Dirty Dancing

I really, REALLY like getting disgustingly caked in mud, sweat, and grime. And those opportunities are actually pretty rare. Let me give an example: high-school cross-country. Of course I remember the practices, the road trips, the races...all so fondly. But one day sticks out from the rest. It was after a particularly rainy week, AND our school had forgotten to turn off the sprinklers on the baseball field. Our workout was intervals around the field, alternating between running easy, medium, and hard between the cones. Nothing unusual about that. Post-workout, however, some of us started playfully running over to the edge of the massive mud swamp, kicking up thick mud onto each other. Within about 2.5 minutes, it became an all out Mud Fest. We were pulling each other in, flinging mud pies at any body part that still looked clean, and ended up all out rolling, steamroller style, across the entire field. It was, arguably, the best cross-country practice of my life. My mom couldn't have been more surprised picking me up. And the next day, the entire cross-country team was in the nurse's office for mysterious quarter-sized welts that showed up on arms, legs, stomachs, etc. I think they determined it was some sort of bug bite.

Anyways, the point of my trip down memory lane is that I believe mud & dirt can only make a run more fun, more memorable. When I heard about the Dances with Dirt series, it sounded right up my alley. I had already signed up for Dances With Dirt 50 mile in Hell, MI on September 12. Still two looong months away, I was getting antsy to race. I've kept up some good mileage with 45 miles at Beer Run (over 24 hrs) and 'biweekendly' medium/long trail runs with the CHUGs. I was eating lunch in front of my computer at noon on Friday, browsing http://www.theultramarathonstore.com/, and...look at that! A Dances With Dirt race in Devil's Lake, WI, starting in 18 hours. After a few doubts, some nudging from Beer Run 100 finisher Jim O'Brien (the dude who ran across the Atacama Desert), and simply not getting the idea out of my head for 5 hours, I was committed. A little status update on facebook, and Vishal joins the adventure at 9:30pm. Crazy!

We left at 2:30am, as most of downtown Chicago was getting it's 'Summer in Chicago' party on. The next 3 hours were filled with much excitement and anticipation. My GPS brought us to a ferry-crossing, which Google Maps didn't. Without much time to spare, we were a little nervous about where this ferry would take us. There wasn't a single other car on there! View was pretty sweet, though...and it took us straight to the race start. Thanks Batman (my GPS). And thanks Mum & Dad for the graduation gift!

We arrive at 5:30am and register. Of course, my naive self blows Vishal's sweet registration fee deal as the woman is about to charge him $50. "Oh, I thought it was $100 for day-of registration," I say conversationally. "Oh yes, you're right. It is." You can thank me later, Vishal.

The race starts at 6:30am. Wow, I had no idea that I would be doing this 24 hours ago. The race goes along smoothly. And by smoothly I mean lots of rocks, roots, and brush. We hit a tough spot early on and the crowd slows to a walk. We're all in this long line in the woods and someone yells out, "Is this where I buy Rolling Stones tickets?". Everyone laughed. It still makes me laugh.
Miles 1-20: Business as usual. Mile 10 had an exciting moment when I was concentrating on opening a Gu packet, tripped, and completely wiped out on the trail. Flat on belly. This is kind of sick, but in that split second after, where you assess whether anything is broken, I was pumped! Finally a little dirty, becoming 'one with the trail.' What wasn't exciting was stubbing my toe, because it's the toenail I'm in the process of losing. That hurt. Now there's a blood blister underneath, making my feet even more attractive for summer weddings!

The terrain varied from wider Nordic Trail-type sections to really gnarly and fun single track. One downhill section was completely covered by a canopy of trees. It was totally like riding the waterpark slide where you're enclosed in a tube. I always liked stopping myself on the walls and just sitting there in the tube when I was a kid. At DWD, I let 'er rip through these sections. There was a lot of knee-high brush & thorns that I decided not to tiptoe around for 31 miles, so my calves (and quads, somehow) showed that. Vishal has the right idea with the whole leg hair thing- I don't think his legs were quite as cut up as mine. Something to think about for DWD 50 mile, right? (haha)
For about two miles, the trail led us into the wide open woods, where there was no trail. See the pictures below- it was mostly just bushwhacking and hiking with pink ribbons hanging randomly. We slowed to a walk, hopping over trees, slippery rocks, dried up river beds, and so on. It was hard spotting some of the pink ribbons and there were multiple times where we just stood still, looking around for a flash of pink. There were also a few climbs up to some really gorgeous views of Devil's Lake. AND there was paved single-track! Vishal and I were amazed at this. Just a little single-track asphalt path around trees and rocks. I didn't get a picture of it, though.

Pink ribbon, but no trail

We were SWEATY!

At mile 20 aid station, I headed out and Vishal was going to catch up with me, as was our pattern. However, no Vishal after 5 minutes...10 minutes...2 miles. I was a little worried, but told myself that he would get back on the right trail when he no longer saw white ribbons. However, the course was admittedly confusing, with plenty of places to take a wrong turn, follow a wrong colored ribbon, or miss the ribbon altogether. As I passed by the finish line at mile 26 with no sign of him, I was more concerned. I had aid stations leave messages for him, but there was no good way to find out where he was. I was slightly comforted by the fact that Vishal is a veteran ultrarunner now (100 mile finisher!) and could probably find his way to the finish line, via trail or volunteer vehicle. However, I wasn't comforted enough to think to fill up my bottles for the last 5 miles!! Huge mistake. At mile 27, I realized I had forgotten to fill up my dry Camelback bladder and empty Gatorade handheld. Not cool, as it was 80+ degrees and the last 5 miles were up and down the Devil's Lake ski slopes.

This was where it got rough. Up to this point, I was on cloud 9. Had I finished at 26.2, I would have thought it was a perfectly happy, smooth-sailing day. By mile 27, I was tired, had a really nasty chafing situation going on with my shirt sleeve, and was thirsty (probably made worse by just knowing that I was out of fluids). The field was spread out by this point, and everybody I saw was walking. However, just 5 hours earlier, I had told Vishal that I wasn't going to walk the uphills just because they were uphills. We still walked the steep climbs, but few other hills. More than anything, I wanted to walk now. Vishal was nowhere to be found. I would have fit right in with everyone else. It was steep and hot. Wah. Somehow, though, I couldn't stop running. As much as I wanted to and begged to ease up a bit, I didn't want to finish the race knowing deep down that I could've pushed harder but took the easy way out. It's hard to lie about those things to oneself, you know? So, I was quite mad at myself for the last 5 miles and bitter about the feeling of needing to run, and run hard.

At mile 30, I ran into Vishal (who was going the wrong way! Guess we match each other's lack of sense of direction. I hope Vishal gets a sweet GPS one day). He had taken a wrong turn and added on 8 miles- poor guy. He looked so beaten down and still had the ski hills to tackle. He took off sprinting, knowing that I had to leave for Chicago in 50 minutes.

I came into the finish, doing the breathing that sounds more like gulping for air. I sprinted to finish under 6:40, because that felt significant at the time. I finished in 6:39:53. About 25 minutes behind my 50K PR, but a much better and harder run on a more difficult course. I was actually in an awful mood crossing the line. It hurt like hell! Excuse me, Mama, I know you read my blog. I usually love me some volunteers, but it was all I could do to mumble a thank you for my medal and cutting off my timing chip. I felt like swearing. Or at least saying out loud some of the things that had been on my mind the last 4 miles. So, basically, swearing. Luckily, I didn't. I got some fluids, found out I placed 3rd in my age group (and got a mug!), changed out of my soaked clothes, and sat on a blanket underneath a tree in the shade for awhile. After about 25 minutes, I starting thinking that MAYBE it wasn't so awful. I chatted with other finishers and did a little CHUG P.R. By the time Vishal came in (50 minutes later, on the dot!), I was a different person. However, I think Vishal now felt like swearing. The guy ran 38 miles (but placed in his age group!), the last 5 of which must have been blistering up and down the hills.

We had a nice drive back to Chicago, complete with a life-changing meal of grilled cheese and ice cream from Carter's. I had never heard of that place, but WHOA.

The Aftermath: I am chomping at the bit for Dances with Dirt 50 mile in Hell, MI. Based on this race, I would have met the time cutoff for the 50M, which is something I had wondered about. Only 5 women finished the Hell 50 last year. I really, really want to be one of them in 2009. I'm pumped.

Second, it's pretty cool to be able to 'up and run' a 50K. I like being in good enough shape to be able to do that, and mostly comfortably. However, I was sore after. Went for a 9 miler on Monday and the first 5 miles was a painful-looking stiff legged limp of a run. Note to self: Wear the event t-shirt during these runs so people know there's actually a reason you look like that. Also, respect the distance, respect the need for recovery.

Third, I am bumpy, itchy, and going to the occupational health nurse at work tomorrow about a suspicious looking rash on my arm. I have 3 mosquito bites on my forehead. My left quad looks like a cat went digging for treats. But MAN, I have been smiling for 5 days! I feel like the high school cross-country runner looking for mud has found her passion. I couldn't be happier or love this sport any more. Life truly feels sweeter than ever. Special thanks to Vishal for being the kind of person who would be willing to jump into an adventure like this, 9 hours in advance, no less. Also to the CHUGs, for being a group that encourages this kind of stuff and knows that it brings out the best in you. You all are my constant inspiration.

Torey Declares War on PB&J at Mile 37

May 8, 2009, 7:00am: I'm really not nervous. In fact, this borders on apathy. After 458 miles of training (I kept a log) and thinking about this race, oh, every 20 minutes since mid-February, this feels strange. To stir up a little emotion, I reread an excerpt from Dean Karnazes' book, Ultramarathon Man, about Dean's first 50 miler. It reads as follows:

"For the first 43 miles, the run was entirely in the realm of the physical, and pain was the dominant sensation. But then my mind started scurrying off on its own. Instead of being one continual impulse, the pain began to come and go like lightning. In between the jolts of pain were blissful, almost eurphoric moments...
...On shaky legs, I stumbled to the finishers' tent and received a ribbon and a few handshakes and slaps on the back. Then I lumbered painfully to my car. When I plopped down, my legs went strangely cold. Something wasn't right. Then, without warning, the quadriceps and calf muscles of both legs seized in wicked cramps. My torso swung violently left, and then wildly back to the right. My legs were pegged to the floorboard, completely rigid. All ten toes were locked in place, forcefully curled against the soles of my shoes. The pain was mind-bending, pounding, entirely owning every drop of me...
...Sweat poured down my face, and I screamed at the top of my lungs. My screaming was interrupted by a curious belch. Then came a few more burps. Something was rising up inside my stomach. Suddenly my mouth opened, and projectile vomit began streaming out. I must have looked like Godzilla blowing fire into the air." (pp 78-79).

Suffice to say, my apathy was replaced with terror. Why did I sign up for this again? I suddenly felt very attached to my creature comforts. You know, comforts like not throwing up all over the car, being able to bend my knees and move my legs, not drain every last ounce of glucose from my brain. These thoughts occupied my mind as my Mom, Dad, and I packed up my car and headed to La Grange, Wisconsin. My parents were good sports, making jokes, and keeping the mood light. As we pulled away from my apartment, I made a last attempt at making sure I had absolutely EVERYTHING I needed. "So what do I really need for this?" Without a single moment of hesitation, my Mom answered, "Courage...endurance...dry wick underwear...an extra pair of legs." Check. Check. Check. Ummm...

Friday night was a Chicago Ultrarunners group dinner at Sperino's. It was a great time and nice way to meet parents, see some familiar faces before race day, and talk last-minute strategy. Geof asked why I was quiet, which was an appropriate question given that I probably said 15 words all dinner. I had recreated Dean's experience in my mind about 15 times on the car ride up and wondered how I would feel. Needless to say, I was a headcase. Geof said the perfect things, telling me I had trained for this, painting a happy picture of his first 50 mile race, and reminding me that Dean WAS trying to sell a book, afterall. "I finished, felt okay, ate some food, and was a little sore the next day" probably doesn't have the same ring as "mind-bending pain" and "Godzilla blowing fire."


I HAD trained for this- harder than for anything else in my life. A ridiculous majority of my runs had been in the cold Chicago rain or snow, as I refuse to run on the dreadmill. Deep down, I also wanted this beyond words. I gave my crew (Mom and Dad) strict instruction to give tough love at all aid stations and push me back on the course no matter what....broken foot, feeling sick, crying, migraine, wounds...no mercy, no sympathy. Just get me back on the course.

May 9, 2009, 6:00am. Race start. It's a little cold and rainy, but nothing we can't handle. I ran the first 10 miles with Brian Gaines and Dennis Duria, which was enjoyable and helpful. Still, between nerves, constantly evaluating my pace, and scanning every part of my body for potential problems later on, I'm having a hard time getting comfortable. I remember looking at my watch 45 minutes into the race. That's not good. During my 50k, I didn't check my watch until about 3:30 in. I'm not usually a 'headcase athlete'. I can stay calm, not overwhelm myself with expectations, and stick to my running MO- 'Have fun, Enjoy yourself, Push hard, Make it challenging, Finish happy.' Today, however, I was playing some serious mind games.

I felt some blisters forming early on, so I did some foot care at mile 11. Turns out this really wasn't all in my head, as I had some small-to-moderate blisters forming that were feeling painful. Luckily, I didn't feel them again until the very end, so big props to Advanced Healing Blister Band-Aids!

At mile 17, I am still somewhat irritable. It just doesn't feel easy the way it did at McNaughton, St. Louis Marathon, and most of my long training runs. Also, my hands have started swelling up and soon became unrecognizable. They seriously looked like little toddler hands- completely fat, pudgy, with sausages for fingers! I couldn't see my knuckles anymore or make a fist. I kept taking my electrolyte capsules and made sure I kept my hands up at my sides at all times. I was a little concerned- this has never happened before- but I don't think it's affecting my performance.



Adrian jumped in to run with me at mile 17, which was originally a good thing and turned into a great thing. The race went along smoothly, eating at aid stations, eating food from my pack, drinking my Camelback, meeting lots of new friends, and so on. I passed the marathon mark at 5:40, only about 5 minutes off my trail marathon P.R.!


At mile 37, I am encouraged by the fact that only a half-marathon remains. I took a quick trip to the outhouse and noticed that all the walls started moving in a swirling motion. Lots of patterns, lots of slow movements. When I told Adrian, he became the Food Nazi, telling me that my brain was low on glucose. He stroooongly encouraged (that's just a step below 'forcing') me to eat some peanut butter and jelly bites. He also filled my camelback up with Gatorade instead of water to increase calories. He encouraged me to eat the saltiest foods, as my hands were getting even puffier. I HATED eating solid food. My stomach was done for the day. Running wasn't going to give me a Godzilla-style moment like Karnazes, but forcing this food down my throat might.


Adrian isn't a veteran ultrarunner for nothing. The guy knows his stuff. Within about 25 minutes, I was perking up. We started laughing, making Wedding Crashers jokes, yelling for Cheryl up ahead ("Cheryl, where are you? I'll fiiiiind you..."), and Adrian loudly declares, "Torey declares war on peanut butter and jelly at Mile 37!" That really cracked me up. In fact, everything felt incredibly funny at the moment. I was hyper and giggly...which is actually one of the signs that I'm getting tired. The next step is usually crashing into sleep. I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen out here. Either way, I was enjoying the energy.

Adrian and I started picking up the pace, and he mentioned something about having to hold 5 mph (12 min/mi) to break 11 hours. Now, I never set out having this goal specifically. I was pretty vague about my goals beyond finishing in a decent mood. But suddenly, I got really into this. I was feeling good- FINALLY. I can say I felt better at mile 39 than mile 15. Maybe, after 9 hours, I had finally run out the nerves and was just running on autopilot.

We came to the mile 40 aid station, which had special significance. It was the last turn-around; we just had to run back from where we came to the finish. And my parents were there, which was a huge lift every single time. My Mom was snapping pictures and ringing her cowbell. My Dad was carrying my 'special needs' bag and making sure I had the right clothes, gear, and food. The worst part about mile 40 was eating more PB&J. I had not cried all day, but my eyes now filled up with tears. It's hard to put into words how bad it felt, but my appetite was LONG gone. The mere thought of swallowing any food made me nauseous. I do what I can and we get going on the last 10 miles.


We continued to pick up the pace and I begin to run most of the mild and medium uphills, saving walking only for the big boys. The giddiness I felt earlier was gone. I got pretty quiet again, put my head down, and counted the miles to home. Still, I wouldn't describe it as 'hard' exactly. Adrian kept saying, "I know it's painful..just keep going." I remember thinking, "It's not painful. I just can't go any faster than I'm going."

Running the last 3 miles was actually fun- I can say I left it all out there on the course. We probably clocked 9:30/10:00 miles. I was breathing hard, couldn't see anything but the course in front of me, and felt like I was breaking land speed records (funny, right?). Hearing the finish line up ahead was heaven. Another mile and we were in, pushing across the line in 10:54.



I was superficially happy to break 11, but in retrospect, that's really not the part that matters or has stuck with me. It's the effort I put forth at the end, finally feeling good, finally loving to run, no longer playing head games. I'm glad I had those 10 miles and have Adrian to thank for pushing me and encouraging me to eat.



The finish line was fun. Dean Karnazes definitely just wanted to sell books (still love him, though!). This was the best part of the whole day. I felt good (relatively), could walk around with only minimal soreness, was smiling my face off, taking pictures with friends, congratulating everyone, and happy to finally spend more than 4 minutes at a time with my wonderful crew and parents. We didn't hang too long, as my Dad was getting antsy (11 hours of spectating is tough) and wanted to get back to Chicago. I sat there in the car, happy as could be, until we arrived in Chicago.

As I attempted to move my legs for the first time in 2 hours, however, I was in for a new surprise. I could barely bend my knees and my legs hurt at even the slightest touch. My mom offered to give me a massage later, which I adamantly refused. Nobody was going to touch my legs- they hurt much too much for a massage. As we left our favorite Mexican restaurant, I was using both parents' shoulders to walk to the car. My dad joked that people probably thought I had too many margaritas.

In the aftermath, I went to bed that night happy, exhausted, and amazed that I had just finished 50 miles. I had a fitful night of sleep because my legs hurt (just as Cheryl predicted), and my hands didn't return to normal shape or size until the next morning. I was anything but graceful getting around the next few days, but it's true what they say...pain is temporary, but the experience, glory, and self-discovery lasts forever.

Running 50 miles truly raises the ceiling for yourself. I now feel like I can accomplish anything. Finishing a 50 gave me a deep-seated sense of satisfaction and self-respect. Training for the 50 also did the same. I was going through a tough time in February and March, but I found new things to love and embrace and discovered a whole new sense of commitment, drive, discipline, and willpower that I never knew I had.

Do I want to do another one? Absolutely. I'm thinking fall 2009. And I'll do some things differently: I will have more faith in myself from the beginning and more confidence in my training and pacing. I'll not read scary stories the day before. Hopefully that will eliminate a tense first 20+ miles. Also, I'd like to enjoy nature more. During IAT 50, I stared at the ground nearly the entire way. With all the roots and rocks, it's hard to do otherwise. But, I still wish I had taken the time to look up and take in the glory of a beautiful day in the woods.

Do I want to attempt a 100 mile? Not right now, no. A big no, in fact. On the other hand, you'll no longer hear me say 'I'll never run 100 miles.' I'm 26. There's a whole lotta life, new goals, and new challenges up ahead.

Was it easier than my first marathon? I'd have to say...yes! It was more demanding in many ways (carrying food, on a trail, no appetite, 24 miles longer), but this was a much happier and more comfortable experience than my first marathon. I guess that's what intense training, years of experience, and losing 25 pounds will do to you.

It takes a village to finish an ultra. I have so many people to thank.

Mom and Dad- thank you for your neverending support and crewing me all day long. I am so lucky to have such fantastic parents!

Christopher and Emily- You both inspire me constantly. Looking forward to convincing you both to do ultras for a long time to come...haha.

Chicago Ultrarunners- to ALL members, you have motivated me, informed me, encouraged me, and all around become great friends and mentors in my life.

Cheryl- I signed up for this because you told me I could do it back in February. Thank you for the long run talks, sharing your dogs, and being someone that I completely admire.

Adrian- You helped make this experience unforgettable. Thanks for 'strooongly encouraging' me to eat and constantly inspiring me with your attitude and accomplishments.

Geof- You've become a great friend in a short period of time. Thanks for your support and pep talk the night before the race. Hope to return the favor at KM100.

Brian- Thanks for the blister kit list!! Thanks also for sharing your advice, pace, and ultra spirit for the first 10 miles.

Chelsea- I'm a big fan. Great race out there- you really are a strong girl. I'm looking forward to seeing how far you can go...

Ian- One of the parts I was looking forward to was seeing your smiling face at Hwy 12. Thanks for coming out to volunteer!

Deanna, Kelly, Vishal, Gary, David, Tony, Ed, Dominic, Paige, Sarah, Ben, Sean- You've all inspired me in different ways and made me so excited for more Chicago Ultrarunner runs and races. See you on the trail, my friends.

Thanks to all of my old cross-country teammates and coaches who helped instill a ridiculous love for this sport.

Thanks to the friends that are supportive of this and don't make me feel crazy for pursuing this challenge! This is especially Jess, Mer, and Amanda, but many, many more.

Lastly, thank you to all of my friends (including facebook friends!) for the constant flow of support, encouragement, and congratulations. During the race, I thought about all of the people that have contributed some small part, inspiration, word of advice, or mark on myself as a runner and person. There are hundreds of you. Don't worry, I had 11 hours to think of every last one.

A Big, Happy, Rainy Milestone of a Day

This day officially marks the end of 50 Mile training and the beginning of taper and recovery. 12 days to go! My legs are pretty shot after a 72 mile week (a p.r. for me!), but I am excited to have finished the training phase healthy and injury-free. As Gary said, all the hay is in the barn. I'm ready.

Chicago Ultrarunners had a group run at Palos this morning. Fourteen people (I think..) showed up to get in on the fun. At one point, it was raining but the sun was shining through the trees. Very ethereal. All in all, a truly awesome run. When you're with great people and running through mud and streams, 18 miles can fly right by. As I was running along, I was struck by just how happy I am to have met these new friends (all relatively recently). Days like today were exactly what it's all about. What I think Chicago Ultrarunners should be about. What ultras are about. Putting cool people in beautiful scenery and building up lasting friendships. I'm in!

Some pics, thanks to BGaines:

Part of the group after getting slightly lost.

And some stream-crossing videos:

Torey

Geof

My Kind of Merathon

Sunday, April 19th: St. Louis Marathon. The day officially started with my phone's alarm telling me it was marathon day. Unfortunately, it was 1:15am. For some reason, that's the default time for my phone's calendar and I never changed it. I heard Mer's sleepy voice from the other bed, "Is it time?" Oops. Sorry, Mer! When the intended alarm went off at 5:00am, we woke up and donned our running gear, race bibs, and bunny ears and fluffy tail.

Why bunny ears and fluffy tail? It seemed like a fun way to enjoy our first marathon together, enjoy spring, enjoy youth, enjoy being girly. And they were only $2.99 at Walgreens. That was about as much thought as we put into it, although we got countless questions about which famous bunny we were channeling. We decided we were 1/3 Easter bunny, 1/3 Playboy bunny, and 1/3 Energizer bunny. That satisfied everyone. I also decided to carry my camera the whole way to document the experience and keep things fun.

The race started at 7:00am and it was 60 degrees and raining. The first few miles went by quickly, as we passed the Anheuser-Busch brewery. I was excited to see a Budweiser clydesdale standing outside as we passed. I love them. Miles 1-20 went along smoothly. Mer was hurting more than in her first marathon, as the course was quite hilly and she had dealt with some setbacks during training. She was a trooper, though, pushing through discomfort without complaining. True marathon spirit right there, baby! We walked the uphills (hello, Clayton) and coasted the downhills and flats. We passed through Washington University, which was my favorite part.

Actually, my very favorite part was all the friends we made with our bunny ears. Judging by the reaction from kids, you would think we were the real Easter bunnies passing right before their very eyes. We high-fived a LOT of tiny little hands, which was awesome. But we also received a startling amount of attention from adults. Other runners stopped to talk to us, spectators started looking for us (some used us to gauge the position of their runners along the course), cops directing traffic would turn and smile, and passing cars would honk and yell things out of the window. It was, truly, almost embarrassing the amount of attention we received. During a marathon, however, it's all good. Bring on the shameless adoration! We also heard bunny jokes all day:

"Wasn't Easter last weekend?"
"The Energizer bunnies keep going...and going...and going."
"Hugh Hefner is chasing you" (from a fellow runner with a striking resemblance to HH)
"Nice tails, bunnies"
"Hop to it, girls!"

We got a lot of "The bunnies! I've heard about you" from the relay racers and spectators. From a spectators perspective, though, it makes sense. It's hard to cheer for runners whose names you don't know, and few runners had names visibly displayed on their shirts. So to a wet and bored spectator, it is easy to spot 2 tall bunny ears in a mass of otherwise normal runners. We smiled, waved, joked, and felt famous all day. Best $2.99 I've ever spent! How am I ever going to run another marathon without them?!

The ears were surprisingly comfortable and didn't bounce while running. However, I can only wear handbands so long before the pressure behind my ears starts to bother me. I started to get a headache later on in the race, but those babies were NOT coming off. Give up being one of the main attractions of the marathon? Ha. Not happening.

By mile 20, Meredith was feeling good. Or, as she says, she was still hurting but at least you're supposed to hurt at mile 20. We picked up the pace after that and started passing people. I was feeling so good and enjoying the experience to the fullest. I kept thinking, "There is no place I'd rather be in the entire world than with Meredith at mile 23 of the STL marathon." Life could not have been any better at that moment. Seriously, if you could bottle endorphins...

We danced to 'YMCA' and 'It's Raining Men' as we passed aid stations, thanked the volunteers, and sang all of the songs about rain we could think of. At mile 25, we came upon Franklin, who decided to run the marathon on a whim with no training. He ran to the finish with us, which was great. Mer and I crossed the finish line in 5:16 with linked arms and received our medals. The marathon had run out of space blankets- bummer. The walk back to the hotel was really really cold and really really wet. This is the only thing I would change about the Go! St. Louis marathon. Everything else was superb- they put on such a fantastic event.

So we finished- bunny ears intact and all! They were even waterproof, although our tails were not. Those went right into the trash can. When we got back to the hotel, Mer did her usual ice bath. I thought I'd try it out, since I'll be ramping up training again starting...today. Whoa. I used to ice bath in college, but this was crazy miserable (the picture below is deceiving). I got in for 1 minute and would have preferred amputation of a non-dominant limb than stay in any longer. I think my body temperature must have been dangerously low from the frigid walk home. Or, I'm a wimp?

The rest of the day was a return to reality. After warm showers, we changed into all of our dry marathon gear and wore our medals to lunch at St. Louis Bread Company. I was enjoying my half-soup, half-sandwich combo when, after a particularly crunchy bite of sandwich, I saw an ant walk out from underneath it. I am not a fan of bugs. However, being the big girl I am, I let it go. Not without thoroughly inspecting my soup and chocolate chip cookie, though. Why is it that those things seem to happen to the people who hate bugs the most? The drive back to Chicago was a little tough, too. Mer and I took turns driving, but it poured rain the entire time and seemed to take forever. Whoever said St. Louis is a nice 4-hr drive from Chicago must be cutting across cornfields; it took us at least 5 hrs each way.

So that's a wrap! It was a wonderful weekend, a crazy fun race, and another mark on the marathon tally for both of us. Luckily, my body feels great post-marathon, because I'll be back out there for another long run this weekend. T-minus 17 days until Ice Age!