New Year, New... Ugh!

By Rae Hedlund

Welcome to another year, DRC! Looking back at 2015, I’m blown away by all the things our club has accomplished: members have joined and become confident and consistent runners; people have run their first races or tackled new distances; we have shared stories, told more about our lives before running and how running has changed us. It’s truly incredible to see the things our club has done over the last year.

I’ve spent the past year helping with the DRC blog, encouraging you to share your stories, and I have loved every minute of it. Every story you’ve told has been an inspiration to me personally, and I’m so thankful to have been a part of it thus far. Starting out another year, I feel excited just seeing the things to come, with the 2016 Penny Challenge, our month of speedwork in April, and other fun things in the works, it’s all so exciting! But can I share something with you that hasn’t been exciting me lately? Resolutions.

For some years now, I’ve felt completely overwhelmed by the “New Year, New You!” concept. Those of you that know me know I’m an extrovert (Gasp! Shocking!), and while I’m great at seeing a big-picture concept, achieving the final product leaves me feeling confused and muddled—the details elude me. Ask me to tell you my “resolutions” and I get frazzled because I have a lot of things I’d love to accomplish, but don’t know what is reasonable and what isn’t. To be honest, there is also a part of me that’s just cynical about resolutions. Think of all the memes out there about people going to the gym in January... and not going after that! Those memes are how I’ve always looked at resolutions.

Not gonna lie, I think they based this off something I said once.

I'd tell you to disregard the year, but this shows that I'm not the only one who thinks this way!

Well, I’m here to say sorry. I’m sorry for being cynical, and I’m sorry (okay, only a little) for being so easily stressed over a pastime that most people embrace. However, I’ve shifted my thinking over the last couple years to try to see “resolutions” as goals- and I’m always excited to talk about my goals! I have some for the year (volunteering and decluttering, to name a couple), but my main goal is to be gracious with myself. The idea of being gracious, compassionate, or just kind to myself came during my 50-miler last year, and I’ve tried to keep that idea alive.

This year is starting out particularly directionless for me. Being 34 weeks pregnant, I’m just thankful for every moment my body feels good being active. Over and over, I’ve been encouraged to “listen to my body,” while also being prodded to be cautious and not overdo things. So, this year, I consider it a  goal to continue having a healthy pregnancy. With that in mind, I have just tried to be gracious with myself while doing what I love: I love running! But I also know that I need to take walking breaks, or cut a run short; there are also times, though, where I know the discomfort I’m feeling stems not from pregnancy, but from running just being tough.

Starting off my year in my third trimester has thrown my already easily overwhelmed, non-detail-oriented brain into a tizzy. How can I set fitness goals? Can I get close to last year’s mileage, or is that out of the question? What do I even want my goals to be? I’m not much for racing and have none on my calendar for the year, and I’m okay with that! I’ve learned that I don’t need a race as motivation, that I just like to see what my body can do, and with DRC to keep the motivation flowing I know I’ll continue running (thanks, DRC!).

No races, no mileage goal, I really do feel directionless! At the same time, though, I’m looking forward to some awesome volunteering opportunities—it is so inspiring to see others pushing themselves, getting to help them on their way is just way too cool. I’m hoping to get to pace some friends this year as they go out to crush their goals, because what better way to give back to those who have helped me in my own running journey? Even continuing to encourage you DRCers to share your running stories with the rest of us through the blog is something I’m looking forward to this year!

What does this all mean, then? Here I am, somewhat goalless but looking forward to a full year. Honestly, I feel a little empty about it, but also kind of excited to see what the year will bring; with nothing in my sights, anything that comes across my horizon will be an adventure I’ll be floored to take part in. I love seeing the goals/resolutions of other DRCers, because I know that I’ll be setting goals sometime this year, just not in January. I feel directionless, but I know that I’m not.

The Domino Effect

By Christine Michalski

Five years ago, I started attending a bootcamp-style fitness class because my daughter was getting married and I wanted to look my best for the wedding. The class required us to run a mile every session, and the rule was if you could run a mile in faster than ten minutes, you had to run two... so I always made sure I ran just about a 10-minute mile. 

After bootcamp ended, and the wedding was long over, I continued running because I realized it was wonderfully brainless. It’s the most brainless activity I've ever done. As a mom of five kids, I could be doing anything and always have about 50 other things going through my head: groceries, who has what practice, is there gas in the car?... the thoughts go on and on! Running, for me, is brainless. It’s just me and the road and the next mile, or the next step, and that’s all I focus on.

My first snow run! Slow, but SO fun!

 My first 5k race was the Hope for Haiti run in 2012. I had already run this distance a couple times before on my own, but I wanted to say that I had run an official 5k. It wasn’t too long after that, that I ran my first 10k on my own. It just felt like the natural next step, and the Katy Trail was there asking for it!

Also in 2012, my younger daughter started running on her high school’s cross-country and track teams. Maria’s gym teacher had said she would make a good runner, and she felt a little more confident already knowing someone who was a runner, who could share advice with her and encourage her. Around this time, my older sister participated in a three-day, 50-mile walking event. When I heard she could walk 50 miles over three days, I asked her why she wasn’t running at all! Her running journey started soon after, with some encouragement (and maybe some mocking) from me.

Even later in 2012, Rae had Maverick and, when he was six weeks old, she hit the pavement to run her first mile. I stayed home and snuggled Maverick while Rae & Maria ran, then headed out later that day for my own miles. We started tag-teaming our miles-- I would run, then Rae would, or vice-versa-- and it was helpful for her to be able to depend on me to take care of Maverick, not having to worry about her husband’s crazy schedule. (Editor’s note: if it weren’t for my mom being there, I wouldn’t be a runner!!)

My girls before they headed out for Rae's first run!

The last to join our little women’s tribe of runners was my niece. She had seen her own mom’s running journey, and mine… and Rae’s… and Maria’s… how could you not be inspired to run?! Even her daughter ran her first fun-run race recently, so the tribe keeps growing! I would never say that I inspired all these people to run, it just seemed like a domino effect: I started, then someone else joined in… and it all tumbled down from there. I shared my love with those that I love.

Running isn’t always easy for me, though. About a year and a half ago, I found out that I have arthritis in my neck; I’ve been dealing with it for much longer than that, but always just pushed through the pain. Even with the diagnosis, I continue to run. When I get back from a run, I roll out my legs, ice my neck, and go on with my day. My goal is to someday run a half-marathon. Whether I make a half-mary or not, whether I have to walk part (or crawl it), it’s still a goal I have, and it would be even better if it were a Disney race!

Color Run with my husband!

Even with the arthritis, I ran my longest run this year, and it just so happened to be during my first trail run! That’s right, I headed out to run a 5-mile trail, ended up missing my turn, and ran the 8-mile trail instead (thanks, Lewis & Clark trail)! Though I haven’t explored many trails in the area, it’s inspired me to keep going! I would trail run every day if I could; it’s harder for me to hit the pavement because trail running is so different and I love it so much!

Maria's birthday trail run celebration!

To me, it doesn’t matter how far, how often, or how fast I run; it’s just about getting out there and doing it, and if I inspire others to get out there and do it too, then I’m doing something right. I’m so proud of my daughters and brag about them all the time, even though their running seems to have progressed so much more than my own. I love that there are other women in my family who run, and that we can share this. My journey started five years ago, and there’s a whole lot more running be done!

That Fear Factor

From <1 to >26.2

By Stacey Hagen

I remember Track and Field Day in the eighth grade.  The coaches from the high school came and watched us participating in various activities.  As I remember it, the high school coaches picked students they thought would be a good fit for a particular sport.  The Cross Country coach had this crazy notion I would be good at running cross country (I pretty much guessed they had figured out I had absolutely no coordination or athleticism and were just throwing something out there).  When I heard this news, I laughed out loud, as I choked on a Marlboro Red.  Yeah, that was me…the delinquent adolescent, who hung with the wrong crowd, smoked weed, drank whiskey, smoked cigarettes, had the mouth of a sailor (some things haven’t changed) and sure as hell wasn’t interested in running.  Needless to say, I did not join the cross country team.

As a very young adult, I became a mother and, eh hem, much more responsible. I decided I needed to be a role model, quit smoking, start focusing on health, but nope, still hated running.  This lack of enthusiasm would stay with me for quite a few years.  To be clear: I hated running.  Had no effing desire to do it…ever!!  BUT, deep down, I had a secret admiration for runners.  I knew it was hard and they made it look so easy, so effortless.  A part of me envied them, but the other 99.9% of me had no interest in running.  Gosh, it wasn’t until I was the ripe old age of 28 that running became a part of my life, but even back then, it was only out of necessity…to achieve fitness goals, nothing more.  In fact, it remained just that for quite some time.

I first started running on the treadmill (gasp)…in the gym…(no effing way!).  And when I started running, I lasted all of one minute.  True story.  I would run for a minute; walk for five.  That’s how it all began, with one minute of running.  I slowly increased my running time and decreased my walking time until I was running for a full 45 minutes.  And that’s where I stayed for at least a couple of years, running at the gym to stay fit.  

In those days, you couldn’t get me to run outside.  Nope.  Running always felt harder outside.  I mean, there were hills and wind and pavement and stuff!  Eventually though, it happened, I was forced outdoors after numerous problems that were all attributed to treadmill running.  It hurt!  It was tough!  I didn’t enjoy it.  I looked for advice, read books, talked to people at the running store to look for ways to make the running easier, enjoyable.   One of the running books I read talked about how I was supposed to be breathing while running.  I would practice breathing in rhythm with my foot strikes, as the author described…it was daunting, annoying.  Nothing about it was comfortable.  I REALLY was not enjoying it, but I was achieving my fitness goals; I was getting lean.

Eventually, something changed.  My life got really hard(er).  I needed a way to work through some stuff.  I began to realize my running was a bit of an escape for me.  The time out there on the road, that was my time.  The solitude was necessary to stay sane.  I needed it.  So I began to run more often and longer.   Those standard four or five mile runs became six mile runs…seven mile runs.  I can still remember the day I ran eight miles….at Creve Coeur Park…on a very hot day.  It was a BIG DEAL for me!!  It was hard.  But, it was great!  And so an idea was born.  I was going to run a half marathon. 

The idea was a bit scary.  I had run eight miles and it was difficult.  Running 13.1 seemed like such a long way to run.  I was intimidated.  I was worried I wouldn’t be able to run that far, but I found a training plan and on September 18^th,  2005, at the ripe old age of 33,  I ran my first half marathon.  It was hard, but it was fun! It was thrilling!  Oh, the adrenaline!!  I wanted to do that again, but I wanted to run farther.  I signed up for a marathon and 7 months later, I ran my first marathon.  Believe me, I was intimidated by that distance, too; overwhelmed, actually.  I could not wrap my brain around running twice the distance of my first race, but I pushed back those feelings of doubt, trusted the training and I got it done.  It wasn’t entirely pretty.  I didn’t really know what I was doing.  I hardly drank or ate anything during that race and I bonked pretty hard.  BUT, I did it.  I finished a full marathon.

After that race, I remember thinking, “I’m not very fast, but I would like to see just how far I can run.”  Even back then, I was thinking about ultras, but it would take me a long time to bite that bullet.  Over the next few years, I ran a couple more marathons, but really didn’t race that much.  I still ran and I ran long distance.  I loved it.  But, I maybe ran in a handful of races a year and mostly just for fun, with my friends. 

Fast forward to 2013, the year I began to run trails.  I was sort of forced into this because I moved and I really didn’t feel safe running on the roads around my house.  My husband, Dave, encouraged me to get out on the trails.  Once again, I was intimidated.  It was hard; there were rocks and roots and stuff.  I felt so slow…and I was slow already.  But, I did it.  I went out there, ran, fell, cursed, got up and ran some more, got overuse injuries, and fell in love.  I have always loved to be surrounded by nature.  What I learned from my time out on the trails is trail running is the perfect mix of these two passions.  I mean, seriously, is there anything better than spending hours in the woods? Umm, NO. My time in the woods has been both time spent suffering and time spent feeling more gratitude than I have ever felt.  Trail running is my rejuvenator, even when it is sucking the life out of me. 

As I ran more and more on the trails, it became clear it was time.  It was time to bite the bullet.  It was ultra time.  Those same doubts that crept into my mind before all the other distance leaps came lingering back.  How was I going to run further than a marathon?  A marathon is pretty freakin’ hard!!!  Thirty miles, 50 miles, 100 miles…that’s a lotta damn miles.  Who does this?  Why would anyone WANT to do this?  Man, can I do this?  Do I really want to do this?  The answer:  Absofuckinglutely!!

Eight months after I began trail running, I ran my first ultra, a 50K.  Then, I ran a couple more.  Eleven months after I began trail running, I ran my first 50 miler.  The 50Ks were important.  They were practice.  They were stepping stones.  But, the real biggie for me was finishing my first 50 miler.   Fifty miles is quite a leap from 32.  I had 18 miles of unexplored challenges I had never experienced to think about.  Going into it, that was intimidating (that word again).  I chose CO for this race(not always the brightest crayon in the box), so had to contend with some elevation. Also, it was hot, temps nearing 90 and nearly half the course was exposed.  I ran nearly the entire distance alone, only meeting and talking to two people over the entire day.  It was hard.  It was really hard.  But, I never thought I couldn’t finish.  I never felt I wanted to quit.  Finishing that race meant a lot to me because it reminded me of what fear can do to your life.  Fear of losing.  Fear of failure.  Fear of DNF.  It can hold you back.  It can prevent you from going for something you are fully capable of achieving.  At mile 48 of my 50 miler, I cried.  I cried because I knew I had done it.  I had achieved this goal, this goal that had seemed so out-of-reach, so unattainable.  I had run 48 freakin’ miles!!  The race was all but done.  Death was the only thing that would have prevented me from finishing.  I felt amazing! I felt strong! I felt proud!  My husband was there waiting for me at the Finish Line.  It was a great day.  One I will always remember.  But, at the finish, I still thought in my head, “How the hell am I gonna run twice this distance? Fuuuuuu….”

Stacey at the starting line of The Bear Chase- a 50 miler!

Stacey after her 50 Miler!

Want to get to know Stacey Better? Check out her Runfie Questions!

What is your favorite distance to run & why? Hmmm...I'm definitely a double digit run lover. Sometimes it takes me a good seven miles before the run feels good, then I just want to keep running. I've always said if I only ever ran 3 miles, I would hate running. I love the LSD (long, slow, distance). As of late, I've really been enjoying 50Ks, but for a weekly long run, I love the 20-24 miler.

Favorite shoes? How many pairs of running shoes do you have? I'm still ISO the perfect shoe. I love the traction I get with my Salomon Speedcross 3s, but I love the wide toe box and cushion of the Altra Olympus. I've lost so many toenails thanks to my SS3s though. frown emoticon I've been doing long runs in Hokas lately, but neither the Olympus nor the Hokas have the grip I'm used to with the SS3s. I think I have 10 pairs of running shoes currently, but...I have my eye on some Topos.

How many years have you been a runner? Been running for 15 years this year. Woooo hooo!!!

Crazy Is As Crazy Does

By:  Frank Evans

It didn’t start out to be such a big thing, and it certainly didn’t start out as five ultramarathons in fifty days. It began as something that sounded just as crazy at the time, but simple - my first 50 mile race. It sounded crazy for several reasons... I had not done a full marathon since 2006. I had not done anything longer than that since a 50k in 1999.  And more importantly, I was coming off back surgery and was working my way up to runs of eight miles or so. But, to paraphrase our running idol, Forrest Gump… “Crazy is as crazy does.”

That 50-miler was the Prairie Spirit race in Ottawa, Kansas. I was staring at a coupon from the race director, and I could get a decent discount if I signed up in the next 30 hours. It was late November, and the race wasn’t until the end of March. Four months. Four months to go from stringing together a lot of one and two mile runs on the treadmill at SNAP Fitness to running much farther than I have ever run before. I thought there was a chance I could do it, but I needed a second opinion.  I e-mailed Meghan, and is her custom, she gave me intelligent advice - don’t sign up yet.  Forget about the coupon, and see how you feel in March. That was the smart way to go. I don’t remember how many hours I waited until I signed up. One? Maybe two? And I don’t know how many hours it took for Meghan to go to the Prairie Spirit website and scan the list of entrants for my name. Probably not many. Meghan didn’t say anything to me about it. She didn’t have to… I knew she knew. We’re good that way.

Ultras are different than other races in a lot of ways. If you ever get a chance to run, volunteer, or just watch one, I highly recommend it. It’s just unlike any race you’ve seen before.  But in another way, ultras are like every other distance - once you accept that you are an ultra runner, you just start signing up. It’s just like when you first go from a 5k to a 10k. You start looking for the next 10k you can schedule. Then half-marathons… full marathons… And then ultras. Crazy is as crazy does.

I already felt confident I’d be able to run Prairie Spirit when the registration period opened for the Double Chubb 50k. I’d have several weeks between them, and there wasn’t a great chance I’d get into Double Chubb anyway. The race is very popular, and there are a limited number of entries. But now my mind was already accepting the idea of running multiple ultras, close together. The Skunk Run popped up. Held in southern Missouri on rugged trails, it was an 8-hour timed run. I’d have two weeks between that and Prairie Spirit, and realistically, a run that long should be on my schedule before 50-miler anyway. (See how rationalization works?)

I was running 5-6 hours on my long runs each weekend when I decided to join Mackenzie, Andrea and Casey at a six-hour timed race in Cuba. They would run as a relay. I would run solo. I would have run about that far anyway, I rationalized. It was a week before the Skunk Run… which was two weeks before Prairie Spirit. Then I got a surprise from the Double Chubb folks. Everyone who entered the lottery was in. Yikes. I was now set for 4 ultras in 44 days. 

Had I known about the Frisco event, I might not have signed up for Prairie Spirit.  Another “rail-to-trail” run (think KATY Trail), the Frisco was in Willard, MO, just outside of Springfield. It would have satisfied my yearning to run a 50-miler, with less travel and expense. I started talking to Mackenzie about Frisco. It offered shorter distances also, including a 50k. This would be a very good way for her to get her first ultra. I started thinking about it myself. It would be a week after Double Chubb. Maybe I could do a 50k a week after Double Chubb. Maybe I could sign up for the 50k, and if I couldn’t do that I could always drop to one of the shorter distances and just be there to help Mackenzie.  Just a few hours after finishing Prairie Spirit, riding in the back seat of Meghan’s Volvo while she and John talked about John’s upcoming World 24-Hour Championships, I misused my phone and signed up for the 50k at Frisco. It was now Five in Fifty… five ultramarathons in fifty days.

Of course I knew a lot of people were worried about me. From my mother to my DRC friends, many people had concerns - and they were valid.  This was not the smartest thing I’d ever done - especially given the lack of recovery time I was giving my body. But I knew people who had done as much, or more. We run with people all the time who can run an ultra every weekend, and they run them fast. I do not. Even locally - John can, Meghan can, and so could others. The bottom line was this - the back surgery made me even more aware of how short our window of opportunity can be. And I was going to shove as much as I could through that window before it closed.

Now, while you like to know people are concerned about you, you also find ways to avoid hearing about it. That’s probably why I didn’t tell anyone when I decided two days before Frisco to message the race director and change my entry from 50k to 50 miles. It had been 3 days since Double Chubb, and I was walking without much of a limp. My mind saw that as a sign. Rationalizing again. Mackenzie busted me when she went to pick up my race packet and they didn’t have one for me in the 50k group. Note to self: Always tell someone you’ve switched distances if you want them to pick up your packet.

You’re reading this, so you know Frisco didn’t kill me. Mackenzie got her first ultra and looked great. Meghan crushed the women’s field to finish first. And after all those ultras, I actually ran it 19 minutes faster than I ran Prairie Spirit and won my age group… all while stopping along the route to take selfies and post them to Facebook. 

Coming up? Well, there’s the DRC Dirty 30 in June. There’s a St. Louis Ultrarunners Group (SLUG) six-hour run in July. And sometimes I would swear I can hear the Hennepin 100 whispering my name.

Crazy is as crazy does.

       Frank Evans can be found running in and around Lake Sherwood, as well as other areas, with no outstanding warrants on file.

Connemarathon: Running in Ireland

by Josh Albrecht

It only took me one day after my first marathon to sign up for the Connemarathon, but the trip to Ireland was not really a decision as much as an inevitability. To best understand, we need to go back in time about 34 years in the old DeLorean (made in Ireland),  to Saint Pat's Day 1981. As fate would have it, that was the day that I entered this world and every birthday celebration after that would be full of leprechauns, corned beef, cabbage, green beer, Flogging Molly and four leaf clover tattoos.  Since the destination was already chosen for me, all I had to do was find the right race. Upon searching marathons in Ireland, I came across the Connemarathon, a race that boasted having more sheep than crowds of cheering fans and an amazing view of the Twelve Bens. It was love at first sight and I knew this was the race I would run on the Emerald Isle.

Six months after signing up, I made the journey to Ireland. I had read that when running a marathon overseas, you need to arrive there an extra day early for every time zone crossed. I showed up a mere two days before the race (not enough time for my body to adjust—oops!). The days leading up to the marathon, I learned how to drive on left side of the road, had very little sleep, and did not eat enough (a recipe for a magical race). The real icing on the cake was side swiping a parking sign on my drive to Connemara.

When I arrived in Connemara, I got my first glimpse of the Twelve Bens. I was in complete awe of the mountains and I was beyond excited knowing that I would be running 26.2 miles with a most amazing backdrop. I stayed the next two nights at the Peacockes Hotel, which was very convenient since the finish line was right outside and there were buses that went to the marathon start. The staff was extremely friendly, as it seems all Irish people are (I didn't meet any mean or rude Irish).

I didn't sleep well the night before the race, but I was able to keep my mind occupied by reading updates on fellow DRC member, John Cash, as he ran for Team USA in Italy. When race morning came, I got all my gear ready, including my trusty Bubba Gump Shrimp hat has still not been washed (I don't know how I got it through customs). Although the temps were in the low 40s, I decided to go sleeveless to show off my four leaf clover tattoos. I went to the lobby and got some breakfast, but still had 3.5 hours before the marathon start. Time slowly passed by as I watched and waited for the start of the ultra marathon portion of the race.   When I got on the bus that would take me to the marathon start, I could see that it had snowed on the mountains that morning.

At the starting line, I only saw one other person starting the race without sleeves; it was cold and obscenely windy. All of those long training runs in sub-freezing temps made me more than ready for a little cold, so I made a point not to shiver or look like I was even slightly cold. This would be the only time of the race where I got a chance to look like a hard-ass. After jogging a few laps, I lined up with the 3:30 pacers. Going on almost no sleep and not eating right, I knew that pace would be suicide, but that was the pace I trained for. 

At the start of the race, my legs felt great and my body showed no signs of impending doom. I was easily running between a 7:30 - 8:00 minute pace, but I knew it would not last. I was knocking back GU and Endurolytes right on cue, just like those long training runs. It was somewhere around mile 9 when my left calf cramped up and I had to slow my pace. The cramp went away pretty fast, but by mile 11 I could feel that my stomach would soon explode. I made it safely to the ONE port-a-loo at mile 12, but when I sat upon its throne nothing came out. I could hear other runners waiting to use the loo so I decided to leave and start running again. After only a few strides, I thought about running back to the port-a-loo cause it felt like I was going to fertilize my compression shorts, but somehow I continued going forward. As I closed in on the half, I saw what appeared to be an oasis.  It was a whole row of port-a-loos. I hopped in the first open loo and pushed so hard I gave myself a hemorrhoid and made sure my pipes were empty. A good 10 to 15 minutes passed before I left the Oasis of Loos and I would never be the same again.

I ended up walking a lot of the second half because every time I ran I felt pain in my stomach. Though my body was in shambles, there was a silver lining. The first half, I was unable to really take in my surroundings; when I slowed down, I saw every sheep, horse, stone wall and mountain (though I didn't really have to slow down to see the mountains). After all, I was running in Ireland! The miles seemed to last an eternity, but that did not wipe the smile from my face as I was in awe of the Emerald Isle. As I approached mile 22, I could see the 2 mile hill infamously known as the Hell of the West. Though I had not run much in a while, I made sure to run on the hill as much as my stomach would allow. I could only run for extremely short bursts by that point. I thought for sure I was going to have a finishing time above 6 hours, but when I started running to the finish line I saw that I was just over 5 hours. Had I been able to run another full mile at the end, I would have beat my first marathon time. 

    

I had a delicious steak sandwich with chips (fries) at the food truck set up outside the finish line, but skipped out on the after-party because of my stomach. Instead, I went back to my room and passed out. I spent two more full days in Ireland before leaving and made sure to explore a lot (the Cliffs of Moher are a must-see!), so I never really got depressed over having a poor race. Though I had a lot problems during the run, given the opportunity again,  I would do it in a heartbeat. If I run the Connemarathon again, I will have take some other DRC members with me and maybe I should think about entering the country at least several days before the run.

Want to get to know Josh better? Check out his Runfie Questions!

What is your favorite running quote? "That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I'd just run across the great state of Alabama. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going. " Forrest Gump

What is your favorite piece of running advice? When I told my non-running friends that I would be running a marathon I was advised, "Don't get blown up."

What's the strangest thing you've seen while running? While running on the WashMO River Front Trail I saw a guy walking on the trail with a crossbow. Now, I figured he was probably going to shoot some fish in the river or he was afraid of zombies, but I couldn't help but think that I might be the one getting shot. I'm pretty sure I can't outrun an arrow, but I went ahead and sped up and kept looking back. Somehow I made it safely back to my car.

Suffering & Happy

By Rae Hedlund

When you see people simultaneously suffering and happy, you begin to wonder what you’re missing out on. At least, that’s how it was for me. When I first began running, I thought the marathon  was the ultimate race, a distance that seemed out of my reach; unattainable, but a worthy aspiration.

Then I began hearing about races much longer than that. I read Born to Run and realized the world of running was much more vast than I had imagined. Again, it all seemed unattainable. When I joined DRC, I was about to begin training for my first marathon, which was exciting and nerve-wracking! As I began meeting other DRCers, it was amazing to see how confident they they were in my abilities! It was reassuring in a way. During this training, I tried to figure out what kind of “fuel” worked for me: Gu, Honey Stingers, Nuun, etc. I thought I had it down, though those things bothered my stomach at times.

Well, as I’ve previously written, my marathon happened. If you want to read about it, check it out here. About a month after this, I accompanied Meghan to her first 50-mile. It was a distance I knew she could run and I was excited to see her crush it! Watching her and all the others run that distance made me wonder what it was like: they looked exhausted when they were done, but nearly all of them were smiling! What?!

Let me pause here to say, I began my running journey when Maverick was six weeks old. My goal was to run a half-marathon before he turned one, which I completed. Since the next distance (the marathon) started with a two, I figured I should run one of those before he turned two! So this crazy goal perpetuated into this year, the year my son turns three. This is why I signed up for Ozark Foothills.

By this time in my running journey, I had met some incredible distance runners, many of whom willingly shared their advice and wisdom with me. From these people, I learned how to take uphills and downhills, that it’s okay to walk/hike, that eating real food was okay, and even found a drink that I loved! A little bit of everything. It took some time to figure out what foods my stomach liked, but it was worth the trial and error process!

As my race drew near, DRC had the pleasure of going to the Skunk Run. Stacey and I ran together for 27 miles, my longest run at that time; her encouragement and advice along the way helped me feel more confident in my ability to complete my 50k. Then, about two weeks before my race, our house was hit with a second round of a stomach bug! That whole week, I struggled through sickness, worrying about missing that week of running before my taper. Panic ensued. Friends talked me back down. I got back into running and found that the forced rest had made my legs feel awesome! Okay. Another boost of confidence: I was as ready as I could be!

The morning of the race arrived and I was grateful to ride there with Shelly and Molly. The first loop went much better than I expected, even with a small “detour” of about a half-mile. I was able to see friends along the route (at the aid stations mainly), and coming in from the first loop was exciting! With help from Meghan, Andy, and a few (awesome) others, I was back out on the trail as quickly as possible. Let’s just say the second loop was much slower than the first, but I really enjoyed (most) of it; I never doubted that I would finish. The aid stations kept me going with oranges, fig bars, and Coke (which I never drink but craved that day!).

Yeah that's a smile during the race! It helped that I knew the photographer, so seeing him was a treat as I ran! Credit: Denzil Jennings

That second loop was a struggle. There were points where my legs felt like they weren’t moving. The climbs were rough, the downhills more challenging than I was used to, and I was just plain tired. But I kept going. I kept going because I was, weirdly, having a great time. I was driven, determined to get to the finish line in the best time my body could manage. And I did!

After the finish, this was my "Meghan, I swear I can do this myself!" face.

My “burst” of energy for the home stretch was probably much more of a limp, and I’m pretty sure I fell into Meghan’s arms (sorry for the sweatiness, Meg!). Meghan helped take off my pack, Andy got me a chair and helped me get my shoes off and got me a beer, and Stacey kept snapping pictures. It was amazing having friends there at the end, it really felt like I was celebrating the accomplishment! In the end, I know I suffered and was deep down in that suffering. But I was happy, so incredibly floored at what I had done. I’m still floating on air a bit and can’t wait to see what comes next.

My "sprint" to the finish!

"I think I'm losing a toe nail!"

One of my favorite pictures. Meghan said, "You did it!"

Getting to cheer on other runners as they finished was so awesome!

Race (Review) to the Rocker

By Jill Berron

I had been hearing fellow DRC members talk about what a great run Race to the Rocker was, so I was really excited to sign up for it this year. It’s a unique race, a point-to-point course with easy, rolling hills that runs down Old Route 66 (they close the highway for the race) from downtown Cuba to the World’s Largest Rocker in Fanning. The timing was perfect—it fell right in the middle of my half marathon training, so I knew I would be prepared for the distance and it would be a great opportunity to scale back my long run mileage for an “easier” weekend. I had several goals for the day. My overall goal was to stay under 40 minutes (10:00 pace). My next goal was 38:30 (9:30 pace) and my ultimate never-gonna-happen goal was 36:00 (9:00 pace).

The morning was absolutely gorgeous, although a bit cool before the race began. I got to Cuba early so I would have plenty of time to find parking and relax. I picked up my race packet and got assigned bib # 911. The lady who gave it to me thought that would be a good omen (spoiler:  it turned out to be!). After meeting up with fellow DRCers and taking a few pictures, we made our way to the starting line. We lined up at the front of the second group (non-competitive runners), which turned out to be a mistake.

As the race got started, there was a lot of traffic to fight through: kids who sprinted the first few hundred yards, then stopped, groups running three or four wide across the highway, walkers, etc. I spent the first half mile weaving in and out of traffic trying to find an open space where I could get into a comfortable pace. Finally, I caught up to Tracie and got into my groove. I checked my time at the first mile marker: 10:06.  OK, but not great. I was going to have to kick it up a little to meet my goal.  

Around 1.5 miles, I was starting to get loose and feel good. I finished mile 2 in 9:11, which is fast for me! I didn’t want to burn out, so I just started picking out runners ahead of me and trying to gradually catch up with them. There were spectators along the route, both people who had parked along the road to watch and people who were sitting in their driveways watching. They were awesome cheerleaders!  

When I hit the third mile marker, I couldn’t believe it: I had run an 8:54 mile! I think I ran a sub-9 mile one time in middle school almost 20 years ago. I was feeling fantastic, so I picked up the pace a little bit.  There was a lady in her driveway cheering people on, telling us we were almost there. She said the finish line was just around the corner and when I hit the ¼ mile sign, I gave it everything I had. I crossed the finish line in 36:44, and my last mile was 8:33, my fastest ever! I was so pumped! It was such an amazing feeling!  

I joined Mackenzie and her mom at the finish line and we cheered on the rest of the DRC members as the crossed. DRC had a stellar day: I think almost all (if not all) of our members who raced that day PR’d or tied their PR.

Here is Amy Crow’s experience from the day: My Race to the Rocker experience this year was great! Not only did I have my fastest overall pace ever, but I beat last year's time by over five minutes. I was thrilled with my results. I know it's because of those Union hills! I never ran hills before I started running with the DRC, but now I'm convinced hills are the key to gaining strength and speed (at least in my case).

I can’t wait until next year!

Want to get to know Jill better? Check out her Runfie Questions!

What brought you to DRC? I saw a friend posting to DRC on Facebook (before the group was public) and I needed some motivation and accountability. I was really just getting started and wanted a place to ask questions and learn a little bit.

How long have you been a runner? After a few failed attempts to start, I've been running consistently for about 2 1/2 years.

What is your favorite running quote? I have two favorite running quotes! "It's very hard to understand in the beginning that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants to quit." -George Sheehan

"If you run, you are a runner. It doesn't matter how fast or how far. It doesn't matter if today is your first day or if you've been running for twenty years. There is no test to pass, no license to earn, no membership card to get. You just run." -John Bingham

A year in the balance

A year in the balance  

By: Meghan McCarrick

We live our lives out of balance.  

You will take that statement one of 2 ways.  

I tend to think that balance is mediocre and monotonous, but also calm and rewarding even in the case of struggle for it.  People from different cultures, of different sexes, with different belief systems, they all fall somewhere along the balance quest spectrum.  Give me routine!  No, give me adventure!

Goal setting can really turn balance on its ear.  Clear headiness.  Panic.

This year, I had running goals.  I assumed that they would keep me on track.  I am impatient.  As I set goals, they became too small. 

Running is ME dependent.  Balanced or not, running is physically AND mentally challenging where so many other facets of life are not.  I am healthy “enough” and driven “enough” and available “enough”.  But, I also found that I am balanced OR imbalanced enough.  

February 2014 rolled around and I realized I was keeping a modest but above average weekly mileage count.  A few 30 mile weeks in ass cold Missouri winter weather had strengthened my character enough to decide it was time to look at setting a 2014 goal. I set my sights on a 50 mile week.  I made this plan known to those close to me on a Sunday.  On a Tuesday, I heard from a childhood friend that he was eyeing hundreds in 2014.  I didn’t even know what that meant.  In all honesty, I still don’t and possibly never will.  I was out for a short run and turned it into 11 miles.  By that Saturday, I only needed 6 more to have my 50 mile week.  That was in March.  

I basked in the glory of finishing that goal, kind of, and then realized I was screwed for the rest of the year because I had rushed it.  I chose an admirable 1000 mile year.  I was already on pace for it but couldn’t account for illness or injury or “other”.  1000 miles came and went this past summer.  Actually, it went with a bang.  In that short amount of time, I had found my running group and they joined me to run those last countable.  But, then, that too was done.

I ran my longest mileage day of around 32 miles.  I was joined once again by my favorite running companions.  That day was marked by a quick, “ok, well, we did that” afterward.

I decided that 1500 was a number I could hit before the new year.  That number also came and went and I didn’t even acknowledge it this time.  I ran my first “official unofficial” race in the last 12 years (I ran a 5k once in my early 20’s), mid November.  That run was difficult at a 50k distance with a hard course here in Missouri, but I still managed it well.  I ran my first “official official” 50 mile race in early December, also difficult, also fine.  

Then, when I looked for that same grasp and desire and deep seated mouth-on-the-reins feel, it just wasn’t there any more.  Where was my balance?  Or imbalance?  

I am 23 miles from an 1800 total for the year.  I feel fairly positive that will happen.  But it isn’t really a goal. I am scared to think what I might feel to just be done…done for real.  So, instead of running today, I typed this, with 20 miles scheduled for tomorrow.

I can’t believe what I have accomplished, but I also don’t feel like it amounts to much.  I know what I felt in the last moments of completing those goals but there was not a sense of finish, more of a “what’s next?”.  And now, I don’t know.  What do goals afford you in the end?  

A nice dinner?  A new pair of jeans?  Bragging rights for the week?

What do we do when we overcome an intangible?  Goal, meet balance…on ear.

This is not meant to be depressing, just an account, harnessed by some questions I have been contemplating going into next year.  My spectrum might appear inherently negative with disillusionment on one end and breaking my life on the other, but it really isn’t; I know there is a sweet spot in there.  I already have some goals for 2015.  And, I already have some fears about the balance.  

Simply because, we live our lives out of balance.

My 2014 running goal was a 50 mile week.  This is seconds after the completion of a 50 + mile day.