North Fork 50M

“Hey, I’m going to do a race in colorado with Don in June, you want to go?”
“Um..” looking at the website, I see the price is going up tomorrow. I think about how Julie signs up for races on a whim, and reply, “Sure. I’m in.”

Fast forward a month or so. After a few hours in Colorado, I’m instantly smitten. It seems like there are trails and people on bikes everywhere. In terms of buildings and businesses, much of it seems new and well planned. The landscaping is not an after thought. The weather is picture perfect, although it would get an “uncomfortable” 82 degrees. It’s pretty damn amazing.

When they relocated to Ken Caryl from San Antonio, Don chose wisely as there is a trailhead about a mile from his place. Julie and I hiked and ran a bit Thursday. On Friday, Don joined us and gave a guided tour of his “backyard.” It was completely different than anything back home in San Antonio. It’s how I imagine trail running is supposed to be.

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Julie looking down on the horse stables.

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The night before the race, I’m in a mild panic mode getting ready. I haven’t made any drop bags and not sure if I should bother or not. I debate bringing a rain jacket and a headlamp, but pack them “just in case.” (I’ll need neither.) If I don’t have drop bags, I can carry only a few of the food items I brought.

Perhaps giving me the greatest concern is that I’m bring a GoPro attached to a handheld gimbal, which I used while running only once, the day before. During a race is probably not the best time to practice using a new piece of nonessential equipment, but the overwhelming desire to record the scenery trumped rational decision making. Whats worse, I bring my phone too. While I aspire to a minimalist lifestyle in general, when I run, I pack like a boy scout.

A knee issue and then an Achilles issue had me running fewer miles leading up to the race. I knew I’d be able to complete the race, but was unsure of how difficult it would be. Lack of training, lots of climbing, and a bit of altitude seemed like a challenging combination.

 

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Don and me before the race. 

Fast forward to 6:55 am. It’s another perfect morning. The RD is giving the race briefing over a megaphone but I can’t hear her over the chatter of the racers. NBD, I figure, just follow the markers. The course is pretty easy to follow. The trail is well worn and well marked at intersections. The course was nice, but I was hoping for a little more scenery.

 

The trail followed a creek for a while and there were several creek crossings. It wasn’t absolutely necessary for me to stop and put my feet in the water, but at the same time it was absolutely necessary. Only a handful of times have I ever had the privilege of soaking my feet in ice cold mountain water. How could I pass that up?

I suggested to Julie that we stop and soak our feet. My method was to remove my shoes, my socks and my liner toe socks. She, however, jumped in shoes and all. I prayed her feet would dry fast enough to avoid blisters. (Later, she told me her feet dried really quick, guess my prayers worked!)

The last 15 miles were a slog. Other than Julie, with whom I ran several miles, I didn’t really talk to anyone during the race. That isolation made things worse towards the end when I was bonking and mentally weak. My nutrition was absent, nothing sounded good, so I wasn’t eating enough.

The second from last aid station I was desperate, I asked if they had beer. I love beer, but usually save it for after the race. But I was in dire need of calories. The volunteer cracked open a Coors and filled a small cup. I started to say that I didn’t need the cup, but then realized I should just let him do his thing. The beer was very cold… and delicious! I ended up drinking maybe half the can of beer and felt a little better. I thanked the volunteer and headed out.

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The last two miles I started to run again, inspired by the desire to finish and be done. (And to consume more beer.) Two girls passed me early in the race, and then I passed them n the middle of the race, passed me again in the last mile. It was somewhat amusing to me as their bibs were attached to the back of their shirts, #69 and #71. I was #70. 

When I finished, Don and Julie, and Helena and Hudson were waiting. They looked like they had all been well rested and fed. I didn’t finish with a fast time, around 11:30, but I had fun. Mediocre races do have an inspiring effect on me in that it makes me want to train harder so that I don’t struggle so much.

While I ran with Julie, I filled her in on one of my ideas. I always come up with these crazy ideas while I’m running -because why not? And one day maybe one of my crazy ideas will work out and make me rich.

Anyway, my idea was to start selling WWJ*D bracelets. What Would Julie Do?
Julie would:
Study the course info.
Have mental strategies to cope with the terrain
Pack lightly.
Finish 4th female.

Basically, Julie would kick ass. So BE MORE LIKE JULIE is my new plan.

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Julie making duckface and me squinty

 

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