Two Years and One Accountabilibuddy Later: An Ode to Him

     "What's that hard thing at the end of the bed?" I curled myself into a ball and pulled the covers tight over my head as I became painfully aware of what Jeff was inquiring about. The toenail I feared would fall off on any given day now had decided to depart from my toe on one of the very first nights I had spent in Jeff's bed. Not knowing how he would take to this, two years later, and with many laughs remembering that first snuggling intro to my feet,  he now shares in the same blackened and battered toenails that have become the "norm" of our relationship.

Yocum Ridge intersection on the Timberline trail, Mt. Hood. 

   
       I've always been extremely aware that any lasting relationship I would find myself in would be one where my partner was tolerating of my nuissances, patient, passionate, shared my twisted humor, and desired to live life outdoors away from comfort zones. Little did I know that taking a hike onto a remote ridgeline on Mt. Hood I would find what I had almost given up looking for. I write this post with the utmost appreciation for my best friend who will be toeing the line of the Mt. Hood 50  this weekend. A race I had been training for only a few weeks after meeting him on that ridgeline two years ago. The race he told me I was "crazy" for doing. The race he just shook his head at in conversation.
   
       When Jeff and I established ourselves as partners in crime very early on in the relationship, it only made sense that I would test his ability's in enjoying time on the trail with me. One of our first runs was along the Salmon River trail, and since then I can't remember a time where we've stopped chasing each other up steep ascents, over jagged terrain, splashing through stream crossings, or comparing who fell harder on that section of trail. All so that afterwards we could drive ourselves to the land of Coke and Orange Fanta, complimented by chips, ice cream, and a whole lot of Netflix. Every weekend we've picked our destination and escaped the city to run with friends all over the PNW,  or fly fish the rivers Jeff has fallen passionately in love with since moving west.  We've spent countless hours in his Toyota pickup we've named Amiga, one of two (rest in peace Monty), sleeping on the side of roads en route to adventure, and listening to Jack bark with reckless abandonment as we weave through meandering dirt roads with the smell of firs and pines on either side of us.

       
        Once Jeff started running there was nothing I could do to tame his excitement for covering ground on foot this way, and I'm not about to try. I have been so unbelievably lucky to share a life with this man who has enhanced my love for the run in ways I've been unable to imagine until now.  Having a training partner on and off the trails is something I will never take for granted. It's something I think about every single day, and honor beyond any scale of value.  If you've never heard the term before, I'd like to introduce you to what we call "accountabilibuddies." These are the buddies that hold you accountable for what you've set out to do, and don't take slack when you're behaving like a CBPP (cry baby pissy pants). Your accountabilibuddy wants the best for you and pushes you to new heights by believing in you when you're having a rough go at it.  For Jeff and I, we do this pretty well. Right down to yelling at the other to sit deeper into the ice bath because, "YOU'RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!" "If I go any deeper you can say so long to kids!" One also cannot forget the intimate nights spent squirming and grunting as we roll each others tender spots out with the "stick," while our roommate is trying to sleep above us while wondering what the hell is going on down there?
 

       The support required to be able to live a life of chasing your passions, spending hours, days, and weeks doing so is a beautiful thing. You'll find yourself challenged as you seek the balance between it all, and you'll find yourself needing to challenge yourself as well as your partner to support them on deeper levels. You make sacrifices to make it all happen, and try to do so as selflessly as possible even though the sacrifices may require a bit of selfishness.  To find myself living a life with Jeff where our passions align, and we exist in a very cyclical manner of pushing each other through positive energy and actions of encouragement day in and day out, I am ever so grateful. To have witnessed and supported him over these last years grow in the sport of ultra, and explore his strengths in many aspects of life, I can't help but smile.
   
        To me, Jeff has been invincible since he started running these longer distances. For the most part he has existed harmoniously with minimal injury and increasing speeds. Only until just recently on a training run where something in his foot began to disagree with him. These last weeks I have watched him struggle with a foot issue that has for the most part,  gone undiagnosed. I can see the worried look in his eyes as he rolls his calves out, when we takes a step and it doesn't feel right, or when he focuses any extra time in doing his strengthening exercises. I can feel his strength in determination to heal himself so he can be out there doing what he thought was "crazy" only two years ago.  Everything he does to mend himself is a reminder to me of how fortunate I am to share in such a unique sport with my best friend. It's no longer a solo act where people question my sanity. It's now a dynamic duo act where we understand what the other is going through at any given time, and can relate and be there to poke fun when unnecessary, not take each other too seriously,  or no longer cringe when that toenail falls off.
   
      In a recent trip helping our buddy Gary Robbins  set the FKT around Mt. Rainier on the Wonderland trail, there was a moment that stuck out to me above everything else. It was when Ethan Newberry who was documenting the adventure asked Gary if he had anything to say to his wife Linda who was back home. Gary expressed his sincere gratitude and love in being so fortunate to have found a life partner who supports and brings out his best qualities to enhance every part of his life, pushing him to be the best version of himself that he's capable of. By challenging him and believing that he is capable of feats like this when he is not equally as certain. I couldn't help but to look over at Jeff knowing Gary's words echoed everything I've ever experienced since meeting Jeff up on that ridge.
   
      I have no idea what to expect when Jeff steps up to the start line this Saturday, but what I do know is I get to watch him fight for what he wants to accomplish because he's stubborn, and he's strong. I get to support the person who brings out my best qualities and enhances every aspect of my life from sun up to sun down. To me, there's no greater comparison to the joy it all brings. So enjoy your journey love, whatever that may be!

Suns out buns out! Tahoe Rim Trail.

Bryce Canyon- 100 Miles of Surrender

Why? Why was I finding myself willingly and just barely able to place one foot painfully in front of the other in the middle of Utah’s high desert mountains, while the rest of the world went on with business as usual? Screw you mother nature! I thought you were supposed to be my awe inspiring friend that opened my mind and heart to deep love and experiencing life at its fullest? My teacher that challenged me to grow. I wanted you to be gentle! Around mile 62, I realized gentle was out of the question, and the learning had only just begun.

About five years ago I was just beginning to “dabble” in the sport of trail running. I hated hills, and rolling my ankles only made my disdain for technical terrain even worse. For whatever reason, I kept finding myself on them. Maybe because it was a new challenge that I was too stubborn to be defeated by. Maybe it was helping me come to the realization that an old relationship needed to come to an end. Whatever “it” was kept me coming back and I soon discovered the trail running community. After developing new friendships over intriguing bowel movement discussions while talking about life’s most trivial challenges, I knew I had found where I belonged. Years later and with many, many trail miles under my belt, ultra distances I had raced, and 100 mile races I had been part of a crew or pacer for, I finally believed I was ready to toe my own 100 mile line. I had chosen the Bryce 100 in the unique desert mountains of Utah. I set my goals and I prepared for this journey with everything I had. I envisioned myself standing confident and stronger than ever at the line right before our race director Matt yelled, “GO!” Instead, the creeping realization made itself quite apparent as I looked around at all of the other runners. Jenn, you idiot.

Days earlier myself, and my badass crew, Jeff (my sig fig) and Moe, had flown into Vegas ready to get the 100 mile party started. Because I was adamant about this trip being EXTREMELY cost effective, we had spent about an hour and a half in a line believing Moe was getting deported, and Jeff was going to jail for punching the foreigner that gave him the wrong look, waiting to pick up our rental car from what appeared to be the DMV from hell. I had booked an economy car, the Toyota Yaris, and quickly realized with one look from Jeff, that I had made a terrible mistake. “We’re going to pop those tires driving on those roads! There’s no way we can fit our luggage and our bodies into that thing! What were you thinking?!” These were a few of the choice words my faithful crew was relaying to me, and before I knew it Jeff had paid for an upgrade to a full size vehicle. In the end, I am beyond grateful he did this, and still stood by my belief the Yaris would have been just finnneee.

What happens in Vegas

We headed out without getting deported or going to jail, and were on our way to the one and only, Circus Circus hotel. Flashy lights, fancy cars, and people of all shapes, sizes, and languages, made for the most entertaining drive in. I checked us in for our stay thinking we would be staying in the main extravagant tower with an incredible view of the strip. Instead we were ushered to the much less glamorous, and somewhat sketchy, building around the block. Ballin on a budget, and this is what you’ll get. We were greeted with a condom lying on the hallway floor that seemed to have lost its owner. Jeff and Moe couldn’t contain themselves and began harassing me again for my choice to do this trip on the cheap. Needless to say we slept great! The next morning we shared more laughs and quivered at the fact the condom hadn’t been magically cleaned, or picked up over night. A quick stop at IHOP, a fake photo of Jeff and I posing in front of a Vegas wedding chapel, and we were headed for Bryce!

We would arrive at our camp four hours later to meet up with my parents who had made the trek up in their vintage 80’s motorhome to cater to our diva needs for the weekend. Just as we pulled in Jeff immediately points out the Polygamous group meandering the grounds. The entertainment and curiosity that this one entailed, was relentless. Mom and dad got us settled in and we headed out for a jaunt to see what we were getting ourselves into at 8,000 feet. Huffing and puffing, I quickly became terrified that I would be running 100 miles here, and about 1,000 feet higher than our current elevation. Focus Jenn, you got this. Your lungs are simply acclimating and adjusting for awesomeness. The mental demons started to sneak in, and I hadn’t even broken a sweat! The next day we rested and headed out for the evenings pre race meeting. Jeff and Moe listened with persistent attention, and as I stood listening to Matt ramble on about this amazing event, my mind was in a fog. Think hamster on a wheel spinning so fast that dust is spewing to cloud the view of everything around it, and this was my brain. I looked around at the audience captivated by Matt’s presentation, and realized I needed to be alone.

Moe with parting words of advice for me

What’s sleep? After packing up every last detail for crew and myself, I realized it didn’t matter how early or late I was in bed. Sleep wasn’t in the cards. I lay there looking up at the blank wooden ceiling that my dad had stripped the old flower wall paper from, thinking to myself, well... you’re here now. I closed my eyes only to open them almost immediately up to the sound of my alarm. I hit snooze thinking I could steal eight minutes of sleep. I took a few deep breaths, flipped on the coffee pot, and stepped outside to feel the morning air. It was so quiet, so still, and it welcomed me. Alright kiddo, buckle up. We poured out of the RV and into the car. Jeff handed me his ipod and encouraged me to listen to anything that would relax me and put me in the zone. “Life is Hard,” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros drowned out the buzz happening all around me, and allowed me to make peace with my intentions as we headed to the start. WAIT! I forgot my bib number! Flip the car back to base camp, grab the bib I had ever so neatly folded into my jeans pocket from the night before, and we were right back to the line. This is it, don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Quit freaking out. You’re freaking out! Smile for the pictures, tell Jeff I love him, receive Moe’s parting advice, hug my parents, join the rest of my kind at the line. Again, Matt addressed the crowd with his excitement and brief intro while my brain silenced him out. The only sound I heard was the lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, beating hard against my chest. I took in one last, honest glimpse of the scenery around me knowing I would see it again within the next 36 hours. “GET OUTTA HERE!” Just like that, we were free. A complete sense of calm rushed over me as I could hear my crew hollering yips and yaps as they watched me race away down the road. Now the magic begins. I warn you, if you don’t want to listen to a 25 year old youngin’ talk to you experienced folk about life lessons and values, you should probably step away now. For it is here where I will get on my soap box to tell you I have it all figured out.  Kidding! Or am I? =)

Here we go! Starting up Coyote Hollow trail.

My plan was simple. Run an extremely conservative first half of the race, gain valuable insight into the course since it was an out and back, and DESTROY the back half. A fool proof plan I say! How hard could that be? That’s the 25 year old, “this is my first time!” thought process. I wore Jeff’s Suunto Ambit 3 watch to keep track of my pace, and to keep myself running smart. It actually made a huge difference in my ability to contain my fresh off taper legs that wanted to go.

From zero to 1st aid-10.5 miles: The first two miles is a meandering dirt road until you hit trail. I watched the fast guys take off with reckless abandonment as the rest of us sat back and settled into our melodic movement. Approaching the Coyote Hollow trailhead, I was relieved to be off the road and excited to check out this insanely beautiful course I had only seen photos of. The hoodoos are a geological phenomenon that I couldn’t comprehend even being right in front, alongside, and behind them. These first miles melted by, and about a half a mile from the aid station a group of women had caught up to me, we exchanged names, and began notorious giggling as we rolled in to grab a snack. Oh look! I have cell service. Better alert the crew that I’m through the first aid station feelin’ great! This would be the last time I even considered pulling out my phone.

10.5 to Proctor aid station-mile 19: Ok, what’s going on with my two big toenails. They’re achy and not making good friends with the front of my toe box. Whatever, they’ll figure themselves out. Eight more miles to my crew. Seven more. Six more. This weather is amazing! Why is everybody and their mother hiking the slightest of inclines? Crap, do they know something I don’t know? Four miles to crew. The suunto was reading that my pace was staying between 10:30-12:00 min/miles and I couldn’t be happier at how easy it felt to maintain this. I was now running with my new friend Amy who rocked rainbow knee high compression socks. I was beyond thrilled to have her in front of me providing such a colorful distraction. We talked about our plan for the rest of the race, her recent adventures, and then we separated as I pulled ahead on the final climbs to Proctor. I could hear my wild banshees yipping at me with even more excitement than at the start. Moe was all business as he checked in with me and filled my pack. I was so excited to hug Jeff and have my friend Ian show up unexpectedly to be an amazing, positive addition to the crew. My mom snapped as many photos as she could without me wanting to chuck the phone into oblivion, I gave Moe a solid thumbs up, a slap on the toosh from Jeff, and off I went. Realizing I wouldn’t see them again until around mile 42 made my heart a little heavier this time around. It became even heavier with the death climb into the next aid.

Proctor to Blubber Creek- mile 28: Plateau, plateau, plateau to the plateau I go! It was rugged, it was steep, it was technical, it was awesome! I was now at the “office,” and working hard to maintain steady breathing and power myself up this relentless madness. I was alone for the entire nine mile climb into this aid station, that is until a small group of enthusiastic racers passed me in the final push. The respect I was developing for this course began to take root as I pressed my palms deep into my quads for an extra push up the ascent. Finally, I was atop this plateau and thrilled to see the white point of the aid station tent come into view. This aid stop was much quieter, mostly due to its remote location, but the spirits of the runners coming in around me were high. A few orange slices, some ginger ale, and a nutella tortilla down the hatch and it was time to tie some more single track together.

Blubber Creek to Kanab- mile 37: These miles tested my patience. I was beginning to fatigue without any great reason. In hindsight, running between 8-9,000 feet was probably reason enough. More people began to catch me and there wasn’t much I could do about it. They were laughing, and making ridiculous statements about who knows what. Why was I frustrated? The weather was still holding out beautifully, and I was getting that much closer to seeing my crew again. My thoughts became quiet, and I continued to press on in hopes this mood would pass. Immediately upon descending, my spirits lifted immensely! Apparently, Jenn gets altitude grumpy, and yes, that’s a thing!

Leaving Straight Canyon Aid- Mile 42

Kanab to Crawford pass- Halfway there! Mile 52: From Kanab to my crew at the straight canyon aid station was only five miles. Phew! I could knock this out no problem. It was a gentle down the entire length, all I had to do was surrender to gravity. “SUPERFREAK! AHHHH! HERE SHE COMES!!!” Thanks for the never ending enthusiasm Mom, but you’re kind of freaking me out. Mom ran behind me yelling with joy until I arrived at the rest of the crew. I could see quite clearly Moe was readying for the next time I’d see him where he would pick me up as my first pacer. “This is hard.” I made the statement very clearly to Jeff with a smile still on my face. “The climbs are no joke, Ian, your mountains are insanely ridiculous!” Ian lives in Utah and was thrilled I was getting to see her in her finest hour. I made a brief mention of my ankles starting to flare, but in the same breath acknowledged the problem would more than likely work itself out. Silly me. I was much more encouraged leaving my people this time knowing the next time meant I would officially not be running alone, and in fact, in the company of my favorites. Off I went.

Beautiful meadows, darkening skies, and an electric energy that filled my body for the next big climb into Pink Cliffs aid station. Then it happened. A flash, and the loudest crack followed by a BOOM, my eardrums had ever experienced. A rock concert had nothing on what mother nature had in store. The rains came, and soon enough turned to hail that pierced my cold skin with each strike. YEAH! OUCH. SHIT. Seriously?? Ok, we’re done. STOP! Is that all you got?! I was on an emotional rollercoaster at this point, and then the chill set in to my bones. GREAT! I knew my base layers and warm gear was sitting neatly folded in my bag with my crew. Don’t slow down, you’ll get colder. Flash, crack, BOOM. This was madness, and I’m no specialist, but I’m pretty sure they tell you NOT to be headed for the highest, most exposed point on a mountain during lightning storms? I burst into laughter at this realization and it was this humor that carried me up into the aid station. It was a battlefield here. People huddled around space heaters, blue lips, cups of broth to warm up the hands, violent trembling all around, blank stares, and everything else that encompassed an individual looking entirely defeated. I knew I needed to get warm, but I couldn’t let the scene I was witnessing get to me so I needed to get warm, get food, and get out. The skies parted and I was off. My ankles were really talking to me now and the downhill wasn’t going to be my friend for the next few miles. On my way down I saw my friend Zac who was already on his way home from the turnaround point, and we exchanged a quick hug where he expressed he was having one hell of a day. Seeing your friends on any course is a comforting familiarity that I tend to fully embrace with the support it provides. I was almost there. I convinced myself I was so close I could even smell my moms overwhelming scent of perfume. The downhill had become a flowing river of slick red clay, and it was with my greatest effort not to slip and fall into this slop. I heard yelling.

Rolling into Crawford, Moe was dressed in his standard neon green running vest with hydration pack, and bottle belt around his waist. He was ready to churn some serious dirt. Whenever I was coming into the aid stations their smiles were infectious. Mom rubbed my back as I grabbed quesadillas, chips, and downed ginger ale. I was impressed that my stomach had held strong for so long as I’m normally one to experience unpleasant issues in this department. Jeff and Ian began to attach a dream catcher to my pack, and would add another for every aid station I saw them at until the finish. “These will let the bad thoughts through and hold onto the good.” I was on track for a sub 24 hour finish at this point, but as we set out to begin the trek home, I knew time was slowly escaping me and I was going to have to be ok with it.

Crawford to Straight Canyon- Mile 62: The storm had cleared out, and Moe got a mouthful of what the experience was like for me. I tried to keep my ankle pain a secret, and eventually had to give up the intel. Moe was encouraging and was persistent in keeping me moving forward, physically and mentally. I was power hiking, huffing, and insisting on walk breaks as we made our way back up to Pink Cliffs aid. I worried that the river the course had turned into would be awful coming down the back technical section of this portion. To my amazement, the dryness properties of the high desert remedied this issue quite well and just as we were through the aid station, we were down the backside with no wreckage. I should mention this part of the race being the most emotionally captivating, and breathtaking with the formation of the pink cliffs, I’d ever experienced in my life. It brought me to tears as Moe snapped a photo just before it was out of view. Onward and forward, Jeff was up next.

Straight Canyon to Proctor- Mile 84: Jeff didn’t know it, and neither did I, but we both had our work cut out for us at this point. His excitement when he picked me up made the pain of my ankles vanish if only for a moment. I downloaded the miles with Moe to him, how my ankles were wrong, and how I was operating mentally. He took the wheel from here, and I knew his support going into the night was exactly the kind I was going to be in need of. He made jokes and told me how the day had been panning out with my parents, the other runners, and how much he was enjoying himself. His words were soft pillows providing cushion for the pain I was trying to mentally override with each footstep. His energy oozed from his pores and into mine, and my spirits were lifted. Yes we were moving slow, but neither of us cared, we knew there was something bigger happening than a fast finishing time.

Darkness fell and my thoughts were void. All I had were physical sensations of pain giving me feedback. Jeff would look back to check on me, and the first time he saw the suffering in my face, he dropped his pants for a full moon. I just about died. Finally a thought crept into my mind. I’m the luckiest woman alive to be out here with this man. Again, tears poured down my cold face. I was quickly being stripped down to nothing but the ability to move one foot in front of the other. No thinking, no eating, no nothing. Just moving forward, and that was the only job I was capable of doing. Jeff literally had to force feed me when I began to sleep walk. “You have to eat!” “NO!” He would then tear open a gu, or uncap Expedition Espresso Trail Butter, and force it down. I hated, and loved him for this. “We’ll get to the next aid station and you can sit down and have some coffee. You have to eat more. Just know that rest is coming.” I set small goals from tree to tree to move myself along. Jeff let me call the shots for when we ran, and gave me an, “atta girl!” when I moved faster than usual. Blubber Creek aid station provided warmth and brief refuge from the drizzle that kept us damp for the night. I saw familiar faces, said my hellos with brief acknowledgement for our current status, and kept quiet. “I’m going to puke.” I walked outside to take care of this and realized it wasn’t puke that was about to happen. As I sat on a log in plain sight to anyone passing by, I thought to myself, “I don’t even give a shit.” Pardon the language. All I hoped for was that Jeff wouldn’t emerge from the tent during this low point I was finding myself in.

Finishing up, we left Blubber Creek and were Proctor bound. We had to move efficiently to warm ourselves up into the chilled night air. The mountains are unforgiving when you’re unprepared, and our lack of warm attire made us just that. There were 9.5 technical downhill miles ahead of us. My ankles were sending out so many pain signals to my brain, that I knew it wouldn’t get much worse. We hiked down, one excruciating step at a time. I knew that I didn’t have to think, I just had to execute my mission. I was finishing this beautiful asshole if it was the last thing I did. Again, apologies for my vulgarity. Down, and down we went, until it was up, and up, and up. “This is a joke,” I would say out loud to myself. Jeff even began cursing the course for its level of difficulty at this point. I was happy at his recognition, for it made me feel like I was truly accomplishing something great. “This meadow means we’re almost there!” I could have sworn it. Nope. “This meadow is definitely it though,” I would say as we passed another one. I was wrong every time. Dawn began to break, and Jeff looked back at me to exclaim, “Look Love, you made it!” I saw the white tipped point of the tent and immediately panicked as I realized this meant I would be saying goodbye to my best friend who had just endured with me so much of what I didn’t even understand yet. “I don’t want you to leave me,” was all I could mutter. We were both crying, emotional wrecks.

Proctor Aid to Finish- Mile 102: I sat. I ate pancakes. I peeled injini socks off of each toe where every toenail was a bloody mess of cohesion to the fabric. I was completely numb, but I could smell home. Auto pilot had been activated. I looked at Jeff who was watching my attempts to rid myself of these socks, with tears streaming down his face. I couldn’t handle this, but in the same breath, seeing him emotionally vulnerable like this didn’t happen very often, if ever. I welcomed his tears as something extremely positive that gave me a profound reason to cross the finish line. He sobbed into my shoulder as we said our goodbyes. Just like that, Moe and I were homeward bound. He positioned himself right behind me, and we stayed quiet with the climb out of the aid station. “You doing ok?” The silence caught me off guard as he wasn’t his chatterbox self. “I’m good Superfreak, just let me know what you need. You’re doing great.” I knew he hadn’t slept a blink for the time I was out on course. He was as invested in this race, and emotionally spent as I was. I choked back tears as I realized this. After spending many miles with Moe during our training runs together, and pacing him for his 100’s, there was no one more appropriate to cross my first 100 finish line with. I let him know we’d mostly be walking, but there would be periods when I could bust out my trail “shuffle.” To do this, simply swing your arms as hard as you can, and hope your legs follow suit. There was a period after taking some advil where the pain was masked enough to let me “shuffle” for about three minutes that felt more like thirty. We caught someone. No thinking, just moving. Keep watching Moe’s feet. When did his calves get so muscular? I’d be lost without that red bandana. I couldn’t believe he was toughing this out with me. Tears. Dammit Jenn, when did you become such a cry baby? From the cellular perspective of my body, I could tell my biochemistry was totally off balance with my ever changing wave of emotions. As we came into the final aid station with 7 miles to go, I forced some french toast down, and asked Moe to send a text out to the crew letting them know we were coming home.

The last section of the course is the most visually stimulating with Hoodoo formations, ridgelines that provided 360 degree views of the beauty you were surrounded in, and larger than life boulders that framed the scenery. Shuffle, walk, huff, moan in pain, shuffle some more. I kept Moe in view just ahead of me instead of looking down at my pathetic feet as they attempted something like flexion. This is is Jenn. You’re doing it. We passed a familiar set of boulders that I thought had meant we were about four miles out. Of course these were the wrong set of boulders that I had in mind, and realized this thirty minutes later where the real boulders we were now passing about four miles from the finish, were. The last two miles tested every ounce of my strength and dignity. We were seeing the exact same geological formations that made us believe we were at the finish, around every single turn. “This one is it!” We both had a sense of false hope, and I began to enter into the mental breakdown. The physical state that my body was in with the ankles was horrifying. Reality was setting in that there may not even be a finish line, and we’d just be doomed to walk these desert mountains for the rest of eternity. Darkness surrounded me as I was bathed in sunshine. Moe grabbed my hand and began dragging me up the last climbs. My head hung, and the fact he was here with me while I was like this made my heart cry. “We’re never going to get there.” “Shutup freak, we will!” A mountain biker told us we were close, and twenty minutes later when we still hadn’t arrived, I was contemplating putting up WANTED signs with a bounty on his head. Then it happened. Racers who had finished were hanging out on the course hollering we had no more than 200 yards to go. Straight up were those remaining yards where Moe pulled me up with my heart in his hand. “You’ll cross this finish line on your own.” “NO! You have to cross with me. I wouldn’t be crossing without you.” “You’re on your own Superfreak, and it has to be that way. You did this.” That stubborn ass! Why was he abandoning me when I couldn’t bare the thought of him letting go of my hand? Then the finish line came into sight, and with every last fighting breath I began my shuffle to my first 100 mile finish. Moe let me go and ran to Jeff who was waiting alongside as I ran by. They yelled, they cheered, and just like that, I was done. That was it. What the hell just happened? Before I had a moment to think I was scooped up in the embrace of Moe, Jeff, and Ian. 29 hours and 53 minutes later, now it was my turn to sob into Jeff’s shoulders.

Mom and Dad may have accidentally slept through seeing me at the finish line, but I couldn’t have held it against them too long. This was their first time experiencing an ultra event to this extent. It was okay. I welcomed their hugs when they arrived as I sat speechless on a log. The road to recovery was underway.

Their support meant the world. 

Finishing: Before this race, I was under the impression I had completed life events that challenged my spirit and gave me the most valuable lessons one would ever need to succeed the game of life. Only life is not a game. It’s this complex network of connection to something greater. The connection with ourselves to this earth we walk every damn day we wake up and take a breath. The connection to our families, our friends, our mind, body, and spirit. This race chewed me up and tried with all of its might, to spit me out. It presented me with physical pains I didn’t know possible, and showed me the pain was my friend. The pain forced me to be completely present in the midst of chaos. My mind gave me the unknown ability to transcend the pain and find complete happiness in the sounds of my breath. I wouldn’t call this event a race for me. I would call it surviving. By surviving, I realized that food, water, pain, relentless passion for doing what makes you happy, and the support of community, was how I achieved my connection to life at its purest. Everything is so much more beautiful when one is removed from their natural state of comfort. When one is forced to survive. Being at my lowest points during the Bryce 100, I was alive. I am alive!

To Jeff, Moe, Mom, Dad, Ian, and those of you who supported and followed along, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, your support carried me through and gave me reason. I may have crossed the finish line physically alone, but I carried with me each and every one of you who has supported, harassed, and shared laughs with me through the years leading up to this, with me. Now get yourself to a trail and bust some ankles! Until next time.

-Jenn

Bryce 100, we did it! Now can I please sit down?

Finding Strength on One Foot

     About 12 weeks ago I found myself barely able to walk during my third leg of the infamous Hood to Coast relay. Our team van drove by and saw struggling to hold myself up to complete the final miles, mustering up all the available courage and strength I could. No amounts of courage and strength would be able to save me from the fracture and ligament damage that had just destroyed the very foot that has carried me through life's miles. Amanda jumped out of the van to rush to my aid and carry me off course while Chris readied himself to finish the distance I could not. As the team cheered him on while he barreled off down the road, I buried my head in hands to hide the tears caused by the excruciating pains searing within my bones. This was the beginning of the longest road of recovery I have ever had to deal with in my running career. The emotions sweeping over me consumed everything I was, and once the tears started, they didn't seem to stop.
     The next day I found myself being shuttled to and from x-ray, to examination rooms in the shiniest wheelchair my lack of health insurance could afford. "Well looks like a pretty standard Jones Fracture," the doc casually says as he delivers the news. I choked back more tears, and frustrations as I accepted the small boot that was being strapped to my foot, as gracefully as Cinderella would have as her prince charming fit the matching slipper to her foot,. A couple metallic sticks were ushered my direction as I was being lifted from the chair, and placed in their new home under my armpits. It was like test driving a new used car as I learned how to propel my body forward out of the hospital doors with my new support beams. Watching people walk by me with such ease on their feet as I walked down the blocks, humbled me. I never understood how sinfully I had taken even the splendors of walking for granted.
     For the next few weeks I did nothing. I couldn't walk. I couldn't run. I couldn't bike. I couldn't even work. I literally sat, and then sat some more. I groveled in self pity, and began to become bitter at the pain the crutches were causing the rest of my functioning body. Friends offered help in every way, and I respectfully refused. Anger consumed me as I began to feel helpless. Getting anywhere had become a challenge. Not bumping the foot into ANY obstacle, or even attempting to put pants on, was nearly impossible. I had tripped a few times on my good foot and collapsed instantly as my bad foot crumbled under the pressure of the landing weight. Sometimes I would just lay after a fall, and look up at the ceiling trying to find some kind of reason to get back up. Everything in me wanted to give up and call it quits. It was just easier that way. If I don't get up, I don't have to face the fact of the matter.
   

Ben Howard concert. His music got me through.

     Suddenly, I was being punched square in the jaw with reality. WAKE UP JENN! You think you've got it bad? Look around you! And I did. My foot may have been busted, but I still had it. My mind was battered and bruised, but I was still able to fully use it to be aware and cognitive about my own realities. Everything really was okay. Why had I admitted defeat so easily? Why didn't I look into the eye of this hurricane and face it with ferocity and determination to persevere? Oh, I know! Because that was harder than healing from the injury itself. It would mean that I wouldn't just have to strengthen my body, but I would need to focus inward and strengthen the heart and mind. This was a whole other ball game that I wasn't prepared for other than to strike out in. You see, the body will heal itself when you just get out of its way and let it do so, but the mind? The mind requires a strength training that no amount of time in the weight room would yield. So it began.

First bike ride in 8 weeks!

     I forced myself to disregard any thoughts about running. I picked up my guitar again. I opened a journal, I made food, I went to movies, I spent time with friends who lacked my attention because I devoted it to the run, I discovered a passion for art and photography, I found Zumba! I felt a sense of restorative balance occurring. It was only during this time that I was able to see the areas in my life that I was missing out on and needed to spend time nourishing because they are who I am. Sure enough, as time persisted, I found myself able to get on a bike. The happiness that washed over me as I pedaled the trails in Forest Park was overwhelming. My quads burned with each climb, my lungs stung with each inhale, and my mind was clearer than ever. Being able to be outside and feel the very pounding of my own heart against my chest brought me back to life. The rides carried me through when I began to slip into subtle darkness. It wasn't long after this that I was able to dance freely in a Zumba class without babying the foot. The morning I was able to get out of bed and stand on my foot with absolutely zero pain, was one of the best mornings of my life. I stood there in pj's and striped fuzzy socks balling my eyes out, because for the first time in months, I was supported on both legs, and I wasn't collapsing under the weight that had previously forced me to find the reasons to get back up.

New shoes with some cushion to protect fragile bones. 

     Over the past weeks I have been practicing yoga, spending hours rebuilding the lost muscle mass the months had taken. The cross training I once cursed under my breath is now something I embrace with everything I am. About a week ago I ran. I danced on the trails, I jumped over rocks, and avoided the soggy puddles the rain had given birth to, I hooted and hollered. It was as if I was falling in love for the first time all over again. For days following I was back in the gym elevating my heart rate on an elliptical, building strength with my body weight, and yes, cursing the dudes who spent their time flexing their guns at each other as opposed to actually putting them to good use. Coming back to knowing running has been a slow, loving process. I feel as though I have been reincarnated as an enlightened runner returning to the life. There are days when I want to burst out the door and get lost on the trails for hours on end, but it's not time for that yet. The journey inward has still only just begun, and my physical body must return to full strength before I can allow it to carry me over mountains and across rivers. My initial disdain for the patience I had to implement into practice, and the seemingly never ending tunnel of darkness, has blossomed into a renewed sense of accomplishment and motivation. I am finally learning myself in ways I would have never been able to had I not been hauled off of that course with a busted foot all those months ago. Running will always be an aspect of my life that defines me and allows people to see where I derive my passions for life from, but now I can also appreciate my love for life that isn't running. The simple melodies of the

Discovered water color ROCKS!

strumming on a guitar, the words that flow from my imagination to create stories inspired by others, and the Zumba that has allowed me to throw all care to the wind and express myself in my most primal form. We all go through trails and tribulations in life, and we are who we are and who we become because of them. Embrace these challenges, the obstacles that seem impassable, for they are what define us. It is here, we are able to look within ourselves and to use this knowledge to strengthen our weaknesses, to impact the lives of others, to have the ultimate experience in the ride that is life. For it is when we find ourselves struggling to hold onto our last breaths of hope that we realize, WE ARE ALIVE!

Because I can!

NUUN: A Hydration Sensation!

     There are days when I know I have a big run or workout in the cards and I don't prepare for them as best as I should. Whether it's not managing my fluid intake properly, not eating enough, or eating right before and suffering the consequences. Once I finish the workout, life goes on at a rapid speed. Work, school, study, eat, sleep, repeat. It's really easy to let key nutrition habits slip when you're trying to keep up with everything else that isn't running and training. You know, life and all. I've found my biggest slip up happens with making sure I stay properly hydrated. Hydration as we athletes know, is vital for our performance, stamina and overall well being. The human body needs water to survive and when you remember that the body is actually made up of 70% water, it really puts things into perspective. Now lets think about athletes as super humans, because that's obviously what we are! When we hit the streets, whether jumping on a bike or lacing up our magic carpets, jump in a pool, or head to that weekly yoga class to quiet our souls, we immediately begin losing fluids and essential salt through our sweat. In order to maintain our endurance levels to be the badasses we are we need to be constantly replenishing our supply of supply of electrolytes so that the body is able to better absorb good ol' H20 into our bloodstream. Simply put, electrolytes are salts, sodium, chloride, potassium, calcium, etc. They are what your body's cells use to help maintain voltages across membranes so that electrical impulses like nerve and muscle contractions, between brain can be better conducted. I will refrain from turning this into a science lesson. 

                                                     

BAM! Enter, NUUN. Nuun is an amazing electrolyte tab that you simply drop into the water you'll drink for the day and reap the benefits of a HYDRATION SENSATION! It comes in many different flavors for all of you who like variety out there. I've been using tri-berry and strawberry lemonade. They are packaged in a small, fashionably correct tube that makes it easy for slipping into a bag of any size, and the tablets are small enough to throw into a small plastic baggy to slip into your waistband or short pockets for when you're out on that extra long adventure. My body can actually feel the difference when adding this to my endurance regimen and thanks me from the inside for giving it a little extra NUUN love. Another added benefit of this little gem is the fact that there is ZERO sugar! Talk about athletically correct! It's great for everyone, even on those days where you're just looking to make your water come alive with a burst of tasty flavor. So go ahead, take your pick of flavor and give your body some extra love with some extra electrolytes and know that NUUN has got your back in whatever crazy conquests you have planned!

                                            

Kelly Barmann

     For those of us that run, we run because nothing else gives us that feeling. You know the feeling I mean. The strength we feel course through our bones after we've pounded the ground for countless hours during the week. The high at the end of a run that makes us feel like we've accomplished so much and the feeling of how much more we can do. Then the feelings of anger and frustration. That muscle cramp that won't go away, that new pain just when you thought everything was going according to plan. How badly it hurts us when we can't just go out for that run we think about so often during our day, and how we thirst for a time where injury will be no more. A bad race. A great workout. Even better food. There just isn't anything else like it. What makes it better though? A friend that suffers right next to you as you hit your pace for the mile interval and pushes you even harder through the next. Someone that will keep an eye out while you take the necessary squat behind a bush on the best of runs. The one who will ground you and remind you that no matter how much running is who you are, it isn't everything you are. I met Kelly my second year at the junior college I was attending in California. It was just an ordinary day at practice and I noticed a girl that wore really odd shoes (Vibrams) and ate strange foods after her runs. She ran with everybody, the guys, the girls, and sometimes just off on her own. Our very first conversation of introductions with each other I knew I'd fallen in love with this chick. She was so simple and humble, genuine and beautiful. She taught me about minimalistic running and how to sweeten everything with coconut. She was the star of the team, heck, she was almost the star of the guys team too! There was something different about her though. As fast as she could run, as strong as she was and is, she despised racing. Not because she was slow or bad, in fact she usually won every race she ran for the school, but just because it wasn't the reason she ran. She used collegiate running to get her into schools and further her academic career, but eventually quit her teams all together because the atmosphere they provided was not the life she wanted running to be. As Forrest Gump would say "Kelly was my best good friend." Even though she was far exceeding my running abilities she still would make me feel that I was superior and strong and I could do anything I put my mind to. I've never met another one like her. Our friendship, even though we live miles apart now, has blossomed over the years, and I look at her now as more of a sister and someone I care so deeply for that it goes beyond the simple word of friend. She came to visit this thanksgiving and I was in heaven! I run alone more so than not, I don't belong to a team or club, so it's just me. This can make me a little crazy at times. I often question what I'm working towards, to much time to think in my own head! When Kelly got here I was in ecstasy. I could actually verbalize my thoughts on my runs with her, I could laugh and be silent, she would always talk back and have something to say. It was so refreshing. We caught up on life on the miles we put on the trails getting lost in time together. We both decided it would be fun to do a turkey trot on thanksgiving morning. We signed up for a 10k and got ready to have some fun in a "non competitive" event for ourselves. The problem with that. We saw that the awards for the top 3 female finishers were pies.
1st place got 3, 2nd place got 2 pies, and 3rd place got 1. That was enough for us to decide to give the race a bit of an effort. There's always that one serious racer in a local racing event, and we definitely spotted the girl vying for our pies. She had the race pony tail and ribbons in her hair, and not to mention arm warmers on. That sealed the deal. We duked it out with her for a bit and she pulled away. Kelly went with her and looked back at me for the nod of approval. Of course I gave it to her... Kelly Barmann racing competitively is a beautiful thing! Coming around our second and final loop of the course I noticed Kelly running back towards me, and I though she had taken a wrong turn. Nope, she just didn't want to fight the competition anymore and she came back to sweep me up! We ended up coming in 2nd and 3rd and winning the age category. Needless to say, we got pies and didn't feel bad about not taking it to seriously! Having her there to share this experience with is what made it the experience it was, and what it always is when we're together. So this is a shout out to my best good friend Kelly B, I love you and miss you like crazy! Don't ever forget to thank the running pals in your life that make you're experiences what they are. You never know what it's like to not have them until one day you don't!
   

Letting Go

I am afraid. I have fears. I think that everyone does whether they verbalize their fears or sweep them under their tongue. I fear having my life cut short, or not entering that hundred mile race I've talked about for ages, I fear losing the people I care the most about, and that society will never really accept me for being me but they will accept me if I become the cutout version of every other Joe blow cruising the streets. I fear that I will graduate college and have no idea about what comes next, or that I will not live the adventure I dare to dream about. I know that I believe in living in the moment, but I can never actually do this myself. I fear rent at the beginning of every month, or that credit card planning its attack on my background check, heck, I fear that if I blow dry my hair to try and tame it that the Portland weather will have nothing to do with it and as soon as I step out the door the mane to my right happens! (Which wouldn't be so bad if I was half as cute!) All of this being said I can confidently say I am ready to forge ahead and put it all behind! Do you remember the days when you walked outside wearing pajamas, tutu, and a cape, ready to take on the world one cartwheel at a time? A time when you jumped out of the shower without thinking how cold it was going to be as soon as your foot stepped out onto the cold floor awaiting you? Your imagination ran wild with nothing to hold you back or stop you, and if anyone ever told you, you couldn't you wouldn't invite them to the campout in your backyard where you would reenact the adventures of Huckleberry Finn? This being said I will now charge forward, fearless, inspired, encouraged, and determined to claim back what is rightfully mine. Me! Over the years I have let fears build up after being the victim, they have shut out my creativity, my drive, and my innocent views on life. Life itself is so short, and so unbelievably beautiful that I want to cherish every single moment of every single breath I have. I don't have to try to fill the shoes of someone I will never be. I don't have to live the life everybody else lives and settle for mediocrity, all I have to do is be me, and you know something? I'm fine with that. So reject me, call me weird, don't like my ideas or my hair, or the way I dress, laugh at me, mock me, judge me, ridicule me, but know that your opinion is void, as are all, and I will continue to live on being silly, lame, weird old me. And she lived happily ever after. Sucker.

Three Strikes and Not Out

First mountain bike crash

Final crash result

Ok, it is clear to me that when you fall and pick yourself up you become a better, stronger person and that the falling is always necessary to really move forward. Here's my issue. Why do I need to fall 3 times within 10 days to really come to terms with this knowledge? Probably because the first and second time didn't get through to me I'm guessing. The third time really drove it home. My first two crashes happened in Mammoth where my savior (Momma Ashley) was there to tend to my wounds and really help pick me up when the ground was ever so enticing. To be more specific with how these crashes happened, the first was a root that popped itself up out of the ground so that my toe would conveniently meet it and make friends followed by the rest of my body making friends with the surrounding dirt that supported the life of the root in the first place. Second crash occurred same day hours later only this time I was on a bike and my front tire did NOT want to make friends with a rock blocking its path. I flew over the handle bars and the bike followed suit by crashing down on my back to seal the deal. This crash really put mountain biking into perspective for me and surprisingly I really enjoyed the experience of getting a little bloody and dirty! The fact that I still have some pretty good bruises hanging out with me isn't so great, but hey they're just friendly reminders of what a bada$$ I was haha. Now for the third crash. This was only my second run after the marathon last Saturday and I had a real familiar 8 mile route planned for the evening. Matt even jumped on my new mountain bike (because I'm obviously a mountain biker now too) to test out the ride and follow me. The run was going almost to good. My quads were still feeling the downhill from the marathon, but the legs felt strong and smooth. My arms pumped harder than usual and my legs fell into the rhythm. My heart rate stayed low and my breathing was unbelievably controlled. I couldn't stop smiling, and I definitely didn't even want to stop running. I was in a fantastic state of euphoria! As I'm running down this gradual hill I spotted some dirt off to the side of the harsh pavement and without hesitating, jumped right onto it to give my feet some soft surface as I was running in the vibrams. About 2 steps onto the new surface my toe caught a little metal post that I feel was only there to trip up some innocent passerby in the first place. I went down like a sack of potatoes. My first initial thought was "i wonder how many people just saw that," followed by the ultimate feelings of frustration. Matt heard the loud thunk as I went down and he circled back to rush over to me. What a guy! I stood there covered in dirt, new blood, splinters and a ripped open vibram. I was so frustrated as I recalled the previous two crashes quickly in my mind that I just started laughing. It was an involuntary laugh, as if it was my body's only way of coping with what just happened AGAIN. I could feel the blood running down my elbow and the rawness of where my old scab from the bike crash had been ripped open. My frustrations with the whole situation just manifested themselves into running home like a bat out of hell. When I got home I called Ashley to vent, and just hearing her voice made it all ok again. I eventually got cleaned up and headed to bed. The adrenaline from falling wore off and within a matter of hours I was ready to come to the conclusion that I probably broke my foot, seeing that I was woken up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain unable to do anything but cry and soak my foot in an ice cold bath. I had to crawl my way to and from where I was trying to get because as soon as I put weight on the foot I once again went down like a sack of potatoes. I could barely walk Friday and thought it would be likely that I wouldn't be able to run for the next few weeks. Miraculously, as the day went on the pain started to lessen and the swelling was even beginning to look better. As of this morning my foot is a bit sore, but it's as if nothing had ever happened to it. Crazy how the body works tirelessly to heal itself so effectively!
Now the point of this blog post in the first place. Each time I fell I experienced something completely different and unique. The first fall made me get over my fear of falling while running. The mountain bike crash made me realize that, that was probably the worst bike crash I will have for awhile and in the end I felt more confident in my ability to deal with pain on a more serious level and still have fun in the end. The final crash did several things for me. It made me realize that just when everything seems to be going the way you want, life will always find a way to stick an obstacle in your way and see how you deal with it and overcome it. Also, when the thought came to mind that I had broken my foot, I realized how much I taken being healthy and injury free for granted. NEVER EVER do this. Every moment you have that you are alive and breathing and able bodied, cherish it and love it, because it only takes something small to change that completely. I was in the passenger seat while Matt drove and as we went along I saw many runners out giving themselves to the run and I envied each and every one of them for the effortlessness in their steps. Your body is capable of unbelievable feats of greatness and strength and it is meant to be used and worked for the overall betterment of the person inhabiting it. Use it, appreciate it, love it and treat it with care, nourish it,  because you never know when you may not have the option to do so anymore. More importantly find your passion and go for it. Never let the fear of not being great keep you pursuing your dreams. Traveling the road of passion is so much better than traveling the road of mediocracy and normalcy.