"OMG, Do you know what a freakin' moron your wife is?!?" I called home in a panic.
I was 70 miles from home and had just finished a great dinner at Nicholas's Lebanese restaurant with the entire Corvallis crew, when I came to the stark realization that I was headed to my KOA Kamping Kabin with out any "kamping" gear.
I had packed for the race early that morning knowing that I would be leaving directly from work. I meticulously gathered everything, doing a head to toe double check before packing up. I even had multiple options to account for changing weather: short sleeves and long sleeves, shorts and capris, vest and rain jacket, hat and beanie. I was fully prepared. Well, except for over looking that little detail of bedding. Ooops.
Actually, I wasn't too bad off, I reasoned, as I was staying in a cabin with heat and I had two coats. I had just about convinced myself that I was fine, there was no problem, when Salvation intervened. Yep - a Salvation Army super store!
I pulled in and picked out a toasty Coleman sleeping bag and got the $2 zebra fleece pillow next to it as well, because I think it is important to accessorize your Kamping Kabin! Well, and also, because the zebra is symbolic to me. You see, zebras and horses are genetically quite similar, to the point where they can actually produce viable (though typically sterile) hybrids. But the zebra is very different from the horse in one major way (well, aside from all those stripes, obviously): the zebra has never been domesticated. People have tried but the zebra cannot be broken, it doesn't lose its spirit. When I ran my first hundred miler, Hundred in the Hood, my mantra was "Be the zebra." So you see purchasing the pillow was really my way of stating: "I may be too dumb to pack a sleeping bag, but I will not be broken!"
Happy with my purchase, I headed out to my car only to find some guy sitting in the bed of my truck. He was a skinny looking guy with a full beard and a cap pulled down really low. I did a double take to make sure that it was my truck, but it was. Yeah, so the zebra has a strong will, but still, a predator will scare the shit out of a zebra!
"Hey, can I get a lift?" a gruff voice called to me.
"Umm...no sorry I can't do that," I stammered. I was like a zebra caught in the headlights!
Then the guy quickly adds, "Pam, its me, John. I didn't mean to scare you." LD and John had spotted the Western States sticker on my truck and followed me into the parking lot. They wondered if maybe I was making a covert trip to the liquor store next door! I had a good laugh at the situation. Not only was I fooled but I was busted buying gear, and I had to confess my packing stupidity (not to mention the the fact that I had bought a cheesy fleece pillow!).
Surprise! It's not a psychopath, it's an ultrarunner. Sure both types are mental, but the latter are very friendly.
The irony was that our Kamping Kabin was about a hundred degrees when we got there and a sleeping bag was totally unnecessary!
Doesn't my bed look "kozy?" (not to mention stylish!)
We woke to the sound of passing trains...about an hour after we went to bed and then about every 60-90 minutes after that. The rail road industry is alive and well in the gorge!
Stowaway John, Andrea, and LD getting ready to run
John duped us again the next morning by guiding us onto the bus that was sure to leave first... Ours was the last to depart. But we got to the start with plenty of time to spare, so it was actually nice that we had a few extra minutes in a warm bus.
The race starts with a hefty climb - 1700' in under two miles. I started with all the people who thought they'd jog the uphill. But as the climb wore on, more and more people resorted to walking. I have been doing almost all flat and road training in prep for Mad City, but I was surprised to find that I felt strong on the climb. I don't think I have gotten good at hills, just that my fitness is pretty good right now. There weren't that many people ahead of me when we got to the top, but then there was a screaming downhill. Man, I suck at technical downhill! At least six people passed me on this mile. But each climb, I would pass several people back. And each time, fewer people would pass me back on the downhills.
The trail popped out onto the road at about mile 8.5 for a two mile stretch before the first major aid station. In the distance, I spotted a red jersey ahead, but no one else was around. I was flying on this section - 6:57 and 7:03 miles - and all time the little devil of doubt was telling me, "slow down, this pace is insane," but another part of me kept thinking, "You're fine. You said you are trying to be less conservative in the beginning." I probably would have slowed down had it not been for that pesky guy in red luring me into a chase.
I like to laugh at people who look like death in their running pictures. Fortunately, I can laugh at myself, too. Maybe those speedy road miles weren't such a good idea after all.
Well, I chased him for the next 22 miles. I don't think I was ever more than 100 yards behind. I would close the gap periodically but he would open it up on a downhill... or when he peeked back and saw me getting a little too close!
Between mile 22 and 23 there was a very short out and back to a waterfall. Mike Rosling was about a minute ahead of us, and two guys were starting just as we finished so I knew we had a five minute lead over them. No women were in sight down the trail, so I knew I had at least a five minute lead with 8-9 miles to go. I was pretty sure that would be enough cushion even with the five mile downhill finish, especially if I could just hang with (or pass!) the guy in red.
About a mile later we caught Mike, who was having some cramping. He and I ran a ways together and commiserated on the last big climb. ("When will it end?!?"). I thought he'd pass me back on the downhill to the finish, but his calf was giving him a bit too much trouble. The downhill being my weakness allowed for the guy in red to open up his biggest lead on the five mile stretch to the finish. I stared at his back for 22+ miles ("Clif") but never could catch him, eventually settling for 27 seconds back. At the finish I learned the guy in red was William Emerson, so I don't feel too bad about not hunting him down! Although, I think he was teasing me a little bit out there, too, running just fast enough to stay "unchicked." ;) Hey, it works for me as he kept me on track all day long and "paced" me to third place overall. Thanks, William! (Full Results here)
After the race, I changed into my best hobo costume. Oh wait - that is just me wearing 3 jackets, two long sleeved shirts, 2 pairs of sweat pants, and sporting the worst hat head ever! The rain didn't seem so bad while we were running but afterwards I was freezing!I headed directly to my nephew's second birthday party in Portland after the race. Thank goodness family has to love you no matter what! And thank goodness, I'll probably never see the other 30 people at that party ever again!
Happy birthday, Deacon! You eat cake, I'll go shower!
(Thanks LD and Lobo for the photos)