So as usual we were watching the weather all week. I assumed it would be decent running weather, maybe colder than I prefer, maybe a bit windy, but no worries. It turned out to be a misty morning. We were well-prepared for this one, with everything packed that we needed, gels, powders, bandaids, water bottles, extra shoes and socks, and I was dragging around a bag of bananas like a security blanket. Not that I love bananas. We parked in the parking lot in plenty of time, with other early arrivers and race workers. Picking up our numbers was the usual cheerful experience, with a smile and good luck. Next came the decisions. We'd already gone through what to pack, now it was what to carry, and what to wear. The nice thing about this race is that you pass your car 13 times, so there's plenty of opportunity to switch things around. The Ruth Anderson 100K is a certified road 100K that loops around Lake Merced in San Francisco 14 times. Each loop is 4.5 miles with the first loop shortened to 3.9 to get the distance right. When I was thinking about the course, I thought of it as flat, but there's actually a decrease and then increase in altitude. Multiply it by 14 and you got some climbing! Well, not so much really. The finish area is at the higher end of the lake, and the other aid station is at the lower end. The "hill" is around the mile 4 marker.
After arriving so early, all of a sudden it was time to walk to the start. We walked .6 mile around the course to the start so that it would end in the right place. A few whoops and we were off at a blistering 11:00 mile pace (I think, although it could have been a bit faster). It was such a small group that we could run along with the leaders for a little bit. You could tell they were seasoned ultrarunners because everyone started off slow and tapered off. I had a notion that there weren't so many women, and that maybe there weren't any women ahead of me, but I tried not to think about that. We carried on, with the race walker ahead of us. We saw him a lot in the early laps. The first aid station was all set up, cheerful even in the misty weather. We carried on. Don was wearing the Western States 100 pack. I was carrying a hand-held bottle. We both had E-caps Sustained Energy drink, plus Succeed caps for electrolyte replacement, B vitamins to stay cheerful and Advil just in case. Don had Hammergel and I had a few packets of GU (just plain flavor) in the pockets of my red race ready shorts. Completing the first lap meant that we had gone 3.9 miles. How do you think about all the rest of it at that point? You don't. I don't think I can count to 14.
After the second lap the teasing started. Steve Jaber, the race director, said to watch my pace and that I didn't know what I was doing, right? The application for the race required a completed 50 miler, and at the time I didn't have one. I had submitted my entire marathon history to convince Steve that I was a worthy participant. Then it came out that I had actually managed a 50, just 3 weeks ago, American River. As the race went on, this became important, since I was still the lead woman. I really didn't want to think about that. The laps went on, indistinguishably. We'd stop quickly at the lower side aid station, spend a little longer at the one that was the finish area. Bathroom stops were in order, and during one of Don's stops I got an anecdote: Jim Skophammer during an early start race had to make a stop. This start was so early that it was dark and everyone was carrying flashlights. Well, he set his down in the portajohn, and it went down, so to speak. Other runners were a little freaked by the bright light emanating from that place.
In a way it seemed like no time at all, but Steve told us that we had just completed a marathon. Our time on that was somewhere under 4:30. That was good, getting past a milestone finally. None of the earlier milestones seemed to mean anything in this race. So what if you've been running an hour--you have at least 10 more to go. The next focus was getting to 50 miles in under 9 hours. That's the Western States 100 qualifier. Don had us on a 10 minute mile pace, which would get us there with time to spare. But we were losing time according to the pace chart. Maybe we were losing too much. I couldn't tell, but it felt like it. We got to just over 40 miles and I was starting to feel bad. I know you have to have lows in a race, and I was worried that this was my time. I wanted it to happen earlier so I could have gotten over it, like in AR50, where it happened around mile 20. Anyway, I started to tell Don he should run on without waiting for me so that he could get the 50 mile mark qualifier, since it was his goal. Don was trying to do math and figure that it would still work out ok. My math told me it was going to hurt. Anyway, he said the actual timing from the finish area aid station to the mark was 13 minutes, so when we hit it at 8:40, we had time. I was still not convinced. It was 1.4 miles. There was a mark at 1 mile. Don was wanting a break at that point, feeling a bit nauseous and fatigued. I had some kind of rush going, keeping this goal in mind that I hadn't really thought I had a chance at. We crossed the 50 line (with almost six minutes to spare) and then started walking.
Now Don was telling me to continue on. We didn't really know how far back the next woman was, but it would be a shame to lose the lead now. Don said, "you go ahead and win this thing." I thought, ok, and fell back into the pace. When I hit the aid station the volunteers were concerned. I asked them to take care of Don when he got there. At the finish area aid station, I was starting to feel a bit uneasy in my stomach myself. All along I'd been eating the occasional potato and salt, potato chips, pretzels, a little bit of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a little bit of clif bar. Oranges on the lower side aid station too. It all felt sort of regular. But now I needed something different. Stan Jensen recommended soup. That sounded like a good idea, and I'd never tried it before. I thought I just needed a bit of broth. Stan was so concerned, he was great. He said that I was just going through a bit of a rough patch, and I'd be fine. Any stomach upset should be cured by the soup. He was right. I carried on, not wanting to know about the next closest woman at all. On this lap, the second to last one, I lapped people. That was weird. I had thought I'd be the person to be lapped, not the other way around. A couple women turned up at the lower end aid station just as I was leaving it. I had just passed them, but at that point my mind was playing games. I did pass them, didn't I? It wasn't that they were catching up? I maintained my pace, to be sure. For quite a while my brain hadn't been functioning very normally. I was just thinking about making it to the next point in the race, (up the hill round the corner) and about finishing.
I got to the aid station and had more pepsi and a few potato chips. As I set off again, I saw waving arms and jumping around. My sister Georgina and her boyfriend Eh had turned up. She ran along with me a bit, as I said I have one lap to go, and I'm in the lead. She said I looked like I was doing well. The last lap went by pretty fast. As I passed all the familiar uphills and downhills, I thought about how I didn't have to pass them again. This was the last time. I made a quick stop at the lower aid station, and they were a little surprised that this was it for me. The hill seemed like nothing, since it was the last time I had to get up it. I didn't need to walk. I had it firmly planted in my head that after I got up the hill, I could practically see the finish line. I rounded the corner to the familiar finish line aid station, and the finish was all set up. Two people were holding a cord across the line for me to cross. I really was going to win! I think I made some kind of noise (a grunt or whoop or omigod) and sprinted (not really) to finish. Crossing the line was great. I was done. They joked that there was no film in the camera, and I needed to do it again. Stan, ever concerned, told me to get some more clothes on since I would start getting cold. Always listen to Stan. I focused on that task, also getting more magic chicken soup.
So the conversation went on about my running habits, how much had I run, had I ever won before. During the race the news had gone around that this lead woman had only run 2 ultras before this, a 50k and a 50m. I felt so appreciated. I also had a nice chat with Ruth Anderson herself. I had thought that was her out on the course, running several laps the opposite direction so that she could say hi to everyone and take pictures. We had our picture taken together, and she told me some things about her early running days. I wish my brain had been a bit clearer, because I don't really remember everything she said. She was a pioneer for women in ultra running, and the first time she ran this race, she won, and was second overall. I was worried that Don hadn't turned up yet, and was keeping my eye on the finish. Then I saw him round the corner--he looked good! I was so happy for him finishing, knowing what it was like just to be done. All kinds of thoughts go through your head at the finish along with the major thought that you're done.
After sort of staggering around a bit, we had to decide what to do. Georgina said we could use their house for showers and naps, and that sounded like a good idea. We knew we wouldn't be feeling great, because after AR50 we were pretty tired, but we were really tired after this one. Steve teased me about pacing someone around on their last lap--they needed some help. I kind of thought about it. Not really. It was hard just to move around. Anyway, thanks to Georgina we were cleaned up and had pizza, water, more water, calistoga water, and went to the bathroom a million times. Eventually home to bed to sleep the sleep of the dead. I had to get up by 9 to fly to Boca Raton. It was that morning that it all finally hit me and I burst into tears. And then I quickly composed myself and went off to the airport. Stan had advised me about stretching, drinking water and getting a massage. Too bad about the massage. I carried fruit and water with me on the trip, and was feeling ok by the time it was all over. Another great moment was monday morning. We had to introduce ourselves to the large group, so I said who I was and where I came from and then a guy I had talked to the night before chimed in with my accomplishment from the weekend. Now the whole group knew that I had run a distance many wouldn't even drive, and that I won. Plenty of opportunity for me to rehash the details, and continually answer the question, "what the hell do you eat?" The answer of course is whatever I can. So, I'm still in the week after the race, trying to feed myself good food, or at least enough food. The appetite is all over the map, and the emotions are kind of up and down, but mostly up. If I get down, I just think to myself, "I won."