Grizzlyman!! What an Adventure! ~~Part Two

So the race started with a bang.  Literally.  And off we went.  Black Bear racers, which was the Sprint version of this race veered to the left and Grizzlyman to the right.  We headed out behind the Paws Up Resort, which is where we started and finished. We headed straight into the woods, and started up and down a pretty nice trail.  A little rock and muddy, but nothing too crazy.  About 10 minutes in, I started to feel this tightness in my chest.  I tried to just focus on watching the trail, enjoying the view a little, but it kept getting worse.  I felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and squeezing my throat.  I could not for the life of me, get a breath.  I slowed down a bit, thinking maybe I wasn’t quite warmed up, and went out to fast.  The asphyxiation grew worse, and all of a sudden I thought, “What am I doing?  I cannot breathe, and there are 10 hours left of this race” I am out!”  The thing that was hard was when you are racing with a partner, you can only have a distance between the two of you of 10 meters running, and 30 meters biking.  So I had to keep slowing down and calling out to my race partner.  Finally, I had to stop.  Pulled off the trail and stopped.  I called out to Dave, who pulled over, and I told him, I could not go on.  I was going to have to stop my race right here.  Finished.  This made me almost cry.  Dave and the others we raced with have done several adventure races, and qualified and went to Nationals in Texas last year.  To let Dave down like this was killing me, but I could not take in any air.  He stopped and VERY quickly (time is ticking) said, “No, you can do this!”  He told me we would slow a bit, and it was probably the altitude that was making me feel so bad.  But he said, “You have this!!”  So off we went.  I think it may have been altitude, mixed with my nerves of a new race, and the adrenaline that spiked in my body pre-race.  After a couple of miles, I seem to calm down.  We could not wear our Garmin’s, due to the GPS capability, so I had no idea what my heart rate was.  Maybe that was a good thing.  We kept going, and found our 1^st checkpoint.  That made me smile.  Made me know I could keep going.  We kept running, checking our maps for the next checkpoint, which was nowhere near the trail we were on.  Up into the bushes and weeds we went to find the 2 nd one.  After that I knew we had just a straight run to the river.  Meaning, no stopping for checkpoints until we got to the riverbank.  We took off.  Up and down rolling hills.  I was happy to have been wearing my trail gators, with all of the thorns, sagebrush, mud and gravel that we were running through.  Finally we found the small road that lead us to the river, and our kayaks.  Down the bank we went, punched our passport at the checkpoint, and rushed to get our clothes changed.  Side note: going into this I knew that I was going to have to be changing in and out of wet clothes in front of God and everyone.  Again…not your typical transition.  I figured for the kayak portion I would take off my running tights, and put on the wetsuit.  Seriously?  I thought I would be shy, and embarrassed.  When we got there, however, and Dave (my race partner) yelled out, “Let’s get naked!!” I didn't even think of the fact that I would be in front of tons of people changing.  I knew I was WAY too sweaty, to be able to take the tights off, and pull on a wetsuit.  It would have taken forever to get that tight sucker on.  So I pulled my wetsuit over my tights.  It went on easy.  Well, as easy as they can.  Put on my Seal Skinz, helmet, stuffed our packs onto the dry bag, stashed our trekking poles, and put my bag with my map/passport in the best stashing place ever for women, down the front of my shirt/wetsuit.  I knew I wouldn’t lose it there.  I took a glance over at Andy and Jeni who had come in a few minutes behind us, and she was pulling her shoes over her sealskinz.  We had talked about doing this, and thought it would be a good idea, but once in the “thick” of things I decided against it.  MISTAKE!

I made sure Dave’s dry suit was zipped up, and pulled the kayak into the river.  THANK GOD I had run this river 2 weeks ago, or I would have probably been sick, due to fear of white water for the first time.  Off we went paddling into the freezing Blackfoot River.  I realized then how thirsty I was.  Despite hydrating so well the whole week, and day before.  My mouth felt full of cotton, my lips were sticky.  Everything I owned was in the drybag at this point, and on the river, there is no stopping to grab stuff.  We paddled on, having only ONE, uh, oh moment, when we came upon a sleeper we didn’t see, and got the kayak lodged up on top, sideways.  UhOh!!  I was so hot, that the water rushing into the kayak felt good, but I knew, this water coming in was not a good thing.  Paddle HARD!  We got out, and kept on a few miles (maybe 6-7) until we say the take out spot.

Dave and I on the Blackfoot River

  Paddling river left, I jumped out and pulled the kayak to shore.  My arms were toast.  I knew I wasn’t paddling right in the kayak, with my torso, and not my arms because they were getting sore on the river.  When we pulled that kayak out of the water, OH MY was it heavy, and my arms were like noodles.  We had to carry the kayak UP the short, but STEEP, and VERY rocky (this is where I made the mistake with my shoes) riverbank.  The rocks were killing my feet.  And the freakin’ kayak felt like it weighed a ton.  I kept, stopping and starting.  Poor Dave.

Hiking those kayaks!!

  We got our passports punched at the next CP, and preceded to carry the kayak to the transition area about 150 to 200 yards away.  Again feeling like it was a mile. Finally we got to transition, dropped the kayak and the craziness started.  This time I was in my undies, and T-shirt.  At one point my partner was on the ground, having me pull off his dry suit.  I am yanking the dry suit…STILL in my undies.  HAHA didn’t even cross my mind until much later.  We got changed, got bottles on the bikes, bike shoes on, and another pack, and off we went. 

Bike transition in the middle of no-where, Montana

The mountain bike portion was the longest.  And it was steep.  We climbed for HOURS on our bikes, sometimes getting so steep, we were off the bikes and pushing.  Through mud, snow, ice.  Checkpoint after checkpoint.  Dave and I got to the part where we needed to make a decision about going for an “extra” CP.  It would require us to drop our bikes, and climb/trek to the highest peak in Lubrecht.  Morrisson Peak at about 5600 feet.  I had left my trekking poles in the kayak. Another mistake.  We decided to go for it.  Mind you, this was a climb that we would be doing in our bike shoes.  Dave put me on a tow, from the back of his pack to the front of mine, and gave me one of his trekking poles.  It took us 30 minutes to get up and down, and the bonus, was 30 minutes added to our time.  A wash!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  This is where I started to get tired.  I couldn’t eat.  My legs felt like they were going to fall off.   They were weak, and tired, and a little stiff. I was almost in tears, telling Dave, I just don’t think adventure racing is my thing.  He said, “Are you whining?”  I yelled, “NO!!”…and mumbled, “Ok, just a little.” He said, “Just wait until we do a 3 or 5 day expedition race.”  I said, “THIS is NOT the time to be talking to me about a 5-day freakin’ (but didn’t say the nice word) adventure race!!!”  I was trying to drink and eat, but just couldn’t.  I knew if I didn’t get something in my system, I would eventually bonk so hard I wouldn’t be able to keep going.  I tried sipping my Heed, and eating a bite sized Snickers.  After a few minutes, when the sugar hit, I was feeling better, but still wondering how we would ever finish within the 10-hour time cutoff.  Back down the mountain we came, to grab bikes, and head for the next CP’s.  Climbing, climbing, climbing.  The climbing was endless!  There were no trails, some parts we were hike-a-biking,  (carrying our bikes) due to the conditions.  Through trees, sagebrush, bushes.  Anyone who has ever hiked through the wilderness, you know what I am talking about.  Until we finally got to the last CP, that would take us pretty much screaming down hill until the finish.  This is where I heard the Hallelujah Choir.  Off we flew.  Man, this felt good.  I knew we were almost done, and my body was ready to cross that finish line. I pulled on that last bit of determination, and “guts” you get to push yourself over the line.  Flying down the hill across a big flat section of bumpy dirt road.  We stopped, looking for the last CP.  Where was it?  We were on the road, next to the highway, with the river to our left.  Just as the map said.  WHERE WAS THE CP?  All of a sudden, Dave yells.  YELLS! (#%&*!)  We missed a turn, and took the wrong road.  No checkpoint.  We had to backtrack.  Oh my gosh.  My last burst of finish line energy was wasted.  I was out of  Perpetuam, out of H2O, and was running low on my Heed.  How far would we have to back track?  Luckily it wasn’t far.  But it did cost us a ton of energy, and about a ½ hour.  We found our road, and Dave said, “Let’s bomb this last part.”  It took every ounce of my being, every energy draw I had, every mental thought I could conjure, to finish this part out.  When I could see the finish, I about cried.  In fact I am sure I did.  We came blazing through to the finish.  Our spouses waiting there, our friends, and race buddies, Andy and Jeni there.  We were tired, sore, caked in mud (yes, at one point I was unable to unclip out of my peddles, and the mud was so thick, I fell) sweat, thorns, weeds, blood, you name it.  Having that complete exhaustion but euphoria at the same time.  That feeling is amazing.  Extraordinary!  Finishing, what in the beginning, I thought I could not.  Something so agonizing at times, I thought I could not go on, but ending up with that undeniable sense of joy of finishing something outstanding.  That is why we race.  That sense of accomplishment, to see just how far our bodies will take us.  How hard we can push them.  How determined can we be?  And in the end, it is SO worth it.  Through everything, even feeling tortured it was worth it.  My partner was amazing.  Through the slow times, crying, whining, he really held me up.  Even when I thought I would sit down and cry, or when I wanted to KILL him. Team Mates!  He was encouraging, motivating, and really, literally pulled/pushed me along at times.  Thanks Dave (Team ASW2)

We finished fourth.  Andy and Jeni (Team ASW1) third, and 15 minutes ahead of us.  Good job guys!!  Our time, 7 hours, 6 minutes.  We made all of our checkpoints and got one of the extras.  Greg and Dave D (Team ASW3)  at about 6:16 for their 1st Sprint. Not too bad for my first 10-hour race.  Already can't wait to do another!!!

                    

All smiles at the finish 

Greg and his race partner Dave D finishing Black Bear.

  

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Crossing the finish line!!

Jeni doing her finish-line handstand!

This was the bike trans.  The peak behind the bikes...one we climbed.

The Start!

 

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Birthday of Champions!!!

Of all the ways I thought I would spend my fortieth birthday when I was younger, the way it actually played out, was never in those thoughts. I was thinking a big fat NYC shopping trip, maybe some Broadway, or an amazing Vegas vacation, maybe a Caribbean beach bash, or a trip to the Eiffel tower. It’s funny when I was younger and looking ahead to forty, the person I was in those thoughts, also, is not the person I actually am today. Forty seemed old. Forty seemed FAR away. I saw myself in my big beach hat, giant sunglasses, on a beach cruiser. Gray haired, and feeling a little bitter that my youth had passed me by too quickly. HA!! I am happy to report, that forty is not even close to being “old” I am nowhere close to gray-haired, and I am in the prime of feeling youthful. I may not be a “youth” but can probably run circles around a lot of them.
April 2nd, 2010 started with a gorgeous drive over to Missoula Montana. A quick trip into REI, and off on an 18-mile mountain bike ride. Followed up by a quick run up the “M” hill (about 1 ¼ miles) then off into the Lubrecht Experimental Forest outside of Missoula. It was dark when we arrived at the campsite, so donning our headlamps, we set up camp. Tents, Thermo-rests, sleeping bags, and campfire. I could hear the roar of the river just next to us, but the night sky in the middle of nowhere, Montana was so incredibly dark, you couldn’t see a foot ahead of you, let alone, down the riverbank. The four of us gathered around the campfire, started up our jet-boils, for a wonderful birthday dinner. On the menu for the evening, Chicken Polynesian for Greg, Forever Young Mac and Cheese for Dave, Leonardo de Fettuccine for Jeni, and Pasta Primavera for me. All ready in 8 minutes. On the dessert menu was the great Raspberry Crumble for four. And of course a round of hot cocoa’s with Buttershots. MMM!! We said “Cheers” and laughed about the falling snow, and wondered if there was a better way of ringing in the big 4-0?? No way!

                                                        Dave, Jeni & I

Morning broke, and it was cold. Not that typical, roll out of the sleeping bag cold of a camping trip, but COLD. It had snowed though the whole night, with a little hail at the end towards the early morning. I couldn’t wait to get out of the tent to see the river. But then, the thought quickly crossed my mind, that within an hour, I would be IN the river. White water kayaking. Something I had never done. I looked out at the water. Had it been any other day, this river would have looked so beautiful. And it was. Breathtaking. From the bank. I looked up and down, scanning what was lying before me. Huge boulders, white water, “sleeper” rocks just under the waters surface, that at any given instance could send me sailing right into it’s icy depths. It looked angry. I was nervous. We ate a quick breakfast, had some MUCH needed coffee (thank you Starbucks Via) and loaded the kayaks to the put in spot along the river, a few miles from camp. At this point I was starting to have that adrenaline rush through my body. Nervous, and jittery. Shaking from the cold, and the nerves, and really needing a “potty break” but wasn’t willing to climb out of the partial warmth of my wet suit. 

                                               YEP, that's me, freezing my watootzy off!

 So, off we went. Jeni and I carried our kayak to the riverbank, while she gave me a little schooling. My mind was reeling. Thinking, if we flip, make sure I keep hold of the paddle, feet first and on my back. Don’t get stuck in a swirling “eddy” and if need be, hold my breath, sink under the water, and let the rushing current pull me out of drowning danger. The guys put in first, and just seeing Greg and Dave leaving into the water made my stomach flip-flop. Then we were off. Pushing off the shore into the Blackfoot River. Here I am, sitting in a kayak, and I was breathing as if I was at mile 25 of a marathon. Heavy, panting breaths. Heart pounding out of my chest. “Calm down, Paula” “Don’t think about the bad, enjoy the experience.” I tell you, the first part of curling, cold rapids that we hit, I thought I was going to pass out. All I could think about was flipping that kayak over into that cold water. I was in the front, and trying my hardest to see where we were heading, and what we were getting into, while water was rushing all around, and splashing into my face. Jeni was so good at calming me down, and things got a little less stressful after a few minutes. Still, though, I was just into surviving these few miles. It is amazing the force of water. It is fierce. You have to be on your toes, at all times. Watching, carefully what is up ahead of you. Not a lot of margin for error. That water can carry you anywhere it wants. And it was our job to not allow that to happen. Every time we would hit some calm water after the rapids, I would have to start my heart back up, and remind myself to start breathing again. 

                                      Put in for our kayaks on the Blackfoot River

We girls did great! And after a couple of miles I got the hang of things, and then was able to take in some scenery. The Blackfoot River is stunning. The riverbanks at this point still frozen with ice and snow were something out of a movie scene. We finished our paddle at about 3 miles and hiked the kayaks up the bank back to camp.

                         Jeni & I smiling at this point and singing, "Fat Bottomed Girls!"

 My legs felt so wobbly. I was obviously holding them tight in the boat. I felt like I could barely walk or stand. I was happy to be ashore, but loved (eventually) the “rush “of the river. Definitely a wonderful thing for this adrenaline junkie. The thrill of going down that river was intense.
The rest of our day was spent mountain biking, trekking some fabulously steep mountain ranges, running, and navigation.

 The weather was all over this day. And the saying of, “If you don’t like the weather in western Montana, wait five minutes” held true. We had sun, rain, snow, wind, and pounding hail with a head wind on the last part of the mountain bike. By the time we got back to camp, we were thoroughly spent. Bodies were worn. Greg and I broke camp that night and headed home, making a stop in Missoula for Easter goodies. I am sure we looked like zombie bikers, as we hunted for candy in Target.
That night I slept like a baby in my down comforter. Warm. The demanding workouts, plus the mental “fear factor” of being in that river all drained away from me. I woke up Easter morning feeling refreshed, happy and grateful for a healthy body, a strong beating heart, wonderful friends, an amazing family, the beautiful part of the country we live in, the endless adventure in my life, and laughing about a birthday I am sure I will never forget!!!

Forty and the Firsts!

Ever have the feeling you are in strange movie? In a time warp? Maybe, in a hot tub time machine? Haven’t seen the movie, but I am having that feeling this week. Not going BACK in time but forward. I am usually always the girl looking forward, in a sense that I leave the past in the past, but not looking too far into the future to worry about things out of my control. But this week, I feel like I have been transported. Here’s the thing that I thiiink may be the main culprit of this feeling; I AM TURNING 40 THIS WEEK! Now, to me, just the mere utterance of that makes me feel like I just moved forward in time, oh…about 10-15 years. Seriously! My parents were 40. My in-laws 40. My brother and sister-in-law 40. Greg is 40….but me??? Not that I have any hang ups about it. BBBAAHHAHAH! In all seriousness, I don’t have hang ups about it. I mean, I don’t feel 40. Don’t always act 40. I have heard rumors that the fourth decade of my life will be one of the best ever.
We had a little get together for Greg’s B-day, which happened to be last week, and we had a discussion about the 20’s, 30’s and now 40’s. I know, I would never want to go back to my 20’s. That decade was a huge struggle for me. School, marriage, young parents, no money, barely any jobs, moving from California, where I grew up my whole life to Idaho, built a home, and really searched for who I was, and who I wanted to be. In my 30’s things mellowed a bit. But that is the decade we agreed was the “character building” decade. We had established careers, kids were older, we moved to Minnesota, I quit work, bought yet another home, moved again (back to Idaho) bought another home, Greg changed his career focus, started working from home, got a kid graduated, and another this year, we started traveling more, and I decided it was Ironman time! I guess that in itself is something to look forward to in my 40’s. First Ironman at 40! Wow! Many of my friends have looked at 40 as a big bummer. The old, over the hill. That’s hard for me to do. I am the happiest I have been, ever. My kids are amazing, I am married to my best friend, I am back living in a place I feel is paradise, and I am in probably the best shape of my life. I am happy, healthy and blessed. So far, I am thinking I agree with those who have come before me, this fourth decade may just be “Alright!”
I will be celebrating my big 4-0, camping in Montana. Winter camping. Hmmm, now this is the part of the story that I start to cry. Kidding. My Grizzlyman Adventure Race is coming up in a couple of weeks, and we are going over to do some training. We don’t actually know the course, per say, and won’t until the night before the race, but we are going off of last years area for kayaking, trekking, mountain biking, trail running, and orienteering. This race has also snuck up on me. I mean, I have been training, but here we are…almost race day. Another 1st! Adventure Racing! I will be huddled up in a mummy bag, with some good friends in the Montana forest, eating a Mountain House Blueberry Cheesecake MRE for my birthday. Really this is so apropos for me. It’s funny, and will make a great story, and that’s how my life rolls, usually.
I am excited about Grizzlyman, even if I feel like it too came at me quickly. This training will be a great indication of how the race will go for us. I am most concerned about the white water kayaking…yet another 1st!
Maybe 40 will just continue to be a year of 1st’s for me. I guess if I look at it that way, the sky is the limit, and possibilities are endless. When I look forward, I can look at it with great expectations, excitement, enthusiasm, looking forward to the next great adventure. Isn’t that the way life should be lived anyway???
Here’s to 40 and the 1st!!

Wish I would've landed in Chamois Butt'r and not Snow

I always say, what is life, without a little adventure? Trying something new. Out of the comfort zone. Off the couch, out into the world!

What a day, yesterday!

My whole life I have wanted to train for, one, a marathon (done), Ironman (currently) an Ultra marathon, and an Adventure Race. Sitting pregnant with our last child, I remember watching Eco-Challenge, and then Primal Quest, and having the desire in my heart to push my body beyond my comfort zone, and do an adventure race. Only, I never thought adventure racing would come knocking on my door the SAME year I am training for an Ironman Triathlon. That, in itself, a full time job.

I am never one to walk away from a challenge, or a fabulous opportunity, so when the call came to join team ASW for an adventure race in Montana in April, although I contemplated hard, for about 3 seconds, I knew I was in!!!

We started training together as a team, all the while I continue to train for Ironman in June. Eat, swim, eat, bike, eat, run, eat, sleep, repeat. Did I mention, eat? The training has taken me to a new level of discipline, determination, and athleticism. Hard, hilly trail running. Long, arduous, steep, muddy climbs on the mountain bike, hiking mountains, carrying my bike on my shoulders, navigation, and orienteering, and kayaking. Along with long road runs, miles of swimming each week, and 40-50 mile rides on my road bike (in one day) Which brings me to yesterday.

It was our first truly all day, long training. Eight hours. Usually our training is about 4-5 hours. We got up, had a good breakfast, and met up with the rest of the team at about 9am. We drove to our starting point, unloaded gear, food, kayak, helmets, trekking poles, shoes, and hydration. You name it, it was on our backs, which is where everything for your hours, days or weeks remains. Dave & I lost the bet with Greg and Jeni, and jumped into the kayak first. You will see later why this was a bad bet to lose. We kayaked the beautiful water of Lake Pend Orielle, to Buttonhook Bay, for about 2 miles, portaged the kayak up a hill, which is called "Big Nasty". That, I think, is a nice name for it. Needless to say, I had several other names for it by the end. We took the kayak up and down, and met the rest of our team. We then embarked on a 10-mile trail run, up, up, up the Highpoint Trail, to the Lake View Point (the view was worth the torture, believe me. As you can see above) and back down. Ruts, snow, mud, rocks, roots. My trekking poles, my new Inov-8 trail shoes, and legs were getting a great punishing! After the run, team #2 jumped into the kayak, and got the luxury of paddling back to the start, while team # 1 (this is where Dave & I lost the bet) had to run the 3-4 miles back to the start. Team #2, good leg rest, while paddling. Team # 1 kept pounding the trail. Back to the start, to meet some more friends, and fellow adventurers, change out of our gear, on to the bikes. Twenty-some miles of biking up Cape Horn. The uphill on the mountain bike was killing my legs. I started getting crampy, even though all day I had been sucking down Heed electrolyte drink. My teammate hooked me onto the tow on the bike, thank God. This is a slick system used by adventure racers in the biking and running to help along teammates who are tiring out. Stronger person tows from the front. So on the tow, I went, for a much needed rest on my legs. It’s amazing, while you are still climbing and working on the tow, it really allows you to save some energy. Only thing is it can start to get hard when you are on rugged, rocky, uphill, terrain. We were hitting some good slushy snow in the climb, and I was fairing quite well, and then BAM, tire comes out from under me into the slush. I didn’t have the time to clip out of my bike, and down I went into the hard-packed ice, rock, mud, and slush. Only then to be drug a few yards by my teammate. He felt awful. The rest of the biking, I was off tow with a bruised elbow, hip, and ego.

We stopped for a while to refuel, which was much needed. Some of us were getting hungry, and cranky…..ok me….and work on our navigation, and orienteering skills. This is something all new to me. Never done it. I was taught, handed a map, and was off to find the designated checkpoints. This went well, and I really needed the break off of the bike. Our teams all ran scattered around finding the various checkpoints. Six in all. We had some good laughs during this time. Every reading we were getting, we were off by several degrees, but we somehow managed to all find the checkpoint, and fall back together. We navigated back to our starting point, and back onto the bike. This time now, well after dark. Headlamps on, freezing cold, hungry. I have never ridden a mountain bike, or any bike for that matter, in the dark. Probably since I was a crazy kid. This was fun, a little scary, and very exhilarating. My inner-child soured, as we flew through the night, with the glow of our headlamps, back to base camp.

We were spent. Utterly used up. Bodies, sore, tight and aggravated. Hungry, cold, somewhat delirious, but totally excited, happy, and feeling like we had conquered a giant. I knew in that moment when we were standing, and congratulating one another on a job well done, and deciding what was for dinner (Ha-Ha) and how good the hot-tub was going to feel, that I was ready for my first adventure race!! Grizzlyman Montana, here we come!!!