Ultramarathon Essentials

It takes a village not only to raise a child, but to help a person run an ultra. I'll blog later about the actual race itself, but for now I just want to extend some internet love to the products and people who helped!

1. Nathan Hydration Pack

You know how in junior high you were NOT cool if you didn't wear Lucky jeans? At ultras, apparently, the same holds true if you don't have one of these suckers on your back. But unlike Lucky jeans, they serve a purpose. The reason why Nathans are so ubiquitous at the starting line is because they are amazing. They carry just enough water to get you from aid station to aid station (about 70 ounces) and have zippered pockets on the front shoulder straps that give you easy access to any PowerGels, chapstick, iPod, etc that you stash in there. And, unlike most packs, the weight of a Nathan is carried completely on your shoulders and not on your hips. Plus, the straps are made of a supersoft, breathable material that doesn't chafe. I am definitely putting one of these suckers on my Christmas list (I borrowed my dad's at the race).

2. BodyGlide

Probably the best $7 investment you can make if you want to run any distance over a half-marathon.

3. Wright Socks

I'm one of the few outdoor enthusiasts who hasn't hopped on the SmartWool bandwagon. I think their socks are too tight-fitting and too hot. But for long runs, cotton just won't cut it. I found Wright Socks at a local running store and love them as an alternative to SmartWool! They're much lighter, more breathable, and achieve the same aim as SmartWool: keeping your feet blister-free. I wore these socks for the entire 50 miles and hadn't a trace of blister at the finish line.

4. PowerGels

Don't even waste your time trying other gels (Gu, Clif Shots, etc). PowerGels are the best-tasting, hands-down. I like the gels with 2x caffeine--it gives you a noticeable kick of energy. Best flavors are tangerine, vanilla, strawberry banana, and chocolate.

5. S-Caps 

The main electrolytes you lose in heavy sweating are sodium and chloride. Chemistry 101, anybody? NaCl = salt. Popping a salt pill every few hours will help replace the electrolytes your body loses through sweating, which prevents cramps (especially in hot weather).

6. Hokas

While there is no doubt that these babies are the fugliest things you will ever put on your feet, they are worth every penny of the $180 you'll have to shell out for them (once again, borrowed my dad's--sadly, our shoe sizes aren't too far off from each other!). They look huge and bulky, but surprisingly each shoe only weighs 12 ounces. And there's a ton  of cushy room inside--perfect for the last 10 miles when your feet are tired and swollen. I wore Hokas for the last six miles of the race (3,500 feet of descent) and it literally felt like they were propelling me forward.

7. Trail Shoes

Brooks Cascadia 5, what would I have done without you? I love these because unlike most trail shoes, they don't weigh 4 lbs each and aren't embarrassingly bad-looking.

8. iPod

I may or may not have stopped to physically shake my booty at mile 16 to Nelly's "Ride Wit Me."

9. Ibuprofen

Liver schmiver. I don't care what the studies say about ibuprofen--it's a godsend! 

10. Excedrin

I packed some Excedrin thinking I might get a headache from dehydration or the altitude. While I ended up having no problems with either of those, Excedrin came in major handy at mile 35 (4pm) when I felt like taking a nap right there on the trail. After the caffeine boost from Excedrin, I was golden.

11. Your Crew

It felt so good seeing Brock and my family at miles 22 and 28! It gave me such a jolt of energy. Not to mention that they operated like a Formula 1 pit crew! All the other runners were totally jealous. My mom massaged my back with Biofreeze, dad topped off my Camelback, my siblings got me food, Brock showered me with compliments... :)

Special props go out to my dad for helping me get through the race mentally. Right before the race started, he attached a strand of five safety pins to my pack. "You're not going out for a 50-mile run," he said. "You're going out for a 15-hour hike in the woods. Every three hours, take off one of these pins. Just focus on that." At the end of the day, I gave him back one pin.

12. God

As great as it is to have the encouragement of your crew and aid station volunteers, that doesn't change the fact that for the majority of the race you're on your own (with scarcely another runner in sight). For me, the going got really tough at miles 35-39. I never thought about dropping out, but I knew I'd need a little heavenly support to help get me through. Saying a quick prayer helped remind me that I wasn't really alone out there. Likewise, when I crossed the finish line I knew it wasn't really all my doing. Philippians 4:13.

***

In the pre-race briefing on Friday, the race director told a story about a guy who hit a mid-life crisis. He saw that he was in the same routine, in the same rut as everybody else his age. So he started running and eventually founded the NYC Marathon.

Our race director referred to this act as "getting off the train."

"You will hit a point tomorrow when this grand, romantic idea that you had six months ago of running an ultramarathon will seem like the dumbest idea you ever had. You will hurt. It will be painful. It will suck. But if you quit because it's too hard, or because you're in pain, then give me back the finisher's T-shirt that you got in your packet tonight. Because you got off that train a long time ago, and you don't deserve it if you get back on."

I'm proud to say I'm still off the train. But like I said, it took a village 

Little Did I Know

that when I wrote about toenails falling off four days ago--and how disgusting it was--that MY toenails would be falling off this weekend. Two of them.

Here Goes Nothin'

"Try the meditation of the trail, just walk along looking at the trail at your feet, and don't look about and just fall into a trance as the ground zips by. Trails are like that: you're floating along in a Shakespearean Arden paradise and expect to see nymphs and fluteboys, then suddenly you're struggling in a hot broiling sun of hell in dust and nettles and poison oak . . . just like life." - Jack Kerouac

"If you're going to try, go all the way. . . You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire . . . you will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is." - Charles Bukowski

"I thought if you could run 100 miles, you'd be in this Zen state. You'd be the effing Buddha, bringing peace and a smile to the world. It didn't work in my case--I'm the same old punk-ass as before--but there's always that hope that it will turn you into the person you want to be, a better, more peaceful person. When I'm out on a long run, the only thing in life that matters is finishing the run. For once, my brain isn't going blehblehbleh all the time. Everything quiets down, and the only thing going on is pure flow. It's just me and the movement and the motion. That's what I love--just being a barbarian, running through the woods." - Jenn Shelton

Social Norms: A Violation

"My toenail fell off."

Me, quizzically: "What?"

"You're looking at me weird--my toenail fell off and that's what I'm holding in my hand."

ACTUALLY, Miss Girl-Sitting-Next-to-Me-in-Lecture, your toenail didn't fall off. It was torn, yes, but I sat here for three minutes and listened to the disgusting sound of you picking it off with your fingers.

And you're not just holding it in your hand, you're playing with it like a small ball of Play-Doh, twiddling it around with your fingers and such.

Except it's not Play-Doh. It's a chunk of your big toenail.

THAT'S WHY I'M LOOKING AT YOU WEIRD.

Oldyweds

Sure, Brock and I don't have kids or a mortgage yet, but I think that if 3.5 years as spouses and students doesn't qualify us for oldywed status, the three conversations we had this morning do.

***

Brock, as he comes bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen (I was reading through emails):

(Sarcastically): "What? Is that crackling bacon I hear?!"

Me, apathetically: "Nope."

***

Brock, while watching ESPN:

"Y'know, if I wasn't Mormon, I would go to Alabama . . . because they got some HOT cheerleaders."

"If you weren't Mormon? How about if you weren't married?!"

"Yeah well that's implied in my not being Mormon."

"Sure . . . "

"Oh, please honey! You have a picture of George Clooney on your laptop!"

"It's GEORGE CLOONEY."

"Yeah, and it's the ALABAMA CHEERLEADERS."

***

Brock, as he was walking out the door to go volunteer at the MTC. (I had previously made known my intention to spend a couple hours cleaning the house):

"Hey, honey? Do me a favor and save the laundry and dishes for me, will ya?"

"Okay."

A pause.

" . . . that response came too quickly . . . without laundry and dishes you pretty much have nothing to do, huh? Hmm. I should have started lower. Can I rescind my first offer?"

"Nope."

"Dang it. Fine, then c'mere and gimme a kiss before I go."

We kiss. But Brock has really nice lips (and he's doing the laundry and dishes) so I tack on another. Which he takes as a sign to tack on more himself. He starts pulling me in the direction of the bedroom.

Me, crumpling to the floor: "NOO!! I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS!!!"

Brock: "Alright, alright, fine! You kind of smell anyway."

The Attractiveness Theorem

Every iota, every shred of confidence I had, evaporated when I saw her.

How was I supposed to hold on to any sense of pride after I saw her on campus? Yes, her. Gorgeous Girl. What with her striking bone structure, wispy, shimmering blonde hair, flawless skin, piercing blue eyes and tiny frame. I immediately began hoping I was smarter than her. Funnier. More athletic. Anything--any superlative!--to help me regain the self-worth that had been so violently ripped out from under me.

Just as I was about to go home and self-medicate with Ding Dongs and stretchy pants, I came to a quasi-philosophical epiphany: Gorgeous Girl wasn't just pretty. She was debilitatingly pretty.

The implications of this were vast and unbounded! Immediately, my mind went into the throes of deep existential thought. Kierkegaard? Rousseau? Hobbes? Nietzsche? HA! Has-beens! Wannabes! Poseurs!

My friends, I present to you the Attractiveness Theorem. It's short, sweet, and slightly Machiavellian.

The ideal state of being is to possess enough physical attractiveness to help get you ahead in life, but not so much as to inhibit others from taking you seriously or appreciating your other qualities.

Allow me to elaborate. Studies in various fields have shown that an attractive person is more likely to get a job than an equally-qualified average-looking person. It's not mean, it's human nature. It's how humans have perpetuated and protected the species throughout eons of time. Why do men like blondes? Because traditionally, blonde hair has been a sign of fertility. Why do they like big, curvy hips? Because they're good for child-bearing. Big boobs? Good for nursing. (And bouncy and jiggly and stuff.)

Ah, but this goes both ways, you see! Why do women traditionally prefer athletic types? Because they're more likely to succeed in the hunt. Why do we prefer thick hair over baldness? It's a sign of youth and virility. 

We've all heard the saying "If you've got it, flaunt it." Here's the thing: Everybody has it. Forgive me for going all Tyra Banks on you, but I really believe that. But some people are what I like to call debilitatingly good-looking. The particularly pulchritudinous may never know whether they got the job on the basis of their personal merits because they are just too attractive. Wouldn't that gnaw at you, especially if you were extremely qualified and competent? So for those of you who find yourself in the 6-8 region of the 10-point scale: REJOICE!

***

It's highly likely that this is just roundabout way of making myself feel better over the fact that I don't have porcelain skin, that I couldn't fit into size 4 jeans if my life depended on it, that my teeth are big and slightly bucky, that my natural hair color is called "ash," etc, etc, etc.

But you know what? I'm happy. I got it.

Or at least enough of it, anyway.

Technologically Challenged

I consider myself to be a fairly technologically-savvy person.

But today, while studying on the 5th floor of the library, I disproved that assumption in embarrassing fashion. One of the assignments for my daily Arabic homework was to listen to a Nizar Qabbani poem--resalah min taht el ma'a (Letter From Under the Water)--sung by a famous Egyptian singer named Abd el Halim.

Only after I had listened to nearly ALL of this song on my laptop did a fellow classmate named Tom (who happened to be studying nearby--thank goodness), come up to me and whisper:

"Hey . . . did you know your earbuds aren't plugged in?"

Yes, my friends. I had plugged my earbuds into the WRONG HOLE on my laptop and had unknowingly been listening to this FULL BLAST in the library.

To anybody and everybody studying on the 5th floor today: I offer my sincerest apologies.