Caser's Running Adventures

Weight loss strategy...for your foot

2010-06-01T18:32:00.000-07:00

The best laid plans of mice and ultrarunners....

My surgery was supposed to be a rather routine operation on my right big toe, but things didn't go exactly as planned.

Let's back it up a bit and I'll explain how I got into this mess. I've been having pain in my right big toe for about 18 months now. Actually, probably longer, but my memory is a bit fuzzy. I just considered the pain a 'mild annoyance' that I just had to deal with until I was walking down a hallway one day in high heels and caught sight of my reflection in a glass window. I had no idea how much I was compensating for the pain - even just walking around - until then. Because of the pain in the big toe joint, I was walking on the outside portion of my foot and sort of rolling my leg around to avoid bending the toe... I started to think - if I was doing that walking, what the heck was I doing while running??

I went to a podiatrist in New York, who took x-rays and concluded that I had 'capsulitis', or inflammation of the big toe joint. No problem. He gave me an injection directly into the toe joint of a mixture of corticosteroid to reduce the inflammation and 'hyaluronic acid', which can best be described as 'lube' for your joints (boys, keep your minds outta the gutter). The shot worked like a dream. The pain went away and my toe joint could suddenly bend like normal. Score! I was back to strutting around the office in pink high heels in a matter of days. And oh yeah, I could run normally again.

A couple months later I was back to square one. I went back to the podiatrist and asked about the risks of getting another corticosteroid shot. You see, the benefits were pretty clear to me. The injection goes right to the area of inflammation, which makes it more of a 'targeted' treatment than simply taking anti-inflammatory drugs orally (such as aspirin). The shot has a strong and powerful anti-inflammatory, and while it doesn't reduce pain directly, it usually does indirectly by reducing the swelling and inflamed area. Plus, you get to freak people out by telling them you're on 'roids (kidding).

Okay, so onto the negative side effects. Other than the usual possible side effects of any injection (eg. infection at the injection site), there is a reason not to take corticosteroid injections lightly. Tendons can be weakened by corticosteroids when the injection occurs near the tendons, and in rare cases can lead to rupture. FYI this is why corticosteroid injections are not used around the Achilles tendon!

Okay, well, I wasn't going to get an injection near a tendon - it was going to be localized in the big toe joint - so that wasn't going to be a big worry. The main thing I had to be concerned about was the long-term effects of repeated steroid injections. Multiple injections into a joint over time are not advisable, as this can cause thinning of the joint cartilage, weakening of the ligaments, and damage to the soft tissue... Most podiatrists will limit the number of injections to three or four, but I figured I was okay with two. The second shot worked brilliantly again and helped me get through my first 100 miler (leading to my first win of a 100 miler!)

Fast forward to March of this year when I was experiencing pretty significant pain (again) in that darn right big toe joint (fancy name: 1st metatarsophalangeal joint, or MTP joint). I went and found a very well-respected podiatrist in London, Dr. Simon Costain of the Gait and Posture Center, who has over 30 years of experience and has previously worked with the British Olympic team. I felt comfortable putting my feet in his hands (so to speak!) and discussed my options. We agreed that there was very little flexibility in the joint and given the fact that the Australia race was just a few weeks away, there wasn't much time for other conservative forms of treatment. Steroid injection number 3 it was...

Unfortunately, this injection didn't have any effect on my pain. This is actually quite common - the more injections you get, the less effective they become. Darn it! I was running out of options.

I went to see Steve Bessant, neuromuscular guru who is CHEK certified, and he found that the tendons that were connected to the big toe were much tighter on the right than on the left. Perhaps that was contributing to the inflexibility of the toe and the pain! For those anatomy buffs out there (if there is such a thing), there are two tendons associated with that big toe joint: the flexor hallucis longus ("A" in the diagram to the right), which brings the big toe down/flexes the foot down, and the flexor hallucis brevis ("B" in the diagram to the right), which brings the big toe down.

The manual work that Steve did helped improve the flexibility of my toe somewhat, but darn it, the pain just wasn't going away. So finally, the week before I left for Australia, I went back to Dr. Costain to pull out the big guns. He said there was one more injection I could try - it was a stronger corticosteroid, and while it wasn't ideal to rely on drugs as a long-term solution, we thought it might help get me through the race.

As you all know, I did make it through the race... but it wasn't without pain. I guess I just figured it was the usual form of pain associated with ultrarunning. Hmm. I probably just forgot what normal felt like because the pain had been there for so long, increasing over time. Looking back on it, I realize that I had started to avoid walking even just a couple of blocks during the day if I could. I could block out the pain when I was in training, but there wasn't anything I could do to distract myself during my normal day-to-day activities. I suppose that should have been a warning sign....

When I got back to London, I went in for x-rays on my foot to see what was really going on. Much to our (pleasant) surprise, the joint space in the big toe was much better than we thought, but we thought we should get an opinion from Dr. Lowell Scott Weil Sr., an expert foot and ankle surgeon based in Chicago, to see what my surgical options were.

Dr. Weil saw that there was some deformity in my right big toe. If you look closely at my x-ray above, you can see that the right big toe angles in toward my other toes more so than the left big toe (fancy name: hallux valgus). Dr. Weil said it didn't look TOO bad, but it sounded like I had tried all other methods (orthotics, manual therapy, injections) and surgery would help.

Off I flew to Chicago for a simple 'scarf bunionectomy', which involved cutting the bone of the first metatarsal and repositioning it with titanium screws so that it is more in line. If you want to see an animated video of what that entails, click the link! (Oh fun - what a glamorous life I lead, eh?) I was seriously worried about going under the knife, but Dr. Weil came so highly recommended that I knew I was seeing the best. I would make a full recovery and get back to running in a number of weeks.

I was in good spirits while waiting to be wheeled into the operating room. I tried to ignore the sounds of the saw cutting through the bones of the patients before me (EEEK!) and concentrate on my suduko puzzle in front of me. The staff at Dr. Weil's clinic were AWESOME - very down to earth, funny, and willing to answer all of my inane questions. I joked with Dr. Weil as the anesthesiologist put me under... and apparently I kept chatting away throughout the whole surgery about running with horses in Vermont and also about this blog! Hmm, I wonder what else I said????

When I woke up, I asked Dr. Weil how it went, and immediately got the sense that something went wrong. I saw him putting a piece of the bone that he had sawed out of my foot into a little container, which was to be sent off to pathology. The next few minutes were a little fuzzy, but I can distinctly remember asking a number of times if I could run again. "But I'll be okay to run ultras again, right?" It wasn't a good feeling, I'll tell you that. I tried to stay calm and remain focused so that I could ask Dr. Weil all of the questions that were floating through my head, but all I really wanted to do was hide under the covers and sob.

Dr. Weil explained that when he went into the foot, he checked the underside of the big toe (the first metatarsal) and got a bit of a surprise. He found a "complete tear of the medial head of the flexor hallucis brevis tendon" and one of the other tendons was almost completely disintegrated. "Mushy" was the word he used to describe it. He also found that there were signs of 'osteonecrosis' of the tibial sesamoid bone. which basically means that the bone was dying from a loss or diminished supply of blood. The sesamoid bone was virtually devoid of cartilage and it had been grinding away against the 'first metatarsal head' (the big toe joint), which could be seen in an area measuring about 1cm x .5cm. Apparently not unusual for people with bunions, but unusual for someone at the ripe old age of 27!!

Dr. Weil had no choice but to remove my tibial sesamoid bone, clean out the bone chips and reattach the flexor hallucis brevis tendon with a suture...

All I could think was WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR MY RUNNING?? (Doctor, will I be able to play the piano again?). Dr. Weil said with a strong rehab program, he hoped that I would be able to run marathons again, and if I could run marathons, I could run ultramarathons. I asked him if I would be fast, and he said that was up to me. Fair enough! I told him if I could run again, I could win again!

I've been doing a bit of research to figure out the implications of having a sesamoid bone removed. I had never heard of things strange little bones before - how important could they really be??? Turns out, a lot. If you look at the xray below, you may see two pea-shaped bones under each first toe. They look like little floating balls. These are the sesamoids - the inner one is the medial/tibial and the outer one is the lateral/fibular. They are located under the head of the first metatarsal (remember, the big toe joint) and in the tendons of the flexor hallucis brevis muscle.

So what do our friends, the sesamoids, do? Two things:

(1) They absorb impact forces in the foot and help with stability.

(2) They help the big toe move normally and provide leverage when the big toe "pushes off" during walking and running.

Logic says that removing one of these important sesasmoid bones would make the rest of my foot weaker/more susceptible to injury and also cause me to lose stability and push off strength. Hmm.

OR, I could think of it this way: those extra tendons, bones, and floating bone chips were just extra weight that were dragging me down. Now that I got them out of the way, I'll be even faster in my next race. Um, yeah?

Well, anatomy lesson is over for now. I don't know about you, but this has exhausted me. Only time will tell. In the meantime, I am mastering the art of hobbling around in my surgical boot, which is rather amusing given that it is about 4 inches higher than any shoe I could possibly wear on my other foot. If I actually want to walk around balanced, I would probably have to invest in a pair of serious stilettos to wear on the left foot. Between looking like a crippled hooker and a female pirate, I choose pirate. ARRRRRR!

My foot has turned brilliant colours of black, purple and green and I still don't have all the feeling back in my toes... but I'm making progress. Think good thoughts!!! I'd love it if you'd comment on my blog sometime - I had no idea that people were actually reading this thing (I mean, other than my sister and my mom) until the Australia race. Thanks for all of your support!!

Musings of a vegan hypochondriac

2010-05-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Chicago!!

I've gone a bit off the radar ever since I finished the Australia race. Truth be told, I put myself in a self-induced chocolate and champagne stupor for the past couple of weeks and have just recently emerged. I stuffed myself full of gluten, artificial sweeteners, hydrogenated fats, and bubbly forms of alcohol. I ate spoonfuls of butter dipped in sugar (oh gross - I can't believe I just disclosed that). I even had a cigarette or two. Yeah, me, I know, positively moronic.... I don't know what it is, but I get this insane urge to rebel when I finish a big race sometimes. After weeks of being so strict with my sleeping, my diet, and my training, it is just so freeing to suddenly realize that I can do anything I want now! I'm like the geeky teenager who, after years of playing by the rules, decides to attend one of the 'cool' parties the weekend her parents are away and get hideously drunk for the first time on Mike's Hard Lemonade. Not that that ever happened (sorry Mom).

Well, the party is over and I'm in the hangover stage. The post-race gluttony hangover is almost as bad as a Mike's Hard hangover, but not quite (anyone with me here? Oh the 90s...). I've put on a sweet 4kgs since Australia and I'm no longer enjoying the taste of straight butter. It was fun while it lasted though. I feel completely out of whack and lazy, but my motivation to train like a madwoman is somewhat lacking. As much as I LOOOOOVE being completely hardcore with my training though, I think it is really important to indulge a bit and avoid the dreaded 'running burnout' after a race. I've been on a number of runs over the past couple of weeks - no more than 20 or 30 km - but the key is that they have been FUN runs. I've gone running when I've wanted to, for as long as I've wanted to, and as slowly or as quickly as I've wanted to. No watch, no backpack, no agenda. Phenomenal.

It was gently suggested to me by another ultrarunner and new fast friend that I show more of this side of me on my blog - perhaps to make me a bit more human?? We had chatted quite a bit over email and he had read my blog, but we didn't get a chance to actually meet until last weekend. In his words, "Dude, no offense, but you are much cooler in person that I thought you'd be. From reading your blog, I was expecting a vegan hypochondriac." HAHAH, okay, I guess I see his point. The no gluten thing, the cryotherapy thing... I do sound a bit, um, intense.

So here's my attempt to let the air outta my blog tires and chill out a bit. I am intense about training - no denying that - but no one in her right mind can keep that up forever. I'm also partly writing this blog entry to convince myself that I'll be okay if I don't run for the next 12-16 weeks.

I think I have to say that again - gulp - I'll be okay if I don't run for the next 12-16 weeks.

This is not a choice, but rather a necessity. I'm currently blogging from Chicago, where I've flown to see an expert foot surgeon to get my toe fixed. My name is Stephanie Case, I'm 27, and I have arthritis. It has been an annoyance for the past couple of years and I've already had 4 steroid injections in the joint, which is pretty much the limit. I would never jump to surgery this quickly, but this guy I'm seeing comes VERY highly recommended and I've only got insurance in the US for another month or two... so under the knife I go!! I'm hoping this will sort out a lot of the chronic pain and resulting injuries I've had over the past couple of years and that once I recover I will be stronger than ever.

So for 12-16 weeks, I'm banned from running. I think I just broke out in hives even from typing those words. But maybe this will be good for me. Even vegan hypochrondriacs need a break from themselves, and this will be my forced period of rest.

Wish me luck and when I write my next blog, I'll be on valium!!!

Pre-Race Interview

2010-05-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

Racing the Planet: Australia, Stage 6!

2010-04-30T03:14:00.000-07:00

It is 4pm on the rest day and I've been able to read all of your messages up until right before the long day, but the most recent messages haven't been uploaded yet - itching for more news! The generator here broke down for a while so the cybertent hasn't really been functional.

Competitors have one more hour to finish stage 5. As we speak, one of the volunteers is banging the drums to welcome another finisher through the line... Wow, I can't imagine being out on that course for almost two full days!

I was in great spirits last night when i got in, but I have to say that my mental state has really declined today. Once I took off my shoes and saw the state of my feet things started to get worse. That right big toe that I drilled the other day has gotten very badly infected and is causing me a lot of pain. It is oozing, red, swollen, and downright disgusting. The medical team has to ration the antibiotics so I've been able to haggle for a two day supply, but I'll have to get to the ER in Sydney...oh wait, I guess I don't have enough antibiotics to get me to Sydney. Hmm, perhaps I'll have to pop into the hospital before my flight on Sunday??? Arg, guess I'll worry about that later. For now I have to keep redrilling the toe every couple of hours, which is a lot of fun, I have to say....

Guess which one is infected??

Ugh. You might be able to tell from the tone of this blog that I'm at a low point. I tried to nap earlier in the day and woke up in the tent covered in ants, a tick and drenched in my own sweat. I had shooting pains in my toe, my swollen knees were aching and the itchy red bumps all over my arms and legs were starting to puss. I was hungry, thirsty, and just tired. After I opened my eyes and realized where I was it all hit me and the tears came... I allowed myself a 5 minute pity party before I tried to knock some sense into myself. It is just so tough out here. There is no relief from the heat or the pain. It is hard to hold on at the moment. I know it seems crazy - there is just one more day - but even one more day seems almost insurmountable.

Usually the last day in the RTP races is supposed to be merely ceremonial - a nice easy jaunt into the finish line where pizza and beer await the competitors. But on the schedule for tomorrow is a mean 12.6km over rocks, through spinifex, and over another river crossing. Sigh. I have heard rumours floating through camp that the course is being changed tomorrow to be shorter and easier, but with a later start... We'll get the official announcement soon. I'm just about out of food so I hope the start time isn't too late. I have one 380 cal meal for tonight but that is about it. I was hoping we would be at the hotel by 10am tomorrow, but it looks like I'll have to go hungry tomorrow until about noon. It will be hard to race on, that's for sure....My stomach is crying out for any type of calories right now. For someone who doesn't eat red meat and sticks to a gluten-free/organic diet, I can't tell you how good even a double quarter pounder with cheese meal from mcd's sounds right now!

The mental aspect of this race is just as important as the physical side of things. Having to get up each day, lace up your shoes, and head back out there despite increasing fatigue, pain and injury is tough. Reallly tough. But seeing how determined the other runners here are has really gotten me through. The drop out race in this race is the highest I've ever seen. With 200 competitors signed up, I believe only 120 started the long stage and even fewer will finish. Just to complete this race is a real accomplishment. Right now my tentmate, the Olympian Gabriel (!) is 5 minutes ahead of me in 7th place, which is fantastic. I've over an hour on the next person (Ahn, who has perfect feet right now by the way!) so hopefully I won't have to stress too much tomorrow. At least I know that I'll finish top ten (as long as nothing catastrophic happens!).

Looking forward to hopefully reading your last messages tonight. Any that come through later I can still receive after the race. Thank you again for your messages, donations, and encouragement. After RTP, I would love it if you would keep following my running adventures through my personal blog: www.canadianultrarunner.blogspot.com. I love hearing from people and would be happen to give any advice on running-related stuff (if I am at all qualified!). I've tested a lot of training methods, products, and races so feel free to get in touch. I also have a few youtube videos of my races up and will post one on namibia - my channel is TheUltrarunnergirl.

MUCH LOVE TO ALL!! And please allow me to make one last plea for donations to cancer research. That is why I am out here pushing myself - to raise money and awareness. Please make my efforts worthwhile! You can do it! Any amount is appreciated :)

www.firstgiving.com/scase (United States)

www.justgiving.com/stephaniecase (United Kingdom)

www.canadahelps.com (Canada) - I can't remember the exact address but the title of my page is "Oz for the cause". Search for me on the canada helps website!

xxx

Stage 5: Racing the Planet Australia

2010-04-29T06:17:00.000-07:00

I AM SO GLAD STAGE 5 IS OVER!!!!!!!!!

It is 9:30 pm here and I finish at 8:55pm tonight...Five minutes shy of 15 hours! WHOA! Sadly your messages from stage 4 onwards haven't been uploaded yet but I'll be able to read them tomorrow... and I have all day to blog! REST DAY!!

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm barely coherent at the moment, but let's see if I can recount the day...

Nerves were fairly high this morning. I made it through the night sleeping on rock right under the stars and without a single tick bite (I think!). Bonus. Those little suckers would have had a hard time getting any blood out of me anyway, given how dehydrated I am! I made sure to prepare as much as I could for the long day the night before so that I wouldn't be scrambling in the morning. For my feet, I checked all my blisters and repopped the big ones. The most intricate 'foot surgery' had to be done on my right big toe. Normally if a blister forms under the toenail it is possible to pop it by shoving a needle underneath the nail from the front. However, with the tough ones (often the big toe), the blister can form deeper, more towards the nail bed, making it impossible to pop the 'conventional' way. When that happens, you have to drill the nail! Aren't you glad I'm giving you such an informative lesson?? So anyway, I drilled the big toenail, which gave me much relief! After I was done with my feet, I turned my attention to my shoes. Even though my mizuno wave elixirs were only about a week and a half old going into this race, they are absolutely destroyed! After climbing and jumping over the rocks in the maze, I was dismayed to see that the entire heel of the sole of one of my shoes was hanging on by a thread! EEP! There really wasn't anything I could do about it (why didn't I pack a staple gun...ha) so I concentrated on sewing my homemade gaiters back on in the spots that were coming off.

Then I prepared my perpetuem (endurance product by Hammer Nutrition). Instead of trying to mix the endurance powders with water while out on the course, I took 8 scoops (1080 calories) and added a little bit of water to make it into a paste and put into two small sipping bottles. That way every time I passed through a checkpoint I could quickly fill up my water bottles with pure water and simply sip the perpetuem every hour as I went along. Parfait! Alongside the perpetuem I also prepared an assortment of solid foods, such as nuts, pepperoni sticks (very high in calories!), and my favourite, chips.

The biggest dilemma was how to prepare for the swimming section. Some people planned on putting their entire knapsack into a dry bag and pulling it along through the water while they swam. Others choose to put everything inside the backpack into the drysack so that they wouldn't have to take their backpack off to swim. Given that my backpack wouldn't fit inside my drysack, I opted for option number 2! I puffed up my backpack and made sure to leave lots of air in the drysack, hoping that it would keep me afloat...otherwise, with my backpack strapped onto me I risked sinking!

We started off at 6am under clear blue skies. Damn. After a brief section on rocks, we had to tackle the swim. I think the swim in total was a few hundred metres, but only 90m was so deep you couldn't touch. Doesn't seem like a lot, but I was actually quite terrified! What if I sank??? I plunged in and started the front crawl, literally holding my breath to see if I would float. It worked! After the first swimming section, we had to navigate a couple more over the next few kilometres. No chance of keeping the feet dry today! My feet were already starting to scream....And don't get me started on the bum chaffing! Like a true lady, I kept my hydropel handy (glorified vaseline to all you non-runners) and kept lubing up every few kms. Ouch.

The first 10km to the first checkpoint were really tough coming out of the maze. I ran with Hamish for most of this section, which was really helpful because it was VERY difficult to see the course markers. Many of the tags had fallen down or were torn down by the sheer speed of the frontrunners ahead, and this made navigating through the grass and trees almost impossible at times! It helped having an extra set of eyes. It took almost 3 hours to get to the first checkpoint...what a way to start a 100km day!

From then on, all I can say is that it was hot. Really hot. Not a single cloud in the sky.... The sun kept beating down on me without mercy. I saw my shadow getting smaller and smaller as noon approached. I couldn't believe how little ground I had covered - and how much I still had left to go! Around 12:00 I caught up with Mehmet (a Canadian dentist and Ray Zahab trainee!) and Ahn (my Vietnam running partner!). I remarked that it should probably start cooling off after 1pm and Mehmet said that he was going to wait until about 1:30 before he put on the jets so that he could stay out of the heat. I kept up a slow run/jog because I just wanted to keep moving forward, but I felt like I was crawling. The sun was just brutal. At every checkpoint I got water poured over my head and bandana, but the relief only seemed to last about 10 minutes before everything was bone dry again. Arg.

Just before I got to the 60km mark, I was running down the track towards a small stream. Omigod - there was a crocodile on the path!! It sped off into the water, but needless to say it freaked me out! Then again just after the 60km checkpoint, I was running alongside a pond and thought I might stop to wet my legs and head... another flash and there was crocodile number two! Luckily, I also got to see a baby kangaroo on the trail to help calm me down, but I was still pretty jumpy!

I was really hoping for a break in the heat after 1pm, but I didn't feel the temperature drop until about 4:30. The heat just took all of my energy. I drank 2.5L between every checkpoint and started urinating about every 15 minutes. I couldn't quench my thirst. At all. It was just so tough, but I knew the more I pushed on, the quicker I would get to the end! I thought about my family, my friends, and especially my Uncle Nick, who has been battling a very aggressive cancer. His last scan came back clear and he is beating all odds at the moment. I thought of his strength and perseverence, and the support of the entire Bala family. Compared to cancer, 100km in the heat is a cake walk. I really had nothing to complain about.

After 4:30 the sun started to drop and so did the temperature...and my legs started moving a little faster! I zoomed past the 70k checkpoint and came into the 80km checkpoint with my headtorch on. The rock faces turned red with the setting sun and I really started to enjoy myself. Sure, I was really tired, but I loved the break from the heat! I ran alongside herds of cows and eventually under a brilliant set of stars. After the 80km mark, the course turned onto road. As I rounded the first bend, I was blinded by a giant spotlight... which turned out to be the moon! It was gorgeous. There was a block of clouds that looked like waves in the sky, glowing in the light of the moon. Quite an awesome sight. Finally I reached the 90km mark, guided in by bright green glowsticks. With 10.8 km to go, I knew it was time for a little Beyonce. I took an espresso gel and it must have gone straight to my head because suddenly I was belting out the worst backup vocals to Beyonce possible. Halo, If I were a Boy, and Single Ladies were on the playlist. Absolutely hilarious. Every once in a while an RTP truck would come by and I would have to make sure to shut myself up! It was a major running high for the next 5k. I even did a fist pump in the air during my rendition of halo.

That last 5k was tough, but I was running faster on this section than any other part of the day. It was finally cool and I was ecstatic to be finishing... After a few Rihanna songs belted out into the night, I saw the lights of the finish line. I MADE IT!!!! Of course, the tears came... but only a few (dehydration!). Wow. It was all over.

Patrick, one of the guys who just finished now, said that he worked out that he drank 22L of water during the course. That seems about right! Absolutely ridiculous!!

I'm getting eaten by flies and my feet are starting to swell (oh the cankles...) but I wanted to let you all know that I'm okay and I am so very much looking forward to reading your messages tomorrow!!!

MUCH LOVE to all and thank you for your support. xxxx

Oh yeah, I finished 2nd female and 8th overall today. Wicked Lia finished hand in hand with Salvador!! I am SO impressed!!!!!!! That woman is on fire :) Way to go Lia!

Stage 4: Racing the Planet Australia

2010-04-28T06:16:00.000-07:00

I had a phenomenal day today! It was a tough 17km but the most picturesque stage of the entire race so far. Finally we were off the dusty road and spinifex grass! When we woke up this morning we were blessed with cloudy skies and a cool breeze. We ran out with energy across the air strip and into the bush... and that's when the fun started! Lots of boulders - small and large - to navigate. We hiked onwards in single file again, but the field thinned out pretty quickly. It took so much concentration to keep one eye on the guy ahead and the other on the rocks below...One false step and it would be game over! To be honest, I had quite a number of falls again today. I even managed to do a little sommersault with my backpack on, which was rather interesting! Every time I went down I just kept thinking 'head up, bum/hands down'... i can make it through this race with a bruised behind or even a sprained wrist, but not a head injury!! Thanks to my hyper-mobile ankles, I haven't sprained anything yet (eep!) but I've done a number on my calf muscles with all that twisting and turning....

The terrain went straight uphill for a quite some time. The sweat poured down and dotted the coral rocks. It actually helped me figure out which path to take when scaling the boulders - follow the drips of sweat from the competitor in front!! Right hand up, left foot over, right knee down... it was a real exercise in scrambling. At one point I started overtaking some of the men - slipping and sliding over rocks and dirt the whole wway - and caught up to Lia! WHOA! All I could think was to savour the moment because who knows when it would happen again! A group of about 6 of us got into a pretty good pace and we called out the rocks, roots, and holes for one another...and more importantly, we picked each other up when one of us fell down. Which was often me. At one stage I hit my knee so hard that tears automatically came pouring down my face, but then my vision was blurred and it just caused me to trip again - twice! So enough of that, I thought, and I sorted myself out!

After 6.6km of brutal terrain we came across Brandee, the lead doctor from the medical team, who must have been choppered in. She was there with additional water but I actually didn't need any more. We were made to carry a full 3 litres of water from the start (so heavy!) and our group had made it there pretty quickly. After 10.2km we reached the first official checkpoint. We filled our bottles up from a stream and were advised that a deep water section was coming up - stick to the left if we wanted to keep our upper body dry. It was stunning - we were wading through a river gorge with sheer rock faces on either side blocking the sun. The mossy rocks were slippery, but we managed without any major injuries!

The group of us decided to stick together to the finish, which was really nice. The terrain was just too dangerous to go much faster and we were enjoying one another's company. We reached the finish line and set our sights on camp - GORGEOUS!!! We are sleeping right on the rock tonight - ticks and ants and all - but the moon tonight should give us an amazing view. I'm praying for cloud cover tomorrow. It will be a long day regardless, but just a little bit of a break in the weather should help.... There is a river gorge next to camp where we have to get our water. Mary came into camp by helicopter, but there isn't much here. No shade, no bottled water... but laptops! Ha! It will be a swimming section right off the bat tomorrow morning and a tough 10km out of the maze...we have to carry all of our garbage with us out. And then a mere 90km afterwards with wet feet. I'm worried about swimming with my pack - will it float? Will I sink???? My shoes have started to come apart - the toes are almost gone - but I just have to get through one more hard day. The last day I could crawl through if I have to!

Your messages of support are again overwhelming and so much appreciated. I love hearing from friends of other competitors too - it is neat to see who is following along! And a BIG thank you to Ray Zahab, from impossible2possible (i2P) who has been training me through this...

I'm getting kicked off - love to all and keep the messages coming! think cool and fast thoughts!

Stage 3: Racing the Planet Australia

2010-04-27T06:15:00.000-07:00

Day three is done... and boy am I thankful!!! Crap, this race is severely tough. Really, really tough. I went to bed last night staring up at the sky and wishing that I wasn't seeing such a beautiful display of stars...Clear skies are definitely NOT what we want here! The moon was out and shining brilliantly, which at least helped light the way to the portapotties. Zandy in my tent must have gotten in very late again because when I woke up in the middle of the night he was lying on the ground beside me, just outside the tent. I am so impressed by the tenacity of the other runners who spend ALL day out on the course and pretty much have to go right to sleep when they get into camp...with very little recovery time it is amazing they have the guts to start all over again the next morning!

We've lost two people from our tent so far. Bradley left yesterday and today unfortunately Natalia had to drop out, much to her disappointment. She went over on her ankle before checkpoint 1 and it ballooned up. I have no doubt that if she was able to continue on, she would have. It is hard seeing people forced out of the race who truly just want to participate...all those months of training... We will definitely miss Natalia in the tent - her positive energy was infectious!! But she will warm up the finish line for us and we'll toast her amazing strength with two cold beers at emma gorge...mmm, too early to start thinking about that now!

The day began again at 6am and as I feared, it was clear skies all around. Although the course was shorter today (34k), with the heat it felt just as brutal as the previous days. Up to checkpoint one the scenery was gorgeous, but it was hard to notice with all that huffing and puffing! The sweat poured down my face and over my sunglasses, obscuring my vision. The footing up until now has been pretty treacherous, but that first stage today was positively insane. Even the leaders were forced to walk, so we all walked in a file for the first hour and a half. An 8km death march into the checkpoint by the waterfall. So many hidden holes, streams, muddy patches, sinkholes, spinifex, hidden logs, twisted roots, barbed wire (yes! barbed wire!), bog, and rocks. Small rocks, large rocks, loose rocks....I can't tell you how many times I fell over. My ebola legs look ready for amputation. Between the mossie bites, the bruises, and the thousands of pricks from the spinifex I could easily be the "before" photo for some extra strength medical lotion. The biggest problem with falling was that each time I would end up stretching beyond was I was used to and I would pull a muscle. Adductors are screaming (James, get those IMS needles ready in London when I return!!).

At the waterfall at checkpoint one I wet my head buff and forged onwards. The field was still pretty tight at that point, which wore on me mentally. You couldn't ever really get a break - there was always someone behind you pushing the pace or someone ahead who seemed to have more energy. Running through the grass meant that we had to pick our feet up quite a bit to clear the clumps - like a 'knees up' soccer ball drill. But I hung in. The faster I finished, the faster I would be out of this heat!!

Chased by Barb out of the waterfall

Barb, amazing firefighter/ironwoman aussie Barb, ran an amazing race today. She powered up the rock climbs and trucked along the flats. It was so inspiring to see - this woman is 51 people!!!! 51!!!! Wow. She never looked tired. We stuck together at almost every stage. Whenever I was in front and thought I was pulling ahead I would look behind and she was right on my tail. It was actually pretty motivating - I knew I couldn't ease off! At one point Barb and I ran with a group of about 4 other male runners, including Mehmet from Canada and Peter (aka dark horse), the 2:30 marathoner. I led the group for part of it, which was pretty cool - a couple said that I led a good pace and that I gave them a bit of a boost. AWESOME!!! Ha, of course as soon as we emerged from the grass and hit the road I stopped and waved them onwards. For the last 8.7 km from checkpoint 3 to the finish I asked Barb if she wanted to run with me so we could pace one another. We are so evenly matched, I thought that maybe we could help each other get through that last brutal 5km.I think it worked brilliantly. She thanked me for helping her through the last part but I think she was just being humble - it was definitely Barb that pulled me along! The last 4 or 5 k or so was all on dusty road... the sun was beating down on our backs and there was nothing but a long road ahead. At some point Gabriel (my tentmate and former olympian...in no order of importance, ha) caught up to us. He was out of water, thinking that we were almost at the finish. Because I was wearing my polar watch (RS800), I was able to track the distances and I knew we still had 2.7k to go. Gabriel ran with us and the three of us pushed one another along. "Let's run to that yellow sign up there..." Then we would take a little break and someone would call out the next running point. I was really suffering, but I just wanted to get to camp as quickly as possible.

As we came down the final stretch, a small plane landed on the road we were running on. I shouted out for them to take me away, but strangely enough they didn't stop! Gabriel, Barb and I rounded the final corner to the row of flags that marked the end of the stage. We ran across the line hand in hand, very relieved to put this stage behind us.

Now I will come to the chaffing. Again. I can deal with the back. I mean, it is itchy and uncomfortable, but I can deal. Today came the inner thigh and rear end chaffing. Now THAT is painful. I lay on my stomach for about an hour in the medical tent while the doctors tried to figure out how to tape it up, but alas, nothing can be done... It is so painful. When I took off my shorts there was dried blood all over the backside. EEP! I'm walking around camp with just a jacket tied around my waist, hoping and praying I will be able to push through this tomorrow!!

I have never felt like such a lady!!!

We have a view of beautiful hills and red rock cliffs from our camp, which I would enjoy more if I didn't know that we would have to scale them tomorrow! I reckon Barb will do brilliantly tomorrow and I will be very, very pleased if I can struggle to keep up third place. In these conditions, it really is just about surviving! sadly, one of the japanese competitors got a very serious head injury out on the course today and had to be rushed offto the hospital - another reminder of the brutality of this sport and of this race.

I should mention that my polar product has really saved me. Being able to measure the distances between checkpoints has allowed me to guage my water consumption -- and mentally helps push me along! I've been calling out the distances for the other competitors as well. Many have brought Garmin GPS units, which I'm sure are great in training but absolutely useless in a race like this. The garmin battery only lasts 6-10 hours, so it really doesn't work on a multi-day race. My polar RS800 works through water, sand, road, and bush and the battery will last until at least next year!

Still gutted that I don't have my oso bite plate. I am going to try wearing half of it tomorrow. If anyone is interested in learning more about this, please contact David Cook at London Holistic Dentistry on Harley Street. I will post more about this on my normal blog in a couple weeks!!! (And yes mom, I can only update my RTP blog from here, not my normal blog... We don't actually have internet access here! RTP just downloads the messages once a day and then uploads them to these laptops).

Thank you THANK YOU THANK YOU for your messages. They have made me laugh, smile, and tear up a bit. The words of encouragement from family, strangers, new and old friends alike have been incredible. But Kim and Ben (my siblings!!!) where are you???

Thank you to my dream team back in London especially - David Cook (for the OSO bite plate), Steve Bessant (neuromuscular skeletal specialist at the Bowskill Clinic), JAmes Pinkney (IMS practitioner at the Bowskill Clinic), Petrus DeJager (massage therapist at the Third Space gym), Dr. Simon Costain (podiatrist at the Gait and Posture Clinic), Renata (cryotherapy at Champneys Spa), Phil Learney (strength and conditioning coach at the Third Space gym).... who am I missing???

And thank you to my friend from Champneys for taking the time to send me a message - your support was a welcome and very lovely surprise!!

Paul and Chloe, send me some Australian strength!

Mark, Jenna, Alex and Belinda, your RTP wishes are much appreciated!!!

Alex and Moo, hope the office isn't too quiet without me! (HA!)

And mom and dad, i love you both so very much...Thank you for standing by me through the injuries, the pain, the struggles...and for not asking me to drop out :)

LOVE TO ALL - keep those messages coming!!!!

xxxx

Stage 2: Racing the Planet Australia

2010-04-26T06:14:00.000-07:00

When I blogged yesterday, it was still quite early in the day and most of the competitors hadn't come in yet...and as the hours rolled passed, the number of casualties increased exponentially. I mean, I KNEW it was tough, but I really didn't get a full appreciation of how tough the conditions were out there until I saw my fellow runners suffering. Really suffering. And I'm not talking about just the rookies. Some VERY experienced racers succumbed to the heat yesterday. Ahn Beyung Sig, the amazing runner from Jeju Island in Korea, became severely dehydrated and was vomiting all over the course. Two IV tbags for him. I ran about 20k of the long stage in Vietnam with Ahn and ever since have felt quite a bond. We can't really communicate all that well, but I can tell that his spirit is as kind as his legs are fast! It was awful to see his face contorted in pain as he lay in the medical tent hooked up to an IV.

Then there was Paul from South AFrica who was in tent 16 beside me. I believe Paul has raced all 4 deserts in one year (amazing!!!) and is a VERY experienced racer. I'm not sure what the press releases are saying, but apparently Paul passed out on the course. Last night I heard him wretching outside the tent - it sounded like he was vomiting his internal organs. I ran over to the medical tent to alert them as Paul didn't seem to be able to get over on his own steam. I went for some treatment on my back myself (ewww, the chaffing...) and saw about 4 people hooked up to IVs. And then there was the puking into buckets. It was seriously intense. I didn't think my back was too bad until some of the other patients started making faces and taking photos. Hmm, maybe it was worse than I thought? My back was rubbed almost completely raw by my backpack. The doctor started to put neosporin on it, but then the flies swooped in... I guess I looked like fresh meat!! I begged the doctor to make sure he had picked all the flies out of my wounds before he put the tape on!

The back chafe...

The last person in our tent to arrive was Zandy. I didn't hear him come in, but he was also vomiting during the night (luckily not on me!). Wow.

Wake up was earlier today, which I think everyone was excited about. We started at 6am to try to get as much mileage done before the sun really started beating down... Even at 6am I was sweating buckets!! The first check point was just 8km away and seemed to arrive quickly. Lia shot ahead right from the start (amazing!!!) and I struggled to keep up with Barb. I really wasn't feeling great for that first mini-stage. I think seeing all of the casualties last night really freaked me out and I was worried about withering under the heat. If it could happen to Ahn and Paul, surely it could happen to me!! After the first check point we had to run a whole 16km before reaching checkpoint 2. That may not seem far, but in these conditions it is a VERY long way. We were advised to make use of every water hole that we found... And I did. Anytime I passed a water hole of stagnant water, I would at least dunk my head in and cool down my legs. Moving streams were perfect for refilling bottles. I didn't care about any extra weight I was carrying - I filled up every bottle to the max and tried to bring as much water as possible. After about 17km the field really spread out and I started to get into my groove - I was on my own. I let my body do the talking and just tried to run (walk and crawl) in tune with how I was feeling. There were some difficult climbing sections and some rocky outcrops we had to navigate. I don't go very quickly over these sections because with the weight of the pack on my back I know I'm a bit off balance and I really try to avoid falling!

Alas, I still had a few tough tumbles. On the last one, I actually broke my bite plate. OH NO!!! It was my secret weapon!! Basically, my dentist Dr. David Cook, outfitted me with this amazing bite plate (OSO bite plate) which actually makes me stronger by putting my jaw in a slightly different alignment. Really! I have been wearing it in training and during the race so far and have definitely noticed a difference... However, today, when I took it out to eat some chips I tripped in a stream and fell on a tree trunk. When I looked down at my hand, my bite plate was in half. SHOOOT!

Other than the rock sections, there was just a lot more spinifex. One look at my legs and you'd think I had some crazy chicken pox disease. Or maybe ebola. The little spikes go right through shoes, socks, and shorts and jab right into your skin...but there is nothing to do but keep moving forward!

During the second half of the course I got some relief. Every once in a while the sun would duck behind some clouds and we even got a breeze... The difference was astounding. Whenever the sun was beating down, my legs ground to a halt, but as soon as there was a bit of cloud cover I got a burst of energy and was able to forge ahead.

The end of the stage was all on dusty road, so no excuses not to run! It may sound strange to non-ultrarunners, but sometimes it really is nice to have a hill or two because it allows you to walk guilt-free!

I finished today in 10th place and 2nd female again. I am still struggling with the stages and my back is itching like crazy... the toe is really flaring up and the nails are starting to lift off... but I'm happy to be getting some miles behind me. I am in awe by the level of competition here. It seems every year it gets better. Some seriously strong women!!! I've got a lot to learn from them.

One last little excitement at camp - at one point, a wind/rain line came through and blew a bunch of the tents over. It went from hot and sunny and dry to massive wind and rain in about 30 seconds. Gabriel, Bradley and I hung onto our tent for dear life and braced ourselves against the rain, which was coming in sideways....INSANE!!!

Thanks for the messages everyone! They help immensely....PLEASE KEEP 'EM COMING!!! The more, the better - and from anyone!! I rely so heavily on outside support here. It keeps me motivated. I am humbled by these conditions, the other runners, and the sheer insanity of this sport. I thank you for your encouragement, your donations, your thoughts and prayers. Much love to all

Stage 1: Racing the Planet Australia

2010-04-25T06:12:00.000-07:00

Looking slightly possessed at check-in

WWWOOOOOWEEEE that was a hard first day! It felt like a balmy 60 degrees C out there... I've heard rumours it was slightly cooler than that, but I simply don't believe them.

Okay, so I definitely let the nerves get to me last night. During the final briefing in Kununurra, I made a last minute shoe change and switched from my inov-8s to my mizunos. I just got too worried about trying a relatively new shoe in this kind of race. I've used my trusty rusty mizuno elixirs in vietnam and namibia I decided to stick with a known quantity! However, the gaiters that I had arranged to fit on my mizunos were still back in London... darn. I had ordered them through itchy feet and they were supposed to arrive on Tuesday. Given that I left London in a panic on Monday morning for Paris, I was SOL. No matter - I took two extra buffs and sewed them onto my shoes. I tried the same technique in Namibia and it seemed to work, but would it work in the Kimberley????

Anyhow, after breathing in our last little bit of air conditioning in at the Kimberley Grande, we piled into buses and drove about an hour out into the countryside. The sunset was absolutely gorgeous and I remembered the old sailing saying: "sunset at night, sailors' delight..." Hmm, did that mean I would have a nice breeze for running or would that mean clear skies (and nothing to shield us from the sun???).

Well, I've come up with a new saying now: "sunset at night, ultrarunner's nightmare." It doesn't rhyme, but it rings true.

I didn't get nearly as much sleep as I had hoped last night. In the RTP Namibia race, I didn't bring a warm enough sleeping bag and I absolutely froze in the evenings. I had to use my emergency heat blanket every night. So, thinking that I was being smart, I brought a sleeping bag for here that is suitable for temperatures down to -1C. AHA! I won't be made a fool this time!.... Or so I thought. It REALLY doesn't get cold here at night...At all! Ugh, I tried to stay in my sleeping bag but pretty soon I was drenched in sweat. You'd think that I could just sleep on top of my sleeping bag instead, but the feeling of a whole bunch of creepy crawlers on my legs in the night was a bit disconcerting. I saw a bunch of cockroaches introducing themselves to me and my tentmates last night before we went to bed, and once they found out where the party was I'm pretty sure that they invited some friends. Anyhow, I basically baked last night and dehydrated myself immensely. To distract myself from the nerves, I turned to food (naturally). The night before an RTP race is an eating frenzy. More entertaining than the hot dog eating contest on Coney Island, I reckon. I must have consumed about 6000 calories from last night and my midnight feeding... I woke up this morning nursing my food belly and hoping it wouldn't actually weigh me down too much!

We set off at 7am with some local school kids leading the way. Darn it, those little kids were FAST!! Ha! The field went out fast and strong, but I remember from the other races I've done that that is the norm. Everyone is just so eager to get going that we come out of the gates like gangbusters. I tried not to get too worried or caught up in the madness. I just wanted to find my legs again and work out the kinks from the last five days of travel.

I have to say, the terrain was pretty tough. It was flat (yay!), but as I quickly learned, flat does not mean easy!! Most of the course was covered in this really tall, tough grass and this dreaded spinifex thing I keep hearing about. Running through the grass was tough for a couple of reasons:

(1) it simply slows down the feet because you have to push these loooong strands of tough grass out of your way;

(2) it obscures the ground underfoot...which often contained large angle-twisting, knee-breaking 'potholes', gulleys, or, um, snakes???

(3) it hurt!!! The little spikes from the grass shot right through the compression socks (which worked brilliantly, Kimboles - thank you!) and also right through my homemade gaiters.

I managed to keep Lia (Farley) in my sights only for about the first 15k (or was it less than that??). What an incredible runner she is! I have a lot to learn from her. Instead, I was pretty much evenly matched with an Australian runner (an ironman athlete with wicked calves) until checkpoint 2. Despite the terrain, I wasn't feeling TOO badly until then... I left Barb, the Australian, behind just after checkpoint two and forged onwards.

But then the heat got worse. The sun got higher, and the wind was non-existent. No matter how much water I drank, it never quenched my thirst. Drinking hot water... I filled up my bottles from the occasional stream, but it was never enough! I came into checkpoint 3 feeling pretty drained and eager to get to the finish.

The last 10k were brutal. I kept moving slower and slower... and for the first time in my life, I actually lost my appetite so I wasn't getting the calories in. I really had to dig deep, which I wasn't expecting on the first day!! The last 4k did me in. It was all on road and I was expecting to have just a 2k run...You wouldn't think just 2 more km would make a difference, but believe me it does!! Mentally and physically, I was spent. I started counting down every 100m and mentally patting myself on the pack (I wouldn't dare do it physically because of the chaffing). Not a great way to be. There was a lot of walking that last little stretch. I had stopped sweating, which is always a bad sign, but I knew i was getting close...

Finally i finished. 2nd female, 9th overall. VERY happy with that!! It feels good to get the first day out of the way but I must say, I'm worried about the days ahead! I am just not coping with this head.

Goal 1: don't get lost.

Goal 2: don't vomit.

Goal 3: finish.

If I make the first 2 goals I have a much better chance of making goal 3!!

THANKS TO EVERYONE for your support in the race and for cancer research. For those of you who have been following along and have been thinking about making a donation, now is the time!!! This race is brutal, but not anywhere NEAR as tough as what victims of cancer go through fighting this deadly disease. You know you can make a donation - any amount helps. Just do it!!

US: firstgiving.com/scase

UK: justgiving.com/stephaniecase

Canada: there is a page for me called "oz for the cause" on the canadahelps website... I can't remember the exact address but go to my personal blog for details: www.canadianultrarunner.blogspot.com

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you about the wildlife. At one point I say what looked like a clothesline strung up between two trees. I thought, weird! And went in for a closer look... OH MY GOD it was a GIANT spider web with a humungo scary spider in the center. EEEEP! I had to limbo under that bad boy and pray that I didn't become its next meal!!

Once I finished the stage I went and soaked in the little river (or, jacuzzi is more like it from the heat) behind camp. That is when I discovered all my lovely chaffing spots so it was over to the medical tent.

Lots more to blog about but I am WIPED so it will have to be tomorrow. I have to tell you about my OSO bite plate (yes!) and my amazing polar watch that is helping carry me through this race!!!

Already one person on IV and multiple pukers.... feeling actually quite lucky now....

Please keep sending your thoughts, prayers, and donations!!!

xxx

Race to Australia: Part FIVE, Darwin to Kununurra

2010-04-22T16:15:00.000-07:00

"Life is not a journey to the grave with intentions of arriving safely in a pretty well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming... WOW! What a ride!" - Hunter S. Thompson I want to send out a HUGE thank you to Deni and Anthony from Air North. Two shining stars in my ever-expanding book of people who have helped me cross the globe under this dark cloud of volcanic ash... In Singapore, I was able to change my flight from Darwin to Kununurra to today (Friday) instead of Saturday. Absolutely stellar. Yet when I arrived at the check-n desk in Darwin, I was informed that Qantas had already issued me a ticket for Saturday's flight and I would have to buy a whole new ticket to get on today's flight... I must admit once more that I started to crumple. I just feel like I've been fighting on this journey every step of the way and, well, the PMA (positive mental attitude) is hard to keep up for 5 days straight on little sleep! However, Deni and Anthony saved the day. Unlike many of the other airline employees I have dealt with in person or over the phone the past week, these two were empathetic, understanding, and frankly, soothing!! Right off the bat when Deni tried to check me in, she noticed I was born in Kingston and immediately freaked out (in the way that, say, my mom would freak out if she ran into Bobby Orr on the street. Okay maybe not THAT much of a freak out...). She spent 15 months living in good ol' K-town back in Canada and gave me a high five as she rattled off her old address and fav hangouts. THIS was someone I could trust. Similarly, Anthony got on the phone and proceeded to call Orbitz and Qantas to sort out my tickets. With his Australian charm he worked his magic and half an hour later I had a boarding pass! I've given Deni and Anthony the race website and my blog, so I'm hoping this won't be the last I hear from them! I'm thinking I'll like Australia..... Now, onto more important things. Like buying all sorts of food! With Oz's strict import requirements, most of what I'll be eating next week during the race will have to be bought from airport stands and perhaps the hotel gift shop? If it is fatty, salty, high calorie and dense, I want it!! I've also consumed enough food these past 12 hours to feed a small but obese army. I feel like a goose getting fattened up for the slaughter. Probably not too far off - with everything I hear about the course, it may indeed be a slaughter.... ONE MORE LEG TO GO!

Race to Australia: Part Four, Singapore to Darwin

2010-04-22T06:48:00.000-07:00

I've got 9 minutes left on this airport computer to type out an update... I had to leave Salvador and the spanish crew at the singapore airport this afternoon when we landed. They were going onwards to Perth and I to Darwin. Salvador said "see you tomorrow" and I whimpered, "no, see you in two days..." I started to think how crazy it was that I had to wait 24 hours in Darwin. Surely there was another flight! I went online and sure enough, there was a flight that still had spots for tomorrow from Darwin to Kununurra. Hmm, I suspect it was more expensive which is why I wasn't booked on it in the first place.

Well, no stopping me now! I got myself a seat on that flight tomorrow and managed to get a refund on my non-refundable hotel booking for Darwin. Booyah! I should really consider switching careers.

I must admit, I am really breaking down now... It has been four full days of non-stop travel using every mode of transportation other than a camel. And don't think I didn't consider camels at one point. So I booked myself into a fish spa and got myself a massage, foot scrub, and fishy sessions on the toes. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, there is this weird craze in Asia to dunk your feet in pools of special fish that eat off your dead skin. I know, it sounds gross. And to be honest, it actually is. But what the heck, it can't really get any more surreal right now... so why not have some little fishies help prepare my feet for the next 7 days of slaughter? Stay tuned for the video of the feeding - those little guys went to town on my ugly ultrarunner feet!

I feel absolutely awful, but I'm sure it'll only get better (right??). I am so looking forward to seeing everyone. I land in Darwin at 4:30am tomorrow....

WISH ME LUCK! And keep those donations coming!!!!
xx

Race to Australia: Part THREE, Madrid to Singapore (via Doha)

2010-04-21T11:59:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Madrid at about 2:30am this morning (Wednesday) and finally the motley crew had to say goodbye to one another. A few got dropped off at the airport, determined to catch earlier flights out. I was the last to be dropped off and made it to my hotel at 3am. I was hoping to save on the cost of yet one more night at a hotel, but with 4 more days of traveling ahead I thought I should grab some kip wherever I could!! For a bargain price of 97CAD, I had a room for the next 6 hours... Brilliant. And even better, the hotel was fully booked so I got my own suite! Two bathrooms, two beds, and a living room. Shame I had to sleep and miss all the fun ;)

Before I checked out this morning I got a stroke of genius and grabbed the fuzzy bathroom slippers from the hotel room. In my midnight packing frenzy on Sunday, my flip flops for wearing around camp didn't make it into my bag... But I figure if I cut the toes off the bathroom slippers that will do the trick! And they are lightweight too! SCORE!

I got to the airport SUPER early - almost 4 hours before my flight - and as I was standing in the check out line I suddenly became overwhelmed by the past few days of journey and, okay fine, the tears started coming... I crumpled purely out of relief. And then all of a sudden I heard a noise behind me... IT WAS SALVADOR CALVO!!! My partner-in-crime from Racing the Planet Vietnam (the male winner and also the winner of RTP Namibia)!! I threw my arms around him and squeezed him tight, much to his, um, surprise I'm sure! I was so happy to see him. He had been writing me on facebook about how desperate he was to get out but couldn't get a flight. BONUS!!! Ana and Lourdes (volunteer) showed up about half and hour later and we spent the next few hours chatting in spanglish. Well, they spoke in English and I chickened out trying to use Spanish. I'm not sure what we chatted about all of the time, but I did pick up 'cajones', which I think says it all.

Salvador is not only one of the best runners I know, but also THE most humble. More on that later.

We made it to Doha and are now stuck here for about 6 hours. Once we get to Singapore we will split ways. The three Spanish fighters will go onwards to Perth and Kununurra, arriving at 12:25pm on Friday. Unfortunately I have another 6 hour layover in Singapore and then a 24 hour layover in Darwin, arriving finally in Kununurra at 7:15am on Saturday. BUT WE'RE MAKING IT!!!!

xoxox

Race to Australia: Part TWO, Paris to Madrid

2010-04-20T19:11:00.000-07:00

I've made it to Madrid! IT is 3am and my alarm is set for 6:30...I want to make it to the airport in plenty of time to check into my flight! Online check in isn't possible, but it appears my flight is still scheduled (!!!!) so let's hope! Heathrow opened but as the BBC says, "Travel chaos persists"!! I think I'm incredibly lucky to have this flight. Spain is definitely where it's at!

The map of volcanic ash...key is avoiding the red!

I just can't believe my luck. I mean, some might few this whole trip as BAD luck, but let's think... I just HAPPENED to pack on Sunday night/ Monday morning JUST IN CASE I needed to leave early (which I did suddenly). Then, instead of booking the flight through Bangkok that I was looking at, I just HAPPENED to book one through Singapore... Now that Bangkok is undergoing political protests and a state of emergency has been declared, I'm so glad I didn't arrange to fly there!!! And then while waiting in line for train tickets, I just HAPPENED to meet other stranded travellers who wanted to get from PAris to MAdrid. And they just happened to be as determined as I was to get there.

Everything is working out so far. Part THREE of the grand adventure to follow tomorrow! To Doha, layover for 6 hours, and then to Singapore, arriving Thursday afternoon. Another 21 hours of travel ahead....

My motley crew of travellers in the Paris Gare du Nord train station

Race to Australia: Part ONE, London to Paris.3gp

2010-04-20T01:03:00.000-07:00

Race to Australia: Part ONE (and a half)....musings from Paris.

2010-04-20T00:30:00.001-07:00

The support that is pouring has me shaking my head in disbelief. I am so touched by all those who are reaching out - it is really helping me push on and not give up! I'm not sure how many would go to these lengths to run this race... emotionally, physically or financially (EEP!), but at no point have I questioned whether I was making a mistake. This is just something I feel. I am determined to get to Australia. But Steph, won't you be exhausted once you make it to Australia after 6 stressful days of constant travelling? Even if you get there, you won't be able to run a good race! Isn't it time to give it a rest? To those who have asked me that -- and those who have thought that but been smart enough not to ask! -- I will answer with a quote (and thanks to my good friend Myles Estey for reminding me of it): "Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest. If you're going to while away the years, it's far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive then in a fog, and I believe running helps you to do that. Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life" -Haruki Murakami

The Race to Australia: Chapter ONE, London to Paris

2010-04-19T12:57:00.000-07:00

AND THE RACE IS ON!!!

Here's a window into the last 72 hours:

FRIDAY
19:30- set out on a 30km run with a 20lb backpack. Realize I forgot to pick up my shoes from the cobbler (to get velcro sewn on for attaching RTP's special gaiters) and sent my friend, Alex Wilks.

21:30- remembered I wanted to test out the shoes with the velcro on to make sure they weren't smaller and needed to get the shoes that night. Arranged to rendezvous with Alex while he was out on the town drinking caipirinhas in Camden Town (a very hip area in London for all of you non-Londoners)

23:00- show up at a bar called "Spritual" dressed like a spaceman (or so I was told), wearing full raidlight gear, compression socks, and a head torch. Picked up the shoes and stayed for a glass of wine as I changed out of my sweaty spandex top in the middle of the bar (I was covered). Hey, I've been told anything goes in Camden.

SATURDAY
6:00- woke up to catch the tube and train out to Berkhamsted for more kriotherapy (see earlier post).

10:00- Chatted with Mrs. Blair about the race and learned that her husband (TONY!) was stuck in the middle east. Stayed in the krio chamber too long without bandages while doing squats and suffered frostbite burns down both forearms.

14:00- return to london to do last minute errands and find that many of the speciality stores I needed were closed "due to staff shortages as members are stuck in New York on account of the volcanic ash".

16:30- another 30km run with 17lbs.

20:00- started panicking about my flight.

23:30- really started panicking as I read more and more information on the internet.

SUNDAY

3:00- checked the update on www.nats.co.uk

5:00- got on the phone with my airline. No news. Flight still scheduled despite continuing airport closures.

6:00- wrote a speech for an event on Kenya I was organising for the next day.

8:30- last run (20km tempo run)

11:00- first public breakdown. Met Jenna Eastlake and Mark Mosimann (two RTP vets from Vietnam and Namibia who are getting married!!!) and crumpled. Tried on bridesmaids dresses for their wedding and just about broke the mirror.

16:00- saw online my Tuesday flight on Qantas was cancelled. Subsequently called my hair salon and told them I couldn't hair model for them at 4:30 as promised (don't ask). Spent the next couple of hours trying to move flights and was told that everything on Qantas was booked for two weeks. Queue the profanities of epic proportions. I may have sworn in 6 different languages. I've decided my japanese needs work.

19:30- met Alex Howarth (AKA STAR!!! more later), Mark and Jenna, and two newbies to ultraraces for a "celebratory dinner". Showed up with a puffy face and empty stomach and proceeded to drink champagne and tempt fate by eating raw sushi.

23:00- found a flight from Madrid for 3000 Euros that would get me to Singapore by Thursday. Decided to try catching flies with honey instead of poo this time with the airline agent and convinced them to keep my Qantas flights from Singapore onwards, just a day later.

SUNDAY
01:00- started packing. Went through every item on the equipment list. Believed I was home free.

05:00- booked a train from London to Paris later that day.

07:22- lined up at the Rail Europe office to buy a ticket from Paris to Madrid. I was 26th in line and figured I was lucky. I met a really sweet actress from Vienna who was trying to move back home. A really cute guy (yum) from New Zealand who was intending to catch a train to Athens to meet his mom, who was flying out from NZ through Hong Kong. And then Boris from Moscow who was gearing up for the three day journey back to Russia. If he didn't get a ticket and make it to the station by 2pm he would have to wait until Thursday. No joke.

10:00- office opened and started hearing reports that nothing was going from Paris to Madrid until after Sunday. Queue the tears. Vienna girl gave me her number - 25 - so that I could bump up in the line (bless!).

11:15- started strategizing with a few other stranded passengers who were trying to get to NYC. Ended up booking a cab from Paris to Madrid for 8 people for 4000GBP for 1pm on Tuesday. Exchanged phone numbers and relied on the fact that we were all strangers in the same boat (er, cab) and no one would screw the other over.

12:00- returned to work to collect my bags and finish organizing Kenya event.

15:00- hopped on the train to Paris. 200GBP one way with no seat, but I was on it. Finally ate something for the first time since last night's sushi.

18:17- arrived in Paris and went to the hotel I had enough sense to book a few hours ahead. Brought a young couple with me who had no place to stay and found out the hotel was full (for them). Offered for them to share my room, but they took there chances elsewhere. Think it had something to do with the body odour??? The crazed look in my eyes? Or maybe the shirt I've been wearing for three days straight?

Now you're up to speed!!!

And it is time for my tribute to Alex Howarth. Here's a guy who set out to run his first ultra in Namibia and caught the bug. We didn't chat too much there, but I definitely knew who he was and that he seemed like a great guy. Little did I know (!). I invited him out to my "celebratory" going away dinner and even though it was only the second time we had hung out together in non-spandex, he immediately hopped on board to help me find a solution. Basically, even though the guy was starting a NEW JOB today, he actually went to his boss and pitched the idea of taking a few days off to DRIVE ME to MADRID!!!!! Okay, London to Madrid is a LONG WAY. That's the first thing that would turn most people off. And to put yourself out there like that on the first day of work??? MAN!!!! I don't deserve that. Wow. And then when he found out I was cabbing from Paris to Madrid, he had further contingency plans involving charter flights and other James Bond maneuvers.

STAR!!!!

And Paul McQueeney, who I supported in his English Channel Swim last fall (see my youtube vid), started posting on sports chat rooms and on his facebook about my situation, pleading for someone to help get me to Madrid.

I am overwhelmed and grateful for such a show of support. I can't even begin to start naming the people who have put themselves out there for me. I don't feel like I nearly deserve it, but I am so, so grateful. That is what I love about this sport.....

Situations like these bring out the worse in people sometimes, but I have only seen the BEST.

Now for some SLEEP!!!!! STAY TUNED!!!!

Disruptions of volcanic proportions

2010-04-17T14:43:00.000-07:00

Wow, who would have thought I would be sitting here just 72 hours away from my flight to Australia, wondering if it will be cancelled due to VOLCANIC ERUPTIONS???

Iceland's Eyjafjallajokull glacier erupted last week (Thursday, was it?) and threw the UK's (and Europe's) airspace into chaos. We're talkin' worse than 9/11. YEAH. Some flights have gotten out of the Scottish airports, but Heathrow and other London airports have now been closed for three days. The reports keep saying "airports will be closed until 9am tomorrow" and then it gets bumped to 3pm...then 11pm...then the next day... BAH! Now we're up to Sunday morning. My flight to Kununurra is on Tuesday. And no one knows what is going to happen!

I guess the deal is that the particles from the ash cause a wack-load of problems for planes. Everything from messing up with visibility, killing the jets, and creating spontaneous black holes in the middle of the sky which sucks in all planes, seagulls, and fluffy clouds. Okay, maybe not the black hole thing, but right now I would believe just about anything.

I really can't contemplate the thought of missing this race due to a VOLCANO. First I was worried about airline strikes, but VOLCANOS??? I mean, let's think about what I've put into this race.

I've given up Friday nights out and Sunday mornings in.
I've given up potential relationships, wheat, and toenails (in no particular order of importance).
I've surrendered my mastercard (and my visa) solely to sporting apparel.
I've sacrificed my sanity on a weekly basis. Sometimes daily.
I've seen my back bleed, my feet blister, and my shoulders bruise.
I've put my heart, muscles, and running reputation on the line for this race.

No wimpy little Icelandic volcano is going to stop me from competing!!!

(Um, please???)

I've heard of rain dances - pray tell, is there a clear skies dance I can do? Because I'll do it in the streets, I'll dance it on the rooftops, and I'll tap dance my way to Heathrow! PLEASE!!!

Do you think this is worthy of a donation??

2010-04-13T14:54:00.000-07:00

Since January 1, 2010...

4 months of training everyday - sometimes twice a day

50 lbs spinach consumed

16 large cartons of protein powder ingested

14 pairs of running shoes tested

1 melted mastercard

250+ hours of cardiovascular activity

1 femoral stress fracture

6 sessions of full-body freezing down to -135 degrees (really)

16 strength training sessions with a 250 lb Northerner

270 needles stuck into my muscles

1 steroid injection

3 nervous breakdowns...last week

20+ lbs I will be carrying on my back

250 km of sand, rocks, and crocodile-infested rivers I will traverse

Living off of cheesecake guilt-free when I finish the race...priceless!

And if that doesn't convince you to donate, just look at what I will be doing to my feet (photos courtesy of Racing the Planet Namibia last year - yes, they are mine!)

With less than two weeks to go before my 250 km self-supported footrace in the Australian outback, it really is down to crunch time! Training has been particularly brutal, but I'm hanging in there and feeling strong for the race (and nervous!). I really want to thank everyone who has shown their support for cancer research so far... I will think of each person who has helped me along the way during the race and it will help get me through! But I must admit, fundraising is going slowly! I could really use your help! Cancer has intimately affected my family as it has for many of you as well, and your donation would not only mean the world to me, but it would also go a long way towards helping eradicate this deadly disease. Even a small donation counts! It really, really does! Please take a minute to consider showing your support for this worthy cause. Details on how to donate (and get a tax receipt!) are below.

But wait - there's more!! I would really love to get messages from you during the race. Yes, you can write me through the website and follow along with my progress as I stumble through the outback. It should be entertaining so please follow along! All the instructions are below.

Thanks SO MUCH everyone and I'll see you on the flip side! I will be updating my blog through the Racing the Planet website everyday, so please have a look and see how I'm doing! Find it through here: http://www.4deserts.com/beyond/australia/rtpnmb.php?SID=3&SBID=RC2

Go here to sign up for breaking news updates: www.4deserts.com/beyond/australia/rtpnmb.php?SID=8&SBID=N2

Go here to email me during the race! Yes - I CAN read your messages if you send them through the website! Inspirational quotes, negative reinforcement, teasing - all welcome! www.4deserts.com/beyond/australia/rtpnmb.php?SID=3&SBID=RC14

Go here to donate!

United Kingdom: www.justgiving.com/StephanieCase

Canada: www.canadahelps.org/gp/6518

United States: www.firstgiving.com/scase

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www.canadianultrarunner.blogspot.com

Thank you to the following people and organizations for their incredible support!

Impossible 2 Possible (Ray Zahab) www.impossible2possible.com
The Third Space - London's Premier Fitness Facility www.thethirdspace.com
The Bowskill Clinic (James Pinkney IMS practitioner and Steve Bessant CHEK certified/neuromuscular skeletal specialist)www.bowskillclinic.com
London Holistic Dental (David Cook) www.londonholisticdental.com/
Polar Heart Rate Monitors www.polarelectro.co.uk
Running Fitness Magazine www.runningfitnessmag.co.uk

Three weeks and counting (my carbs!!)

2010-04-04T10:34:00.000-07:00

Warning: this post contains important information that will change the way you think about your carbs. Put down your pret-a-manger sandwich and read on at your own risk!

With just three weeks left to go before my race in Australia, there really isn't any time left for making mistakes (and believe this klutz, I've been known to make more than a few!). I've tried to get more sleep to help promote recovery, I've added extra time on to my stretching routine, and I'm starting to use a wobble board at work in the mornings (hopefully before my colleagues arrive) to increase my stability. I've even cut out jay-walking across busy London streets for fear of getting hit by errant black cabs. Okay, maybe I'm getting paranoid, but I'm not taking any chances!

The biggest change I've made recently, however, has been to my nutrition. Yeah, everyone knows nutrition is important, but I've learned over the past couple weeks just HOW important nutrition really is. Seriously. I mean, I've always tried to eat really healthily anyway, so I didn't think there was much room for improvement. Just ask my sister - after we lived together for a year, she couldn't stand the smell of cooked broccoli. And each time I come back home to visit my family, my father complains about the fact that an entire shelf of the fridge is taken up by spinach. I can't look at the sight of red meat (bleh) and while I enjoy the occasional chocolate, I always make sure it is dark chocolate (for the antioxidants, right?). I never have deep-fried food and my alcohol consumption is pathetic. I've had two glasses of prosecco while writing this blog tonight and I'm already completely buzzed (on that note, I take no responsibility for anything I write from hereon...)

So what was there left to change?

Two weeks ago I went to see a neuro-muscular specialist, Steve Bessant. Or, as I now like to call him, G-O-D. He completely revamped my nutrition and I've been so impressed with the results, that I've just got to fill you in! Call me a nutritional missionary. Since Steve got me to make a few simple changes, I've had more energy, less pain, and my muscles are much more pliable. What's the secret already???

Public Enemy #1

A GLUTEN-FREE DIET!!!

The Basics: Gluten is a protein found in wheat, rye, barley, and some other grains. It is the protein that provides nourishment to wheat during germination from seed to plant. Following a gluten-free diet means giving up bread, pizza, pastries, pasta, and cereals....and a number of foods containing additives such as thickeners, stabilisers and flavours (aka the "hidden" glutens).

The Rationale: Only a very small percentage of the population has a true allergy to gluten - this is called coeliac disease. When someone with coeliac disease eats gluten, the lining of the walls of the small intestine become flattened and inflamed, which disrupts the digestion and absorption of nutrients. Experts estimate that while just 1% of the population has a permanent intolerance to gluten, 15-20% of the population are demanding gluten-free products. However, there is a line of thinking that gluten can cause digestive problems amongst people who don't necessarily meet the criteria of having a true allergy. The idea that gluen could be responsible for bloating, stiffness, and gatrointestinal issues -- all which have a significantly negative impact on athletic performance -- has been gaining popularity amongst athletes over the past few years. I thought it warranted a closer look.

The Evidence: It appears that the evidence is somewhat mixed. The Australian Institute of Sport declares that "[t]here is no advantage in avoiding gluten if you do not have coeliac disease or a related medical condition...Athletes who do not have coeliac disease will waste valuable effort learning all about this complex diet, which would be better spent on other aspects of good eating and hard training." Powerbar's website contains an article from Alex McDonald, MD, a medical doctor and professional triathlete, who cautions that "by being too restrictive in food intake, the [gluten-free] athlete may fall short of taking in adequate calories to support their activity, and the added expense of such products can put a good dent in the budget." However, Dr. McDonald also acknowledges that in the end, it comes down to personal experience.

Despite these claims that going gluten-free will not reap any benefits in the absence of a diagnosis of intolerance, there is some strong evidence emerging amongst elite athletes that indicate otherwise. In 2008, Garmin's pro cycling team declared they were going wheat-free during the Tour de France. (Going wheat free isn't as strict as gluten-free, but it does cut out the major irritants!). At first, this seemed cracy. For years, cyclists relied on pasta as their main source of carbs so many worried that without it, they wouldn't be getting enough fuel to get them through the race. However, other carbs are just as effective as energy sources as wheat-based products, including rice, oats, corn and quinoa (a really yummy grain commonly found in South America). After the team went gluten-free, the results were undeniable. Christian Vande Velde, the team leader, found that he had "all-around better digestion", which was important because digestion was "the biggest thing in utilizing the energy I consume". Another teammate found a definite correlation between going wheat-free and improvement in his performance. He felt his digestion was better, which allowed him to sleep better and recover faster.

The Details: Okay, I know what you're thinking: how the heck can an endurance athlete cut out wheat and gluten? Maybe a pro cycling team can do it, but what about the rest of us who don't have personal chefs at our disposal?? Well, fear not. With the amount of gluten-free products available out there, it actually isn't as hard as you might think to go gluten-free. The trick is simply in learning the safe foods vs. the foods to be avoided. To help you out, I've included this chart:

Gluten-Free Foods

Rice: all types of rice
Pasta and Noodles: rice noodles, specialty gluten-free pasta
Breads: gluten-free breads
Cereals and grains: gluten-free cereals, corn breakfast cereals without malt extract
Fruit: fresh, frozen and canned (no thickeneres added)
Vegetables: fresh, frozen and canned (no thickeners added), tofu
Soups: clear soups, soups thickened with gluten-free flours, soups without pasta
Dairy: fresh or powdered milk, cream plain cheese, yoghurt, ice cream (check the labels)
Snacks: plain popcorn, plain potato chips (check the labels)
Sauces: Tomato sauce, gluten-free gravy, balsamic vinegar
Drinks: Water, mineral water, soft drinks, tea, coffee, wine

Foods containing Gluten (to avoid!)

Pasta and noodles: wheat-based pasta and noodles
Breads: regular breads, rolls muffins
Cereals and grains: wheat-based cereals, porridge, cous cous, barley
Fruit: fruit mince, pie fillings
Vegetables: commercial veggies in sauce, processed or canned legumes
Soups: soups containing thickeners, barley or pasta
Dairy: artificial cream, cheese dips, yoghurt dips
Snacks: sweets, lollipops, filled chocolates, chocolate bars, pretzels, flavoured crisps
Sauces: commerical sauces, soy sauce, most stock cubes and gravy mixes
Drinks: coffee substitutes, milk flavourings, beer, hot chocolate

I'll leave it up to you to decide for yourself what works, but all I can say is that I have more energy and I feel a heck of a lot better than I did a few weeks ago. The difference has really been noticeable. Running is an inherently inflammatory activity, and I figure I've got to do everything I can for my body to reduce inflammation when I'm not running. Cutting out wheat and gluten is just one simple way to reduce potential inflammation and give me a little edge.

Give it a shot - what have you got to lose??? (Other than your beloved morning pancakes....)

Five weeks to go: wish I could just FREEZE time!

2010-03-25T16:18:00.000-07:00

Kriotherapy (“cold cure”)

First, let me start off by saying that I don’t deal well with the cold. Actually, that is an understatement. If there was a campaign to support global warming, I’d be leading it (wait, maybe I’m onto something…). You’d think that having grown up in Ontario, I would be more willing to embrace sub-tropical temperatures. But no. Whenever the thermometer dips below 12 degrees Celsius, I immediately reach for my arsenal of polar fleece and wool socks to help me brave the arctic conditions.

With that intro out of the way, let me tell you about what I did last Saturday. I willingly chose – in fact, paid – to subject my body to minus 130 degrees Celsius. Yes, 130 degree below freezing.

This all started when I met up with my good friend Nick about a month ago. Nick had suffered a really nasty horse riding accident before Christmas and shattered his vertebrae. A piece of bone had actually broken off and bruised his spinal cord. Needless to say, he was in bad shape and willing to try anything that would (literally) get him back on his feet. When we sat down for lunch, I was amazed to see Nick walking around so well after just two months of rehab. He told me about this strange treatment called ‘kriotherapy’. I was intrigued…

Although kriotherapy (or cryotherapy) first came to London a couple of years ago, but it has been practised in Eastern Europe for decades. Actually, whole body cryotherapy was developed in Japan in 1880 (according to my Wikipedia spies), but it was a group of Polish scientists that really made it into the form of physical therapy that it is today. This begs the question, what the heck were the Japanese using it for then???

There is only one center in all of the United Kingdom that offers cryotherapy and it is at the Champneys Tring Spa, which is about an hour outside of London (I’ve set out directions at the end). Champneys describes the benefits of the treatment as follows:

The body is subjected to extreme temperatures as low as -135 degrees Celsius for 3 minutes to help stimulate the blood circulation system, endocrine system, the immune system and the central nervous system. It works by the cold temperatures stimulating temperature receptors in the skin to communicate with the brain, giving a ‘fight or flight’ response. Blood is then pumped round the body at an increased rate, and there is an increase in hormone production.

The dry environment that it is delivered in means the body is able to withstand such extreme temperatures. The main benefit this therapy has is that during the treatment, blood is directed to your vital organs and constricts the amount of blood flow to the injured area. Once you leave the room, the blood capillaries open up and allow a flow of oxygenated blood back to the injured site thus accelerating the recovery process

Yikes!

I was pretty nervous when I showed up, but I was informed by reception that I would be getting frozen alongside Tony Blair’s wife. I thought hey, if she can handle it, so can I (although she probably got good practice getting the cold treatment from the British public during the Iraq invasion debacle….).

A woman named Renata (Polish, of course) had me fill out a medical form to make sure that I was a suitable candidate. I will confess that I blatantly lied. I have this mild circulation disorder called Reynaud's, which causes discoloration and numbness of the fingers and toes in reaction to cold (for me, that means anything below 10 degrees Celsius). If I checked the box disclosing I had this weird circulation disorder, would that mean I couldn’t get frozen??? I didn’t want to chance it. (Please don’t try this at home, kids!).

After (cough) filling out the form, Renata handed me my cryotherapy costume: two long pairs of white socks, two pairs of white fuzzy shorts, two pairs of white gloves, a white fuzzy head band for my ears, and two white fuzzy bra tops that were probably meant for a 300 pound well-endowed woman. As I got dressed, the thought of freezing off my nipples was not a pleasant one and I longingly wished for a bra top that came in my size! Some white clogs topped off the ridiculous outfit.

The men have it easier I think...

When I emerged from the changing room I looked like a slutty mental patient from Holland. Seriously. The only thing that convinced me I wasn’t a victim of candid camera was the fact that there were two other women dressed exactly the same way next to me (with Mrs. Blair staring on from the sidelines, gearing up for her own session). Renata tucked my shorts into my socks, added tubes of material to cover my elbows, and put a face mask on me. Then she told me to stand in front of the fan for a bit to make sure I was completely dry. “Any bit of moisture on your body will scald your skin, you know.” Grrrrrreat. I was sweating like a whore in church (‘scuse my French) and no amount of fanning was going to stop that. Well, if I had to sacrifice my armpits for the sake of my running, then so be it.

When we were fully ready, Renata led us into the first chamber, which was set at -60 degrees Celsius. It actually didn’t feel too bad! Apparently because it is so dry and still, it doesn’t feel as cold as, say, -10 degrees on a damp London day. Hmm. We walked around for 30 seconds before Renata opened the door to the second chamber, where she left us behind….

For the next three minutes, I walked in circles around the inside of a sauna-like contraption that was set at -125 degrees Celsius, punching my fists into the air and randomly throwing in a few squats. This is necessary to make sure you don’t just freeze on the spot. Renata watched us through a small window and held up a timer so we could see how much time we had left. When the clock read 2:00, I started to feel something weird on my thigh. I realized that on one of my over-ambitious squats, my shorts had come untucked from my socks and a piece of my thigh was exposed. This, I must say, was not a pleasant feeling. For the next two minutes I could literally feel my thigh burning off. Ahhh! Well, I knew I’d never be a leg model anyway, so what’s one more scar?

After the three minutes were up we were let back into the -60 degree chamber. It felt like the tropics. I was expecting a huge rush when I left the chambers and returned to room temperature, but was surprised to find that it didn’t feel that different. I was starting to wonder whether my skin had really even gotten that cold (apart from the thigh burn), when Renata removed my gloves and exclaimed, “oh my goodness – I have never seen that colour of skin before. Your hands are maroon!” I feigned ignorance and said, “hmm, weird….” I’m sure it had nothing to do with my Reynaud's. That being said, my hands were literally the colour of Renata’s purple track pants.

A few minutes on the bike to get the blood flowing again and eventually my skin returned to its normal colour. What an experience. After a couple of hours (and a delicious crab and mango salad from Champneys’ café) I returned for round two – this time, at -130 degrees.

The whole experience was pretty unique and I felt quite lucky to be able to try it. The taxi driver informed me on the way out there from the train station that many of the top footballers (translation: soccer players) head out there for treatment, as well as celebrities. I felt much less pain in my legs for the rest of the day and definitely felt invigorated. From the comments I was reading from other clients, it seems that the effects are only temporary after the first few treatments, but long-lasting effects can be seen after about four sessions. I found that while I felt much better that day, I couldn’t be sure what effect the cryotherapy had had by the next. I’m going back again this weekend for another two sessions, so we’ll see what comes of it!

The treatment was only £35, which I think is a steal. Plus, when someone asks you what you did over the weekend, you’ve got a great story (that is, if you thaw out in time to tell it).

Directions: take the train from London Euston Station to Berkhamsted. There is a taxi company with a stand right outside the station, which should cost you about £12 to get to Champneys. Enjoy!!

Will turning into a popsicle help my running?

2010-03-17T16:38:00.000-07:00

Lots going on this week so stay tuned! This Friday, I'm being interviewed by a journalist for a new running magazine here in the UK called Running Fitness. I've decided to subject the journalist to a pool run in my amazing gym (the Third Space), so hopefully he'll bring his bathing suit! I'll let you know how that goes and also give you the scoop on the amazing recovery benefits of water running. Then on Saturday, I'm testing out another extreme form of treatment. Anyone who knows me well will be aware that I spend most of my time in training hovering on the injury line (and frequently going over). I have been dealing with a niggly injury in my right thigh in training, so time to pull out the big guns. After hearing about a friend who went through this treatment, I knew I had to give it a shot. What is it, you ask? Cryotherapy! Yes, very Austin Powers. I will be frozen down to -120 Celcius (or below). Twice.

Crazy? Yes. More to come! To get an idea of what I'm gearing up for, have a read of this article: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/4538936/Big-chill-the-hidden-medical-benefits-of-cryotherapy.html

Six weeks to go

2010-03-12T16:19:00.000-08:00

Wow, has it been ages since I've written on this blog! I would like to say that I just lost track of time, but my sister has kindly provided me with bi-weekly reminders that I've been dropping the ball. I know that you, like my sister, have felt this gaping hole in your heart as a result of my absence from the blogosphere... So in order to appease my fans (aka my sister, with the recent addition of my mom), I will be providing a six week countdown to my next race: Racing the Planet's 250 km self-supported footrace in the Australian Outback!

The biggest challenge I faced this week in my training did not, in fact, have anything to do with running. In preparing for a self-supported footrace, one of the most important things you have to do is organize what you are going to eat during the competition! Sounds easy, right? The more the better? Well, that sounds like a great plan only until you realize that you have to carry everything on your back...

When I entered my first self-supported footrace in 2008 (Racing the Planet: Vietnam), I attacked the food problem with all the type-A, intellectual geekness I could muster. I took every bit of knowledge I had acquired in my adolescence from reading Cosmopolitan and Seventeen magazines about how to pick low-calorie foods and went scouring through the grocery store aisles for the most calorie-dense foods possible. I collected pepperoni sticks, gels, chips (crisps for you brits out there...french fries just don't pack well), jelly beans, carb powders, freeze-dried meals, porridge, you name it. With all of these wonderful "bad" foods in front of me at home, it took all of my concentration not to dig in immediately and devour all of my supplies right then and there! Thankfully, I stayed on task.

I created a chart to help me figure out which foods would be best to carry for the race. Okay, stop laughing - being a geek has its benefits sometimes. I divided the total calories of each item by its weight in grams so that I could compare the items by their calorie:weight ratio and see which foods were the most calorie dense. It was actually pretty interesting. The gels and gus that most runners use during a marathon weight were actually one of the least calorie dense foods, making it an undesirable food to carry through the race. Chips made for a particularly good snack as they are calorie-dense, salty (which tastes unbelievably good after sweating for hours on end), and they can compact down really well if you crush them. Pepperoni also topped the list. I then made sure I had an appropriate mix of salty and sweet, carbs/fats/proteins, cold and hot...

Are you still with me? I told you it was an elaborate process. After doing two of these week-long races, however, I felt that I had my system pretty well sorted out. Well, this upcoming Australia race has really thrown me for a loop. Due to the extremely strict import requirements, we pretty much can't bring in ANYTHING we need to for the race. Ack! No jerky, freeze-dried foods, nuts... the list goes on. Racing the Planet has tried to help by allowing us to order special freeze-dried meals from New Zealand and ship them directly to the hotel in Australia to collect before the race... but this still leaves us in a bit of a pickle. Normally, for my freeze-dried dinners at the end of every stage of racing, I eat Mountain House's delicious Teriyaki Chicken. For some reason, this particular meal always appeals to me and has the perfect amount of calories. Now I will be forced to eat only from the Back Country range of meals...

I know what you're thinking - so what? But trust me - it is a huge deal! How do I know whether or not the Thai Chicken Curry will satisfy my cravings? What if the mashed potatoes in the Roast Chicken meal make me want to vomit? EEP! For once, I wish I could just throw my type-A-ness out the window and marvel at how I have the option of enjoying a classic Indian Chicken Masala (gluten free no less) in the middle of the outback. Hmmm.

http://backcountrycuisine.co.nz/bcc/index.php/archives/category/meals/chicken

And don't get me started on my breakfast routine....

Off to Wales for a weekend of training! Stay tuned for more updates! (I promise Kim!)

Blue Monday? More of a dull grey in London...

2010-01-18T15:19:00.000-08:00

Mondays are always a little depressing, but according to my favourite Canadian newspaper today tops them all. I went online this evening to check up on what was happening back in the motherland, and this is what first popped out at me:

Welcome to the most depressing day of the year. Jan. 18 has been designated “Blue Monday” – the day when the perfect storm of failing our new year’s resolutions, working through debts from the holiday season and the grim weather make us feel horrible.

Source: Globe and Mail

Good thing I didn't read this at the start of the day or it could have turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy!! The article goes onto suggest four ways to "cope with Blue Monday":

Skip the fast food breakfast. Okay, Globe and Mail, I understand what you're saying. Sugary snacks and Egg McMuffins don't provide the most balanced start to the day... And yes, there is the risk - alright, certainty - of hitting a massive sugar crash around 11:00 am... but does your suggestion of swapping normal Cinnabons for "cinnamon buns made with whole wheat flour" REALLY do the trick?? Honestly. I say either go big or go home. If you have a craving for a Cinnabon, go for the darn Cinnabon. Some dry, mealy block of over-spiced and under-iced cinnamon bun just isn't going to cut the craving. Sure you'll hit a sugar low later, but for that 90 seconds when you're devouring your 'bon, don't try to tell me you aren't blissfully happy. If you really want to go healthy, switch the meal entirely and pick a lovely egg white omlette with spinach, feta, and roasted tomatoes. Mmm.
Let the light in. Just 30 minutes a day of light can improve your mood. Yup, definitely agree with this one. But where, pray tell, can one find this in LONDON???
Have a YouTube marathon. I whole-heartedly support this suggestion. The things you can find on youtube sometimes... My personal favourite ones are the collection of videos of babies dancing to Beyonce's single ladies (put a ring on it): Baby Dancing to Beyonce
Sweat, baby, sweat. DEFINITELY agree with this one. Working out at an intensity higher than normal will kick start your mood and release all those lovely endorphins...But wait - Monday is my day off from training!

How did YOU survive your blue Monday?

Looking for Emerald Nuts in London...

2010-01-01T10:34:00.000-08:00

How did your New Year's Eve turn out? Personally, I've always chosen the low-key NYE option over making uber-cool NYE plans. For years, I spent NYE with my parents, my sister and my brother-in-law at our farm in Ontario (my brother was usually too uber-cool to join us). The evening would start with happy hour in the kitchen while my Dad put the finishing touches on the dining room table (he loves fine dining, what can I say). Champagne and jumbo shrimp was followed by an elaborate meal with trivia games in between courses. Then perhaps a rousing game of monopoly (one year we branched out and played whovilleopoly instead) and onto the hot tub for scotch and cigars. By the time the ball was dropping we would all be in our pyjamas, happily buzzed, warm, and content in the knowledge that the farthest we would have to travel that night was down the hall and up the stairs.

Last year for NYE, however, I was in New York. You'd think, being in that city, I would be tempted to join the rank and file of the young, beautiful and overpaid in a fabulous night out on the town. Actually, I ended up doing something much better. Instead of spending most of my night sucking in my stomach and teetering around in high heels while I waited in line for an expensive, overhyped club, I put on my spandex and headed to Central Park for a race.

Yup, I'm serious. I ran a race at midnight on NYE.

The race is called the "Emerald Nuts Midnight Run" and it has been running every year in Central Park since 1978. It starts off with a costume contest and parade, and at the stroke of midnight runners set off into the night to an amazing fireworks display and the sounds of a band. Some of the runners are serious (steer clear of them) and others are completely drunk (um, steer clear of them too), but most are just happily buzzed and excited to start of the New Year in a fun, healthy way. There's even a non-alcoholic champagne toast at mile 2 - last year it was so cold that it was more of a slushy, but hey, it is the thought that counts, right?

At the finish of the race eating a much-deserved bagel in my champagne costume

Being in London for NYE this year, I was really hoping I could find a similar event to attend... but my search for some British Emerald Nuts turned up fruitless. Come on, England, let's organize something for next year, eh?

My non-running New Year's Eve in London

I compensated for my boozy night last night with an amazing run along the canal this morning. Ooops, scratch that, I meant to say this 'early afternoon'. The canal system through north London is pretty incredible. I can run all the way along the water from my flat in Maida Vale (starting at Little Venice) and follow it along through Regent's Park, Camden and onwards to Angel....it goes much further than that, but I usually get lost at that point because the path leaves the canal briefly and I've never managed to find my way back. In due time.

Last year my New Year's Resolution was to train smarter and avoid injury. That resolution lasted all of 9 days when I broke my pelvis in a race in New Jersey on the second Saturday in January (yes, I ran until my pelvis actually shattered). Sigh. This year, I am making the same darn resolution. I WILL train smarter this year. I've got four months until Racing the Planet: Australia... and I've got a long road ahead. I need to work on my flexibility, strength, muscle imbalances, weight.... but I am excited to start properly training again. 2010 here I come.

Training over the holidays (apparently for a pie-eating contest)

2009-12-28T12:12:00.000-08:00

Right now I’m overlooking the Atlantic Ocean from the deck of a little cottage, perched on top of some cliffs on the south shore of Bermuda. This tiny island truly is a slice of paradise: sun above, pink sand below, and air at a temperature worthy of even goldilocks’ approval (not too hot, not too cold, but just right…). Yeah, I know, tough life eh? Everything would be perfect right now if it weren’t for the immense pain emanating from my stomach. We are on a full gourmet meal plan here at our resort and I could only resist the heavenly culinary goodness for so long. Breakfast overlooking the ocean was following closely by a boozy two-course lunch, which was highly effective at putting diners into a food coma until tea in the early afternoon. Tea, complete with crust-off sandwiches, French pastries and whipped cream, was closely followed by happy hour in the bar and then the main event: DINNER. Three courses plus the occasional amuse-bouche (and let me say my bouche was very much amused) and copious amounts of wine…

I put up all my defenses. I really did. When I asked to split an appetizer with my mother, the waiter brought us two anyway. I tried to decline the first course one night, but I was coaxed into having the grilled scallops with a green pea sauce and mango chutney (“it’s very light!”). I tried to drink diet coke, but its sickly sweet aspartame taste did not pair nearly as well with my chocolate gateau as did my pinot gris wine. Damn it.

I hit my ultimate low at the Christmas breakfast buffet. I’d like to tell you about it – I really would – but the details of that morning are too painful too recall. I remember deep-fried sushi, roast turkey and cassava loaf, and some kind of chocolate fountain…

Okay, so I know I’m not the only person that has experienced this type of setback in his or her training over the holidays. The way I see it, one can take one of three approaches over Christmas and New Years:

(1) Maintain your training regime as usual. When someone offers you eggnog, just say no (or bah humbug). Join in Christmas dinner, but stick to lean turkey breast – hold the gravy and cranberry sauce. Only indulge in the mashed potatoes if the carb boost coincides with training.

(2) Let all hell break loose. Hey, the holidays don’t count as real life, right? Bring on the Christmas pudding!!

(3) Do your best. Train when you can, try to eat healthily, but for goodness sake, holidays are meant to be ENJOYED. You aren’t going to spontaneously combust if you miss a training session and hey, it could be good for you to let loose.

What would you pick? Okay, so it might seem obvious that I would take door number 3. I really feel like I tried my best, but in the end the result probably wasn’t much different than if I went through door number 2. Sigh. But the important thing to remember is that it isn’t the end of the world and yes, it probably did me some good to relax a bit. My lobster stuffed with, um, lobster was worth the extra 8 hours of cardio I’m going to have to do to make up for it J

Plus, who could resist the quality time hanging out with this bunch? (I love my family)

My brother-in-law and my sister Kim

The road to recovery in Liberia may involve a treadmill

2009-12-03T10:28:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons why I love running so much is because it allows me to stop the clock... I have a tendency, like many of us I suppose, to get so caught up in the 'to do' items for tomorrow that I rarely take the time to reflect on the 'have done' matters from yesterday and the 'am doing' events of today. Running allows me to simply be present. The faster my legs move, the slower my mind reels. I listen to my breathing and notice how it naturally matches the timing of my feet striking the pavement: in for two counts, out for one. I see my surroundings as if for the first time, noticing things that would not catch the attention of my busied brain otherwise.

What does this have to do with my trip to Liberia, you ask?

Well, when I first came to Liberia in 2006, I wasn't able to go running outside. For those of you who may not be familiar with the political events in the region, let me explain. (And before you ask, no, seeing Blood Diamonds does not exempt you from this history lesson).

Liberia is often referred to as Africa's oldest democracy - a true claim to fame in which Liberians take great pride. It is one of the few countries on the African continent, and the only one in West Africa, that hasn't suffered from a history of European dominance and colonial control. Liberia was created in the 1820s by the American Colonization Society as a place for freed slaves in the United States to settle. In 1847, these Americo-Liberians, who formed an elite group in Liberian society, founded the Republic of Liberia. The indigenous Liberians were not afforded citizenship in the new Republic until 1904. The government and Constitution was modeled on that of the United States. Liberia's ties to the US are still evident today in the name of the capital city itself - Monrovia, after US President James Monroe.

Fast-forward to 1980 when a military-led coup overthrew the then-president William Tolbert, which marked the beginning of a steep decline in the country's political situation. In late 1989, the first civil war ensued... Militia from the National Patriotic Front of Liberia, led by Charles Taylor took control over most of the countryside and entered the capital in 1990. A peace agreement was brokered by the ECOWAS in 1993 and Taylor was "elected" as President in 1997. However, his brutal regime and ineffective leadership sparked the second civil war in 1999, which lasted until the ceasefire in 2003. More than 200,000 people are estimated to have died in the conflict. The effects of these civil wars are long-lasting - the country suffered a complete breakdown of law and order.... The use of child soldiers has created a population of unskilled ex-combatants... The country's economy and infrastructure was destroyed... I could go on.

Anyhow, by 2006 the security situation in Liberia was still not fully under control. I never felt truly unsafe while I was there, I must admit. I longed to just sneak out of my hotel for a morning jog... or maybe even just go for an afternoon walk with a friend... but I was strongly advised -- warned -- not to take the chance. A representative from the International Committee of the Red Cross had been gang raped in the middle of the afternoon just a couple weeks prior to my arrival, which was enough to keep me (unhappily) caged inside.

I found ways to get exercise in though. The building across the road housed PAE, one of the US government's private security organizations, which had a "gym" with two treadmills that may or may not have been relics of the pre-war days. Every morning, I made my way across the street (which was usually covered in fast-flowing water) and past the security guards into the compound for an uninspiring workout. I eventually made friends with a British guy who worked for another private security organization and forced him to be my running partner. Once or twice a week he would come to pick me up in his 4x4 and take me back to the private compound, where we could run loops of a 1.5 km track. It was certainly better than the treadmill, but I never got that feeling of release that I normally crave on my runs. Something about the barbed wire and security guards with machine guns ruined it for me (strange, eh?).

Returning to Liberia last week, I wasn't sure what to expect. I wondered how much the country had progressed in the two and a half years since I had been there last. Would there be running water throughout the city? Has electricity been restored, at least in the capital? Would I be able to run outside? ALONE?

From the moment I landed, I noticed a distinct change... Maybe it was the fact that I was returning to a place that was familiar or maybe I just wanted to see an improvement so badly that I created it in my mind... But I definitely felt that something was different. It is hard for me to put my finger on what exactly changed... I'm not even sure I could pick out a specific example of something I witnessed that made me form this opinion. It was simply a feeling that people in general were more relaxed. Relations between foreigners and Liberians appeared to be less strained. I heard more laughter and less yelling.

And no one gave me a single warning about walking around on my own.

YES! Okay, beyond the fact that this meant I could go running, as an eternal optimist I was ecstatic to see that things had improved. It was an intangible triumph that renewed hope for Liberia and the friends I have made there. But that's a story for another time, hmm?

Now that I had been granted the privilege of being able to run outside, can anyone guess how that turned out? Quite laughably, when I went out for my first early morning jog I lasted literally 23 minutes in the oppressive heat before retreating to the treadmill in my hotel's air conditioned fitness centre. Go figure.

Videos from my beach runs to follow when I return to the UK!

New training technique: goat slaughters???

2009-11-23T14:10:00.000-08:00

I've often said that the most exciting times of my life are marked by the blank pages in my journal… And I think the same holds true for my blog. Since my last entry, I have been to Kenya, China, and I’m now writing from the Gambia… I have many entries to catch up on, but why not start with the place I’m in right now?

I arrived in the Gambia on Friday evening on one of my trips for work. For those of you who don’t know what I do (or for those of you who have lost track!), I’m on sabbatical this year from my job as a corporate lawyer in New York and working as a programme lawyer at the Human Rights Institute of the International Bar Association (that’s a mouthful). Although I’m technically based in London, my work often requires me to travel outside of England – so far, to East and West Africa as well as Asia.

When my sister saw my facebook update that said I was going to the Gambia, her first thought was that I was heading out to some new flash bar in London (although my sister is brilliant, geography is not one of her strongest suits… I’m happy if she can figure out what continent I’m on most of the time). To be fair, the Gambia is one of the smallest countries I have visited, so I don’t blame her that she didn’t know it existed. It is a strangely-shaped country (you can draw your own conclusions as to what it might represent….cough….) cut out of Senegal. Basically it comprises the land surrounding the Gambian river. Its total population is less than 800,000 and it is one of the worst ranked countries on the UN Human Development Index… but you’d hardly know it with all of the British tourists that flock down here. The Gambia offers a conducive environment for tourism:

Beautiful beaches + Extremely poor economy + less than a 6 hr flight from London = cheap, easy trip for the Brits

Unfortunately, the Gambia has also attracted the ‘wrong’ kind of tourism. As it turns out, men aren’t the only ones who go on vacation to developing countries for a little…ahem…fun. You wouldn’t believe the number of older British ladies here on their own during the day and miraculously coupled with locals at night. But I’ll stop there in order to keep this G-rated, yes?

The training here has actually been really good. I should mention that I’ve taken a step back from my training somewhat. I’ve been trying to break out of my injury cycle and listen to my body more. I was trying to train up for a race recently and I realized that my body was just screaming for a break. Of course, I’m not stopping running completely… I’m just scaling down a bit so that I can build up properly again. Anyhow, I digress…

I’ve been running along the beach here in the mornings or evenings to avoid the hottest part of the day. Other than the slope of the surface, the terrain has been PERFECT for easy running. The hard packed sand has allowed me to run at a relatively normal pace and yet the sponginess character of the sand has been very gentle on my feet/joints. It would be ideal if it weren’t for the local boys trying to sell me beer every few hundred meters (I mean, really, do they expect me to stop my run and chug a Heineken??). Some of them have joined in and run with me, telling me about how they’ve taken over the family business and wondering if they could be my friend (do they think I’m a creepy old British woman or are they vying for a marriage of convenience? I have actually already gotten a couple proposals…). Others have simply cheered me along (ha).

Yesterday morning, however, I got a bit of a shock. I was running along a section of the beach where I ‘m guessing tourists don’t go, and I came across a section of fishing boats. I noticed one guy walking up from the water carrying a large carving knife – not uncommon, but still a bit disconcerting given that I was on my own… Crouched down at the water’s edge was a group of men holding a goat that had just been slaughtered. They started to carry it up the beach, which actually motivated me to work in some interval training (good god, get me past the animal remains!!!). On my way back, I had the rare opportunity to witness the goat’s insides being pulled apart and separated into appropriate categories along the sand. Ugh, a little bit of throw up just came up in my mouth. Again, good training for ultras – learn how to run through the nausea, right???

Anyhow, tonight is my last night in the Gambia and I’m off to Liberia tomorrow. More soon! Will add my photos and videos as soon as I can!

Question: What's harder than running 100 miles?

2009-09-26T18:15:00.001-07:00

Answer: Swimming the English Channel wearing nothin' but your swimming trunks and a layer of goose fat.

Not that I actually tried to swim to France myself, of course. Let me explain...

It all started with an email from Belinda Holdsworth, a fellow competitor from Racing the Planet Namibia. Belinda was looking for volunteers to help provide support for a friend of hers, Paul McQueeney, who was attempting to swim the English Channel. Paul and his girlfriend (who was attempting a DOUBLE crossing!) had flown out from Australia just to do this swim, but due to poor weather conditions they had been holed up in a hotel in Dover for a MONTH waiting for the right time to cross! They had finally gotten the green light to head out last weekend, but by this time their support crews had already flown back to Australia...

Belinda promised a long, cold night on a crappola fishing boat, yelling at a large Australian man and mixing up bottles of warm chicken broth. Naturally, I signed up immediately. COUNT ME IN!

The English channel is the Mount Everest of swimming. It is 150 miles at its widest and just 21 miles at narrowest in the Strait of Dover -- which is where the swimmers attempt to cross of course. The first observed and unassisted channel swim occurred in 1875 when Captain Matthew Webb crossed the channel in 21 hours and 45 minutes. Less than 1000 people have crossed the channel since 1927, when the Channel Swimming Association began recording and authenticating the swims.

In order to be considered an "official" crossing, swimmers have to follow certain rules and compliance is verified by the presence of an observer on board. The rules include the following:

No artificial aids of any kind can be used...but swimmers are permitted to GREASE THE BODY before a swim, use goggles, use a nose clip, use ear plugs, wear one cap and one costume.

Now, why on earth, pray tell, would anyone wear more than one swimming costume? (Bathing suit for all you north Americans out there...)

Savvy readers will note that the rules do NOT allow for a wetsuit. The temperature of the English Channel is around 60F this time of year, which can get pretty darn cold over the 12+ hours it takes to cross. On top of that, the Channel is one of the busiest shipping channels in the world, which can make the sea rather choppy (to say the least). Add in the current from the tides, unpredictable weather conditions....Well, you get the picture.

Belinda told me over email that we were supposed to take off at around 11 pm on Saturday night. Perfect. I headed out on Friday night with good friend and ultrarunner Mark Mosimann for a couple drinks. Cough. Five glasses of champagne later, I noticed a text on my phone from Belinda:

Hey steph! Just got word that the swim is a go for noon tomorrow. We would need to be in dover by 11 am....Let me know if you still fancy it!

Goodness. I would like to say I immediately texted back, put down my glass of champagne, and headed home with a clear head and only slightly damaged liver. In reality, I pretended for the next hour and a half that I hadn't picked up my phone and continued drinking the bubbles :) What can I say, it was a hard week?

I dragged myself out of bed the next morning at 730 and crawled to the train station to make the trip down to Dover. I was about to meet two incredibly fit people and there I was with champagne bags under my eyes and bubbles in my blood. Arg. As soon as I actually met Paul and Chloe (Mccardel) though, I started to feel better. The two were in such good spirits and just so excited to get going. I was excited to be a part of it.

In preparation for the swim, both Chloe and Paul had put on about 15-20 kgs in extra weight. They called it their "Hypothermic Prevention Kit". Even as we were loading the boat with supplies, Chloe still managed to keep a mars bar in one hand at all times. Now that's my kind of training!

At 1 pm, we boarded the boat and left Chloe behind on the dock as she had to prepare for her own swim the following day. There was no turning back for Paul...

Very excited about having the power of the whistle...

Paul had left us brilliant instructions on our crewing duties: every half hour I would blow the whistle, which would signal to Paul that it was feeding time. The rules dictated that we couldn't touch the swimmer and he couldn't touch the boat, so we had to be careful. We filled up water bottles with pre-mixed carb drinks, mouthwash, and warm chicken noodles soup (er, not in the same bottle) and threw it overboard to Paul in the water. The bottles were handily tied to a long rope so we could easily retrieve the empties when Paul had had enough. Every so often he would ask for some food, such as a banana or mars bar, which we placed into a plastic cup (also tied to a rope) and lowered down to him.

After the first few hours Belinda and I really started to worry that Paul wasn't taking enough in. He was barely drinking half of the amounts that we were giving him, and hadn't eaten a thing. I know that for me when I'm running, loss of appetite is simply not an issue. The more food, the better (okay, within reason) otherwise I will simply lose steam. But swimming IS different. As Belinda explained to me, taking in solids while swimming is a lot tougher on the stomach than running...and there is a much higher chance you'll get cramps! It didn't stop me worrying about Paul though...

At one point I got suited up in Belinda's wetsuit and decided to give Paul a little moral support by swimming alongside him. The rules allow one swimmer to enter the water at a time for a period of one hour on, one hour off. After spending hours stuffing my face on the boat, I couldn't wait to get in the water and start moving! I thought it would be a nice gentle dip in the sea. Paul was barely moving his legs, so how hard could it be?

Answer? VERY HARD! I don't know how he was doing it, but I seriously couldn't keep up. Not even for two minutes. The dark swells, the salt, the knowledge that the boat would not be able to stop for me...Not sure what it was, but I choked! Big time! Within 90 seconds (okay, Belinda tells me it was 30) I was grabbing on to one of the ropes on the side of the boat for dear life, begging for them to pull me back in! What a hack. I couldn't believe it. Unfortunately, I had to wait another whole hour before I was allowed to re-enter....

This time I made it about 2 minutes. I was quite pleased with myself for not choking under the pressure this time... I was simply out-swum! Y'know, it is not often that I'll admit defeat, but in this case I was properly smacked down in the first round. Good going Paul! What an impressive guy! At least I think I provided him a bit of amusement during the swim???

From that moment on, it was nothing but complete awe... Paul was simply incredible. Once night fell, we put a flashing green light on the back of his goggles and had him shove a glow stick down his swim trunks so we could spot him in the dark. It seriously looked horrible to be out there. It was cold, dark, and miserable... I just wanted to reach down and pull Paul out of the water. His skin looked like it had turned a whole different colour. How on earth was he still moving??? The fog was so thick that we couldn't even see how far ahead the shore was. At one point we saw a lighthouse on the French shore, but it only seemed to get further away. We shortened our feeding times down to 20 minutes and then just 10 minutes...

Paul remained resilient throughout. Sure, he said he was "stuffed" (Australian lingo for done like dinner?) and was cursing at the non-existent French shore, but I didn't believe for one minute that he would try getting into the boat before he had touched land.

The final few minutes were incredible. I had just met this man, but already felt such a kinship that his success truly felt personal. Watching someone complete his dream of TWENTY YEARS was unbelievably moving. After 15 hours in the water, Paul completed his swim!!!! AWESOME!!!!

And like any good support crew would do, as soon as Paul dried off I doused him in champagne. Ha.

Would I ever consider swimming the channel?

Not a chance. I'd rather run 1000 miles with sandpaper shoved down my pants while running through vinegar sprinklers.

....But I am considering an Ironman. If it wasn't for the swimming and biking part, I would have done one already....

Training in the English Countryside...

2009-09-09T15:31:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I was just itching to get outside of London and explore some new training routes, but given the fact that I just mastered walking down stairs again by Friday, a long run was out of the question... The cankles had disappeared, but the legs were still protesting loudly. Okay, how about a gentle hike then to work out the knots in my muscles?

Having lived and trained in Vancouver, I must admit, I am SPOILT ROTTEN. In Vancouver, I could literally step out my door and be running along the water within a minute or two. I had my pick of routes - interval training on the beach, long runs along the seawall, trail running in the endowment lands by the university or out by Stanley Park... I could catch views of downtown from the Burrard Street bridge and even better sights going over the Lions Gate Bridge into North Van. Sometimes I would take the bus out to Deep Cove and run the 25 mile trail back to the base of Grouse Mountain. One minute I could be immersed in dense redwood forest and then next popping into a starbucks for a mid-run caffeine shot. PARFAIT.

Needless to say, the adjustment to Manhattan last fall was rough. Sure, Central Park is nice... but when half the city is fighting over the same 50 block oasis, a morning run can feel more like a road race.

So how would London measure up?

After a bit of google research, I discovered that there was a trail called the South Downs Way only an hour away from London by train. To Londoners, that may seem monumental, but to this Canadian that sounded practically next door. The SDW is a 100 mile trail extending from Winchester to Eastbourne and it is primarily used by hikers, mountain bikers, horse riders... so why not ultrarunners?

I decided to take the train to a little place called Lewes and then hike from there to Eastbourne - about 20 miles. Or so I thought. I didn't think it would be THAT difficult to find the trail from the train station. Surely I could just ask some local country folk? After I got off the train, I stopped to ask the little man at the sandwich shop for directions. He sang me a song (I love country people) and then sent me over to the coffee man, Richard, who used to work for Royal Mail. Surely HE would know how to get to South Downs Way. Richard brought me over to one of the train conductors and I was given a cartoon map of the streets of Lewes... and no sign of the South Downs Way. The train conductor told me I should really just get back on the train and go to Seaford. He said I could have a little stroll and then sit down and enjoy the day - wouldn't that be much better? Eastbourne was much too far.

Sigh. Next I tried the barber shop. "South Downs Way? Hmmm. Well, if you go up to the roundabout, take a right, you'll see a little church. Take the path winding down beside the church, past the football field, and towards the bridge. Go under the bridge...." I tuned out. Heavens, I'll just start walking, I thought. After ploughing through some fields in what I figured was a sensible direction, a local berry picker told me my best bet was to take a left at the cow shed. Thirty minutes later I found myself covered in spiky burrs and stuck with the choice of walking through waist-high grass amongst a field of cows (and bulls??) or crawling through barbed wire to get to a footpath near a river. I choose the barbed wire.

Sure, it looks harmless, but it leaves a nasty trail!!

Thankfully, after just 4 miles, my Spidey sense of direction brought me to the start of the path. Victory! And no more barbed wire!

The SDW path was gorgeous. Great hills - steep at times, but definitely manageable - nice flats, and amazing views of the countryside. At times I could see right down to the water. I could feel my shoulders relax with each step as I walked off the city grime and cleared my lungs of London tube air. It was like the land was inhabited with a rare species of perma-happy people. Each hiker or biker I passed grinned wildly and greeted me cheerfully (unlike the commuters on the tube who respond to any eye contact with a dull, uninterested glare). There was the middle-aged man with the pot belly with sweat pouring down his face, giddy with exercise and glad to admit that he had agreed to accompany his son on this little adventure. Then there was the group of 30-something mountain bikers -- probably a group of guys who used to go to school together and were finishing their trip at one of the local pubs for a proper catch up session. The two women in jeans who were more interested in gossiping than hiking. The older couple strolling hand in hand on their regular Saturday walk...

The cows were definitely trying to race me....

I realized at some point that I really hadn't planned my food very well. Unlike Vancouver, there wasn't a Starbucks in sight for refueling! No problem. My survival skills from my Racing the Planet races kicked in and I literally forged for berries for the next 7 miles of trail. When the trail passed through the next town, I walked into the local country shop with stained fingers and a giant purple smile.

All in all, a great day out. I can't wait to go back and run those hills! Perhaps I'll pick a different station to start from though...

Are those cow bells I hear or is it just the ringing in my head?

2009-09-03T14:16:00.000-07:00

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled program...

Right, so I was seriously doubting my sanity going up these hills. I mean, sure, the scenery is great and the tougher the race, the better the bragging rights.... but when you're gasping for air and your face is practically up the derriere of the person climbing the hill ahead of you (keeping in mind that no one smells particularly good at this point), you start to wonder. It is almost like having a split personality. Who is this person that signed me up for this race???

I did, however, have some really high moments that kept me going. At certain points during the course we would descend from the mountains and run through a village, where people were gathered in the streets to cheer us on. Courage!!! Allez allez allez! Sometimes I even got a little extra cheer for being a female, which, despite my feminist beliefs, I really quite liked. I sure wish I could have claimed I was a member of the weaker sex, let me just say that...

I think it was the sounds of the cow bells though that really boosted my spirits. Herds of cows dotted the hillsides all the way along the course, and when the wind blew their cow bells sounded like soft wind chimes ...It was really quite soothing. Small children in the villages continued the musical encouragement by ringing their own cowbells with great enthusiasm each time a runner approached. How cool.

I finally made the decision that it would be crazy to drop out. Yeah, it was tough. Okay, my foot hurt. And yes, I felt like a 2-pack a day smoker hooked up to an oxygen tank. But I was consistently hovering around 9th or 8th place amongst the females, so I couldn't have been doing that badly. Hey, if I'm struggling this much, then that means there are a whole wack of chicks behind me that are hurting worse. It would be an insult to drop out now.

(Thanks to Henry O'Grady for this shot)

The second half of the course was actually much more enjoyable. The hills were still technically difficult, but the gradient was slightly better, which made a world of difference. I used hand signals at the aid stations to try to determine whether I would be facing an uphill or downhill next... Thanked the volunteers in my horrible french accent for the cheese, salami, bread, and soup... and kept plodding along. Finally I came up to the last hill (other than the finish) and one of the other runner's told me it would take two hours maximum to reach the top. Hallelujah.

I crested the top of that last hill just as it was turning to night and I geared up for the drop in temperature. Long-sleeves (the one I left on the bus!), gore-tex shell, gloves, and my massively bright new head torch from Petzl. I love the nighttime parts of races -- everything seems to get a bit quieter, a bit calmer, and much more meditative.

The descent down the last hill was long and lonely, but I didn't mind. I popped in my tunes and embraced the jello legs. They just simply were not working properly anymore! Almost near the end I saw some reflective lights ahead and ran right towards them... it wasn't until I was about a meter in front of them that I realized it was the lines on the uniforms of two Italian police officers! (Yes, I had crossed over into Italy! Feeling like a real Von Trapp...) I used every last ounce of energy (and more) to make it into town and was rather pleased that I only fell once. I saw the lights ahead, heard the music and the cheering, and knew my journey was coming to an end. I opened my jacket to make sure my race number was showing, wiped the crusted salt off the sides of my face, and prepared for an emotional finish (ha). When I got to the "finish", however, the volunteers cheered me on and pointed me further along the road. Excuse me? It lead straight back up another mountain.

Sacre bleu!

Not only was I NOT finished, but I was facing another HOUR of uphill. No water left. No food. No energy. There was no jiggle left in my jello legs. UGH.

But then, in fine steph form, I saw a female ahead on the course just 15 minutes before the finish line. TURN ON THE JETS!! As much as I dreaded it, I knew I had to try my best to finish strong. Well, I doubt I could call it a STRONG finish, but it was a solid one. 7th female out of just 88 starters and 58 finishers. Quite a small number out of a total field of 632!

Now the ultimate question remains: what's on tap next?

Cheese and Chocolate Medicine (Part Two)

2009-09-02T15:26:00.000-07:00

In any race, a runner will usually encounter a series of disasters...It is inevitable (at least for me). The trick is to get them out of the way early on so that you have time to sort out a Plan B, C, or D.

Disaster #1: The night before the race I was packing my backpack with all of the equipment and food I thought I might need during the run, when I suddenly noticed that my long-sleeved top was missing. Hmm. I had a short-sleeved top and my thin gore-tex shell in case it rained, but that was it. Not good. Reports were saying that the temperature could go down as low as 0 degrees during the night on the mountain and I am notoriously cold to begin with... I looked through my suitcase about 4 times (even though there was absolutely nothing in it - does anyone else do that too?) before I finally admitted that it was gone. I thought back and figured out that I had left it on the minivan bus that had taken me from the Geneva airport to Chamonix. Grrrrrreat. Luckily, I was able to charm the French hotel guy to track down the minivan company, figure out which bus brought me to Chamonix, have the bus searched, and when my shirt was found (yay!) arrange to have it brought to the hotel on the next trip into town. Parfait. Crisis averted.

Disaster #2: The more important the event, the more alarms I set to wake me up. Usually this means that I am rudely wakened by a discordant symphony of bells, rings, beeps, and sometimes laser noises (thanks to my iphone). On the morning of the race, however, TWO of my alarms failed. One was the hotel's fault (no wake up call) and the other was mine (I set the alarm for 3:45, but the clock was still on London time....). Thank goodness my third and final backup alarm went off at 4:00 am. This meant that I was late, but at least I was awake. Crisis averted again. Whew.

With two small panic attacks under my belt, I felt ready to stand on that start line, confident that nothing else would go wrong. Okay, hoping that nothing else would go wrong. The atmosphere was electric: runners jumping up and down with nervous energy, turning their head torches on and off for good measure; family members and supporters snapping photos and giving final words of encouragement; and the race announcers counting down the minutes to the start. Inspirational "going into war" type of music was blasting from the speakers in front, which definitely added an element of drama to the scene. It was strange being out there on my own - it seemed like everyone else had at least one other person to stand next to and chat with, but I didn't mind so much. No matter what was going to happen over the next 24 hours, this was going to be my time to run. Simply run...

...What I didn't realize was that I would be practically crawling for most of the race! The course started out alright as we followed the cobblestone streets out of Chamonix and onto the trails... but then the real fun started. Within minutes of ascending the first "hill", my quads were burning and my heart rate was through the roof. Either everyone else around me was being "British" (aka stoic) or I was seriously out of shape, as it seemed like I was the ONLY one weezing my way up the path. Talk about a stairway to hell - it just never ended! I tried to keep my head down and just focus on the ground in front of me, but I couldn't help but notice the long line of runners ahead, dutifully marching along like a trail of ants to a picnic. I felt like a total hack. At least the scenery was gorgeous.

My spirits lifted somewhat when the sun rose and the course flattened out a bit. I could feel my right leg (the injured one) with each step, but at least it was holding up. The first downhill proved to be a challenge. My left shoe was slightly loose, which meant that my foot slid inside the shoe each time I struck the ground...after 30 minutes or so I could already feel the giant blister forming on my heel. I made the decision then to just grin and bear it for the rest of the race. Some runners prefer to deal with foot issues during the race as they arise in order to prevent them from getting worse, but my strategy is always to avoid taking my shoes off if at all possible. Blisters always hurt more once you've seen what they look like and having a bandage on itself can cause further problems. But that's just me.

I started to think I was in real trouble on the second (or was it the third?) major climb. I had to take the occasional break on the uphill and I noticed that people were starting to pass me. Somewhere around the 15 mile mark I caught up to Ricky Paugh, who I knew from the Namibia race earlier this year. He too was struggling with the altitude and said that he'd blown out his quads on the hills already (Ricky ended up pushing through for another 20 miles or so before pulling out of the race). Confidence was waning and the little running demons started whispering in my ear...

Steph, everyone will understand if you need to pull out. You're injured for goodness sake! It's great that you made it this far at all. No one will think you're a wimp. All you have to do is get to the next aid station and hand in your race bib. You can be back in your hotel room with a nice hot shower by lunch time. And perhaps you'd fancy some french baguettes? Maybe a pain au chocolate? No need to prove yourself here...

I must admit, the running demons were starting to make some sense. I pictured myself telling my friends and colleagues that I dropped out, and for a brief moment I actually convinced myself that I would be okay with that...but I knew that ultimately I wouldn't forgive myself. The ONLY race I have gotten a DNF in is the race in which I got the pelvic stress fracture. Barring any broken bones, I was not going to have a DNF in this one....

Stay tuned for Part Three!

No amount of chocolate and cheese could cure this pain....(Part One)

2009-09-01T15:18:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm starting to mentally recover from this race I feel like I can start to put the experience into words. Had I tried to write this two days ago, my blog would have consisted of only profanities!!

The Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) race is thought by many to be the hardest footrace in Europe. Crossing three countries (France, Italy, Switzerland), it covers 166 km with positive altitude change of 9500 m, which is over twice the altitude change of Everest from base camp. Yikes. Luckily for me, by the time I signed up for the race, the UTMB was full and so I registered for a new event as part of the Mont Blanc races: Sur Les Traces Des Ducs de Savoie (TDS). At only 106 km with 6700 m of altitude change, it seemed like I was taking the easy route....

...Or so I thought. Post-race accounts have been reporting that although the UTMB is the longest run in the series of races, "TDS has been designed to be the most technical". It has also been described as one of the hardest. I'd like to think that were the case (y'know, to make me look more hard core), but I have a hard time believing that's true. I did talk to one guy, however, who did both and said that the TDS was harder...but anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Here's how the race was described by North Face:

The Deux Savoie and the Val d'Aoste provinces have always been part of the Savoie States. Runners will discover these three beautiful regions around the Mont-Blanc. After a 5am start at the centre of Chamonix, running first through Les Houches and then Saint Nicolas de Veroce during the hours of darkness, competitors will leave the peaceful villages of the Savoie to reach a wild and magnificent mountain trail. After an ascent of Mont-Joly (2525m), the route follows some of the most beautiful trails and crosses some of the most awesome passes of the Beaufortain and Tarentaise region; the Aiguille Croche, the Col du Joly, the Col du Bonhomme, the Cormet de Roseland, and le passeur de Pralognan. Only on descent to Bourg Saint Maurice will the runners return to civilization. After a warm welcome from the volunteers in Bourg Saint Maurice and neighbouring Seez, a long ascent along the Roman Road will lead to the Col du Petit Saint-Bernard. Entering the Val d'Aoste runners will pass through the villages of La Thuile and Pre Saint-Didier before finally arriving triumphant in Courmayeur!

The description certainly SOUNDED lovely....

I knew this wasn't going to be a performance race because of my leg, but I desperately wanted it to be a non-embarrassment race. The only race I have DNF'd in was the one in which I broke my pelvis. I did not want to contemplate having to quit this one.

Once I got to Chamonix, I started to relax a bit. The town was absolutely gorgeous...although those mountains sure looked intimidating! I made my way through the race registration and got my gear checked in. My race chip was practically surgically attached to my wrist (seriously - metal clamps and all) and an unremovable tag was put onto my backpack. After picking up my race pack, I moved onto my favourite part of any race: the EXPO!!! A close second to the Boston Marathon race expo. I was in heaven....

There were booths set up advertising ultramarathons all around the world, people promoting various race nutrition products (complete with free samples, of course), and tons of gear. It was hard to resist buying everything in site, especially the Salomon paclite gear. I did succumb to one vendor in particular...Vibram Five Fingers! More on that in a later post :)

I stopped and had a long chat with Zac Addorisio from Racing the Planet. Man, was it ever nice to see an old friend! RTP has really become like an extended family to me (awwww...). Zac had even brought a present for me all the way from Hong Kong. What a fantastic boost before the race!

Next I headed off to watch the start of the full 166 km UTMB. In less than 12 hours, it would be me on that start line.....

Stay tuned for part 2!

On the plane to Geneva (18 hours to race time)

2009-08-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

I've already started sizing up the competition and I'm not even in Chamonix yet. I saw a guy wearing a gore-tex pac-lite jacket carrying an OMM backpack. He was showing all the signs of an ultrarunner (who else wears gear like that in normal settings?), except, of course, for the hyper alert and slightly manic expression on his face. I couldn't figure out why he seemed so darn relaxed! I immediately got gear envy staring at his backpack. It was the perfect size for this event.... I guessed it had a 2-L bladder and it looked like it had ample room for the mandatory equipment required by the race directors. And oooooh, how I was drooling over the pockets and zippers! I wanted to snatch it right off his back and run onto the plane, never to be found again. Luckily I restrained myself appropriately (although I think he caught me oogling).

As it turns out, the reason why this bag-toting, gore-tex wearing guy seemed abnormally calm was because he wasn't running the race...he was covering it for Runner's World UK! Cool!

I quickly started scheming of ways that I could come across as being astonishingly funny and witty during our short conversation to lead him to the inevitable conclusion that he should work me into the piece... Amazing delusions of grandeur! He couldn't have been less interested! Maybe my drooling put him off?

I tried to distract myself and prevent the race nerves from getting to me by staring out the airplane window at the alps poking through the clouds. My quad muscles started to throb in protest....

Pre-race nerves...

2009-08-27T16:43:00.000-07:00

It is almost 1 am in the morning and the alarm is set for 5 am for my flight to Geneva...and then onward to Chamonix for the Ultra Tour du Mont Blanc. Here we are again. Injured and nervous, but itching to run (and praying to the running gods that "it" will just come together on race day).

What race am I doing exactly? Video of last year's Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc.

Stay tuned.

Alone, in the clear air and searching sunlight, we are afoot with the quiet gods, and men can know each other and themselves for what they are.
A.F. MUMMERY

Space hoppers: the new cross-training technique

2009-08-23T13:49:00.000-07:00

Thursday was the annual Staff Day Out for the International Bar Association. Now, you'd think that spending an entire day on a farm playing traditional English school games with a bunch of lawyers would be about as exciting as, well, sitting in a room with a bunch of lawyers (ha)... but not so!

We were all split up into teams about a week before the grand event. That's when the emails and secret meetings started. Suddenly my inbox became inundated with emails

written in CAPS.

MEET IN THE KITCHEN AT 4PM TO DISCUSS COSTUMES!!!!

WE NEED A TEAM NAME!!!

We should have named ourselves the Red October with the amount of covert operations going on in the office! There were seven members on our team so we decided to base our name (and theme) around that...The Seven Dwarfs? James Bond 007? We settled on the Seven Deadly Sins...

I chose pride. Now, it is easy to find an ugly prom dress outfit with oversized, loud accessories (er, I mean, different from my usual oversized accessories...), but try finding one that is also functional for traditional English games (I still didn't really know what that meant at that point). There I was on my lunch hour the day before the Staff Day Out, in the change room of a hideously tacky store on Oxford Street (appropriately titled 'Hyper Hyper'), testing out the range of motion of various nasty dresses as I lunged around the room. Good fun. With a few additional purchases of gloves and a giant pink flower for my hair, I was set.

On the day of the outing, we all met at the Charing Cross rail station and boarded a train for Kent. This was the first glance we got of our competition's costumes...As you can see from the photo posted above, one of the other teams decided to go as techno/raver kids. If you knew these guys, you'd find this photo hilarious, trust me!

Egg and spoon races, three-legged races, and sack races followed shortly after arriving on the farm. The hilarity increased with each event, until the ultimate SPACE HOPPER RACE!!! I had no idea what a space hopper was, but I couldn't wait to

start hopping.

Apparently, "space hoppers", or Hoppity hops, kangaroo balls, bouncers, skippyballs, Hippity hips, and hop balls, were introduced in the UK in 1971 and school kids (and apparently lawyers) have been bouncing on them ever since. They are basically inflatable workout balls with a handle, which you hold onto for dear life as you awkwardly attempt to bounce your way along. When my turn came up on the space hopper, I was laughing so hard I thought I might lose my vision. The only design flaw in the outfit was the giant string of pearls, which came up and whacked me in the teeth with each

bounce. I can just picture how that conversation would go in the emergency room....

Well, you see doctor, I knocked out my front teeth with my fake pearl necklace while bouncing on my space hopper.

Well, sadly enough, my team came in LAST in every event...But we did win the costume award, so that helped heal our wounds! I think my team expected my ultrarunning skills to translate into crazy good egg and spoon talent, but alas....

The rest of the day consisted of eating a giant hog (ah, the traditional English hog roast?),

drinking, eating, and cheering on the top teams as they fought their way to glory. Then we boarded a train back to the city and plunked ourselves down in a bar -- some still in costume, others not. With a Phil Collins tribute band

playing to help top the night off, it was just Another Day in Paradise....

The new Miracle Team (London chapter)

2009-08-21T17:29:00.000-07:00

With the amount of running I do, I suppose it comes as no surprise that I am constantly injuring myself. In January, I got a pelvic stress fracture during a 50k race in a blizzard. Yup, I actually ran until my pelvis broke. I've had broken bones, torn muscles, tendonitis, bursitis, capsulitis (any more itises?), shin splints, patellofemoral syndrome, chaffed legs, back, and underarms, blisters, cankles, lost toenails, bruises, er, am I missing anything?

Truly, it is a miracle I'm actually still in one piece. Okay, sometimes two. But anyway, I would probably be in a wheelchair if it wasn't for my medical team. Yes, I call them my MIRACLE TEAM!

I'm often asked by friends and colleagues for the names of the sports professionals that help keep me moving forward. Well, without further delay, here they are! I would recommend these people without hesitation:

Let's start with London....(links to their websites can be found in one of the boxes on the right)

James Pinkney. Certified IMS Practitioner and Physiotherapist. I think I will need to do an entirely separate post on the benefits of IMS...stay tuned for that one. In short, IMS (Intramuscular Stimulation) is the pretty much the only treatment that will get me out of a hole when my muscles are REALLY messed up. James is the ONLY practitioner trained in IMS in LONDON who has made it onto the official IMS website (www.istop.org). Thank goodness he is here!!! Dr. Pinkney has just opened up a new clinic -- his third! -- and I can't speak highly enough about him. Not only is he a great professional, but he is also really nice to chat with....And the fact that I can talk pleasantly about a guy whose job it is to stick me full of needles should say something :)

Richard Guy. Sports massage therapist. I'm pretty picky about my massage therapists...and I give this one two thumbs up. Oftentimes the therapist won't be able to do deep tissue to the degree that I need, or they will do it improperly and I'll wind up bruised. Richard gets into the knots and releases my muscles without me having to give too much instruction at all. He may be covered in tattoos, but don't let his hardened appearance fool you - he is as sweet as can be! Extremely helpful to his clients and very accessible by email or on his mobile. I also really value when the professionals with whom I've worked have also been involved in the more extreme side of sports themselves. Richard is an IRONMAN...respect.

Dr. Orr. Chiropractor. He is very professional, expresses his concern about my level of training when he thinks I'm pushing it too far, but never lectures. This is KEY for me...He takes an interest in my training, listens to my complaints of pain, and uses a mixture of manual therapy, stretching, spinal manipulation, and needle treatment to sort me out. Brilliant.

That's it for London for now!

High altitude training in Central London?

2009-08-15T07:46:00.000-07:00

I'm not fully settled in a new city until I have found My Gym. THE Gym. In other words, my Second Home.

In New York, I was lucky enough to have access to an Equinox gym about half a block away from my apartment. Spinning classes, spa services, excellent cardio equipment, juice bar, pool, and -- the best -- ice pools right next to hot baths. After a workout I would plunge my legs into the ice bath for 2 min, followed by 2 min in the bubble-less jacuzzi (for two cycles). It is one of the best ways to flush the lactic acid out of the muscles and help promote recovery.

...But alas, it is tough being spoilt. As I've quickly learned, the gyms in London just don't compare to the gyms of NYC...

Except for ONE: the Third Space (www.thethirdspace.com). Now, as I've learned using my highly refined wikipedia research skills (is this what I learned in law school?), the term "third spaces" refers to social surroundings separate from the "first space", being the home, and the "second space", being the workplace. Third spaces are thought of as the "anchors" of community life that facilitate creative interaction. Author Ray Oldenburg, in his book entitledThe Great Good Place, argues that the defining features of a true "third space" are that it is (1) free or inexpensive, (2) highly accessible, (3) welcoming and comfortable, and (4) usually has food and drink. Does the Third Space meet this definition?

It costs 115 pounds a month to join and you must sign up for a minimum of 12 months. Okay, perhaps not free or inexpensive, but how can you put a price on health and happiness?? For what you get at this gym, it does start to look affordable.
Highly accessible? Well, it is near Piccadilly, which is rather central...Okay, I'll give them this one.
The very muscle-bound trainers were extremely welcoming when I came for a tour, and I felt very comfortable walking around in my spandex. Although I must say, doing situps on top of a glass floor above the pool was rather stress-inducing...
There is a lovely juice bar by the entrance.

I'd say it measures up pretty well!

I tested out the gym on Thursday morning. Specifically, I spent an hour cycling and climbing in the Third Space's HYPOXIC CHAMBER!!! I have not seen anything like this. It is a room in which the oxygen content is lowered in order to simulate high altitude training. From the website:

By reducing the amount of oxygen in the air, it forces your cardio-respiratory systems to work even harder to deliver sufficient oxygen to your working muscles. The result? A harder workout, and faster results. In addition, the body adapts to the reduced oxygen by stimulating the production of the hormone Erythropoietin (EPO), which in turn leads to an increase in the level of haemoglobin and red blood cells (those that carry the oxygen). Synthetic forms of EPO do exist: they thicken the blood and are consequently banned by the The International Olympic Committee. However, the level of EPO naturally generated by exercise at altitude and in hypoxic facilities is not considered dangerous and is therefore legal.

SWEET. After trying that, how could I possibly go to another gym?

For those of you in the London area, I HIGHLY suggest you check out the gym. In addition to the high altitude chamber, it has the following facilities:

climbing wall
pool
boxing ring
pilates studio
dojo room (don't ask me what this is...)
top of the line equipment
juice bar
integrated medical facility on site
glass floor
table tennis!!

I'm going back on Monday for some more mountain training!

Two degrees of separation?

2009-08-11T13:28:00.000-07:00

I started work this week at the Human Rights Institute of the International Bar Association in Central London... The people are amazing and the work sounds fantastic. The hilarious part is that the IBA is located on the top floor of a building FILLED with crappy television producers...not only am I learning about human rights violations around the world, I am also getting an education in bad tv. Did you know that America's Got Talent was 11th in the ratings last week and Coronation Street has 3.2% of the market share?? Personally, I think forcing someone to watch Eastenders is a human rights no-no in itself...

I had my second chance encounter this week. My colleague with whom I share a work sp

ace heard that I ran "really long races" and asked if I was an ultrarunner.

Now, as I've discovered, the average Dylan (Joe just seems so expected) does NOT know what an "ultramarathoner" or "ultrarunner" is. I've had people asked me if I was one of those crazy "ultrathoners", "uber marathoner", or my favourite, "hyper runner". To be fair hyper runner is probably a more accurate description for the sport, but anyway, I digress....

"Why yes, I am an ultrarunner. Do you happen to know someone who does them?" I asked.

"Yeah, someone I went to school with actually. This guy, Mark."

Immediately I thought of Mark Mosimann, the only Mark I know, in fact, in ultrarun

ning who lives in London. I thought I would take a shot in the dark and ask: "Mark who?"

"Oh, Mark Mosimann."

No kidding. I met the Mosimann brothers, Mark and Phil, in my first ultra in February 2008. It was Racing the Planet's 250 km self-supported footrace in Vietnam aka the grand MUDFEST! Phil was an RTP veteran (and previous winner!) and he had roped Mark into trying it out as well. I will never forget the video clip taken of the two of them during the

long stage in the race, which was about 110 km straight. The cameraman interviewed them at the 70 km checkpoint to get an update on their progress. While Phil spoke softly and very matter-of-factly in his oh-

so-British way about the physical difficulties they were facing, Mark stared straight into the camera like bambi caught in a Mac truck's headlights. I remember talking to Mark after the race was finished and he said that ultras were simply "not for him" and he wouldn't think about entering another...

... But I have to say, I wasn't the least surprised to see the Mosimanns -- both of them -- make a return appearance at RTP's Namibia race this May! Anyhow, I'm meeting up with Mark tomorrow night with my work colleague (as well as Jenna, Mark's girlfriend and also RTP veteran! The photo

was taken right after we crossed the finish line -- mid-gorge on pizza, of course).

Hyde Park Encounter

2009-08-07T02:51:00.000-07:00

Ah, jet lag. How long can I keep using that as an excuse to sleep in past 10 am guilt-free?

This is my third day in London in my new house and I'm ALMOST settled in. I've now got bedding, hangers, all the right plug adapters and a lamp. Unfortunately, I still don't have the right light bulbs (it is a very confusing system over here, let me tell you), so I've been reliving my desert races by wearing my head torches around my room after the sun goes down. I figure it is good practice.

I have still been feeling pretty sluggish on my runs lately and haven't been able to get my alignment back on track since Vermont. I've been to the chiropractor a couple of times though, which has helped, and I'll be back again today. Nothing like a good back crack and some needles shoved into my knotted muscles to set me straight, right?

Anyhow, I set out for a run today to do some more exploring. I first did a loop around the Clapham Commons, which are about 50 m from my front door, and then headed towards Battersea Park. Going further North, I reached Hyde Park after about 45 minutes. I've decided Hyde Park is the Central Park of London. It was fantastic! There were people on horseback and those cute little policemen with the funny hats. I think there is a height requirement in the UK that all policemen must be under 5'8" -- no disrespect to London's finest, but I have yet to see any officer taller than me ;) Just an observation...I'm sure the hats are intimidating enough to criminals.

After about half an hour in the park I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around and couldn't believe it - it was Andy Collier, one of the guys I chatted with before the start of the Vermont 100 and ran with for a few sections of the course!!! How random! Andy finished really well in Vermont (I think around 25th?) and is now training for the incredibly difficult Spartathlon race next month. I have the Spartathlon in my sights for 2010, but I definitely need more training for that one. It is 250 km straight through in Greece!

Off for a deep tissue massage and back to the chiro. Then out this evening to see what London has to offer! More soon!

Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run - Race Report!

2009-08-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

Hi all!

Okay, so I've never actually written a race report before, so bear with me!!!

The Vermont 100 Mile Endurance race was this past weekend and it was (gulp) my first 100 miler...In the days leading up to the race I was 50% basket case and 50% excited. I'm lying, actually. I was 100% basket case. Would I finally experience what it felt like hit the WALL (or 'bonk' as you Americans call it)? Would I hallucinate and if so, what fun things would I see? Would I end up taking a wrong turn and does two wrong turns make a right? Would I have the self-control to keep running past the Ben and Jerry's factory if I saw it en route? How would I be able to resist the urge to leap onto the back of the horses that ran so effortlessly by me (or at least hang onto their tails for dear life)? So many questions....

As you 'veterans' have already learned, you just never know what will happen in a 100 miler. Training can get you most of the way, but beyond a certain point it is up to the running gods. And boy, are they finnicky. I knew I was going into the race as prepared as possible. My coach and ultrarunner extraordinaire, Ray Zahab, gave me a phenomenal training plan, which I followed religiously (y’know, to try to appease the running gods). My longest run was 8 hours two weeks before the race during which time I covered 51 miles. Heck, at least I could say that I had
trained over half the distance of the race, right? The heartbreaking hills of Central Park and the rugged trails through the concrete jungle of Manhattan were IDEAL training conditions for Vermont. Cough.

Not wanting to be up all night before making the trek to Vermont, I attempted to put together my drop bags two nights before. Great plan, great plan...I bought jerky, chips (scouring the shelves for the highest sodium content possible),
chocolate covered pretzels, perpetuem (yum), chocolate covered coffee beans, gu, amino vital, and snack-sized ziploc bags. Most importantly, I bought 4 incredibly loud, red paisley tote bags to use for my drop bags so that I would be able to easily identify them as my own at the aid stations.

I brought all of my supplies home and laid them out on the table in an attempt to arrange and re-arrange the food piles according to my very loose race plan...and then slowly but surely I began to open each new packet of food -
y'know, just to taste and make sure the contents would sit well in my stomach. Well, wouldn't you know it but an hour later and I had almost completely devoured my precious supplies. Sigh. What can I say - when I get nervous, I eat
:)

After one more trip the following night to the grocery store to restock on supplies, I finally got my drop bags sorted. I also worked out a schedule for my sole handler/pacer extraordinaire. The schedule was based on a 22 1/2 hr finish,
with 10 hours budgeted for the first 50 miles and 12 1/2 for the second 50 miles. I really had no idea what I would be able to run, but I figured 22 1/2 was a good number to shoot for - it left me with an hour and a half cushion to
still earn the elusive buckle for a sub 24 hr finish...

On Friday morning I hopped on a bus up to White River Junction, Vermont. In case anyone asks, the Port Authority is NOT the place to be at 5am :) Anyhow, I managed to contort myself into the least cramp-inducing position in my bus seat and tried (unsuccessfully) to catch a few hours of sleep. It seemed to take forever to get there...at one point I realized that I was covering just over 200 miles by bus, which took 7 hours itself. How was ANYONE supposed to run half that distance on foot?? Although I was incredibly nervous, the beautiful scenery calmed me down quite a bit. Man, is it ever nice to get out of Manhattan.

All competitors had to check at the race site before 3:45 pm. I made it there by about 2 pm and went straight in for the pre-race medical assessment. I so thirsty after the long bus ride, but I thought it would be best to wait to
drink until AFTER the weigh in so that I would weigh in a bit light. To explain, there are weigh stations throughout the VT100 race. If you lose too much weight (or gain...but I wasn't worried about that...) then you get pulled
out by the medical staff. My mouth was so dry when I stepped on the scale that when I tried to smile innocently at the volunteer in charge of the weigh-in my upper lip stuck to my teeth and I ended up giving him a weird grimace. Not a good idea to bare your teeth like an animal at someone who has the power to pull you out of a race, eh? The volunteer informed me that the scale was weighing heavy (oh no!) and sure enough I weighed in a full 4 pounds heavier than my heaviest weight. WHOA, either I had overdone it carbo-loading or something was
out of whack! Could it be the 4 drop bags of food I had devoured a few days ago?? I heard the running gods snickering away….

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. I remember dropping off my red paisley drop bags, eating an incredibly large buffet dinner and downing copious amounts of desserts. I also remember seeing a few seasoned, gray-haired men with pants pulled up around their armpits were walking around wearing giant, shiny, glorious belt buckles. I decided that the silver belt buckle was the little black dress of ultrarunning and damn it, I wanted one!!! I called it a day back at the hotel around 8 pm that night with visions of perpetuem dancing in my head. Oh yeah, and just before bed I squeezed in a few short intervals as well (as my coach instructed) in order to get the blood moving again.

After what seemed like 2 seconds after I closed my eyes, the alarm went off. 2:45 am. Oh my gosh, race day had finally arrived. AAACK! It had been raining all night and the thought of stepping out onto those muddy trails with 100 miles ahead was daunting...but then I reminded myself that it was only going to be one day. I had only really done multi-day events before, so knowing that I just needed to get through ONE stage this time helped keep my faculties in line.

Vaseline? Check. Hat? Check. Hydropel on the feet? Check. Injiji socks, full nathan camelbak, power bandana? Check, check, check. Okay, I was as ready as I'd ever be.

I'd gone off caffeine for two weeks prior to the race, so I was REALLY excited to have diet pepsi and coffee on race morning! My pacer (Cat) and I got to the start area around 3:15 am and joined the other runners under the white tents to stay out of the rain as long as possible. Chariots of fire was blasting from the speakers and I immediately pictured myself crawling through the course in slow motion... Three last minute trips to the porta potties (nerves!!), a check of
the batteries in my head torch, and all of a sudden I was lined up behind the start banner and everyone was counting down until 4 am...

GO!!!!

The first couple hours of any of my long runs are always the worst for me. My legs just need time to wake up and realize what I'm asking them to do. It makes it mentally tough at the start of the race because so many runners breeze past me at warp speed and it makes me think that I'm some lame turtle who shouldn't have been
allowed to enter the race in the first place. I just kept telling myself that it was a long race, and more importantly, it was MY race and my race alone. It didn't matter how fast the others were going. I have actually learned to love the fact that my body lacks the ability to start out fast – it is like my own little internal defense mechanism to keep me from burning out too quickly.

I had three priorities going into the race: (1) don't get lost, (2) finish, even if it isn't before the official cut-off time and (3) try to buckle as a bonus (sub 24 hr finish)! I find it really helpful to identify my goals ahead of time
because then no matter what happens during the race - good or bad - I can always bring myself back to these goals and stay on track...otherwise I am prone to losing my head and blowing the whole thing.

I met a few really nice runners at the start and we chatted our way through the dark. The trails were muddy and it wasn't long before I already had wet feet. No problem though - my race in Vietnam last year was dubbed the amazing mud fest, so I had experience weathering 6 long days of soggy feet. Again, this was just going to be ONE day. Piece of cake!!!

I had arranged a drop bag at aid station 5 (21 miles) because Cat wasn’t going to meet me until later in the course. It would be just as long of a day for her as for me and I was concerned that she would be exhausted if she didn’t go back to the hotel to sleep. The race plan had Cat meeting me at aid stations 7 (30 miles), 14 (47 miles), 17 (57 miles), 19 (62 miles), and then pacing from 21 (70 miles), 23 (77 miles), 26 (89 miles) and maybe 28 (96 miles) to the finish.

Everything was going like clockwork. Every item I needed at each particular aid station just happened to be there in my pre-arranged pack. I was so pleased my uber-planning was paying off!! Finally my annoying type A, lawyer-like qualities were coming in handy. Just when my muscles were cramping (the hills, oh the hills!) Cat was there at the next aid station with The Stick to roll out my quads. Soggy shirt? There was a fresh one waiting for me just a few miles ahead. Damn, could I ever go for another couple of tylenol. Wouldn't you know there were two lovely rainbow pills waiting for me around the corner?

At one point pretty early on one of the volunteers told me I was amongst the top 25 runners and third female. He told me that the first female was WAY ahead and I'd never catch her, but I had a shot at overtaking second place. Holy crap!!! But wait, just remember my priorities...First and foremost, don't lose my way (and don't lose my
head). Concentrate on finishing and maybe, just maybe, getting a buckle. For all I knew, I could trip rounding the next turn and wind up with a face full of dirt and two bad knees. However, when I passed the second female shortly thereafter at one of the aid stations it was hard to keep myself from getting excited!

There were minor pains along the way and some major pains fluctuating in and out...but all in all, I was astounded at how good I felt. My coach's plan was working!!! The biggest problem was the top of my right foot where my foot pod
was resting. I was wearing the Brooks T6 racers (not the very lightest shoe, but close to it) and the weight of the foot pod over this very thin shoe was taking its toll. I knew with each step that I was bruising my foot further and further,
but I stubbornly insisted on keeping it there. I know, stupid, I should have at least changed it to the opposite foot, but I just didn't want to stop!!!

Endurolytes every hour, aleve and tylenol interspersed at 8 and 4 hr intervals, espresso beans after 62 miles...all going according to plan. The biggest time saver I think was having Cat fill up a spare camelbak in between aid stations. I would run up and pass off the one I was wearing and take the fresh one. Camelbaks are so much more time consuming to refill than the handheld bottles, but I love having my hands free during a race so this was a great solution to keep me moving through the aid stations as quickly as possible.

Cat (aka Pacer for the Caser) joined me at 70 miles and we battled up and down the hills together. I made it tough for her - she is SUCH a positive person, but I respond better to negative reinforcement. Ha, Cat simply didn't know how to do that...It turned into her using positive words of encouragement in a scary, growly voice. Too
funny.

There is a horse endurance ride that coincides with the running race, which makes VT quite unique. The horses actually gave me huge bursts of energy each time they passed. Listening to the sounds of their hooves behind me and watching their powerful legs move back and forth and they galloped by was inspiring... Sometimes, however, the horses would slow down to our pace and walk beside us for stretches. It was nice to have the company of the riders.

Once the sun started to set I got an intense craving for a slice of pizza. Scrap that - I wanted a whole pizza.

Somewhere around 90 miles Cat and I joined up with another runner from NH, Tom, and his pacer. It was getting dark by this point and we definitely moved faster as a group of four, rather than just two. Tom was a VT100 vet, so it boosted my confidence a bit that I was actually running alongside him. At some point around 93 miles we spotted the silhouette of two runners up ahead at the top of the hill. Tom's pacer turned around with a glint in his eye and said, "wouldn't it be great if that was the top female?" I laughed and told him not to say such things...but he turned serious and advised me that you "just never know" and that's why you always have to push it in the race. You don't know what is happening ahead, so you shouldn't ease up -- even at 93 miles. Then we all got silent and concentrated a bit harder on those two silhouettes in the dark...wouldn't you know that they DID start to look like female shapes!! Tom's pacer whispered that he was running ahead to check. A few seconds later he rushed back to us and said
excitedly, "IT'S HER!! YOU CAUGHT UP TO HER!!" A ripple of excitement went through me. Holy crap!!!! I looked at Cat and said "Don't say anything." She knew immediately what I meant: STICK TO THE PLAN. Remember my priorities. And don't lose my head. There was still 7 miles to go...and the thought of having to actually RACE race those last 7 miles was almost too much to think about.

Cat pushed me up the hill and we cheerfully said hello to Jill Perry, the top female, and her pacer as we ran past. Trying to act nonchalant at this point was probably fruitless. We left Tom and his pacer behind and forged up the hill. Was Jill following close behind? Would it be an out and out race to the finish? We didn't dare look back behind us until a couple minutes later. Cat thought she saw a light -- but maybe it was a glow stick? Or a horse? Hard to say. Keep
moving.

I let myself start thinking about victory around 95 miles, which was a MISTAKE. After chattering away about the race doors that might open with a first place finish, Cat reminded me to STICK TO THE PLAN. I said, yeah, I guess it doesn't matter how fast I was going if it was in the wrong direction. Priority #1: don't get lost. Just at that moment we passed a glow stick and I looked behind me - wait, there was another path going up the hill! We were so busy talking about passing Jill that we just about missed a turn! That would have been disastrous!!!!

Whew. Crisis averted. As we were coming up on the last aid stations I told Cat we weren't stopping. Only a few miles to go - we could push through anything for just a few miles. Heck, both my arms could fall off and I’d still hop the last couple of miles. Merely a flesh wound!!

At 98 miles I left Cat behind. I couldn't even feel my legs. I was running as fast as I could, pushing it to the max up those last hills. The last 2 miles of the course was all on winding trails...I could hear cheering for the runners
finishing ahead. Okay, now at 99 miles I realized it was in the bag. Screw my priorities - I was going
to WIN!!!

As I approached the finish line a spotter called out "Runner?" (as opposed to horse). I shouted back my race number and sprinted to the finish!!! IT WAS OVER!!! I WON!!!!

Immediately after finishing my eyes landed on the boxes upon boxes of pizza stacked up under one of the white tents. It was as if the running gods were finally rewarding me and the pizza boxes almost seemed to glow in their own incandescent light. Sure, the buckle would be a nice touch, but at that moment, all I cared about was the pizza. You can’t eat a buckle, after all. I made a beeline straight for the tent and grasped a hot, cheesy piece of pepperoni pizza. Just as I was lifting it to my mouth and a little bit of drool was escaping down my chin, I looked over and saw
a volunteer staring angrily at me. I then realized the pizza was meant for the volunteers, not the runners, and sadly relinquished my slice...The volunteer looked at me with disdain. Seriously though, doesn't 100 miles deserve ONE slice of pizza?

I went back to the finish line and cheered Cat in. The finish line volunteers thought it was hilarious that I was waiting for my pacer, but I explained what I had put Cat through that day. Not only had she never run more than a marathon
before, but I had made her crew for me ALL day as well. What an accomplishment for her to finish her first ultra!!! Go Cat!

A few people asked me if I was Jill Perry, the second place woman, and I cheerfully responded, “I’m nobody!!” To think that I had actually given Jill a run for her money was unthinkable. Her reputation precedes her and I was honored to have competed alongside her.

Three cups of ramen later and Cat and I headed back to the hotel. I couldn't believe I finished 4 hours ahead of schedule! 18h38 min!!! I thought I would fall fast asleep, but the pain set in -- ooooooh the pain -- and I was up all
night. Threw up. Ate chips. Tried not to move. Even my hair hurt.

Morning finally came and Cat and I gorged at the breakfast buffet. I still couldn't believe it was all over.

In the end, I ended up winning first female by almost an hour! I finished 1st female and 9th overall, which earned me a special buckle :) Now that the pizza incident was over, I was pretty happy to be holding that buckle and wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Well, maybe for a slice of double-cheese. I looked up my splits and I consistently moved my way up the pack from 44th at the start to 9th, never moving down in the rankings. I may not be fast, but I kept a consistent pace from start to finish, which really helped me gain ground in the second half.

It was a tough year of training leading up to Vermont. A pelvic stress fracture in January had me off the trails and in the gym until mid-April, and a distal tibia stress fracture followed very shortly thereafter. I was so thrilled to simply be MOVING again that it never crossed my mind I would actually do well in the race!

I am disappointed about one thing though, I must admit. I was told by so many other runners before the race that I would definitely hallucinate…and nothing happened! No strange visions to keep me entertained during those 100 miles! At least I had all of those Canadian geese stationed at the end of every driveway from 80 miles onward to cheer me along. Amazing that they flew all the way down from Canada to support one of their own (Canadian, that is, not goose). Cat said they were mailboxes, but I know better.

I learned a few lessons during my first 100 miler that I know will serve me will in my “non-running life” (if such a thing exists). Number one priority? Don’t lose my way (and don’t lose my head). Recently I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter how well I’m performing if I’m not on the right track. It is easy to get distracted by things that don’t really matter, but if we take a moment to stop, look, and take stock of where we are, we can better evaluate where to go next.

[And on that note, I should mention that I’m taking a one year sabbatical away from my job in the corporate world to do human rights work overseas. I leave Manhattan on Friday!]

Blogging - beginning of the end?

2009-08-01T21:41:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone! I finally cracked and decided it was time to start a blog. I am still very 'green' in the sport of ultrarunning, but maybe sharing my ups and downs through this blog will help me learn from my mistakes and relive my successes! I hope you get some entertainment or enjoyment from my blog.