Change is good. New experiences, new photos, new look. I’ve changed the look of my blog…for the better, I think. I’ve been taking my camera along with me on my trail runs, and I wanted my website to reflect the new adventures I’m experiencing.

The header photo is a trail around Table Rock in the Boise foothills.

I’ve had some technical issues with my blog in recent months, but I think I’ve worked them out. I lost a number of posts, but I’ll be updating my trail adventures in the coming weeks.

Once again, my friend Bill Wenmark conquered the Bataan Death March in White Sands, New Mexico. Congrats to Bill and all his friends!

Here is a note/race report from Bill after the awesome accomplishment by him and his friends…

“First and foremost thanks to my ALARC friends who got me to Bataan in 2009.  After that experience there was no question I would be returning this year.

This year I was joined by Ken Chlouber, Tom Bryant, Rachel Van Sloan, and the always inspirational Burt Carlson.  We also saw Doug Thomas and Carol Zazubek too.  Ken went for the Civilian Heavy, 35# pack for 26 miles for his first Bataan march.  Tom was running his first marathon and first Bataan since 1996 after having had both of his knees replaced last March.  Rachel is a tremendous athlete and wanted to do Bataan…and Burt increased his marathon count to 312…at 84 years young.

(Tom Bryant, Ken Chlouber, Bill…keeping warm)

We all camped at the same location as last year.  This year I stayed in the back of my Suburban.  It was great…we hooked up our coffee pot, and space heater and had a warm place to have some great coffee each morning.  Ken and Burt stayed in their tents.  Tom and Rachel were in their trucks.  It was cooler this year, hitting 28-30 in the mornings.

I decided to be the “domastique” for the guys during the run.  Rachael did not need anyone…she ran GREAT….she finished 3:44:46, 5th in the women’s event.  Tom did not need my help…he finished great at 7:12:06 hours.  I went with Ken and then Burt during the day and finally finished with Burt at 8:55:55, chip for Burt was 8:50:14.  I went back out for about 2 hours looking for Ken.  He had thought he would do about 10 hours.  WELL….not only did he not need 10 hours…he powered through the Civilian Heavy to the finish line at 8:08:13….WOW…he finished first in his age group and set the course record for 70 and over.  Absolutely tremendous effort for everyone…

(14 mile mark.  Joe is an 18-year veteran of the Army. He flies UAVS from a Humvee. The bag piper is from England…he stopped at every aid station and played his pipes for 10-15 minutes.  Of course, Bill and the World famous Burt Carlson.)

It was also a great day…very cold in the morning…and then warming to a delightful 60 with a very light and cool wind from the north…nothing like last year.

I had a great day…for my 99th marathon…felt great.  Average pulse for the day was 100….Hmmm do you think the living room at 10,125 feet helped????  Grandmas Marathon in June will be my 100th Marathon.

Here are a few pictures to enjoy.  I will be retuning again next year (March 27,2011)…it is a very special place, event, and experience.   -Love, Bill”

Twelve years ago I ran my 2nd marathon ever … in Napa Valley, California. Last weekend, Kelly and Michelle, my 2 daughters ran their 3rd marathon…together…in Napa Valley.

(Joan, Michelle, Kelly, Kimberly)

That March weekend in 1998, I never dreamed that 12 years later I would be watching my kids run the same course I ran. Michelle brought her friend Kimberly along with her (Kimberly’s first marathon), and my friends Joan and Lori joined us from Indiana. Joan ran the marathon; Lori ran her first comeback 5K after a year-long injury.

Our original plan was that Kelly, Michelle, and I would run together. However, I ended up cheering from the sidelines on this one as I was still recovering from my recent 100-mile race. It actually worked out great because I was able to focus on making their race a fun, memorable experience.

The only thing missing from this weekend was my son Daniel. A couple of my friends asked me when he planned to join us in a marathon. So I asked Daniel that same question this morning…to which he replied, “That would be…Never.” Some might say he’s the smartest one of the whole bunch!

Michelle, Kelly, and Kimberly have decided that for them a marathon every other year is a good plan. So, we’ve set our sights on Big Sur in 2012. Daniel had better look out…Never say never!

The Rocky Raccoon 100 mile & 50 mile Endurance Trail Run – mostly flat, single-track trails with roots. Now, does that sound easy to you?

For the “normal” person, the answer to that question is, “Heck, no!” But to ultra trail runners looking to finish (not even win) a 100 or 50 mile trail run, the answer might be quite different.

I’m here to tell you … There’s no such thing as an “easy 100.”

Last weekend, with the support of a terrific crew, I completed the Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile Run in Huntsville, Texas, in 28 hours 38 minutes – my first 100-mile finish. The time limit was 30 hours – I had 1 hour 22 minutes to spare.

Rocky Raccoon consists of five 20-mile loops inside the Huntsville State Park. To some, that may sound a little boring, but to me, every loop was different. Starting out at 6 am in the dark, we couldn’t see the first hour of the root-covered course. What was so cool was to see a continuous line of head lamps snaking down the path – that is, when I could look up and see it. My eyes were focused primarily on the ground in front of me. Evidence that I can’t run on a rooty trail and look around at the same time is that I fell down twice in the first 4 miles. Right off the bat, I thought, “This is going to be a long day.” The good news is that I only fell down 4 more times in the next 96 miles!

Still energized with it being so early in the race, the sunrise continued to add to my energy and excitement. I settled into a nice easy pace and started meeting the other runners around me. It was Keith from Kankakee, IL, who threw out a hand to pull me up on my second fall. Later in the day, I had the opportunity to pass along a helping hand to several other runners who tripped on the roots.

My 2nd loop went great – still feeling strong when I got to the 40-mile aid station. I thought I was feeling a couple of hot spots on my feet where I might be getting a blister or two, but I didn’t want to take my shoes off and look. I heard a Navy seal say, “Pain is only pain if you acknowledge it.” I’m no Navy seal, but that came into my head at that moment, so I refused to acknowledge it, and guess what? It went away. Back out for loop number 3.

I knew that it would get dark on this loop, so I flipped my hat around and strapped on the head lamp. I think it was around mile 50 when it started to get dark…and it was really dark. I was pretty much out there by myself as the field had spread out a lot over 20 miles. But I loved it. I have discovered that night running is a quite peaceful experience. I had actually been looking forward to this part of the run. As it got darker, I heard the sounds of some deer (I think) running through the woods. And, when I got around to the lake, I heard the coolest animal sounds, especially the frogs (I think) who sounded like they were laughing at us crazy runners.

I had only one little episode during loop 3 that caused me a little distress – I got off course. I was following the glow sticks along the course and at the turns, but there was one place where I was supposed to go straight following an arrow sign. At that intersection, there were both glow sticks and the arrow, but I totally missed the arrow because I was so focused on looking for the glow sticks. I ended up about a mile out of the way and had to back track to get to the next check point. Thank goodness it wasn’t a bigger miss than that.

I rolled into the 60-mile aid station around 9:20 pm a little stressed for getting off course, but still feeling strong. I traded in my shorts for long pants knowing that the night temperature would probably be in the upper 30s or low 40s and threw on a long-sleeved shirt. I also picked up Chuck (son-in-law), my first pacer. Originally, I had thought that I wouldn’t need a pacer until around mile 75, but with it being so dark out there – and getting off course – I figured a pacer would be a smart move. Although really prepared only to run about 12.5 miles with me, Chuck was thrilled at the chance to put in some more miles, and happily came to my assistance. He ran the whole 4th loop with me – 20 miles more than he had originally planned on. Now that’s a great crew member.

Usually, Chuck is the one driving me crazy (in everyday life), but on loop 4 the roles were reversed. After the aid station at mile 72.5, I started getting a little wiggy about getting off course again. I kept saying, “I know we’re on the wrong course…this is what I did last time.” I would suddenly stop running and turn around as if looking behind me might help me figure out where we were … in the pitch dark in the forest. As we ran along – following the signage on the path, to every runner that went by (for a total of 8 runners), I asked, “Is this the right way to the Park Road aid station?” to which they all replied “Yes”  we were indeed on the right path. I, however, didn’t believe them. It was not until we spotted the previously missed arrow on the trail and I recognized where I made my wrong turn that I could feel sure that we were on the right path. Sure enough, we soon reached the Park Road aid station. What a relief.

At mile 80, I gave Chuck a break and picked up my husband Mark, my 2nd pacer. Mark was fresh (at 4 am fresh?), and he kept me on a nice pace. Traded Mark for Chuck again at the next aid station. I ran into a bit of a rough patch here as I had been running in the dark for about 11 hours now. I felt myself slowing down a bit, but I knew I couldn’t afford to slow down much since there was a 30-hour cutoff.

Around 7 am, a miracle happened…the sun came up. Around 90 miles, I felt a sudden burst of energy…and I started running again. We passed a couple of guys we had talked to earlier. One man was going for his 5th Rocky 100 finish…to be awarded his 500-mile “jacket.” As we passed him, he yelled encouragement at us, “Go for it … it’s all about the belt buckle!” We were inspired to run on.

At mile 93 or 94, I started slowing down again, and by this time, my eyes were burning. I wasn’t really sleepy, but my eyes were dry and tired from staying open for so long. At least they didn’t hurt…because there were many other parts that were beginning to hurt. Namely my feet. Imagine that. Every time I came down hard on a root, I felt a shock wave shooting through my brain. Youch!

We made our way to the last aid station where I made my final pacer exchange…I picked up Mark to come in with me on the final leg of the journey. Again, fresh as a spring flower, Mark’s cheerful disposition gave me the needed energy to go the final 5 miles. I had told him on his earlier leg that he might want to be thinking of some motivational things to throw at me on this last leg because I might literally be on my “last leg.” He kept up the pace and didn’t allow me to slow down too much reminding me that we were actually going to do “this thing” and the faster we went, the faster we would be finished. That was dang good motivation. As much fun as I was having, it was time for this party to be over.

As we rounded the last turn, we could see the finish line. You think the finish line of a marathon looks good? Try imagining the finish line of a 100-mile race. Even without the fanfare of a marathon…It definitely ranks up there. No wild cheers from the crowd. No sprinting across the finish line. You just cross the finish line and you’re done. The race director handed me my belt buckle, and I hugged my crew. I just ran 100 miles.

 You never do anything alone. It’s possible that I could have run 100 miles without my crew…but I wouldn’t even want to try. There is one “regular” crew member who couldn’t be with us physically on this trip but who was there in spirit. How many times did we say WWLD…What would Lori do? We were a team, and my success is their success. I cannot begin to thank them enough.

Throughout the 100 miles, I thought of Nancy Lonnegan, my 10th grade English teacher…”If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs…” I do believe I kept my head.

But it was truly in the last 10 miles that I heard, “If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone…” and I said to them “Hold on!” It worked. I held on.

Running a 100 miles is obviously a serious physical challenge. However, the true test of an endurance event is often the mental aspect. Despite the good physical condition you’re in, 100 miles will test you psychologically in ways that can surpass the physical. The key is to “keep your head when all about you are losing theirs…”

Tomorrow morning I head out to Huntsville, TX, for my 2nd attempt at running 100 miles. My running has been good. I’ve been cross-training and strength training. I’ve remained uninjured. So everything should be in place for a successful event.

Enter Sunday night (yes, 6 days before my race)…a stomach virus. Yikes! This same thing happened the week before I was to run the Bear 100 back in September. I haven’t had a virus in 20 years, and now I have had 2 in the last 6 months.

It’s not uncommon to catch a bug as you begin to taper after months of hard training. And, I figure I’ve actually been pretty lucky because this is only the 3rd time it’s ever happened to me in all my years of racing.

As I was in the throes of “the bug,” I honestly thought to myself, “I am so grateful that this is happening now instead of the night before the race.” I’m better now, and I’ll continue to feel better as the race gets closer because I have chosen to focus on good health instead of illness. But I know that, once again, I was being tested.

We are all constantly being tested…physically, mentally, emotionally. Ed Foreman says, “All the water in the world can’t sink a ship unless it gets on the inside.” It’s all about what we allow to enter our minds.

My 10th grade English teacher, Nancy Lonnegan, used to make us memorize poems (among other things), and some lines from Rudyard Kipling’s “If” have stayed with me for the past 35 years…I can’t remember the whole thing, but what I do remember has often helped me keep my head when all about me are losing theirs:

“If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs…/If you can meet with triumph and disaster/And treat those two imposters just the same…/If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew/To serve your turn long after they are gone,/And so hold on when there is nothing in you/Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on’/If you can fill the unforgiving minute/With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run/Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it…”

This weekend I will be tested. My goal is to keep my head when all about me are losing theirs…

Last weekend I ran the Ghost Town 38.5 trail race in Hillsboro, New Mexico. Everything about the weekend was fun. I left Boise on Friday to meet my friend Joan (from Indiana) in Albuquerque. Our friend, Vernz (from Ontario, Canada), was already in Kingston, gearing up for his first ultramarathon. We were also meeting up with a new friend, Laura (from Maryland), who was going to Ghost Town alone. We offered to take her with us down to Hillsboro.

For all of us, it was our first time to visit New Mexico. And, though we had received numerous detailed emails from Susan Reynolds, the race director, we still didn’t know exactly what to expect. As it turned out, the event exceeded expectations.

Joan and I were staying at the Black Range Lodge in Kingston, Home of the Spit and Whittle Club.

Saturday we explored the trails a bit and got a taste of what the next day’s event would be like, and that night we went to the potluck pasta dinner at Susan’s house. 2010 marked the 5th running of the Ghost Town 38.5 … and the 2500th anniversary of the Battle of Marathon in Greece. In honor of the original long distance run, we were treated to Greek dancers before the pasta dinner.

Race morning the temperature was 32 degrees at the start. The first 6.3 miles climbed gradually uphill on the highway before we turned off at Junction Station and hit the trails.  At that point it was rolling hills (mostly up) until about 10.5 miles where we had our first significant downhill. From there on, it was steep ups and downs, rocks and ruts, snow and mud … and breathtaking vistas.

Having only run on trails for about a year and half now, I am still working on my confidence in flying on the downhills. I keep telling myself that I get better on every run. Most people dread the uphill sections – at this point, I do believe the downhills are still a little more challenging for me than the uphills.

The race time limit was 12 hours, and until you see the course, there is no way to predict what your time will be. Based on my previous trail races – none of which were this particular distance – I estimated that I could finish in under 10 hours (not that it really mattered). My real goals were to get in 8-10 hours on my feet, to take photos of the scenery, and to have a good time.

My basic trail running philosophy is to have a good time rather than to run a good time.

At the end of the day, I had accomplished all my goals: I ran a 9:01, I took lots of pictures, and I had a GREAT time.

————

(It’s been a long time since I visited my own blog – I took a 6-month hiatus – my last entry was in July of last year before I actually attempted my first 100-mile event. As an update: I didn’t go the full 100, but I made 88 miles of it. Although many would think I would be disappointed with that, I was actually exhilarated that I was able to make 88 miles in the mountains. My next attempt at a 100-miler is on Feb 6 – more on that later. )

My plan today was to run/hike for 8 hours. Well – I only had 6.5 hours in me. Ran the downhills and hiked the uphills. I ran some ups when I could, but it was a good opportunity for me to practice my hiking skills.

Here’s my elevation map for today – talk about blazing some trails. I had no idea how far I was going or what the terrain was going to be. I looked at the Ridge to Rivers map for Shaffer Butte, and I picked a couple of trails. Youch! I went up about 850 feet in my first mile. But it was about 630 am, and it was still a nice and cool 70 degrees. That was fun. Next 3 miles, I added about 300 more feet each mile. What a way to start the day!

See that “V” around mile 4? That trail was named “The Tempest” so I had to check it out. But when it kept going down, down, down…I decided that I would save it for another day. So I only went down about 1/2 mile, then straight back up for a 350 foot climb in 1/2 mile. Geez – think if I had kept going down. Yikes.

After I came down off that side of the mountain, I went over to the Nordic ski lodge where I planned to run some of the cross-country ski trails. Here’s a tip: It was a lot longer than it looked like on the map. Ended up being ~13 miles with the first half of that going down. Aren’t you supposed to finish on the downhill, not the uphill? Who knew?

Then I got turned around the last hour, and I ran out of water. That was a bummer. And it had climbed to almost 90 degrees by that time… and I had more sun by that time – but it was 10 degrees cooler on the mountain than in the city, so that was a plus. I was pretty tired by the time I finally found the lodge (and my car), but I had a frozen bandana (yes a bandana not a banana) in a baggie in my cooler – It had thawed out, but it was still cold and wet – felt so good on my face and neck – ah, what a relief.  I rehydrated when I got to the car and drove home with my cold bandana around my neck.

When I realized I was a little off course at the end…and that I would probably not be going 8 hours today, I thought about something I read a couple of nights ago in Born to Run by Christopher McDougall. At the time, I couldn’t remember exactly, but he says that running is like “the game of life – You never know how hard it will be. You never know when it will end. You can’t control it. You can only adjust.”

I made a few adjustments today, and everything turned out just fine. What a terrific day.

The t-shirt asks…”How much fun can you have in 24 hours?”

The answer: As much as you decide you want to have. And I had a TON of fun in my first 24-hour event.

A couple of weeks ago, I took a road trip from Boise to Laramie, Wyoming, to participate in this 24-Hour “race.” I use the word race loosely because for most ultrarunners, the event is not like the traditional race that most runners are accustomed to. It’s an event, a run, a run/walk even…but not really a race…except for a handful of the faster runners.

People often ask me, “You RUN for 24 hours?” or “You RUN for 65 miles?” Technically, the answer is “no – you have to take walk breaks.” And, the fact is, all ultrarunners walk part of the course. So, probably, a better title is “endurance event.” It’s all about endurance – of both body and mind.

At the Laramie 24-Hour endurance event, there were actually several “events”: a 12-hour, a 24-hour, and a 100-miler. I chose to participate in the 24-hour in preparation for my 100-mile event (the Bear 100) in September…to practice and experiment with clothes, shoes, socks, headlamps, flashlights, food, drink, sleep deprivation…and such things.

My two main goals were 1)to go through the whole night and 2)to go more miles than I had ever gone before. I had previously gone 62 miles, so I felt 65 was a reasonable goal. Speed was not a goal.  It is amazing what happens when you “dial in” a distance in your head – can you figure how many miles I went in Laramie? Yep, 65 miles.

The whole experience was terrific. Just the education of what worked and what didn’t was worth the 10-hour drive (each way).

Reid Delman, the race director, was great as were the volunteers. They took care of all the runners’ needs day and night. The course was well-marked, the food was super, and the cheerfulness of the volunteers helped to inspire the runners to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Reid puts on a number of events – his company is Gemini Adventures. Not only would I recommend his events to other runners, but also I plan to do another one sometime.

About a week ago I had the good fortune to run the oldest trail race in America – the Dipsea Race. Compared to what I’ve been running recently, the Dipsea was a very short run: 7.4 miles. Short, but certainly not easy.

Having run part of the Dipsea course last November in the Stinson Beach 50K, I knew that the Dipsea could be no worse. And, I thought it would be fun to run the oldest trail race in America and experience its tradition and history.

Getting in the Dipsea is not easy for someone who does not live in the San Francisco/Mill Valley/Stinson Beach area. Admittedly, the race director makes it clear that they favor locals as the entries, other than the invitational runners, are on a first-come, first-served basis. However, they do accept “bribes” in the form of a donation, over and above the amount of the entry fee, to a scholarship fund. Making a donation enters you into a silent auction from which the top 100 “donors” receive an entry into the Dipsea. Another way to get in is to tell a “sob story,” or a really good reason, why you should be granted entry.

The difficulty of getting into Dipsea makes it even more desirable to enter.

So, I decided that in between my 100K and my 24-hour race, I would apply to run the Dipsea. I have to admit that I did donate to the scholarship fund, and I did inform them that the “reason” I should be granted an entry was a no-brainer: my last name is Stinson and the race ends in Stinson Beach. There you have it. They let me in.

The race is a wacky event. 1500 runners are allowed in, and all ages are included. This year the youngest Dipsea runner was 6 years old, the oldest in his 80s. The unique thing about this race is the handicapped start, and I don’t mean the wheelchair, as is common in road races. Runners get a head start based on their age. For example, a 6-year-old boy and a 75-year-old woman may have a 30-min head start over an 18-year-old girl and a 25-year-old man.

And, to make it even more fun, the person with the fastest time does not necessarily win the race – the winner is the first person to cross the finish line…and the runners are allowed to take shortcuts through the forest trails. So, the victory can go to anyone.

This year the victor was a 52-year-old … with a 13-year-old finishing in 4th place overall.

Needless to say, I came in much later…but that is another story…to be continued.

25 years and going strong … another successful Shaffer Butte 50-Mile Endurance Run. Race Director Frank Hanson put on a terrific 25th anniversary event despite his broken collar bone.

This was my first year to be involved with the run, and I started by being a volunteer crew member. Last weekend, my husband Mark crewed for me for 14+ hours at the Blackfoot Ultra 100K, and I figured it was my turn to do the same for some other runners.

The day started early with runners gathering for a 5 a.m. start. It was raining and chilly, and the rain continued for about half the day. It was totally foggy driving up to Deer Point where we were setting up our aid station. It was probably a good thing it was so foggy because I couldn’t see the dropoff on the side of the mountain in the dark and pouring rain. One after another the runners made their way to the Deer Point aid station, soaking wet … but all of them came up the road with smiles on their faces.

I was so inspired by this hardcore group of ultrarunners. Undaunted by the rainy, muddy conditions, they all were cheerful and having a great time…doing what they love to do…running the trails and hills.

I might have been new to this group of super ultrarunners, but they graciously welcomed me. Runners are like that…and ultrarunners even more so. Although I would have really loved to have been running with them, I think it’s good for all of us every now and then to volunteer for an event in order to fully appreciate the support crews that help us in our races.

Congratulations to all the Shaffer Butte runners! Next year, I’ll be out there running with them.