A Journey of 10,000 Miles

In the Spring of 2009, pregnant with my fourth child, each morning I'd drop my two oldest kids off at school, check my third child in to the gym child care, and I'd climb on the elliptical machine for my twenty minute exercise.  Every day was the same.  And it was boring.  I'd watch the same gym patrons come and go every day, lifting their weights, walking on the treadmills or riding the stationary bikes.  But there was one man who stood out.  He'd spend three or four hours there, alternating treadmills, changing paces and incline and even walking backwards on them.  I found myself turning down my music blaring through my headphones to hear his conversations with people who stopped to chat with him during his workouts.  He talked of his plans of running 100 miles.  All at once.  Was this something people actually did?  He was training for a run in the western states, through the mountains.  And I didn't know it then, but he was talking about THE Western States-The Western States 100 Mile Ultramarathon.  And I was fascinated.  I mean, I wasn't a runner.  Heck, I had no desire to run ONE mile, let alone run 100, but the way he described the race and his plans and his training intrigued me.  It sounded like the most epic adventure imaginable.

And then, I was a mom of four.

And then, three years after that, I was a mom of five.

With the birth of my fifth child, I had either been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last ten years straight.  And while I loved the time I had given my children and the sacrifices I had made to be a stay-at-home mom, it was time to take a little bit of myself back.  In December of 2012, I accepted a challenge given to me to train for and run a five mile race the following Memorial Day.  But I didn't start with running.  I couldn't start with running.  At six weeks post-partum and weighing in at 200 pounds, I had a long way to go.  I chose the Insanity workout program.  And it was horrible.  I couldn't do half of the moves and I definitely couldn't keep up with those happy, sweating, ripped people staring back at me from my television.  But I stuck with it for the entire 60 days.  And in the end, it was worth it.  I had lost 35 pounds, gained a lot of muscle, and was feeling much more confident about myself.

But now it was March, and my five mile race date was looming.  So, on March 24, 2013, while on vacation in Florida, I laced up my shoes and headed out for a two mile run.  AND I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.  Forget the two miles.  By a half mile into that run, I had to stop and catch my breath.  And then at the one mile mark, I didn't know how I was going to make it back to my starting point.  Every step was a struggle.  And when I finally finished my two mile run, nearly 25 minutes later, I didn't feel accomplished.  I felt defeated.

I ran again the next day.  And the next day.  And the next day.  In fact, I ran two miles every day that week.  And every run was terrible.  My lungs burned.  It was not fun.  But I had agreed to that five mile race and I wasn't about to call it quits.  So I kept running.  I was counting the days until the race, not out of excitement, but because after the race was over I wouldn't have to run anymore.

And then I ran the race.  And it wasn't terrible.  I mean, having to run was terrible, but the race was fun!  And I got a medal and delicious food afterwards.  Maybe I'd do one more race.  So I did.  In fact, I ran a bunch of 5k's.  And I met some other runners-I had never known anyone who was a runner.  When my parents suggested Jason and I go to Las Vegas that November to run a half marathon, I laughed.  And then I thought about it.  That could be cool, right?  So I trained.  A lot.  I didn't really know what I was doing-I'd spend  week working on adding mileage and the next week working on speed.  I'd alternate that back and forth and gradually my runs got longer and my pace got faster.  A month before Vegas I decided to run a local half marathon just to make sure I could do it.  I didn't want to get all the way to Nevada and then not be able to run 13.1 miles.  So, in October, 2013, I ran a half marathon.  And it was HARD.  And when it was over, I stood near the finisher's mat and I cried.  And then I couldn't wait to do it again.  Bring on Las Vegas!

After that, I ran another half marathon.  And another and another.  And then there was a local 20 mile race I was interested in, so I ran that.  And then I figured if I could run a twenty miler, I should probably run a full marathon.  So, 15 months after I had started running, I ran a marathon.  And again, I cried at the finish line.  And I couldn't wait to do it again.

That Winter I was invited by a friend to a group trail run.  I had never run on trails, let alone on snow-covered trails, but I showed up ready to run ten miles that day.  As we headed out, on a skinny single-track trail, I was huffing and puffing up a steep incline.  I couldn't help but overhear the men talking behind me.  The had all run  100 mile races that Fall and were telling their stories. And this time, instead of thinking they were crazy, I was jealous.  I wanted that kind of adventure, but clearly, I had miles to go before that could happen.

The next couple of years I continued my journey-a couple marathons a year, with a few half marathons thrown in here and there.  And then, after I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2015, an internet friend suggested I run a trail 50k with her.  At first I thought she was crazy, but the more I thought about it, the more couldn't STOP thinking about it.  So I signed up.  And then she changed her mind.  By then it was too late, though, so I traveled to Southern Indiana alone and stayed in a cabin with seven perfect strangers and woke up early the next morning and ran three loops through some small mountains in a forest covered with thick frost and completely tested my physical and mental limits and crossed the finish line with absolutely nothing left in me and all I felt was HOME.  These were my people and this was my thing.  And I couldn't wait to do it again.

Since then, I have run two more 50k races and a 50 mile race, among other  smaller races.  I have run on pavement, on trails, on sandy beaches, over a few mountains, in snow, in ice, in shin-deep mud, in pouring rain, in 40MPH winds, in subzero temperatures, in 95 degree heat, in high humidity covered with back flies, in the mornings before the sun rises, and at night when my children are asleep.

I used to say that I loved to run because I really, really love food. And I have to admit that running has definitely given me a body to be proud of.  I never wanted to "look good for having five kids."  I always wanted to look good because I took care of myself and made good choices and I wanted to be a role model for my children.  Insanity may have helped me shed my baby weight, but running is what transformed me.

And while I love the physical part that running has played in my life, the mental benefits are even greater.  Running really does keep me sane, and I am thankful that my family understands that.  I can solve a lot of conflict inside my head with a good, long run.  I have laughed and cried and wanted to quit more than a few times, but you know what brings me back?  The adventure.  Every run is different.  Even the same four mile route two days in a row isn't the same.  There is always a new face, or a new discovery, or a new idea created.  And those days that I've wanted to quit?  Well, they haven't won.  Even when I am completely defeated and it's pouring rain and I feel like I can't take another step and I've been gone so much longer than I had planned and my family comes out to the road to look for me and they find me stumbling home, carrying my pack instead of wearing it, I have still won.  I am still out there, fighting and getting it done.

I have seen deer, dogs, sheep, kittens, llamas, turkeys, ducks, geese, snakes, raccoons, chickens, groundhogs, opossum, cows, hawks, eagles, and even a rare Bigfoot sighting.

All told, I have run over 60 races in 8 different states.  I have worn 25 different pairs of shoes, and have listened to 55 audiobooks and countless podcasts.  I have run with groups of people and told my famous stories of poop and races I can only dream of running.



And today?  Today I ran my 10,000th mile.  In some ways, it happened in a blink. In other ways, it has taken a lifetime to get here.  It's hard to comprehend, right?  Ten thousand miles with my FEET.  To put it in perspective, that's like going from Flint, Michigan to Melbourne, Australia, across the entire United States and the Pacific Ocean, and still having another 120 miles or so to go.

It really has been an adventure.  The breathtaking places I have seen and the real, genuine people I have met and had the honor to run miles will be with me forever.  The past five years have been unforgettable, and I have no intentions of slowing down or stopping.  This year I have big plans.  You know those crazy 100 mile races people run?  This year is MY year.  In November, I'll be there at the start of the Chattanooga 100.  Next winter, I'll be the one telling my tale of an epic 100 mile journey.  My adventure awaits.

Here's to my next 10,000 miles.

Race Recap: The Marine Corps Marathon Edition

Originally posted on October 24, 2017

***

This story actually begins way back in April of this year. I hopefully had thrown my name into the Marine Corps Marathon lottery and on April 27th, I got my answer: I was IN. First things first, I had another marathon in two days to run. And then I had another one in May. Oh, and then a 50 miler in June. And then a 50k in July. THEN, I'd start my preparations for my D.C. marathon. Once I had all of those races finished, I made my plan and ran my miles. With about a month to go, I had a weekend of fun running planned: Ragnar Michigan. The weekend was a blast with some great teammates and it was just what I needed to get me excited for my final race of 2017. After booking a hotel near the start line, I opted to wait to find a hotel for Friday night until the weekend got closer. I had received all of my info from MCM, and there was one thing looming that I dreaded. The map of Washington D.C. and surrounding cities with its metro system was overwhelming, and I decided my van would be my mode of transportation instead of this scary puzzle.

 Finally it was here: RACE WEEK. I had put in my training miles, made my travel plans, packed my suitcase, booked a cheap hotel in Frederick, MD for Friday night, and there was nothing left to do but mildly freak out. And I kind of did. I was a little bit nervous to be traveling alone so far from home and I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to get to the race early Sunday morning. Friday came, and after dropping Nash off at school, I was off. Road trip time! In just two short days, I'd be RUNNING WITH THE MARINES!

 On my trip east, I made sure to hydrate well and, of course, I had brought along a Nerds Rope, which is my favorite pre-race road trip treat.

 After an eight hour drive from Michigan, through Ohio and Pennsylvania, I arrived in Frederick to my hotel. And it was creepy. I had no choice but to go in, so I loaded up everything I would need for the night, checked in quickly, got to my hotel room and LOCKED THE DOOR. My original plan was to check in and then go grab a bite to eat, but there was no way I was going out after dark alone in my current location. So, I opted for pizza delivery and had a little "party for one" in my room.

 In the morning, I woke up and quickly got ready to go. My next destination was the Gaylord Convention Center for the race expo. After crossing the Potomac River and heading down into National Harbor, I arrived at the Expo. I joined the thousands of others also picking up their race gear and was pleasantly surprised that instead of regular race volunteers handing out bibs, the entire welcome committee was ALL Marines! How cool to receive your race bib and a good luck wish from these men and women! I didn't stick around too long because I wanted to go check out D.C. on this gorgeous, sunny day. It took me over an hour to travel the 15 miles into the city, and after having my van thoroughly searched before entering the Ronald Reagan parking garage, I was free to roam. I didn't want to exhaust myself before race day, but I figured walking a few miles would do me some good. I headed towards the Washington Monument and then checked out the awesome WWII memorial site, along with a few other places around The Mall.

 I had been to D.C. when I was younger, but I never had the chance to just walk around. I didn't know beforehand, but most of the museums in Washington D.C. have free entry, which is amazing. I was near the National Museum of American History and decided to check it out. After going through a few exhibits, I came upon a special event-live music tucked back into a corner of the museum. There was an early American folk band playing and I sat and listened to them for quite a while. When they wrapped up their set, I headed back outside. I sat for a long time in a small park and watched an albino squirrel entertain passersby.

 Then I decided I'd head to my hotel in Alexandria to check in. I was getting a slight headache, so I figured I'd go get my things ready for the morning and then find someplace for an early dinner. A couple of hours later, I had everything laid out for my 3:45am alarm and I was getting hungry and my headache was getting a little worse. I found a nearby restaurant and ordered a Coke, hoping to diffuse my now pounding head. I nibbled on my salad and when my meal came, I took two bites and a wave of nausea hit me. I thought I was going to be sick at the table! I flagged down my waiter and asked for a to-go box, paid my bill, and nearly sprinted out of the place. When I got to my car, I thought I could make it the short distance back to my hotel, but my stomach had other plans. I ended up pulling to the side of the road and throwing up REPEATEDLY into a bag in my car. OH NO. This was not a small amount; this was the entire contents of my stomach from the entire day. All of my food and water, gone. And the race was in less than 12 hours. OH NO! My head was still raging, but I made it back to my room where I started to panic. I took a bath and then managed to hold down some popcorn and as much water as I could drink. I knew this would not bode well the night before a marathon.

 I fell asleep before 9pm and slept straight through until 3am. Six hours of sleep the night before a race?! Unheard of! After getting myself ready and packing my bags, I headed to Crystal City. This was where I'd presumably find a shuttle to take me to the start line at the Pentagon. I arrived early enough to make it on to one of the first shuttles, and crammed as much as I could into my little running pouch for the race. I sat and chatted on the bus with a man from Omaha and talked about races and kids and such and soon enough, we were at the Pentagon parking lot. After a short, chilly walk, we arrived in Runners Village. I headed towards a big tent where some people were gathering and parked myself in a chair. It was only 5:30am and the race start was still 2.5 hours away. I quickly learned that the tent I was in was home to a church service that morning for the runners. At 6am a few hundred of us sat and listened to a military chaplain give a short sermon and to my delight, the song of choice was "How Great Thou Art", one of my all-time favorites.

 When the service ended I took the opportunity to hit the restrooms before they got overcrowded. I was slowly getting colder and colder with nothing to do, and was highly jealous of people wearing pajama pants and bathrobes! I found a place to sit and managed to curl my legs up tight enough to squeeze them inside my Walmart $6 sweatshirt that I planned on leaving behind at the starting line. And there I sat for nearly an hour, trying to stay warm until it was time to head into the starting corrals.

 When the masses began herding towards the start, I followed. I headed up to the 4 hour time start, even though I knew I'd be taking my time with this race-I didn't want to miss a thing! I made friends with a lady named Robin from Toronto, and we chatted until it was time for the National Anthem. As the song was sung, eight marines jumped from a plane overhead and landed, one by one, right next to the starting line. It was impressive to see how quickly they approached the ground and then to see them land with such grace!

 And then, along with thousands of other runners-runners from all 50 states, and 60 countries around the world, every branch of our military, team members from Team RWB, TAPS, Semper Fi, Autism Speaks, Team Beef (complete with cowbells), plus wheelchairs and hand cyclists-it was time to GO.

 I tossed my sweatshirt to the side, (the Marines wash, fold and donate all items) and heard the starting gun go off! Here we go! The first mile was a little chilly, but soon enough my jitters had subsided and I started to warm up. The first few miles were slightly uphill, but I was enjoying the course and taking in the sights. Upon arriving at the first aid station, I was once again surprised to find that all of the volunteers were Marines! Throughout the course, Marines were offering Gatorade, water, Vaseline, gummy bears, animal crackers and orange slices. It seemed a little funny to be to be accepting these things from these men and women in uniform.

 After and out-and-back portion from miles six through nine, we headed down along the edge of the Potomac River. And then, we were there. The Blue Mile. The Blue Mile is one of remembrance for fallen service members. The course was lined with photographs labeled with names and ages and dates these men and women gave their lives in the ultimate sacrifice. I had tears in my eyes coming through this section, and when I reached a tunnel of U.S. flags held by family members of the fallen, I completely lost it. I don't know if you know this, but it is REALLY hard to run when you're sobbing.

 After Mile 13, I was still feeling pretty good, taking in the scenic views along the river. Soon, though, my quads started to ache. Uh-oh. By the time I got to Mile 16 and had passed several more monuments, my back seized up. Double uh-oh. I tried to remain in good spirits. After all, I had come all this way and I was currently running past the U.S. Capitol building!

 By Mile 20, nothing from the waist down was cooperating. I guess this is what happens when you puke out all of your food and water the day before a marathon. It hurt to run and it hurt to walk, but forward is forward and I kept going. The sun was blazing hot by that time, and I couldn't wait to find some shade.

 Throughout the race, I passed and was passed by several hand cyclists. It's hard to complain inside your head when you're watching a military double-amputee hand cycle on a hilly course for 26.2 miles. Also in attendance were many parents and friends pushing wheelchairs holding their sons and daughters and loved ones while running the entire marathon. It didn't seem right to walk when I had nothing to carry but myself. Check out those hills and climbs!

 Passing the 26 Mile marker, there were several Marines yelling, informing us that around the next turn we'd see the finish. What they didn't tell us was that there was also a hill around that corner. And it wasn't just any hill, it was straight up. Lining both sides of the course were many Marines, cheering and yelling at us to "RUN, DON'T WALK! FINISH STRONG! RISE TO THIS FINAL CHALLENGE!", and I don't think anyone out there wanted to let down these Marine men and women. We ran. And it hurt. But then, there was the finish! The crowd was enormous and everyone was cheering for everyone. As I came across the finish line and looked ahead, there was a sea of Marines, each of them holding medals for the runners. It's a strange feeling, receiving medal for running just a marathon from someone who has committed their life to protecting yours. And they were all amazing. They were so proud to see us finish this race, to complete our mission, and we were proud to run with them and be among their greatness.

 After staggering through the finish area, I remembered something: Brooks Running was offering bacon. They had made 600 pounds of bacon for the finishers and I wanted some badly. I collected my bacon, along with a nifty little box of goodies from the Marines, and collapsed on the grass. I'm pretty sure that was the best bacon I've ever had.

 After a few minutes, I got to my feet. My day wasn't over just yet. I still had to figure out where to get on the shuttle back to my van. After trekking up a steep hill unappreciatively, I managed to find my bus. I was joined by a man from New Jersey and we once again talked about races and kids and soon enough I was back to where I had started that morning.

 But my day still wasn't over yet. I had a nine hour drive ahead of me. Who runs a marathon in D.C. and then drives back to Michigan the same day?! This girl. I gave myself a disgusting wet wipe shower in the back of my van, changed out of my horrendously gross running gear and hit the road.

 I'm not sure how, but I managed to stop just once along the way for a slice of pizza and some gas, and those last two hours in the van were pretty sketchy, but I made it home just before 1am. I think the drive home might have taken as much mental strength as the marathon! I promptly took a much needed shower, brushed my teeth and passed out in bed.

 This experience is one I won't soon forget. And although I find inspiration in all of my races, this race held extra special meaning. Most of the time, unless you're in a military family, we don't see these great men and women who protect us. And in this day and age, it can be easy to forget that we are lucky to live in this great country. This is the home of the free, because of the brave, and I will forever be honored to have had the chance to run with them and experience their greatness firsthand. OORAH!

Race Recap: Grand Island 50k Edition

Originally posted on July 26, 2017

***

So, I decided that this race recap couldn't just be about the race.  For most races, I either drive to the race very early in the morning, or get there the night before and have a hotel booked for an overnight stay.  This time, I decided I wanted a full-on adventure.  We hadn't been on the motorcycle since we drove to New York via Canada to a friend's wedding in 2014, and we were itching for a trip, so I suggested Jason give the bike a little tune-up and we'd take that.  We'd be traveling from Gaylord to Munising, which is only about 200 miles each way, so I wasn't worried about any aches and pains from the ride on race day.  When we tried to find a hotel in the area, our options were very pricey, as I had only signed up for this race a week in advance and most of the cheaper places were booked.  So, I suggested we stay at the local campground.  In a tent.  Neither of us had camped since college, and I figured it was high time we gave it another go.  The only tricky part would be packing not only for a 50k trail race, but also camping, and getting it all to fit on the motorcycle.  Somehow, we managed to fit two pairs of running shoes, my hydration vest, bug spray, sunscreen, race fuel, four pairs of socks, four pairs of undies, four pairs of shorts, four shirts, two phone chargers, travel sized toiletries, an extention cord, two sleeping bags, a tent, a tarp, and two pillows all in the two saddle backs and one big travel pack on the back.  And yes, I am a magician.

We headed out after breakfast on Friday morning, leaving the kids with Nana and Grandpa at the cabin.  Our first order of business was crossing the Mackinaw Bridge, which connects Michigan's Lower and Upper Peninsulas.  Generally, the bridge doesn't bother me at all, but construction forced all of the traffic to travel on the inside lanes, which aren't pavement, but metal grating.  Riding on this grating on a motorcycle causes the bike to be pushed randomly sideways, which is not a good feeling when you're 155 feet above the water, and I poked Jason more than once which he knows means SLOW DOWN OR ELSE!

After we got across the bridge and paid our toll, we had to make a little pit stop.  Last year, we stopped in Trout Lake for lunch on the way home from this race, and much to Jason's dismay, we were a white minivan in a sea of motorcycles and ATVs.

This year, we might have been the only vehicle in the parking lot, but we were on two wheels only, and Jason got his redemption.

We popped inside for a little snack and then we were off again.

With about an hour or so until our next scheduled stop, I broke out the watermelon gum.  It's not a Harley road trip without watermelon gum and we always have it in stock.

Then we headed to Grand Marais. This town is located right on Lake Superior and is the eastern gateway to the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.  We had lunch at a little brewery there and watched the kayakers and sailboats enter and leave the shore.

And then it was time to head to Munising.  The road from Grand Marais to Munising was gorgeous- full of twists and turns and the air was still cool enough to be comfortable in my jacket.

We stopped along the way, on the recommendation of some fellow bikers we met at lunch, at a place called Logslide Overlook.  The story is that it takes one minute to get down the sand to the lake and up to three hours to climb back up to the top.  We decided to enjoy the view from the top only, before getting back on the bike!

Once in Munising, we headed straight for packet pickup.  While I got my race bib and shirt, Jason met with the race director to get details on volunteering on race day.  On the way out, I bumped into some Bay City runners I had met up with a couple times over the winter.  There would be some familiar faces on the course this year!

We hopped back on the bike and headed to the campground.  Every single campsite had been rented for this weekend, and it was bustling.  We found our little tent site and started to unload.  It didn't take long to put up our tent, lay out our sleeping bags and get situated.

The next order of business was food.  We headed back into town and decided we weren't very hungry-yet.  So we had a beer and chatted with some fellow bikers while we waited for our pizza to-go-I'd just heat it up later over the fire when I got hungry!  Then we stopped at a convenience store and grabbed some more beer, water, and of course, marshmallows.  And then we headed back to camp, on a motorcycle, with me holding down my very precious cargo-PIZZA.

There was firewood available for purchase at the campground, but we decided we could get more for our money if we rode a few miles down the road.  We pulled off on the way and I found a great marshmallow stick and carried it with me.  Then we found a great place to buy the wood.  Just one problem: too much wood and not enough room on the bike!  Even with the saddle bags filled, along with all I could carry, we still had to make two trips.

When we got back to camp and got the fire going, we took a little walk down to the shore, and there it was: Grand Island.  The site of my race was looming in the distance and I could envision the trails I'd be on the next day.

Back at the campsite, several of the Bay City runners stopped in and we talked for a long time about running and racing and strategies and life. In my opinion, this is the best part of traveling to races-meeting new people and hearing their stories.  I was excited to run with them on what would be a first ultramarathon for several of them.  After that, we ate fire-roasted pizza and it was fabulous.

I topped that off with a few perfectly roasted marshmallows-yummy!

And then, Jason had the crazy idea that he wanted to swim in Lake Superior.  So we headed back down to the beach where he quickly decided that it was way too cold at that time of night for a swim, so we enjoyed the sunset for a few minutes before heading back to get ready for bed.

With just six hours before we'd have to wake up to make it to the island before the race, we plugged in our phones to charge and tried to get some sleep.  (This is where I make a little side note about things I would bring the next time I go tent camping in a packed campground: AIR MATTRESSES AND EARPLUGS!)

Soon enough, my alarm went off and it was time to get going.  Because camp checkout was earlier than we could be back from the race and Saturday night was booked solid, we had to pack up everything we had brought with us. At 4am.  In the dark.  Trying to be quiet while everyone else slept.  Except not trying to be TOO quiet because the people in the tent next to us had chosen to loudly brush their teeth for several minutes at midnight, just inches from our tent.  And also not too quietly because can you really be THAT quiet on a Harley at any time of day?!

We bolted into town for coffee, wearing race clothes and our jackets, and with me holding a large garbage bag I filled to the brim with things that had somehow fit on the motorcycle when I had packed it the day prior in the daylight and not in a rush.  We parked at the high school, and stuffed our jackets and the garbage bag under the back tire, and hoped things would be as we had left them when we returned later that day.  It's kind of an unspoken rule with runners that you respect peoples' belongings.  We've all seen each others' hiding places for keys and wallets and all sorts of things and I wasn't too worried about leaving our things unattended.  We hopped on a bus filled with racers and volunteers and headed out to the ferry.

The ferry ride is listed as "a short 8 minute ride over to the island" but the whole thing lasted no more than four minutes-hardly enough time to get cold or to get splashed by the waves that were crashing up the sides of the boat.  And then we were there-on the island!  Most of us gathered in the little lodge near the start line, mainly because the mosquitoes were unbelievable outside.  I had completely doused myself with insect repellant, hoping it would last at least a few miles before I completely sweated it off, and those pesky little bugs seemed to be keeping their distance from me.  As our group began trickling in, again we talked of races and running and discussed race fuel and hydration packs and admired each others' gear.

With just a few minutes before the official start, we all headed outside and got together for a group picture.  Next up: 31 miles or BUST!  What would the day hold?

And then it was time to go.  We started out together as a pack, but soon enough we settled into our desired paces, and as Brian and I were at a similar pace, we decided to run together for as long as we could both keep up with each other.  This was his first ultra, and I had trained with him earlier in the year in Bay City and also happened to run both the Rock N Roll Nashville Marathon (his first) and Bayshore Marathon with him.  He had said that this would be his first and last ultra, but I had bets on him changing his mind.  The first seven miles came and went fairly easily and I was feeling pretty good and happy to be back on these trails for another year.

After Mile 7, we headed out onto the shore for a mile.  This is a gorgeous beachfront and the water is so calm and pristine and there are amazing views in every direction.

I have heard that in previous years the beach has been wide and runnable.  Last year, I was barely able to keep both feet on the hard, wet sand without getting wet, and this year, after about 25 yards, we all gave up and resorted to splashing through the water for the remainder of this section.

At Mile 8 the beach portion was over and the trail took us back into the forest.  It was only around 7:30am and the forest was still calm and still and mostly asleep.  After a few more miles, we came to a great spot to view the Pictured Rocks and catch the sunrise.  Somewhere, out across that water, lies Canada!

As we ticked off the miles, we got slightly slower but not too much.  By about Mile 15 we were walking most of the uphills and wondering where, exactly, the downhills were!  At Mile 16, we made out first stop to refill our packs and promptly received multiple mosquito bites.  I guess that insect repellant was long gone!  The volunteers had the right idea, dressed head to toe in complete beekeeper outfits, with no bare skin showing.  At Mile 19, we took a short break to take some photos at one of the highest points on the island.  The views were amazing and I wished I wasn't running a race so I could stay a little longer.  At Mile 21, I remember telling Brian that I had NO idea how I had run a 50 mile race just a month prior.  These last ten miles were going to be challenging, and I knew there was a big climb just ahead...

We came into the Mile 22/27 aid station where Jason was volunteering, refilled our packs, re-covered ourselves with bug spray and headed into the out-and-back section that everyone was dreading.

At Mile 23, there was a small, rocky stream crossing, but the water was cool and refreshing and we happily crossed it and headed up the hill.

This section was almost exclusively walking and it was precisely at this time that the black flies came out in FULL FORCE.  So much of my energy was spent trying to swat away these flies that were at least twice as large as any normal black fly I'd ever seen.  About 1/2 mile from the turnaround at the top of the hill, I came around a corner and spotted Sharon, from our group, coming down the hill at me.  She said, "Did Brian not make the turn up the hill?" and I joyfully informed her that he was right behind me!  Brian had injured his hip a few weeks prior and wasn't sure he'd be able to go the distance.  He had told us that if he wasn't feeling it, he would just skip this five mile stretch and head for the finish, but he did it!  Just after the turnaround at Mile 24.5, Brian caught back up with me and we headed back down the hill.  This was short-lived, however, as I was once again swarmed by black flies and had to literally sprint down the hill, making Mile 26 my fastest mile of the entire race!  I took a quick picture of Echo Lake as I crossed the stream once again and headed into the Mile22/27 aid station.

As he did last year, Jason decided to run in to the finish ahead of me at this point, so he would be there for the finish.  Brian found his own groove and also took off on ahead of me in the last four miles.  We had agreed that if either of us wanted to go on ahead, they should and I was proud to watch him finish his first (and hopefully not last) ultra strong.  Those last four miles were quite brutal for me as the black flies continued to torment me and the temperature was steadily climbing.  I had a small moment of superhuman strength where I decided to lift this tree out of the way, and it somehow was captured by photograph!

But then, much to my dismay, I discovered that the tree had left my hands covered in sticky sap.  Perfect.  Luckily, I had stuck a random hand wipe packet in my pack that morning and managed to get most of the stickiness off.  The miles seemed to be passing sooooo slowly, but then I saw that Mile 30 marker and I knew the finish line was just a few minutes away.  As I turned the last corner and headed in, I was focused in on the finish line.

That's when I heard it-I'm not sure which of the Bay City runners it was, but one of them yelled out, "YOU DIDN'T EVEN GET A GOOD POOP STORY OUT OF THIS RACE!"  I crossed that finish line laughing, and happily accepted my medal.

The medals for this race are a little different-a wood medallion, imprinted with the race details and island, with a neck loop which is hand knit from Alpaca wool by the race director's wife.  It's not the biggest or fanciest medal out there, but I think it's completely fitting for a trail run on an island that is pack-in, pack-out, and very in tune with nature and preserving our surroundings.

I finished this race 18 minutes slower than last year, but I have no complaints.  I felt I ran a solid race and looking back at my race as a whole, I am content with my performance.  With over 1800 feet of elevation gain throughout the course, it definitely provided challenges.

But that's not where this story ends.  After catching the ferry back to the mainland, and taking the bus back to our motorcycle, we found that yes, in fact, all of our belongings were right as we had left them.  I crawled onto the bike, a sweaty, wet, stinking mess, and headed back to the campground where the manager had thankfully agreed to let us shower before hitting the road.  While I sloooooowly peeled off my disgusting clothes, showered and re-packed the bag more efficiently, Jason headed out to Lake Superior to give that lake swimming thing another try.  He came back refreshed and ready to go, with his mission accomplished.

The only thing left to do now was park my butt on my SMILE pillow on the back of the bike...

...and hit the road.

I wasn't really sore, aside from my feet, but I found that letting my legs dangle instead of putting them on the footrests provided a lot of relief.

After an enormous amount of Mexican food in St. Ignace, we once again crossed the Mackinaw Bridge.

The sky had been threatening to rain almost the entire trip home, but somehow it stayed dry for us the whole way back to Gaylord.  In fact, by the time we arrived, the sky began to clear a little and I was pretty happy to relax on my favorite beach, watching my kids play in the lake as the sun began to set.

30 hours, 400 miles on motorcycle, 31 miles on foot, a million memories.