|Team Dragon Slayers: Terry Quigley, Tim, Wes, me, and dad.|
The night before the race, Tim and I met Scott and some other running friends (Beau, Jonathan, Pius, Rebecca) for wonderful Italian food at Grazie in Bloomington. I carbo-loaded like I was running an ultra even though I would only be running 8 miles at most. Oh, well...it was worth it! It was nice to see Jon and Beau again (I had met them at my FAVORITE RACE EVER..Louisville Lovin' the Hills) and to meet Pius and Rebecca. Pius is from Kenya. He's really fast, but even more funny and nice. I had a very entertaining conversation with him about the "big, giant, fake checks" he wins at races.
Dad and Quigley didn't want to go out to eat, and Wes couldn't make it because he was driving home from grad school that evening. When Tim and I got home, we said hi to Wes, thanked my mom for babysitting, and went to bed. I did not sleep well or long enough, but got up anyway very early the next morning. The weather was supposed to be warm and muggy, but it was cool in the morning (thankfully).
|Quig passing off to dad.|
Dad ran leg 2. I killed time by doing my physical therapy exercises and poking fun at drunk runners with Wes and Tim. Dad handed off to Wes for leg 3, and we had to head over to Ogle Lake for the next exchange. That would be MY first leg. I was nervous. Not because I'm in horrible shape (I am!), but because I've been doing all my runs on flat stuff, and all of those runs have been short. The Ogle Lake leg is only 2.6 miles long (actually more like 3--most legs are longer than advertised), so I figured I could get through that and Tim would take my other legs if needed, but I was so fearful of my IT band locking up and me breaking into tears. I said a quick prayer as I saw Wes sprinting toward me. We slapped hands, and I was off.
|Me waiting for Wes at Ogle Lake.|
I instantly thought to myself, "I remember this leg. There are lots of stairs." This would be my third running of the Ogle Lake leg. I also had a quick flashback to running it last year--how much my abdomen hurt from the incisions in it. I then thought to myself, "At least I was in a lot better shape last year." Those thoughts were interrupted by the first flight of stairs. I HATE STAIRS on trails. I understand they serve a good purpose for hikers, but all they do is enrage runners. I passed a couple of people going up them, and then started climbing immediately sans stairs. Then I sort of wished I had the stairs again so I could at least have an excuse to walk. I'm telling you--I haven't been in this bad of shape since right after I had Rowan. I actually think I was in better shape then!
All I could think about the entire run was my IT band. I was praying that I would get through the leg without any pain. Now, I've not had any pain in a couple of weeks, but I've hardly been running and certainly not on anything like Brown County trails. I decided that, each half mile without pain, I had better praise God for getting me through it. So I did (silently). I was feeling good, and knew I was toward the end of the leg. I saw a set of stairs I had to descend, and did so quickly. I got to the bottom of them, though, and was confused. Where's the trail? All I could see was the lake and some Boy Scouts. I heard people above me running, and then shouting "trail's up here!" I had gone down a set of stairs that I wasn't supposed to. Which, yes, meant I had to then go UP a set of stairs I wasn't supposed to. I was demoralized and kind of angry, but quickly remembered the happiness that I associate with running--especially pain free running--and I laughed at myself.
I could hear the other runners cheering, so I knew I was getting close. I heard the "woo!" guy (a guy who comes every year, drinks a ton, and screams "woooooo!" at the top of his lungs for ANYTHING, including leaves and animals, that come out of the woods) and could then see Quigley, to whom I was handing off. I ran hard to him, slapped his hand, and I was done. I told Tim my leg was fine and I should be fine to do the next leg, which was only another 3 miles. I've kind of lost track of what happened next. I believe Quigley handed off to Wes, and Wes handed off to dad.
And that's when it got bad for dad. I am the unofficial team captain and do try to give people new legs to run each year. I knew that dad had not run leg 8--"Dazed and Confused"--nor leg 15, the last leg--"The Crack of Doom"--so I gave him both of those. Leg 8 was rough. It was almost completely off-road. Bush whacking was heavily involved, and, in the end, it took him about 50 minutes to go 3.5 miles. Sorry, dad!
Next up was Tim. The next few legs were all Millers. It went Tim, me, Tim, me. I was nervous about doing a second leg...kind of waiting for my IT band to kick in. But my doctor had told me that I had to test it at some point. So I waited patiently for Tim and anticipated another leg I've run many times. It's called short bone, and it starts kind of in a field. I saw Tim coming out of the forest, watched him overtake another runner, and smacked his hand. I was off. I immediately passed two runners dressed as Richard Simmons and hit the trail. I had forgotten that this leg was pretty much totally uphill for the first half. I passed a TON of runners on this stretch, including one dressed as a beer keg. I made it the entire 3 miles without any pain. I smacked Tim's hand and it was time to drive to the next stop. As I walked to the car after cheering Tim on, all I could think about was how out of shape I felt. My HR (though I wasn't wearing a monitor) was spiking terribly. It was a little warm out, but not sunny...in truth, it was not that bad. I was running at a pace that shouldn't have caused me to feel so....so....tired. I figured it was just the hills and stopped thinking about it.
Tim runs so fast that we barely made it to the next hand off. But we did, and I started my last leg. I kept praying that God would get me through the next 2.6 miles pain free...and then I could be done and know that my leg was better. The leg started with a massive and steep downhill--not IT band friendly. So I took it easy. And I had no pain. Before I knew it, though, I was passing people coming the other way on the trail. I was very annoyed that they had arranged the course this way, and then, when a guy said to me "What are you doing? Getting extra miles in?" I realized I might have been lost. Crap! But I knew this trail, and I knew it was a loop, so I figured I had to come out at the right spot eventually. All I knew was that I had to climb a huge hill to get to the finish. Once I got there, I was comforted.
And then very annoyed given how big the hill was. I'm a good hill runner, but I haven't run a hill since Boston. And my HR was spiking again. I was maintaining a very even effort (something Coach Scott taught me long ago--fartleking up a hill is never a good idea), but I felt like I just couldn't breathe. There was a guy standing near the top, and he had this sort of half-smile. It irritated me a lot...that's how I knew I was tired. I was glad to see Quigley waiting for me. I slapped his hand, he went on his way, and I joyfully told Tim I hadn't had any knee pain.
It was the most uneventful DWD (and maybe even trail race) I've ever done. I did not fall one time. I only got mildly lost. It was quite atypical for me. Quigley, Wes, and dad had the last three legs. And dad got the big one--The Crack of Doom--which allowed him to run across the finish line for our team. He got his HR up to 197 during the final stretch. That's impressive for a 63-year-old.
The best part of DWD is the socializing afterward. We caught up with Beau, Jon, Scott, and Pius. Scott and Pius did not run the race (though they did an insane workout in Bloomington that morning!), but Beau had run the half and Jon the 50 miler. Beau did very well, but took a really nasty fall. Jon placed second overall in the 50! I asked him how it was, because I had been thinking about the DWD 50 being my first 50 miler. He looked at me and said, simply, "Never again." And I wasn't that surprised...I was getting the vibe throughout the day that this was one really, really tough 50. His course review sealed the deal that my first 50 miler will be (God willing) the Land Between the Lakes 50 miler in March (same place I did the 60K). We also saw Rebecca, whom I'd met at dinner, and she completed her first marathon (that's one tough first marathon!).
We watched dad finish, ate a bit more, talked a bit more, and headed home with our medals. My IT band is better, but I seem to still be suffering from the effects of heat stroke. My plan for dealing with that is just to run slowly until my body recovers. Any heat at all sends my HR skyrocketing. This type of recovery can't be rushed--so I won't.