Capitol Peak Mega Fat Ass 25K Race Recap

Yes, the name of the race really is "Fat Ass." My apologies if that's not safe for work and you clicked on it with your boss standing nearby (sort of - haha!).

Capitol Peak is located near Olympia, WA, and this race was the furthest distance I have run at one time to date. Although 25K is supposed to equal 15.53 miles, the final course, which was modified just before the event due to snow, ended up being a 26K. Not that the extra half mile really matters, but dammit, after running for hours through a mountain full of steep climbs, slippery mud, snow, ice, and a few moments of what the hell was I thinking, that extra 1K sort of does matter.

Just a small taste of the snow and ice further
up the mountain.

I live about an hour and a half north of Olympia, so my day began at 5:30 a.m. with a quick hot shower (yes, you read that correctly - a shower before a race... it's a weird quirk of mine) to wake me up after a sleepless night, breakfast, a good teeth-brushing, and a weather check so I could ensure I was dressed appropriately before heading out for the long drive.

The roads were clear, so the drive was relatively quick and uneventful. My GPS lost signal a couple miles from the trail head, so I sort of had to find it by osmosis or sense of smell or whatever. Or maybe there was a sign with an arrow held by a volunteer... I don't know. It was early and I'm not exactly conscious in the morning (good thing I was driving, right?).

Gorgeous dry trails before the mud reared its ugly head.

Luckily, several of my running friends were at the race, so I wasn't all alone in the big bad woods. I began my run slowly, following the more experienced trail runners and speed-hiking up the steep switchbacks that started the trail. Eventually, I caught up to a small group that included one of my badass ultra-marathoner friends running at a comfortable pace a few miles in. Though most of that group ended up turning around several miles in (I think they were just there to run and not actually participating in the race), my ultra-marathoner friend was kind enough to keep me company and pace me throughout the rest of the ten miles or so left. Thank goodness, too, because with his experience and good conversation I managed to keep a very comfortable pace, avoided any injuries, and actually enjoyed the trail mile after mile.

We lucked out weather-wise; it didn't rain on us despite the clouds and foreboding forecast of possible thundershowers the week before. The temperatures were chilly but not too cold, and the wind was minimal. For a winter mountain trail race, I don't think the weather could have been more perfect. 

 Finally on our way down from the peak. If you
squint really hard you might see mountains
in the distance.

I should have gotten a photo of the mud, but I was too busy swimming through it to bother pulling out my phone, so you're just going to have to believe me when I say it was thick, gooey, and ready to swallow everyone as they waded through it.

I felt relatively strong through the last few hilly miles, but my friend was wise and chose to hike rather than run the short but steep inclines on the last mile. At that point, I'd rolled my right ankle a few times and was feeling rather fatigued. Had I been on my own, I likely would have tried running up those hills with the intention of getting to the end faster, but my form would have been sloppy, I probably would have tripped and eaten mud, and it's probable that I would have finished the race with a few tears rather than the cheesy smile I wore as I crossed the finish line.

In front of the Search and Rescue truck that didn't
have to haul my butt off the mountain mid-race!

At the finish line, I was greeted by my fellow runner friends who are total beasts on the trails congratulating me on crushing my first 25K, and hot chicken noodle soup that was so salty and amazing that I almost licked the paper bowl clean. As always after a good run, a bit of fuzzy-headed euphoria filled my soul with a sense of peace and well-being. My sore ankle even stopped growling at me. 

My ÓN Trail Runners and Salomon Trail Gaiters
survived a near-death-by-mud experience.

As with every race, I have a list of lessons learned to share:

1. The trail gaiters were a really good idea. I was on the fence, but my shoes would have been filled with rocks and mud had I left them at home.
2. My ankles are weak as crap. I must spend more time working on stability exercises on my Bosu. And maybe I should ask my good PT friend for some guidance on specific exercises.
3. There's no shame in squatting behind a tree at mile-when-is-this-going-to-be-over then telling your friend that you managed not to pee on yourself while he laughs his ass off. 
4. Spending the money on my Nathan Firecatcher Hydration Vest was a better idea than I realized at the time. At no point did I run out of water or Haribo gummy bears.
5. Always bring gloves and a headband or beanie if the weather is chilly. An increase of  2,200+ feet in elevation typically means it's colder at the top, and a headband and gloves go a long way in keeping you warm enough.
6. Bringing two energy gels, a Stroopwafel, gummy bears, and whatever else I packed was overkill. I went through a handful of gummy bears and an energy gel that tasted like barf, and that was plenty. 
7. Filling a water bottle with NUUN was a good idea. Those electrolytes really seemed to help fight the fatigue that kept trying to creep up on me as I neared the end.
8. I need to bring a handkerchief. Tissues disintegrate too easily, and my nose runs better than my feet do in cold weather.
9. Gold star for remembering to use anti-chafing cream. Seriously, just... gold star. 
10. I'm in love with my INKnBURN pullovers. 

And thus begins my 2017 race season. I'm excited to train on more trails in preparation for Ragnar Trail Rainier this year.

Happy runner says, "Cheese!"
Lotus Pullover by INKnBURN