Running Fearlessly at White River 50

I won’t bore you with the pre-race details. There aren’t many, since I did very little to prepare. I wrote some things on my hand, made two drop bags, and set the alarm for 4 AM. I was very excited to run, and run, and then run some more in the morning. Christmas Eve vibes!

 

I planned my day by splitting the race into 5 chunks, with an overall goal to smile often, thank every volunteer and spectator, have some fun!

Start to Corral Pass (Mile 0 – 16.9)

Nestled into the edge of the middle of the pack, I listened with almost morbid curiosity as the race director pointed at one mountain on our left, and one mountain on our right, and then told us with a big smile that we would go up and down both. It was pretty intimidating being able to see them from the start line, because man, they were UP there. And then all of a sudden, we were off, running down the gravel road to get to the trail. I passed a fair number of people on the road because I felt good and didn’t want to get stuck in a bottleneck. We hit the singletrack section shortly afterward and formed a train of people running through the woods. I asked the guy just in front of me, “so is that the…White River?” All he said was “yeah.” Probably too early for a dry sense of humor. After a little while I heard some cowbells up ahead, and our little singletrack train blew through the first aid station. No one else stopped so I didn’t either?

We started going up, up, up. It was generally graded pretty gently but there were a few steep sections, including one where we climbed up a large wooden ladder. I had planned to take it easy and save my legs for later, but I was feeling good and the forest was beautiful so I settled in to a 2:1 running to power hiking ratio. At one point halfway up the climb, we popped out on the side of the mountain and BAM – there was Rainier! I had to share this excitement with someone, so I stopped and waited for a few seconds for the guy who was a little bit behind me. “I’m from the East Coast! We don’t get views like this over there! Blah, blah, blah!” Thank you for listening, John from Seattle. John ran on and I rolled on.

Soon afterwards, I heard someone behind me, so I threw out the usual “hey let me know if you want to scoot by!” He said no, so three steps later I asked him what his name was. Jeremy from Portland turned out to be cool. So cool. We ran together for half an hour, and I quickly found out that he’s a Triple Crowner (completed the AT, PCT, and CDT). We swapped trail stories and future adventure plans. The rolling section of trail dotted with wildflowers at the top of the climb went by in a flash.

 

Corral Pass to Buck Creek (Mile 16.9 – 27.2)

The Corral Pass aid station rocked. Before I could even search for my drop bag, a volunteer was somehow already holding it for me ready to go. I’m still not sure how they did that so seamlessly. Another volunteer refilled my water while I tried to make small talk and thank the volunteer while also figuring out what I needed from the bag. She was from outside of Seattle, and also not sure why I was asking her that. I poured Roctane powder in my bottle, grabbed a gel and a Snickers, and took off for the next section. The next three miles or so were part of the out and back section, so I got to run by everyone who was still running up to the Corral Pass aid station. While drooling Snickers, I encouraged and smiled and whooped at every single runner.

Before I knew it, we were passing through the next aid station, and it was time for the big descent! I caught up to a woman named Krissy at the aid station. “Krissy, you’re 14 minutes behind the leader. Go catch her!” shouted the volunteers as we ran through without stopping. She didn’t stop, so I didn’t either? Over the first ten minutes of the descent we chatted and I asked Krissy lots of questions since she’d run the race multiple times. Should I pick up another water bottle at the next aid station? What’s the second climb like? Is it usually this hot? Soon, she asked me if I wanted to pass (perhaps because I was talking her ear off) but I declined, worried about blowing out my quads too early in the day. A few minutes later she asked again, citing that “we all have our own strengths.” Lightbulb moment. Trail wisdom.

After a beat I decided to let loose and just have fun on the smooth, flowing downhill, also known as the stuff of dreams. As I ran down with a big smile on my face, having to stutter step at each switchback so that I wouldn’t run straight off the trail, I had a small epiphany. I’d heard the phrase running fearlessly tossed around before, but it never really meant anything to me. In this moment, I finally understood. To run fearlessly is to run your heart out. To not hold back. To run without regard for whether your legs will still be functioning hours later. To trust your training and everything you have done to get to this point. I continued down the mountain, plunging into the unknown of how far and how fast my legs could take me.

 

Buck Creek to Sun Top (Mile 27.2 – 37)

After chugging half a quart of Gatorade (thanks Mom and Dad!), eating two slices of watermelon, and refilling a water bottle with Roctane, I left the Buck Creek aid station flustered, mostly because aid stations fluster me, and a little bit because a volunteer told me I was 4 minutes off the leader. I looked at my watch for the first time all day, and all I remember is that it said more than 4 hours and less than 5.  Krissy had tipped me off that this second climb would be harder than the first, and she was oh so right. It was equal parts hot, exposed, and demoralizing. This was the only low point of the race for me, and I let thoughts of “this hill will never end” take over as I slowed to a hike. A woman passed me early on – she was motoring up that climb! Very inspiring.

The trail eventually went back into the trees and I started to feel a bit better. Soon I saw a friend I’d made at the pre-race meeting the night before, so I called out, “Max! Did you girlfriend make it in okay last night?” His response: “Ian? And do you mean my wife?” Not Max. Turns out I had met Ian earlier in the race though, so after apologizing once and then once more, we continued up the climb as he told me about his family in Seattle and his plans for the upcoming Leadville 100 race. As I continued up the climb, I ran on ahead of Ian a bit, and would run the rest of the race alone. No more friends. The last little part up to Sun Top was steep and directly in the sun. Damn!

 

Sun Top to Skookum Flats (Mile 37 – 43.4)

At the Sun Top aid station, I quickly choked down a slushie, and a very kind volunteer put ice in my hat and sports bra. Then it was time for the second downhill of the day, which was markedly different than the first. All 6.4 miles were down a gravel fire road, and a good bit of it was in the sun. I settled in to something around 7-8 min/mi pace (really guessing here though) and found myself oddly stuck at that cadence. I wish I’d had some music or a buddy while pounding down that road, because it did not feel good on the knees. Every so often a car would drive by, giving me a thumbs up and then leaving me to breathe in the dust plume for the next twenty feet. The last bit flattened out and was fully in the sun. I was so relieved to round the corner into the final aid station at Skookum Flats.

 

Skookum Flats to Finish (Mile 43.4 – 50)

When I entered the Skookum Flats aid station, I put an Oreo in my mouth and then was instantly distracted by the large bucket of dirty water they suggested I dunk my hat in (dunked hat > dry hat). I spent less than 2 minutes there, and then was on my way for the last 6 mile section. A few minutes down the trail, however, I realized that I had forgotten to restock gels and the only calories I had left were a half bottle of Roctane. Oh well! Over the last 6 miles I cycled through the same seven thoughts, over and over again:

– It’s just 6 miles. You can do it.

– I wish I could better appreciate how beautiful this section is.

– I really need to poop. I don’t want to squat or stop. I will hold it. I must hold it.

– I wish I was wearing a GPS watch so I’d know if I’m getting any closer to the finish.

– I’m glad I’m not wearing a GPS watch because I might not be getting much closer to the finish.

– I’m thirsty.

– My legs aren’t tired!

I still find it a little mind boggling how fresh my legs felt at the end. With 1-2 miles to go, I came across a guy walking who said he was “cooked.” After trying to convince him to run it in with me, I gave him my second water bottle. My thoughts for the final mile were mostly that I had slobbered PBJ all over that water bottle cap. Sorry dude.

 

After the crossing the finish line, I immediately sat in a chair and a volunteer poured ice water over me, concerned that I had some heat stroke since my skin was dry. It was then that I realized I hadn’t peed the whole day. Woops!

I finished in 9:04 as the third female overall. White River was such a great second 50 miler, and I truly had a blast out there! Thanks so much to my parents who came out to crew me, the race director and volunteers for putting on a fantastic race, and my coach David Roche for everything leading up to it.