started with uphill again, much easier on my legs than downhill and I just went at my own comfortable pace
Ugh this was hard and I probably shouldn’t have done it because now I can’t walk. Everything felt ok for the first 15 miles or so - definitely felt the effects of so much running this week (I looked at my Garmin history and pre-RATS 2017 I had about 650 miles in my legs compared to about 350 this year), but it always seemed like normal muscle fatigue/tightness which lessened as I warmed up.
My relatively strong finish in the expedition stage put me into the second wave (among the faster runners), and with my usual slow start I was already the final runner when I passed through the first Aid Station at mile 6.
View from Aid Station
Looks like the view from the aid station. It was indeed pleasant to start, but was 98 degrees by the time I got to Moab.
At some point before the second Aid Station (at 15 miles), one of the medics showed up to run a few miles with me, keep me talking and moving... for the first time in ten stages (i.e. 2 years, 5 stages each) I actually saw Tyler, the biking sweep, on the course. The out-and-back on Porcupine Rim, the only technical section of the stage, was where things really started to feel glacial. Maneuvering over obstacles was difficult because my legs felt so heavy, I couldn’t consider running, and a couple missteps sent temporary shocks of pain through my legs. I slowed down even more knowing that a fall was more likely than usual.
Because it’s an out-and-back (you pick up a numbered rock at the turnaround point to prove you did the distance), I encountered some runners on their way back. Catra encouraged me to “be brave, keep going!” Amy told me she was happy to see me because she couldn’t remember me passing her and was starting to worry. A couple other people asked if I was ok; I’m not sure if it was because I looked like I was struggling or if it was just obvious since I had fallen so far behind. I remained in reasonably good cheer; I’d known I was unlikely to hold onto third place and figured there was ample time to take it easy and finish the stage. I offered a couple people bribes for their rocks ($1000, $10,000) so I could just turn around there, and when I returned to the Aid Station I asked hopefully if I’d missed the cutoff and could get a ride to the finish. They said haha, no way, keep running.
"We're all waiting for you!"
None of that was serious and I don’t fault anyone, not even myself, for my choice to continue. I really believed I’d just be sore like the other days and recover quickly over the next few days of rest. I started getting texts from my sister who was at the finish line, and took the time to answer, exchange photos, etc. A couple miles from the finish Lisa texted that Bill and her partner Glenn were coming to look for me. Really? I’m fine! Almost there! I was still trotting, or as Wendy calls it, doing the “ultra shuffle.” Kind of how old people run, a sort of slow lethargic jog. Not necessarily faster than a fast walk, but lets you alternate muscle groups.
"I just pooped standing up."
When the car pulled up Amanda hopped out and ran the last mile or so with me. We hadn’t run together all week and I felt quite like grandma next to her this year, but that’s reality and it was a sweet gesture. I just soaked up the experience of being DFL (dead fucking last). Wendy always says this is the best, that you get the loudest cheers. I took out my headphones (podcasts about horrible current events kept my discomfort in perspective) because I wanted to hear every goddamned cowbell.
Fun to have my own personal cheering section at the finish line. Look at me standing on both feet. Won't be doing that again for a while.
I got all the attention for about five minutes and then since people had been waiting so long they all packed out and the crew began breaking down the finish line and food station. My 7 year old nephew brought me cups of water and shared his Skittles but I didn’t manage to get anything to eat until dinner a couple hours later. By that time I was really limping, but still able to walk. During dinner things continued to seize up to the point I could no longer put any weight at all on my right leg.
Since my family was here we’d opted out of the group dinner/awards ceremony but Jean-Michel texted that I had gotten fourth place among the women. In the results page it appears they forgot to take off the 30 minutes from being in the second wave (all of this is done somewhat casually, with a stopwatch and clipboard and occasionally forgetting to write down times) but it wouldn’t have made a difference.
I don’t know how hard the crew would have worked to motivate me to finish if I’d tried to stop; they definitely took it seriously when I said I was hurting but I also said don’t worry I’m fine, all’s good with hydration/salt/calories. There were certainly a lot of props for being so “brave” and “tough,” and an assumption that it’s of value to finish. It occurred to me multiple times during the day that if this had been my own training run — or on a bike or backpack trip with Bill— I’d have stopped without a second thought, or more likely taken the whole day off. I guess I was sort of interested in the experience of having a shitty day, but always with the assumption that I wasn’t hurting myself. Maybe this is how it is for people who inexplicably run themselves into heat stroke or hyponatremia or stress fractures? Yikes.
Around 11 pm I texted the medics in case I could get a last minute consult before we left for our raft trip, and they stopped by at breakfast the next morning. They poked around and concluded that I probably hadn’t torn anything, just strained some tendons. Taped me up and gave me an ace bandage but there wasn’t much else they could do... other than look at my blisters and forbid me from popping them until I was off the Colorado River. They gave me a sharp little drill bit in case I needed to DRILL THROUGH MY OWN TOENAIL to relieve some pressure. I did try this after the raft trip but got a lot more production just stabbing the top of my toe with a safety pin from my race bib. By this time I’d written my orthopedist and I’m going to see him Thursday, so he can clean up whatever mess remains. I’m much less concerned about toenails than about tendons. [post script: he thinks it's pes anserine bursitis. I'm now on crutches and oral steroids, and forbidden from running any time soon. Mexico ultra seems unlikely because to have any chance of finishing I'd have to train hard this summer. I'll be happy if I can salvage some slow hiking at my mountainous music festivals and do the bike trip in late August. If I had it to do again I'd definitely opt out of the final stage, because Hiking/Biking > Running. Add "being able to get off the couch without pain" to the list of things that are more important to me than running ultras.]
Our float trip was perfect in every way — stunning scenery, fun for all ages, really cool guides, a chance to shift around and hang in small family groups, and no need to put weight on my leg. If we wanted to swim, or pee, or do some aquacize, we just slipped off the rafts into the river. It felt great to “run” in the water and feel the full range of motion without pain. Once at the camp site I had to be carried everywhere, but other than going to the bathroom there wasn’t much need to move. I definitely experienced a glimpse of what it will be like when I’m no longer able-bodied. The pee bucket was placed near my hammock in case I needed it in the middle of the night... there was no way I could walk to the original, more private location. Some reading this will think “TMI” but it’s significant. Everybody pees and poops. Sucks to be held prisoner by it.
Hanging out at campsite, leg elevated.
Sleeping next to my little bucket friend
My badass niece who is interning at Canyonlands thinks being a river guide would be cool.
The cousins in the ducky. Julian spent a lot more time shooting people with water from that orange thing than paddling.
I of course did no paddling either. and got carried around like a princess. Did I mention these guides were amazing? Super chill and knowledgable. Food was great too, vegetarian-friendly! Highly recommended. https://www.canyonvoyages.com/
On our final morning together we went to Arches National Park. where I could stay in the car. Turns out several other people took this option too. Bill says they wanted to maximize their Sue time but I think it had more to do with the AC.