What has 16,000 and 10,200 feet of climbing, snakes, deer, bears, and 30+ people crazy enough to get up on a Saturday morning in August … to have some fun in the Boise National Forest?

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.

The Boise Greenbelt is about 25 miles of asphalt path along the Boise River – more than that really if you add up the distance on both sides of the river. Winding under streets, it’s great because you never have to get on the street at all. Although trail running is my preference, the greenbelt is 1/3 mile from my house, and I enjoy the river and the shady spots the greenbelt provides.

When I’m out on the trails in the foothills alone, I rarely run across other runners – I usually see more mountain bikers than runners. But when I do, I always say hey or some other greeting, and rarely do I greet someone without some response.

So, yesterday morning, since I hadn’t run the greenbelt in awhile, I decided I’d say “Good Morning” to every single person I saw – kids, bikers, runners, walkers. And, I saw a bunch of folks.

I’m happy to report that the response was good – even better when I threw in “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” I would estimate that about 90% of the people I spoke to responded. There were a few with headphones on who might not have heard me – although I know they saw me because we made eye contact, and I waved. And, there were a few kids on bikes who flew by me and didn’t respond.

There was one group of high school kids (probably a cross-country team) running in small groups (some with headphones), but every one of them said “Good Morning.” Even a couple of guys who appeared to be homeless (they looked kind of like they were drunk, too) said hey when I passed them.

I have to believe that the people who didn’t respond probably didn’t hear me or were in a “zone.” Otherwise, my greetings were hard to ignore, and in my fantasy world of making people’s day a little brighter with just a “Good Morning,” maybe they passed along the good cheer to someone else.



Before RAAM, we read books, we watched videos, we read blogs of other RAAM riders.
Before RAAM, we studied elevation maps, we studied the terrain, we studied reports on hydration, nutrition, muscle fatigue, and sleep deprivation.
We thought we knew what RAAM was.
We thought we knew how hard RAAM was.
We thought we knew what we were getting into.
We knew nothing.

There is a reason this is considered “the toughest bike race in the world.” I have seen some really tough folks, but Mike is by far the toughest person I’ve ever known. Mike gave this ride everything he had and then some.

You’ve heard people say, “You just had to be there.” I gotta tell you – This is one of those times – You just had to be there. Even the elevation maps that look impossible don’t tell the whole story.

A fellow RAAM rider commented on one of Mike’s blog posts that the way you train for RAAM is by trying it. Another said that his trek of 743 miles was his RAAM training ride. Will Mike attempt RAAM again? Maybe. We are all more enlightened…we all know a little more. Every day, every night, every minute at RAAM is an education for the rider and the crew.

Mike didn’t finish RAAM, and in the official stats he is listed as a DNF (did not finish). In my book, that stands for “Did Nothing Fatal.”

Some people might say Mike “failed” to finish RAAM. Technically, that is true. But he finished his own first RAAM…all 743 miles of it…and that was just part of his successful RAAM ride.

- Mike was a success when he raised $30,000 for the Sanford Cardiovascular Research Center and the Dick Beardsley Foundation.
- Mike was a success when 13 people who believed in him and his cause were honored to join his crew.
- Mike was a success when he was waiting on that podium in Oceanside at the start – before he pedaled his first stroke.
- Mike was a success when he rode 743 miles.

How you do anything is how you do everything. Mike rode RAAM like he lives his life.

Jack London wrote, “I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”

Mike gave 100% on every inch of those 743 miles.

It was an honor to serve Mike on this piece of his journey. Should he decide someday to go back to RAAM for another attempt, I will be the first one to sign on as his crew.

Thanks, Mike – we are all better people for having been on this leg of your journey with you.

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.

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. )

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.

Getting started…getting finished. Both ends of a journey require dedication and passion.

Two days ago, I ran all day – 13 hours, 42 minutes – to complete my first 100K (62 miles) trail race. Forty-five people were signed up for the race; 32 finished – 26 men, 6 women. The weather was perfect, the course was beautiful (plus extremely challenging), the volunteers were spectacular…and 62 miles is a long way to run.

The race consisted of 4 loops of 15.5 miles (25K) each. Although each loop was run over the same trail, no two loops were the same. There were very few flat sections on the course – you were either running up or down the whole time. And, when there was a short flat, the next hill was in sight. It was anything but boring.

The two elevation maps taken from my GPS are typical examples of the terrain – each is a one-mile segment of the course.

Although none of the individual climbs were brutal, total ascent for all 62 miles was about 12,000 feet. The total descent was about the same. We had to work the whole time – not too much relaxing and getting into a running rhythm.

But flat, easy paths do not build muscle. Flat, easy paths do not build character. Flat, easy paths do not challenge us. Flat, easy paths do not teach us life lessons.

Between us and anything significant, giants will be in our path. And each loop, the same hills seemed to get bigger. But there’s no going “around” the hills to avoid them – they have to be taken head on.

There was never a point in the race where I wanted to stop. That’s not to say there were not rough patches – there were many, and especially in the 4th loop, I could have sworn the number of hills doubled in both number and size.

I didn’t sign up for this race thinking it would be easy. And, it wasn’t easy. And, I didn’t go all the way to Canada to not finish what I set out to do. I was dedicated and passionate about reaching this milestone in my quest to run 100 miles this September.

Passion is what helps you when you have a great dream. Passion breeds conviction and commitment.  Passion is what motivates others to join you in your pursuit of your dream.

Thanks to all of you who have been with me in my pursuit with your good thoughts, good energy, and support. Thanks for helping me finish what I start.