The trail was spectacular – pine forests and swamps with Spanish moss-covered cypress trees – this was classic Louisiana. Only thing missing was alligator sightings – not that I didn’t look for them. I did, however, see about a dozen armadilloes.

Technically speaking, I felt it was a challenging course. With the tons of fallen leaves, it was sometimes tricky to follow the trail. Thank goodness the trees had orange blazes to mark the trail. Without the markings on the trees, it would have felt MORE like I was in the middle of nowhere. There were also flags marking confusing intersections or turns. The course was well-marked for sure.

At night, following the trail was a little more tricky. I had to use a headlamp to watch for the blazes on the trees and a handheld light to watch for roots. Watching for roots was not easy in the day with all the leaves, but it was even harder as it got dark. However, by slowing my pace, I had only one fall in the dark – compared to three falls during the daylight hours.

Speaking of falling down, I managed to make it through the whole first loop without falling – my first spill came around mile 21 or 22 shortly after I had left the aid station. A root was the culprit – I went flying and the side of my hand landed hard on another root. Falling always gets the adrenaline pumping, but this fall also got the swelling going. My hand immediately started to swell, and in the next few miles, it was swollen almost double. I thought I might have broken it, but there wasn’t much I could do about it at that point. I didn’t help it by falling on the same hand two more times in that loop!

So, I decided that I would look at the bright side: 1 – it wasn’t my foot, and 2 – the pain in my hand took my focus off the pain in my legs. Plus, I had something to think about for the next 41 miles besides other common ultra-associated aches and pains.

This little hand episode also gave me a chance to practice 2 of my favorite mantras:

• What is the opportunity in this?
• Remember: It doesn’t have to be FUN to be fun!

The night was beautiful in its own way. I love running in the dark, and this was no exception. I use the word “running” loosely – it was more of a shuffle on my last loop. My goal going into this race was to use it as a long training run for the Rouge-Orleans in February, so I hoped to finish between 14-16 hours. I knew I could take it really slow in the last loop and still finish under 16 hours, so I took my time and enjoyed the night. I do have to admit, however, that I was very happy to be finished, and the thought of going out for another loop in the dark on those roots was not that appealing to me.

Race Director Chris Scott, aka the Cajun Dip, and all his helpers put on a terrific event. The aid station volunteers were super. Oh, and the pre-race dinner was the best!

About a week after I got back home, the swelling and bruising on my hand was nearly gone, but it was still bothering me. As it turns out, I did break the 5th metacarpal – that’s the bone on the side of my hand just under the knuckle below my little finger. My hand doc said it was a nice, clean break so no intervention was necessary. His advice to me: “Stay on your feet and off the ground.” Always good advice.

One of the first things that comes to me – as a way to describe the experience – is that at camp, we “live deliberately.” I know that quoting Thoreau is cliché, but maybe there’s something about staying in a cabin by a lake that initially makes me think of Walden (even though Thoreau’s “cabin” was about a mile from where he grew up).

And, living deliberately is what we do at camp.

Because we are in such a remote place, we have spotty cell phone coverage, limited wi-fi, and no cable tv in our cabins. We are not totally cut off from the outside world, but for 6 days, we are pretty much unconcerned with what’s going on outside Rainbow Resort.

We immerse ourselves in the actual experiences.

Our first run of the week was an easy 4-mile jaunt through the woods on a grassy trail. It had rained the night before, and there were still a few puddles in some low spots. Our first inclination when we encounter a mud puddle is to try to avoid it. I remember thinking as I plowed through the mud puddles – you don’t really experience the puddle unless your feet get a little wet. And, as I felt the water seep through the toe of my shoe, I actually felt a little more energized.

Later, that night, we were treated to “Dick Beardsley In Concert.” Although Dick probably won’t be taking his concert “on the road,” he writes and sings songs from his heart; and courageously, he shared some deeply personal experiences with us as we sat and listened … totally immersed in his music.

Our second run was a “quality workout” with Coach Bill. Although not an “active” Marine, Bill will tell you that there’s no such thing as an ex-Marine. And, his workouts remind us of his point. Warming up with lunges, squats, pushups, and hovers (to name a few things), we then head out to a flat stretch of road where we warm up again with stride outs before running a timed mile. But that’s not all. After the timed mile, we jog down the road about a mile and a half to “learn how” to and practice hill repeats. Talk about “sucking marrow from the bone” – Thoreau would definitely approve of Coach Bill’s workouts.

Thank goodness for the principle of hard-easy workouts. Our next run was a recovery run – it was back on the serene trails for an easy fun run. You might think that with a group of runners – who “paid” to come to a running camp – that it would be a little difficult to run easy and take walk breaks and chat with their new running partners. But there’s something about being surrounded by people who, like ourselves, not only love to talk about running but also love to experience it. And, I think that even some of the hardcore runners were able to “experience” their runs more deeply in our easy group trail runs than they had before they came to camp.

Since we had a half marathon coming up on Saturday, we didn’t schedule a Friday run. However, in a rare historic event, Joe Henderson led a group of campers on a truly special early morning run.

Friday was especially fun as we had Kathrine Switzer, pioneer and champion of women’s running, spending the day with us. Kathrine was the “legend” this year at the “Running with the Legends” Dick Beardsley Half Marathon.

Race day dawned, and the constant rain from the day before gave way to blue skies and cool temperatures. Campers and coaches all piled into cars and drove 45 minutes to Detroit Lakes for the Dick Beardsley Half Marathon and 5K. We had runners in both events – with one camper running his first half marathon and one running his first race ever! Uplifted by a week of positive energy, camaraderie, and good health, we all “experienced” a gorgeous run around the lake. As each runner finished, we gathered at the sideline to cheer on every single runner who crossed the finish line.

As it came time for camp to end, we started feeling the pull of reality. Six days in the Minnesota woods is a perfect amount of time to spend at a running camp, but it was time now to go home to jobs, families, friends, and running in our own town. Amid hugs and farewells, we know we’ll see each other again this time next year.

One of our former campers aptly said of Dick’s camp…”We came to camp to become better runners; we left camp better people.”

That would be the Wild Idaho 50K and 50-Mile Endurance Runs. Nothing wimpy about these races! WIFKER/WIFMER was the brain child of wild man Trail Thrasher Ben Blessing. And Ben was counting his “blessings” as race day weather turned out perfect. You can check out the official results along with photos of the runners at http://runwildidaho.com.

I didn’t run it this year, but I arrived on the scene around 3 pm to start my shift at the Skunk Creek Road Aid Station. This was the turnaround for the 50K runners before they headed back DOWN the mountain to the finish line (7.5 miles away). The 50-milers got to come to our station twice, once around mile 33.5 and again around mile 43. Although they looked great the first time we saw them, they were even happier the 2nd time because they only had 7.5 miles more to go.

The climbs can only be described as “heinous,” but the scenery made it worth the climbs. (I can say this because I’ve run the 2nd half of the course – I’m sure the first half was quite beautiful also.) The scenery may not have been much consolation as the runners were dog tired on the climbs, but they all agreed at the finish line that it was indeed a spectacular course, in every sense of the word.

Next to actually running the race, I love working an aid station. I have done enough trail ultras to know how the runners feel, and sometimes, they just need someone who understands.

Ben did a super job as race director. An ultrarunner himself, he created the event from an ultrarunner’s viewpoint – ok, a crazy ultrarunner, but an ultrarunner nonetheless. He recruited family and friends to help support the runners…and by the time the race was over, everyone – runners, their families, and the volunteers – was part of the “family.”

With 30 runners, you know there were many stories. I didn’t get to see all the runners pass through our aid station, but I saw a lot. My friends Donna (with pacer Sparkle) and Heather finished their first 50Ks, and my friend Sam finished his first official 50-miler. Veteran ultrarunner Lynette used WIFMER as a training run in preparation for her 2nd 100-miler, the Bear (rated by Marathon & Beyond as the 5th hardest 100 in the US). Another crazy man, Dennis, rode his bike 90 miles to the race, was the Sweeper for the 50-miler, then rode his bike back home the next morning. Paul and Emily were additional support sweepers helping other runners – both also ran the whole course.

Although I didn’t know all the runners personally, I “know” who they are. They are the folks who keep going when they would really like to stop. They are the folks who believe that pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. They are the folks who stop to help a fellow runner who is struggling. They are the folks who fall down 7 times and get up 8. They are the folks who “dial in” a distance and have the perseverance and heart to reach their goal. They are ultrarunners.

Congratulations to ALL the runners in the WIFKER & WIFMER.

Elinor Fish, editor of Trail Runner magazine, was the camp director, as well as an accomplished trail runner herself. In fact, she is running her first 100-miler in a few weeks at Leadville! Nothing like starting with one of the hardest 100s around (I would know a little about that). She had two additional people on staff: Tam, a personal trainer and Xterra champion; and Wendy, a yoga instructor and trail runner. Elinor and her “team” did a spectacular job of planning and executing the camp.

The women at the camp represented 7 states – Idaho, Colorado, California, Washington, Kansas, Nevada, Indiana – and all came with different backgrounds, experiences, and inspiring stories. Many of the women had never run at altitude like we encountered in the Rockies. Our first run was a little challenging, but by day 2, we had somewhat acclimated, and our run was much more comfortable (or at least manageable).

The scenery was breathtaking (and not just because of the altitude), and the comraderie was uplifting. We had healthy meals, yoga sessions, massages, and amazing trail runs – indeed, a magical weekend retreat.

As we all became friends, we already have plans to meet up at trail runs across the country and open invitations for places to stay as we travel to run.

Thanks to Elinor, her team, and to all the other campers for a great mountain trail experience.

I wish that there were a way to capture the scent of the sage and other flowers that carpeted the mountain side. As we ran through waist-high vegetation getting wet from the dew still on the leaves, we inhaled the freshness of the plants. You can capture the scenery in photos, but the smell is something you obviously have to experience.

Originally, we had planned to just run the 9-mile loop, but we took a little detour and added a few miles in the middle to the top of Shafer Butte to take in the even more spectacular views.

I’ve run on the trails at Bogus Basin a number of times, but this was my first trek around the back side of Mores Mountain. I know I sound like a broken record, but we are so fortunate  to have trails like this practically out our back door. It just doesn’t get much better than this.

It started out a little over a week ago when my friend Christie proposed that we go for a long trail run to support Randy who is running his first 50-miler in July. She posted it on Facebook, and about 8 of us got together for a run in the nearby Boise foothills. Our only “live” meeting for some of us was a couple of months ago when we all ran the Weiser 50K. Prior to that, most of us didn’t even know each other. This was the first time this particular group had ever run together…and what a great run it was. The speedier ones ran ahead and waited at various spots while the rest of us caught up to them. This was not a race – it was a group trail run – so no one was truly concerned about time.

Later that week, my friend Donna who is training for the WIFKER (Wild Idaho Fifty Kilometer Endurance Run) asked me if I wanted to drive up past Crouch, Idaho, and run part of the WIFKER trail. Sure, I said, so we recruited Sparkle, and the 3 of us headed out about 430 pm and drove 2 hours to do a 9.5 mile run. We were lucky enough to see a rubber boa on the trail within the first 5 minutes and got its picture. We later learned that this a seldom seen snake – and the sighting was something very cool.

My next run for the week took a hardy group of 6 of us up to the Boise National Forest NE of Idaho City…about a hour an a half from Boise. What a spectacular run it was. We climbed 2 summits up to the Fire Tower lookouts – for a total of 4000+ feet of climbing in about 18 miles. The views were unbelievable (as you can see from the photos).

And, finally, as is tradition of the 4th of July, the Boise Y Striders get together for a trail run up to Stack Rock above Bogus Basin. About 20 of us hit the trails above Boise and trekked 8 miles to see Stack Rock.

So what’s the big deal, you wonder. They’re just trail runs. Yes, the scenery was some of the best Idaho has to offer close to Boise. But it was the people who made the runs special. It wasn’t about who was the fastest, or who can run a 3-hour marathon or a 6-hour marathon. We are all just folks who love running on trails, and in every instance that is what brought us together.

Sure we had some fast runners, but no one cared who ran or walked, and people who might not ordinarily run together were running on the trails side by side…stopping to take pictures and marveling at the sights.

Although I love solitary running, last week was one of the best weeks of running I’ve ever had in a long time.

To all my trail running friends – Thanks.

Last weekend,  my daughter Kelly came in town (to Boise) from Los Angeles. Her running usually consists of street running around her neighborhood. I understand that – until I came to Boise, that’s what I did. So, when I told her that we were going to drive 45 minutes to get to a trail I’ve never run before, she wasn’t overly enthusiastic. She wondered why we couldn’t just drive 5 minutes and run on the trails around my house. My answer was that I’d never run these trails, and I wanted her to experience something really special.

And, we were not disappointed.

We went with Michelle, my other daughter who is a Boise trail runner, and my friend Ben, who is a hardcore ultrarunner. (He has been tapering this week for a 50-miler so he figured he could run easy with us on a short run on the trails.)

As you can see from the photos, the trail was spectacular. A few miles into the run, we descended into a canyon where we ran along a rushing creek and also ran into some rain. I added some time on to our run by stopping to take pictures. (These days I don’t leave home without my camera.) When we climbed out of the canyon, the rain stopped, and we were greeting with blue skies.

We trudged through a couple of miles of deep sand (which wasn’t my favorite part of the run), and finished on a gradual downhill back to the car. Michelle, Kelly, and Ben climbed one more mega hill when we finished as I took video of their trek to the top and back.

I suppose I take the pictures for myself because pictures can never truly capture the trail experience. We all loved our run in Wilson Creek, but I think Kelly especially loved it. Maybe she’ll seek more trails around L.A. now…even if she has to drive to get there.

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.

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…

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. )