Running Log #6 USATF XC Nats 2013, Bend, OR

Before Bend I was feeling on edge from a considerable drop in miles & pre-race nerves. I came home after a long day at work to find my mother hand sewing an inappropriate felt elf onto a Christmas sweater (originally designed one holiday at the kitchen table at 1111 High). She was sitting in bed, with Poops (our big black motherfuckin’ cat) glaring at her for not considering lap time.

It was this coupled with the vat of spaghetti waiting for me on the stove that made me feel very loved. Here my mother was thinking more about the ugly Christmas sweater I’d be wearing post race, as well as my carb intake, than I. In finding these sweet gestures, I re-designed my attitude & felt thankful.

A & I had a short workout the day before we left, Christmas shopping, packing. The next morning I opened up the office & had a thorough adjustment with a vibration massage on my shoulder, where a great source of discomfort still exists. A & I ran with her pups through Whatcom Falls, jumped in the car, grabbed breakfast & coffees & headed towards Bend. A is not so keen on long car trips; I’m well-seasoned in the silences, self-entertaining, and really good at falling asleep quickly. A’s husband, S, made her pack a bag of activities to keep her entertained. 8 hours later & we were opening the doors to our rental, a de-constructed townhouse. Rad for the 2 kitchens & that everyone could have their own bedroom & bathroom. A, S & I went to Goodlife Brewery for dinner, beet salads & beer, enjoying some Bend friends' company. Got a good night’s sleep before the arrival of the rest of the team the following day.

We visited the course the next morning. Snow blowers and smiles abound. Every person we passed was friendly. The community and out-of-towners appeared genuinely supportive. We found ourselves in oxygen debt in the first few minutes, which I'm sure added a slight negativity in race mentality. We ran the length of the course, bought groceries, met with some teammates at a cafe for espresso & toasted sandwiches. I was trying not to eat sugar, but unsuccessfully ate a whole bag of mock-swedish fish. Later that evening a group of us went to an italian restaurant for pasta; I had an extremely delicious orrechiate with sausage & broccolini. The rest of the team came in late Friday night, we stretched, gave gifts, spoke in excitable voices induced by nerves, drank chias.

We piled into cars and were dropped off by the men in our group at the race start in time to watch the Masters finish.

The course started with a semi-steep incline on grass, through slush. I believed in adrenaline to push me up the hill, but was afraid of what kind of oxygen debt I'd accrue in the interim. It was thrilling to be in the middle of a large pack; I found myself more concerned in course etiquette than I was a ravenous lion unconscious of spikes, elbows, turns. I left the lion where? I thought maybe there'd be a sort of magic to the race, maybe it wouldn't be as slow as it seemed, and maybe it would be possible for me to use the track strength I'd developed over the last few months... I didn't have a great push, it was just about holding onto a level of discomfort until my arms went numb, which seemed to rise up into my head, got fog-brain & finished exhausted. The course was fun, something that would be nice to train on, get tough on, but I didn't enjoy it as a testament to my strengths. It asked a lot of me.

My aunt from Alaska had moved to Bend a while ago, and met me at the finish line. A's husband made my dream come true - walking through the finish gate to hand me a beer immediately upon finishing. He's seriously an amazing person. Us girls were the herd of cats I find stressful, but, we gathered some of us to run around downtown Bend, along the water, on thick blankets of snow that made my inner leg muscles quiver. Had a long cool-down because we all knew we wouldn't much feel up to running long in the morning, cheered on the Open men (Go Bies! Peter! Kyle! Kyle!), and headed to Crux brewery for lunch treated by A & her beer-giving man. Shared cheeseboards and charcuterie, IPA, blonde's, discovered the ever-reddening big toenail. The Gulley's, Bend's finest, joined us, as did K & her man; it was just this really relaxing, beer-laden, post-race mushy gooey yummy athletic love. In reality, I sat there silently, kind of shell-shocked from what had just happened to my body, but, all those feelings were there.

Feet still wet, toe still aching, we headed back to our house on Sally Ln., put our christmas sweaters & socks on. Opened a bottle of champagne, a bottle of white, purchased more, brought A her gifts, her banana bread muffins with nutella frosting. Everyone suggested stabbing a needle through my toe, I, in full dramatization, didn't quite agree. I regret not doing so after a few beers.

We went to the RoadHouse Inn where the Nats afterparty was banga-rangin'. I think our christmas sweaters were a hit, but I can't be sure. I remember A stepping on my toe, falling down, and dancing with a curtain. Afterwards, the team dissipated & A, her man, and the Gulley's & I went to Goodlife for some cheesey goods & more beer. Fell asleep hard, the comforter heavy against the tops of my toes. Woke to clean our team home, grabbed a latte with my aunt, and we were back on the road home to Bellingham.

(Vid of course breakdown)

*Photos cred of Tad & Aunt Erin