Finding My #InnerWild {Ragnar Trail Cascades Recap}

I almost didn't go. 

As I slumped on the couch Tuesday night, worn from my second go-around with a stomach bug, I couldn't see how I would get on a plane in less than 12 hours, fly across the country and run up and down mountains. All I could think about was my disastrous race at the Indy Mini and the 10 days of GI distress that followed, the days of not running and barely eating and wondering whether I'd ever be normal again. I worried that I would be stepping onto a plane only to spend my time in the Cascades at Ragnar Trail with Team Nuun throwing up. 

But I couldn't not go either, whining to Mark as I sipped a bottle of Lemon-Lime. I had made a commitment – to Nuun, to my teammates and financially for the airfare. I had been looking forward to this trip for months, and it would offer a much needed break from the grind and the opportunity to gain some perspective about where I'm at right now. And so I told him, and myself, that I was sick from stress, lack of sleep and anxiety about the trip (aka leaving the boys for five days). Everything would be OK once I got on the plane, I said trying to assure myself. Mark nodded, and we went to bed.

Not everything was OK, though – not even close. I had a scare on my flight from Chicago to Seattle, passing out and vomiting, and I spent much of Wednesday sleeping or wandering lethargically around the Emerald City.

However, what started quite disastrously ended epically, and I am so grateful that my stubbornness prevailed and I made the trip. It was made of puppies, rainbows and unicorns. OK. It was more like dust, gummy bears and nickels but I couldn't have asked for anything more.

It would be impossible to sum up my experience adequately here so I'm not even going to try. Rather, I'm going to share my top eight moments on the trail.

Meeting the challenge. I don't run hills, like, ever. It's not because I despise them (though I do) or avoid them; it's because I don't have access to intense climbs in northeast Indiana. I knew going into this race that the climbing and elevation gain would be the most difficult part for me. And it was. My quads burned, my calves ached, my breathing labored. I had to swallow my pride and hike. And hike and hike and hike. I ran when I could and knew when to grit it out. And I did it. I made it to the top and opened up as I made my way down. 

That was in-tents. So ... the last time I slept in a tent was in 2004. My uncle and his family were camping on Kelleys Island (in Lake Erie, Ohio) and I took the ferry over from Marblehead (near Sandusky where I lived) to hang out. Well, we had too much fun at a winery and I was too drunk to get on the boat much less drive. So I stayed on the island. Since, I've joked that my idea of camping was the Holiday Inn. Well, I was wrong. Ragnar Trail is now my idea of camping. I loved, loved, loved the community aspect of it, being all huddled together in a tent and sleeping in the outdoors. I loved the fire and the s'mores and being among the trees as I sipped my coffee. 

Of course, there was a learning curve. Like I couldn't figure out how to get out of my sleeping bag in the middle of the night so I could go to the bathroom. I ended up unzipping the tent, inchworming out and then hopping out of the sleeping bag. It was quite graceful.

Team spirit. When I told people in my everyday life about my trip to the Pacific Northwest, many would ask about whether I knew anyone who would be running. And I did. I knew some of the employees from Nuun and a fellow blogger, Karen, from when I did Hood to Coast. However, most of the faces would be new. It's a bit panic-inducing, to be sure, as I can be a bit shy and awkward and then even more awkward once I get comfortable. (So much dancing ...) But here's the thing about Nuun and its ambassadors: They are all welcoming, inclusive people. Am I BFFs with everyone? No. But did I meet some of the most dedicated, inspiring, funny people on the trails? Hell yes. I left Seattle a bit sad but better off for having met and ran with them, and I know that I created legitimate friendships and connections at 4,000 feet. You just don't get that when you do a road race – or even a trail one – as an individual.

If I had a nickel ... I was hot, tired and ready to be done – and I still had a mile or so of downhill to navigate on the Yellow Loop (my first leg). To make matters worse, I could feel something bouncing around in my right shoe. I really could have left well enough alone and ran it in but the lazy bastard on my left shoulder go the best of me. So I sat down, untied my laces and shook my Hoka One Ones. But a rock did not fall into my hand like I had anticipated. Rather, it was a nickel. A MOTHER EFFING NICKEL. You know, in case I found a vintage soda machine at the top of the mountain and needed to quench my Diet Pepsi craving.

"If I'm gonna die from a bow straight up Katniss Everdeen-style, I'm going to be pissed as hell." As we made the trek from Seattle to Loup Loup Ski Bowl, where the race was held, I got an email from the Ragnar race organizers alerting runners that it was bow-hunting season. And as the area where we were running was public, folks could be out there shooting arrows. Hopefully at animals but it could be us. It was unsettling but a bit humorous as well, and it made me super glad that I left my Bullwinkle costume at home.

Speaking of costumes. You can't not go to a Ragnar or relay without catching sight of some characters and characters there were. I was particularly enamored with the latest member of Led Zeppelin, who ran in jorts, and a guy who seemed to be a Medieval Greek jester who liked to make up rhymes as he directed runners to their respective loops. 

All the Nuun. You knew I was going to do this one, right? I mean, I had to. From the tubes and tubes of Nuun at our camp to the multi-gallon containers at the tent in the village, Nuun was everywhere. And, for me, Nuun at a race is a novel thing. It was great to have my favorite way to stay hydrated wherever I turned. 

Chasing the sunrise. I started the Red Loop, the last of my three legs, just after 5 a.m. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind clouds. My Petzl headlamp illuminated the trail ahead of me, helping me to navigate the 3+ mile climb. But as I made my way up the single track to the summit, the sky began to turn blue and the evergreen trees began to distinguish themselves from the mountains on the horizon. It was gorgeous. While I had hoped to see some amazing color, it was hard to be disappointed. 

As I made my way down the single track, the morning haze growing brighter, I turned off my head lamp and let myself open up. Open up to the speed that the downhill offered. Open up to the people around me. Open up to the world, the possibilities.

Disclosure: I ran Ragnar Trail Cascades as a part of my ambassadorship with Nuun. I paid for my own airfare to Seattle though other expenses were covered. I was not obligated to write this post in exchange for this trip.

The Bourbon Chase: The Recap

Shuffling down Main Street, I looked like I was doing anything but running toward a finish line. A pair of denim jeans hugged my hips and bright pink Chucks slipped on and off my heels. A Starbucks grande decaf Americano (spiked with bourbon) splashed out of the lid as I tried my best to keep the cup even.

But there I was, surrounded in a sea of identical orange shirts, crossing the timing mats finishing the journey of 200 miles.

I've spent the better part of the past week trying to discern what makes a relay so special. The Bourbon Chase is challenging in terms of elevation and distance, and the general conditions of a relay can be draining. Many of us will lament about how big of a hill we climbed or the rumble strips on the highway as we retell each leg.

But, there in that last sentence, lies the answer. It's having someone to share the experience with. It's being a team.

Though we may sign up to participate in a race with a friend, it's not often that we cross the finish line with her – much less 13 others (11 teammates and two drivers). We don't always have that push to run faster, go harder to make a contribution to the other. But, with a relay, you do.

And it's really frigging awesome.

The Bourbon Chase, a 200-mile relay along the Bourbon Trail, begins at the Jim Beam distillery in Clermont, Kentucky. In addition to Jim Beam, runners go through Maker's Mark, Heaven Hill, Four Roses and Woodford Reserve distilleries. The 2015 race is the second time I've participated, having been runner No. 12 in 2014. 

This year, I had the distinct honor of starting the race for Pirates of the Bourbon Trail.

And I did it well by doing a shot of Jim Beam apple before making my way to the start line. I'm not even going to pretend to be sorry about that. It was smooth and delicious.

Sort of like that first run.

Leg 1 runners head (downhill) out of Jim Beam to tackle the 7.1-mile leg. Shortly after exiting, we picked up a hike-and-bike trail.

I wish I could describe this trail to you but I'm not sure words would do it justice. It was wooded and the leaves in the canopy were beginning to turn. Starting at 9:45 a.m., the sun was poking through the breaks and illuminating the dirt path. Leaves crunched, birds tweeted. And the air. Crisp and sweet, it smelled like fall.

I wanted to slow down, take it all in. I wanted to enjoy every foot of that trail – after all, of late, I've been disappointed that I don't get to spend time on the trails. But I couldn't. I was too excited. I was too ready to take it on.

And so I flew.

Mile 1 was 8:44 – 45 seconds faster than my goal pace and 1:45 faster than my projected. I tried to bring it in as I tackled the early climbs, winding through the patchy woods, but still logged an 8:58 for mile 2. My third and fourth splits were better – 9:07 and 9:11 – but the thrill of a strong run coupled with the fantastic fall foliage was hard to fight. 8:56, 8:44 miles followed.

By this time, I was running on Deatsville Road, which took me past a Four Roses outpost and residential homes. I was moving well. I was happy.

And then I followed the curve of the road.

A hill met me. A giant friggin' incline at the start of mile 7. I wanted to scream. I wanted to complain. But I didn't. Instead, I walked. I let myself slow for a tenth of a mile. I had ran good enough, I reasoned. I was still coming in under projection, and I didn't want to bank too much time.

But after that tenth, I made myself chug along. When the exchange was in sight, I picked it up more. I didn't try to slow for a smooth hand-off. I wanted to run. it. in.

7.3 miles, 1:06:21, 9:05 pace

Run No. 2 – Leg 13

We were running ahead of schedule, our team running strong. I thought I had more time but as I made my way through the crowd in Danville, I heard my number being called.

"8-6-0. Team 860."

I shoved people aside (and, more than likely, into the Nuun tent – sorry I'm not sorry) as I took the bracelet from Josh.

My second leg, a seemingly short 4.5 miles, began in the heart of this cute Kentucky town. I tried to find a strong rhythm as I navigated the sidewalk. Down the curb, up the curb. I headed into the street as we passed a gas station and headed east on US 150 toward Stanford. It was dark, just after 7, and the air was still cool. I looked up and thanked those stars that the weather was perfect for the Chase this year.

Heading up the highway, the blinking lights of runners marked the route. Up, up, up they went. I hugged the shoulder and tried to find a good footing. Stupid rumble strips. They made for some precarious footing but it was either that or be in the lane. And I didn't want to be in the lane.

The route climbed. Solidly. The last mile was straight uphill. My pace, which had hovered in the 8:40s, surely dropped. I'm not sure by how much as my Soleus battery was low and dropped satellite.  I tried to use the lights ahead of me as a way to push forward and maintain a solid effort. 1, 2, 3. Grind. Go. Catch. 1, 2, 3. Grind. Go. Catch.

But it wasn't easy. I had to dig, and I found myself repeating a new mantra: You are strong. You are fast. You are fearless. In my head. You are strong. You are fast. You are fearless.

You are done, I thought, handing off the bracelet once again.

Run No. 3 – Leg 25

My alarm went off at 5:15 a.m. – 5 minutes before the others in the room of our hotel. I was going to take a shower, get dressed and have a cup of coffee. I would eat a Clif bar and chug a bottle of Nuun. By the time we would need to leave for the next major exchange, I would be ready to take on my last run.

But as I got out of the shower, there weren't teammates wiping sleep from their eyes and stumbling around the room. There was rushing and confusion. We were further ahead of schedule. We needed to leave – and leave now.

The things I was hoping to do at a leisurely pace were now being juggled in the back of the van as I pumped. I needed to be ready to go once we got to Wild Turkey.

The van pulled up to the drive, and I hopped out. I reasoned that it would be quicker to walk to the exchange from there than to sit restlessly in the van as we looked for parking and then hoofed it down the hill.

I trotted down, remember flying down that hill the year before, and tried to find the mental space to run. It was the last one. It was only 3.4 miles. And, I thought, it was an easy leg. It would be less hilly.

It was a nice thought – while it lasted.

I headed down the hill from Wild Turkey and crossed the "S" bridge over the Kentucky River. I took a deep breath and stared at the sky. It was dark, the sun not even showing signs of rising, and the stars shone bright. I looked for the dippers, the only constellations I can identify, and tried to savor the steps. I had nearly 12 miles behind me and only 3 to go. I wasn't ready for the weekend to be over.

But the hills ... they could be done.

The real challenge began just after the first mile beeped on my Soleus. It was a sharp climb, almost a half mile, before turning into more rollers. I believe I gasped "Fuck" when I saw it and started the shuffle up. I was told later by a fellow runner whom I had passed that I also said, "This hill blows." All I know is that I had to really work.

For reference: Soleus has me gaining 423 feet of elevation on this run. A typical route in Fort Wayne is usually no more than 38.

For as difficult as it was for me, I didn't repeat a mantra. I didn't try to dig. If anything, I wanted to slow down. Take my time. I wanted this run to last. I wanted to see the glint of sunlight come over the hill because I knew that the route would be gorgeous in the early morning light.

But, I did not get to see it. The night sky still overhead as I passed off to Bryan 30 minutes later.

I took a deep breath and walked to the van, the blinking light on the back of runner No. 2's shirt fading in the distance.

The Bourbon Chase: Packing List

Three sets of clothes, resealable gallon-size bags, two sets of shoes ... we've all read the packing lists from bloggers tackling overnight relays. Heck, I even wrote one last year around this time.

But here's the thing: We all include the same items and most of them are no-brainers. Does someone really need to be reminded to bring a sports bra?

Wait. Depending on how much sleep I have had, I might.

Regardless, there are things that make running a relay easier or even possible. Things that I don't often see on the lists.

1. Cold, hard cash. You can pack that van full of snacks and Nuun but sometime in those 30 hours, you are going to want food. Real, hot food. And you have to pay for it. Credit cards can do the trick but relays often go through smaller towns and not ever establishment accepts plastic. Also, I saw some cute stands set up last year, one during our last set of legs, selling honey and other local goods. I was tempted but my cash was limited. This year, I'm ready.

2. Power inverter. Cell phones, GPS watches, Fitbits all need to be charged. An inverter makes life much easier. My captain brings one for each van as well as a power strip so we aren't fighting over who gets to charge her phone.

3. Hand warmers. Relays have night legs and those night legs can get cold. Even colder? Coming into the van sweaty after your night leg. Hand warmers help keep you comfortable. They are also helpful for your teammates who are waiting for you at the exchange.

Have you run a relay? What are your essentials?

The Bourbon Chase: Training

It's called the "Jogger" schedule, which, to me, implies novice. But, the plan from the folks at Bourbon Chase looks nothing like a beginning runner plan. Each week has five to six days of running per week and strides. Lots and lots of strides. The mileage is fairly low on the plan, most runs less than 5 miles but it's intimidating nonetheless.

Sort of like running a relay.

Having run two before (Hood to Coast 2013 and Bourbon Chase 2014), I had an idea going into training this year with what it takes to do an event like this. A good endurance base, experience running on tired legs and the ability to run whenever on whatever terrain.

As my total mileage for the race will be 15 miles, too, I knew I should be able to come close to running that distance on a long run. Knowing the terrain of the Chase, I knew I needed to be serious about hills. And the threat of cutoffs, I wanted to have some fire in the legs.

So my weekly plan shaped up to be a little like this:

• Easy run with strides at the end. This run was usually in the 4- to 5-mile range.

• Mid-week quality run. This run, more often than not, was a combination of hills plus speed at a local cemetery. Initially, I wanted to alternate between shorter intervals and hills but an experienced runner encouraged me to combine the workouts. Example: Run loop with hills, recover, hit perimeter of the cemetery for 400s. Alternately, I would run a fartlek – 1 minute hard, 2 minutes easy – over a hilly course. I tried to make sure that I ran at least 5 miles on this day but preferred to do at least 6.

• Mid-week run with the BRF. We usually run 5 miles at a whatever pace. If we were particularly grumpy or excited, we did them faster. If we were tired, we ran them slower.

• Long run. I slowly built my endurance to get in half marathon shape. Every third week, though, I split the long run so that I could do a double. Hurt so good.

I'm feeling really good with where it left me. I felt strong on the small rollers when I ran the Muncie Mini-Marathon, and I had a faster than expected race at Fort4Fitness. My endurance is on point, too, and I finish long runs tempted to keep going with my marathon-crazy buddies. But, I don't.

An aside, as they had a cutback week this past Saturday, I ran all 12 miles with them. The pace slowly crept up the last few miles and I decided to go for it the last half mile. We finished with an 8:50. Holla!

Here's how the last few weeks of running have looked like. I didn't have as many quality workouts between racing and tapering but that's how it be.

Week 9

Monday: 3 miles with Tami, 9:58 pace
Tuesday: 5 miles, 9:40 pace
Thursday: 4.2 miles, with strides, 9:39 pace
Saturday: Fort4Fitness Double Play – 10K at 8:49 pace and 4-mile race at 9:20 pace

Week 10

Tuesday: 5 miles, 9:41 pace
Thursday: 5.52 miles, 9:26 pace
Friday: 4.25 miles, 9:31 pace
Saturday: 13 miles, long run, 10:01 pace

Week 11

Tuesday: 5.25 miles, 9:02 pace (1-2-3-4-5 intervals)
Thursday: 6 miles, 9:28 pace (hilly route)
Friday: 4 miles with Tami, 9:47 pace
Saturday: 12 miles, long run with strong finish, 9:55 pace

Packing for an Overnight Relay: Bourbon Chase Supplies

I put gas in the Mazda. I requested three big hugs and two kisses from Miles before leaving daycare. I have a stack of maps printed (never trust the GPS).

It seems I am ready to head to the Bluegrass State to take on the Bourbon Chase, an overnight relay that takes runners through some of the finest distilleries between Louisville and Lexington.

And though I'm packing for one, my hatchback is full with supplies for this 30-hour adventure.

Essentials

Clothing: Faster teams might opt not to change but I sweat - a lot - and I don't want to sit in the van with stinky, wet clothes. I'll have three sets, each in its own bag. Since this year's race theme is disco, I'm packing two Team Sparkle skirts. I also will have my Flyer jacket and in between running clothes.

Shoes: Two pairs. I rotate shoes between runs and with three runs in such a short time, I want a fresh pair for my longest leg of 8 miles. Also some in between running shoes.

Compression: It's your friend. Cramped up in a van and running a lot means that my muscles will need to recover as best they can between legs. I planned my outfits around my Pro Compression socks, and the company graciously outfitted the team with black and red socks to fit our pirate name.

Reflective gear: Each van needs to have at least one set of gear that includes headlamp, blinking lights and a vest. My captain, wisely, suggested we have at least two sets so I'm bringing what I have. Eve if we have an overabundance, it will be nice to sweat on my own stuff.

Nourishment

If I learned anything at Hood to Coast, it's that a relay isn't a relay without the right goodies - Red Vines, peanut butter-filled pretzels, trail mix. I signed on to be one of the ones bringing snacks, and my bag has Red Vines, granola bars, pretzels, pumpkin banana muffins, peanut butter and jelly and Combos.

Also, thanks to the generosity of Nuun, our team is hooked up. We'll have an ample supply of flavors - active and Nuun Energy - as well as a bottle to drink from. Hydration is key in this type of event, and I'm glad we're well taken care of.

Incidentals

Mother Nature is not expected to be kind to us on this journey and thus we are preparing to get wet and wild. Towels for drying off and newspaper to stuff inside shoes.

Other items include:

• Shower Pill athletic wipes. No showers, probably, for nearly two days times seven people equals a lot of funk. These wipes are awesome and should help us stay as fresh and as clean as we can.
• USB car adapter, iPhone and iPhone charger, Garmin and Garmin charger
• Tiger Tail. Recovery. Do it. It can also be used as a prop while cheering on runners, if I am accurately remembering Hood to Coast.
• Sleeping bag. I am not sure how I'll use it - on the floor, as a blanket, as a pillow - but I want it.
• NAAWK sunscreen. I can hope that I need this.

Entertainment

A cowbell, obviously. How else would my teammates notice me cheering on the side of the road? It will also work if a runner falls asleep and refuses to stir.

Oh, and myself.

What items are essential for you relay vets out there?

Disclosure: My team was provided free socks and Nuun but we were not supported financially in the race nor was I compensated for this post. I also was not required to write this post - only to share the love and love Pro Compression and Nuun I do.

Hood to Coast: How I'm preparing

Thirty days - that's all that separates me from being pushed out of a van on the side of the road in Sandy, Ore., and being told to run the race of my life.

OK, so maybe my #nuunhtc teammates won't be so violent and anxious when dropping me off for my first leg of Hood to Cost but the reality that the race is nearing is very real.

When I first found out that I had made the team and received Mark's definitive "Go for it," I began to research how to prepare for such a race. How does one train to run 17 miles, some hilly, over the course of 30 hours (or less)? What can you do to prepare your body (and mind) for the toll of running three times in such a short period with little to no sleep? How do you fuel for the race so strangers don't have to see you poop under a bridge?

Well, if my Googling was accurate, you do nothing. It might be a fine approach for some of my teammates who are gifted athletes and run laps around me during a warmup. I truly feel like I need to ready myself and I was disappointed that I found very few tips on how to do so. There were a couple articles that said to split a long run into two shorter runs or to run an evening run and then log miles the next morning. Later, I found a plan via Ragnar but it was long, not very intense and only good if you were training solely for Ragnar, which I'm not. Other stories advised against running doubles unless you were maxed out on mileage and needed to run twice in a day to hit a certain weekly goal.

Frustrated, I did what any sensible runner would do. I said, "Eff this crap. I'll do what I do."

And that is ...

Double down. I am not sure if I've pointed it out specifically but I've been running two-a-days for the better part of the summer. The first run of the day is always the longest and is usually a "quality" run. Before Veterans training commenced, it was a speed-play run but it's now hills. I've also increased the distance of that first run from 4 miles to 6 miles and I'll hit 7 before I fly into SEATAC. As my first leg is 6.32 miles, it's key to me that I have that midweek-long run at or beyond that mileage.

Hills. I feel like I should have been doing these for awhile now but it requires some planning in my relatively flat neighborhood. In theory, I could get up a half-hour earlier and drive a bit to a hillier area but I'm not just there mentally. Rather, I find the hilliest places and try to incorporate them on hill day and into my long run.

Consecutive days. This point is more thanks to Hal Higdon but I feel good knowing that I'm running hard on Saturday and long on Sunday. I've heard from other runners that it builds endurance, which is what I'm going to need.

Sucking it up. Take today, for example. I got a terrible night's sleep - my heart was racing, I couldn't get comfortable, I had to pee 300 times. The last thing I wanted to do was get up at 5 a.m. and run 6 miles. I briefly considered turning off the alarm at 3:30 but an appearance of Jillian Michaels in a dream and the awareness that I am going to have to run VERY tired during HTC pushed me out of bed. I just considered an extra bit of training.

Recognize! The women who are making up the two blogger teams for Nuun are insanely talented. Intimidatingly so. One of the runners in my van just completed a half Ironman and another is training for one and yet another ran a 1:40 RnR Chicago half in crazy heat. I look at them sometimes and feel like I will have to work 10 times harder to get through the race. Stupid, right? I'm trying to keep myself in check and be mindful that pace doesn't always equal strength, endurance and heart. I was picked for the runner I am, right now, and not the runner I wished I could be.

Of course, after I get myself a game plan, Runner's World just had to publish its own tips in the latest issue of the magazine.