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

Half Marathon Survival Tactics

Yesterday I ran the half marathon that I was semi-dreading due to last week's unfortunate snotty sinus infection paired with ebola (or whatever landed in my stomach and tried to kill me). Despite my concerns and more-delicate-than-usual health condition, I finished strong in about 2:15, which is nowhere near my personal best but still much better than I expected. That time included a few-minute waiting period while my running buddy made a pit stop at a Honey Bucket around mile 11, during which I enjoyed the beautiful Lake Washington views and stretched a little while checking my Suunto watch impatiently. I suppose I could have trotted along without him, but the conversation was keeping my spirits high and I did not feel any pressure to finish in a hurry.

In addition to the decent finish time, I am most proud of how I ran the race. So now, whether you really care or not, here's my play-by-play of *drumroll*... how I survived running a half marathon while sick.

I couldn't sleep the night before, probably due to anticipation of oh my God how am I going to run after nearly dying this week. I bounced out of bed early after my date with insomnia and woke myself up with a quick warm shower to encourage my stuffed-up sinuses to have mercy on me. The temperature was predicted to be surprisingly decent for mid-November in the upper-40s/low-50s, but a large storm passing through promised rain. Last year I ran the same race in 28°F while slipping on ice and frosty fallen leaves, so this year's weather prediction was a massive improvement. I dressed in a pair of my favorite INKnBURN capris, short-sleeved tech top, and Gore Windstopper jacket.

Did I take this photo before or after running?
Only the smell will tell.

After shoveling a very small bowl of cereal down my throat (we were out of bananas, which is my go-to pre-run food), downing a shot of hot caffeine, and brushing my teeth, I rushed out the door about five minutes late. The race was being hosted by my running group, which is only a ten minute drive from my house that early in the day. My meager breakfast didn't cut it, so on my way over, I hastily ingested my favorite pre-running energy treat: Stroopwafel, which you must pronounce loudly with a comical accent as [Strōp]+[vä+fəl].

Stroopwafel! Strooooooopvahfeeel!
I never promised I was totally sane.

Somehow, I made it on time to check in, pin on my race bib, and use a flushing toilet before heading out to start the race with an easy 10:30 mile. Several of my Hood to Coast team members were there for a normal Sunday run, so I had the unexpected pleasure of pacing with three of them for the first several miles as the rain prediction turned into reality. My team captain was there to tease me in his German accent, "Okay Tamra... are you warmed up yet? When were you planning to pick up the pace?" It has been three months since I ran that amazing relay, and I still feel a gush of warm-and-fuzzies every time I see these people.

At mile five, the last of my H2C buddies turned, waved, and wished me luck. My running friend also going the full 13.1 and I were discussing various trail races and had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that we managed to very slowly increase. By the time we made it to the porta-potty at mile 11, we were running a comfortable 9:00 mile through the light but persistent rain. Nothing hurt, no aches and pains nagged me to run slower, and I managed to keep a conversation going through the rolling hills without too much heavy breathing or snot-blowing involved. We finished at the 2:15 mark at a speed of 7:53 min/mile according to my Suunto, and I was neither out of breath nor limping as I made my way to the bagels and apple pie. I am usually pretty spent after that kind of distance, so I was incredibly proud of myself for holding back and playing it safe. Additionally, this was my first consistent negative-split half marathon, which I consider a heck of an achievement. If you are unfamiliar with what "negative-splits" are (I was, so no shame in that), it basically means that each mile you run is faster than the previous mile.

Whenever I have race experience, I like to think about what I learned. Here's my list from yesterday:

1. Running a half marathon while sick may be incredibly stupid but is entirely doable.
2. My Ón shoes are still my favorite half-marathon kicks, even in the rain.
3. Walking the steep hill at mile 9 is an acceptable energy-saving strategy.
4. Waiting for your running buddy to take a dump mid-race makes for hilarous conversation.
5. Starting much slower than normal can equal consistent negative splits and plenty of energy at the end of the race.
6. I am never wearing that old sports bra for a long-distance run again. The chafing is unbearable. 
7. Running more than 13.1 miles is completely doable. I don't need to be afraid anymore. 
8. I am much stronger than I think I am.

Rain-Soaked Shoes by Ón
Shoe Pod Tracker by Suunto