I caught up to one runner. Then another. Another. Soon I was confidently, comfortably cruising along again and I was surprised, yet loving every minute of it. I heard a voice say “Hi guys” off to the right and Shona was there, taking a quick trailside pause. Now we had caught up to Shona! She knew she would go out fast and try to reach the aid station quick. It was her first ultra and she thought she might bonk towards the end and do some hiking anyway. This was her strategy. I’m often chasing her when we are on our weekly runs together, but lately she had pointed out my increasing speed on down-hills. I really enjoy running with Shona and I was happy to see her now. She ran behind us for a while and later commented that she’d had a hard time keeping up with us. I had some speed that day; my kind of speed and it felt good. 

     Then a quick reality check had me on the ground again. I had just said the super speedsters would soon be on our tail. There they were, just as I went down that second time. The front runners from the regular start time were now caught up to us. This time, I knew I was out. We were over halfway and I would just have to hike it out and have my first DNF (Did Not Finish). It was not what I wanted, but the pain was pretty intense as I dropped to the ground after rolling this ankle a second time. Why the heck was my ankle wrap in my drop bag?  

     I got up and Ras grabbed a couple of sticks for me. This time was different. This might be an injury. There is no other way out than to hike. I should have turned around the first time, I thought to myself. All of my running buddies began to come up now: Adam Hewey, Adam Gaston, Tim Mathis, Angel Mathis, Matt Hagen, Betsy Rogers, Vivian Doorn, Arlane Olson. Matt gave me four ibuprofen and a nice hug and I continued on. Angel had blood running down her knee from a fall she’d taken. We exchanged quick stories and hugs and then she was off, uninjured from her fall. (She later came in 3^rd lady). Steve came upon me early on after that second fall. I was sitting in some soft moss below a tree, feeling pretty discouraged and realizing the pain was making it hard to move along the trail. When he and Shona caught up to each other, they imagined a scenario wherein he and Ras were carrying me out! I had about five miles to go and I thought it could take hours. I got cold quick and put Ras’ gloves and shell on over my own and looked ridiculous with these huge walking sticks. It was all a pretty discouraging experience.

     An ultra race gives you time though and I learned to not lose hope. I was now in a hilly section and the climbs felt better on my ankle. My mind began to think over my options as I moved along, not saying much. Before I knew it, I wanted to hold those two huge sticks in one hand like I do with my lightweight Black Diamond Z poles when I’m using them on trails with more elevation gain than this. I can hold them both in one hand while I run. I was ready to run now. I tried and it felt good. The trail became mellower and I was soon in the Baker River bottoms. Friends were reaching the aid station, turning around, and giving me good energy as they ran back by Ras and I. Steve brought me more ibuprofen, others passed on the news at the aid station that I would need a ride back to the start, and others offered me kind words or a hug. 

   I wondered if I could just turn around and head back out onto this inviting trail. The weather was perfect, I wanted to run and enjoy this opportunity to be out with these other runners, loving the scenery and enjoying the fragrant autumn air. I could put on that ankle wrap, have a good snack and be on my way. Ras said he’d support that decision and when I got to the aid station, the race director looked at his watch and encouraged me to take my time before I decided to drop. I  had time before the cut-off to decide. I went about my business there as if I were going back out,  another part of my mind making the decision. I guess I knew it all along though. It was like being at the top of a ski slope that is a little bit challenging looking and you are psyching yourself into dropping down it. Then you just go for it. It was like that. All of a sudden I was off down the trail. I knew Ras would catch up to me. I wanted to hit the trail before everyone in the entire race was out of the aid station. I had seen the  last of the early starters take off and I knew I could catch up to him. Ras later said it would take me an hour or two, but that I would and this would mean I wouldn’t DFL. (I caught up to the guy in a half hour or so.)  Back-of –the-packers from the regular start were behind me on the trail and they kept me motivated to keep moving as well as I could.    

     I’m addicted to trail running, especially ultra distances.   I love it.  The joy I experience after completing a long run lives within me and accumulates.  The peaceful feelings I pick up on the trail, I can carry through to non-running days in between.  Its healthy and fun.   Doing half the distance was not going to cut it today.  I had to finish.

       This 14 mile stretch of trail along Baker Lake is magical seeming and as I cruised along feeling some pain in that ankle, I felt at times as if I were floating.  I made better time than last year and I could still run up some hills all the way to the end.  I could feel the improvements I’d made in a year’s time and it felt incredible.  I think adrenalin is probably a pretty cool mechanism that kicks in when we need it and I was feeling those effects on this return trip. 

     Crossing the dam for the second time that day, I felt thankful for the finish being just around the bend now. I could see the kids coming out with their balloons and a few folks still around started to cheer.  Shona and Steve were still there. I’d made friends along that final stretch with a crew of everyone finishing this race at the back. A couple of young, healthy runners finishing their first ultra together, having only decided at the turn-around to run the whole distance; another gal limping it in yet still smiling, completing her first also; the stereotypical Clydesdale runner still behind me somewhere, running with so much heart, and a few others trailing along. This is what was playing out on the final stretches of that lakeshore trail.    

     I hadn't come close to my goal of 7:30, but I had avoided my first ever DNF. I hadn't reached the turn-around in 3:35, but I made the cut-off despite slow miles of limping along with improvised trekking poles. And I couldn't hold my position further up in the pack than I'd ever been before, but I'd had a brief taste. In essence, I turned what should have been a fairly easy 50k into a challenge for both my mind and body, a challenge I hadn't expected but was up for none the less.  

     I crossed the finish line 10 minutes faster than last year, and I’m happy with that. Ras and I visited with folks still around the finish area and then wandered back to our camp where we had a delicious vegan dinner I had made the day before—Tofu scramble with Indian spice kidney beans and peanut butter bars for dessert. Sitting amongst the maple leaves eating our yummy dinner, we talked about what our next trail adventure would be. The completion of one exciting day on the trails, brings about the dreaming of the next.