Race Report: 切ない/Setsunai

Full disclosure - this report is long.  

But so was this race, so........🤷

Japanese is one of those languages that have phrases that lack an English equivalent.  Even so, Japanese words are pluripotent as written Japanese is a mix of three different alphabets - hirgana, katakana (both phonetic) and kanji (traditional-ish Chinese).  As such, you get these weird phrases of phonetic characters mixed with pictographic Chinese as some sort of weird abbreviation for subtle messaging.  The way I see it, it's like having an entire Wikipedia article's list of cultural references for a TV episode constrained in a single character.

切ない, pronounced Setsunai, is one such phrase.  The first character is a combination of the character for sever and katana, implying to cut.  Then depending on who you ask, (full disclosure, I'm not Japanese) - the last two characters convey something impossible to describe, but basically the first five months of 2023 for me.  

I pretty much signed up for Cocodona right after the WSER/Hardrock lotteries yielded nothing for me.  (My current intention is to keep entering these lotteries but no longer actively run qualifiers, so at some point I will stop being in contention for traditional WSER/Hardrock entry.)  It was because I succumbed to the peer pressure of two Bigfoot aid station captains after sharing yarns about my dumb summer, Mike and Mika - but I also didn't realize they were 1st lady and 2nd male at Tahoe that same year.  It seemed logical that after hitting 155ish mi in 2019 with a 48h race, then the Double last year - a 250mi race would be the next step in seeing where these legs could take me.

And then in early January, I was asked to clean out my office at work, which made sense having been 100% WFH since Western States last year.  Distance training commenced soon after, and it wasn't soon before long that I realized how ridiculously anti-social these events had made me.  Back-to-back 40milers wasn't really palatable for everyone in my run group during the deep throes of winter, and most of my run group was still chasing snow on skis and such, so I didn't blame them, but there was definitely a realization that something that brought so much light and joy into my life had now lost its shine and feels.

Now, I know I'm just being melodramatic about training for an early season race, but IMHO this is what ない is about.  
It is the realization that the memories of running for joy are just a memory, and that running has become a sadistic chore. 
It is the realization that 8h runs feel like an hour now, but that you've also burnt an entire 1/3 of a day doing nothing but mumble to yourself. 
It is the realization that holy shit, I haven't seen anyone for a whole third of a day but I didn't even notice. 
It is the realization that both joy and pain are temporary. 
It is the acceptance that time always cuts a line of pain into the brightest moments of happiness, and that time also cuts a line of happiness into the darkest moments of pain. 
It is the ability to allow for sorrow and joy to coeexist peacefully.  

But I digress.  My training plan for this race was as follows - 

• slow progression from January back-to-back 20s, 30s and 40 milers culminating in a Good Friday high 110s long weekend.  each run up to April would average 1600m D+ for every 50k.  
• Sundays were for weight training, in which I would run with an empty growler from my house up to an urban park, bag about 1500m D+ over 32k, run to a brewery, have lunch and rehydrate and fill the growler, then run home.  It was stupid.  
• no heat training.  my sauna guy for WSER moved up to Edmonton.  I knew the dumbest part of the course was on day 1, so all I had to do would be to slow down, ice up and take it slow to Crown King.  

I don't think I've ever carb loaded like this before.  #excellenceinrefrigeratorclearing

Rich and Kristy were busy this year, and it was harder getting crew/pacers for a mid-week race like Cocodona, so I went back to Scott from UTMB and rented him a small camper to follow me around the course and provide suitable sleeping arrangements where possible.  The original plan was for him to drop off the camper at the finish, Uber over to Fort Tuthill/mi214 and then pace me in to the finish line for the last 36mi.

In addition, my friend Crystal from Calgary was also crewing and pacing the same itinerary with a runner from Ottawa, Martin; so Scott may have an extra pair of hands at times depending on where Martin was relative to me.

My goals were as follows - 

1. 90h.  Based on nothing but the Ultrasignup algorithm, this was pretty much substantiated as 400km/(5km/h) and then adding 6h of total napping and 4h of fucking around at aid stations. 
2. <99h59m.  As above, but 14h of fucking about.
3. Make it to the finish in time to shower, clean up and get some Cinco del Mayo shenanigans going on (<106h?)
   
4. Just finish and make it to Derby Day.  This cost a metric fuckton of money, groceries and training time so I didn't want those resources to be consumed in vain.

Day 1: Black Canyon City to Friendly Pines (Salomon Sense Pro 3's)

My race day started with a 200h alarm, and then a one hour drive from central PHX up to Black Canyon City.  This would still give us another hour to kill and grab by Spot tracker, but I figured it'd be a good chance to figure out how the van should be configured for sleeping and try to get some last minute shuteye.  I also realized very late the night before that I had actually somehow managed to leave my lucky Salomon singlet in Calgary, so I was going to start the race with a 100% cotton shirt (for moisture retention), but Scott managed to talk some sense into me and I switched into his merino Canmore Trail Culture shirt. 

 

you know that feeling when you're standing at the top of a ski run itching to go, but it just gets more angsty the longer you stand there?  that's how i look at the top of said ski run. 

What followed was quite possibly one of the stupidest but most surreal 50k's I had ever done.

The first 11mi would be similar terrain to the Black Canyon 100k course, and we chugged along with minimal hiking.  Sunrise was annoyingly about 20 minutes past the start, so I elected to start with using a Goal Zero Lighthouse Mini on my hand for the 15 minutes I needed light.  After getting bottlenecked onto singletrack, I turned my light off shortly before crossing the Agua Fria river 2mi in, and green saguaros, ocotillos and rocks dotted the Sonoran landscape as the sun rose.

After 8mi of running we would get to Cottonwood aid station, manned by Rob Krar and his ultrarunning camp.  It was here that we had to fill up with 4L of water as there would be no additional aid stations for the next 25mi - there would be a water drop after another 3mi where we could take an additional 1L (restricted due to needing mules to haul them in), and then a water drop another 15mi after that.  I had trained all year with growler runs in my Salomon XA15 pack, but never had I tried this 1.5L reservoir (water) + 2x 500mL (electrolyte) + 2x 750mL loadout (electrolyte); thankfully it all worked out as balance wasn't too much of an issue, and the weight was only incrementally more than my Sunday morning loadout.  I loaded up ice in my speed bob and my sexy new unicorn-and-rainbows ice bandana, grabbed enough food for ~9 h and told myself to make the most of a wetter year ripe with streams of filterable water.

The next 22mi through the foot of the Bradshaws climbed 8000' via loads and loads of mining and jeep road that made me grateful for all the Moose Mountain Road repeats I did this year.  It had a similar technicality as the one going up to Cunningham Gulch clockwise at Hardrock in that I don't know who in their right mind would actually drive over the babyheads on this road.  The climbs were steep and punchy, with the descents just as puckery at times.  This did not bode well for either my choice to not bring poles (so as to use different muscles during the week) and my first choice of shoes, worn-down Salomon Sense Pro 3's that were going straight to the bin once I went to bed that night.  It didn't take me long to figure out that the lug wear on my shoes was actually very inconsistent, leading to a lot more puckering than I expected over the course of the day depending on how I landed my foot.  (Don't even get me started on the compromised uppers letting in all the dust.)  

Hilariously enough, one of the only others not using poles in my vicinity during this section was Sally Motherfucking McRae, and on top of that she actually had them in her quiver whereas mine were still with Scott.  Nevertheless we ran together for a bit, shooting the shit over our intentions with our first 200s and reminiscing about adventures past.  

(On a side note, she is as rad as you think she is.  Seriously  - at first I was like, 'oh I'm probably not worthy of being in the presence of such badassery' and nervously ran off but then when she caught up, she straight up asks me how it's going by name.  And then the second time this happens, she opens up with whether I'm eating or drinking enough.  And then much later in the day, she asks if I'm ok as I was favoring my right leg but didn't even notice.  More on that later, but if you ever cross paths with this lady - make the most of it.)

At some point the heat finally slowed my muscles down and Sally went ahead while I geared down and took it easy so the ginger in my belly could digest.  A mild wind appeared to pick up but this was probably also due to us getting higher and warmer.  I caught up with her and a few others again at Milk Ranch for the second water drop, which I found out was just a bunch of old-school jerrycans sitting next to a collapsed outbuilding.  I had already refilled my filtered flask in the stream prior to this, so with the jerrycans I topped up my reservoir and one of my 750s before going after Sally.

In her wake were multiple runners vomiting from the heat, and as someone who packs Trader Joe's Candied Ginger in high-temperature environments, I suddenly because the reverse grim reaper on course, getting folks to rally before unfortunately leaving them in the dust.  This feeling must have lit a fire in me as I passed Sally again, then ran with another girl, Alicia, up Lane Mountain Trail as Ponderosa Pine started appearing.  The temps finally relented once Alicia and I hit the top to views of Lake Pleasant and Black Canyon City, and we hit the Lane Mountain AS together.  I spent way too much time here eating real food and forgetting Crown King was only 4mi downhill, so Alicia ended up leaving before me with Sally hot my tail.  

Alicia had far more confidence in her downhill so I couldn't keep up with her once the descent started, and sure enough Sally and her film crew came tumbling down soon after.  I hung on for as long as I could but she ended up arriving into the Saloon about a minute before me.  Conversely, somehow I arrived ahead of Scott so I just focused on getting rehydrated (with non-dairy Spring Energy-spiked banana smoothies) and reenergized (with pasta salad) while waiting for him to show.  When he did, I had him run his massage gun on me while I stuffed my night gear into my bag, before quickly leaving without my hydration bladder and one of my 750s (by intention).... and also without my poles, again.  Or before drying my feet.  

Seriously, cutoff was another 6h away and I just rushed out of there like a fool. 

 

 

A four mile climb to Tower Mountain greeted us to get us to the top of the Bradshaws that parallels the Black Canyon Trail.  Aspens and firs led the way toward the Arrastra Creek aid station, and I thought I could make it there before needing to put on my headlamp and switch to my eyeglasses, but unfortunately the darkness slowed me down enough that I had to stop over a mile out to grab these items.  And sure enough, Sally showed up on cue to lead me in.  

Arrastra Creek yielded on surprise for me though - Mark Vogel, who had run the Hardrock/Western double last year as well, was working this AS and we shot the shit for a little bit.  (He had also run Cocodona last year.)  I got some ramen and potato soup before leaving uphill for Kamp Kipa, which would be 10mi to the top of Mt. Union, the high point of the Bradshaws just under 8000'.  Like clockwork, Sally showed up in less than two mi, and left me in the dust grinding up the hill.  Kamp Kippa would be 62mi into the race but I elected to push onwards to mi 71.5/Friendly Pines, and with an expected ETA of 230h there, a 2h naptime would still give me 110km for a day 1 total.  After taking a dump, eating some hot breakfast and ramen and telling Sally not to stay too long, I started trotting off on a mostly downhill 8mi section at the blistering pace of 5.5km/h.  And like clockwork again, Sally came rushing through about halfway in with her baked potato heat blanket-stuffed jacket.  I would not see her again for another day after that.  

I passed no one and got passed by everyone on this section through Spruce Mountain/Groom Creek; the insufficient lugs on my shoes were making me pucker up hard and I slowed down considerably because of unpredictable loss of traction on uneven surfaces.  Dirt finally yielded to pavement and soon I found myself at the indoor aid station of Friendly Pines, where Scott was late once again.  I did have my drop bag here, so I decided to hail a medic and get my feet cleaned up while waiting for him.  Thankfully Scott showed up ten minutes after arrival, and I was able to get him to grab my flip flops so that I could sleep barefoot in the van.  My Sense Pro's and breached Injinji socks went straight to the can, I set an alarm for 2h but I decided that I would leave when I woke up.

Day 2: Friendly Pines to Jerome (Altra Lone Peak 6's)

 

That would be 1h36m later, and I quickly slipped on some Altra Lone Peak 6's to switch to a forefoot strike on the second day.  After taking a dump, eating a loaded hamburger, brushing my teeth and grabbing my poles this time, I headed off towards Prescott ("Pres-kytt") and the break of dawn just past 5.  

This next section was mostly flat through more pine trees around the Goldwater Lake before putting us on an ungodly amount of pavement through the town of Prescott.  It was a rather hilly town but I didn't mind being able to finally trot of a bit on good lugs and a different strike pattern.  Whiskey Row, the next aid station, was situated in a courtyard within downtown Prescott; Scott finally beat me there (it was only a few miles as the crow flies from Friendly Pines) and there was pizza available, but I settled for oatmeal and some ice instead.  I left shortly prior to 8am on a 14mi stretch to Iron King, the terminus of an old railway right-of-way.

We started off with even more pavement to avoid running on the 89 (which was also hilariously infested with Cox survey pin flags of a similar shade of Aravaipa orange), but we were rewarded with running through the Granite Dells (and what would be the world's sickest disc golf course) at Watson Lake by the time the sun was sky high.  Less cloud cover meant that despite the cooler temperatures, it still felt like eleventy bajillion degrees.  I couldn't get any momentum going with the technicality of the rocks, but it didn't matter as the scenery of the super full and cerulean Watson Lake was super distracting, and I was super grateful I wasn't navigating this section at night as there were only white dots painted on rocks to guide me .  Eventually we descended into Flume Canyon, then back up Over the Hill and eventually out onto Peavine Trail, the old rail right-of-way.  A strong wind picked up on the plateau and dehydrated my mouth faster, and it was at this point I started noticing I was breathing through my mouth a lot more because my nasal passages were apparently full of dust.  

I ran out of water roughly 2mi from Iron King, but this was another downhill pavement stretch leading to Scott and Crystal waiting for me.  I tried to not spend that much time here as it was only five miles to the next aid station, Fain Ranch, and I knew I would be a minute there as there was an RMT on station.  Nevertheless I took a little bit to get rehydrated before heading back out into the stupid wind.  

These five miles were effectively a sequence of ascending and descending 3-step A-frame ladders to circumvent barbed wire fencing, then running cross country across grazing fields on game trails if i was lucky.  The wind had blown down some of the flagging, making the experience super squinty in parts if the wind wasn't already making me squint my eyes.  

After hilariously managing to cut 2mi from this section by running only towards the furthest flag i could see, I arrived at Fain Ranch, which was not located at a ranch but rather a parking lot.  Satisfy Running sponsored this aid station, which was comprised of a catered kitchen setup, a living room furnished under a massive canopy with loveseats that were way too low.  I spent way too much time here with the RMT, the Michael Versteeg debut of his Floda ("FLat sODA") endurance drink, and murdering a breakfast taco bowl of sorts.  

(Also, this is the last time I would see Sally during the race, who left shortly after I arrived.  She ended up as 4th lady ahead of Alicia.)

The grind out to Mingus Mountain was 12mi, and it opened with a long, flat approach into the side of a hill through more open ranching fields.  Despite finally hitting 100mi, it was tough maintaining momentum in the heat of the afternoon through this section between the uneven trail consistency and the wind-blown pin flags, but after about 2h I made it to the FSR at the bottom of the climb up to Mingus.  The wind grew stronger as we ascended and my dehydration accelerated accordingly, but I had a backup 750mL of Gnarly just for this occasion.  I caught up with someone who I had been yo-yoing since the beginning of the race, Kiril, and his pacer, and the three of us slogged through the FSR at the top of Trail 28 all the way past Mingus Lake, Mingus Campground and then the Mingus Mountain Camp.  

The original plan saw me finish the day at Dead Horse, but it was around 430-5pm when I got to Mingus, meaning it would be roughly midnight by the time I got to Jerome 16mi away.  I would have changed shoes at Dead Horse but I told Scott that with all the dehydration, the plan would be to call it a day at Jerome (marking 200ish k over 2 days), sleep for 2h and then make it to Dead Horse for first light ahead of the 125 milers.  With that in mind, I quickly took another dump, scarfed down more potato soup, lasagna and ramen and headed out to the dying light.

Flashbacks to Mogollon ensued as we ascended past a cell phone tower and then by a hang glider launch, and then a hilarious downhill from 7000' via multiple switchbacks.  Kiril and his new pacer passed me while I took it easy on this rocky technical section that also yielded the first bits of snow on course, and my glasses/headlamp got changed out shortly thereafter.  Eventually the technicality wore off, and we ended up on a dirt road past the halfway point of the race brightly illuminated by a cloudless sky and a full moon.  

For some reason, the section around Jerome was the most poorly marked of the course.  I'd go 2-3mi with zero assurance markers, so I had to bleed some time here referring back to my phone.  Nevertheless I made it to the aid station in Jerome Historic State Park shortly past midnight, and hit the sack right away after scarfing down some food.  

 

Day 3: Jerome to Schnebly (Brooks Cascadia 15's)

Descending Jerome into Clarkdale and the Verde Valley at two in the fucking morning was a whole adventure on its own between the sparse flagging and what I realized was a damaged headlamp running on reduced brightness I couldn't control.  I had asked the Jerome aid station volunteers if it was worth bringing poles on this 9mi stretch, and they said it was necessary except for this one 3/4 mi section of downhill that "could get puckery".  I found that this was a huge understatement as it was actually a powerline right-of-way that dropped 2000' amidst loose rock, fly-tipping glass remnants and cacti everywhere.  (Hilariously enough, a property adjacent to this section had a warning sign saying a highly trained tortoise was on security patrol.)  Despite my dying headlamp, I was able to stay upright on this section thanks to a bright moonlight and it wasn't long before we hit Clarkdale and Old Town Cottonwood.  Because of a fire at Tuzigoot, we had to run on a highway through town, so I was counting my lucky stars I was dealing with this section prior to 5am.  The Jail Trail into dead Horse Ranch State Park yielded actual cottonwood trees, and I would get into the aid station just before 7am into my new shoes, some neutral Brooks Cascadia 15's.  

I saw the medic before jumping into these, a nice fellow named Zach, and he retaped my feet while giving me a chance to lance the massive tumor of a blister on the inside of my left heel.  I scarfed down some more ramen and potato soup here while my feet were worked on, and Scott changed out my headlamp before I started off on a casual half marathon with zero shade.  Raptor Trail would lead to Lime Kiln Trail, and the views of the road we came in on (Mingus, Jerome, Cottonwood) were clear as day while the red rocks of Sedona approached from the distance.   Despite the flatter section, I wasn't able to capitalize on any speed because of the heat, and it wasn't soon before Kiril and his pacer passed me after he took an extended nap at an AirBnB.  

Random campers played tricks with my mind, thinking the aid station was closer than it was, but the aid station at Deer Pass didn't appear until I could see massive irrigation geysers from the other side of 89A.  Jeff Browning running the 125 miler passed me with two miles to go, and I got to Deer Pass just as Kiril was leaving.  

They had hot dogs here so I drank two of them as it was 14mi to Sedona (10 to the next water drop), and having learned nothing at Jerome, I left my poles behind here too at the suggestion of the aid station staff (who did not have ~150mi on them).  Despite a higher prevalence of shade on this stretch, I was starting to get passed by numerous 125ers and even a 250 lady with a knee brace ("it's just for show!!!!").  The strong gale made it difficult for me to keep my mouth anything but dry, but knowing there was a water drop, I had decided to run with my 750mL reserve in my hand to clear that out first.  

The water drop also had ice, so I was able to muster up some recovery descending to the base of Scheurman while vistas of red rocks greeted us.  After some neverending single track teasing us by constantly approaching the border of Sedona and then backing off, we finally hit the Bandit Trail and back onto 89A through the main drag of Sedona.  A left turn at Soldier's Pass Rd put me on course for Posse Grounds Park, and it was about 4pm when I arrived.  

I mean, why waste a cup

Now rocking severe inflexibility from the heat and wanting to re-pass this lady with a knee brace, I told Scott to find me an orange to use as a ball gag and from him to pretty much do anything to loosen my legs up.  What followed was probably the same sounds from a sex dungeon - crying, whimpering, moaning, and eventually sighs of ecstasy.  And then I ate the orange, because why not, along with a fully loaded hamburger.    

The next 17mi up to Schnebly Hill, where I would have fresh shoes, was characterized by a climb up on Jordan Trail to Jim Thompson, then over to Midgely Bridge and under it via Grasshopper Point.  The sun set shortly before I hit this portion, and it was pitch black by the time I made it down to Oak Creek.  I elected to keep my shoes on for the water crossing as it was still warm enough that I knew I could have dry feet by the time I climbed out of the Casner Canyon.  The crossing was roped off, so I crossed with poles in one hand and the rope in the other; the rope had quite some slack to it so it did float downstream in the middle, and I noticed that following the slacked line would have led me to a nipple-deep pit, but I managed to dodge that before I could commit.  

After the crossing, it was a good 2,500' climb out of the Canyon to get to where I hoped I could do some damage - the Coconino Plateau.  It was in a whole other climate zone, and in the daylight we would have been able to see the entire Sedona/Verde Valley and Mingus behind us but that would have to be another day.  Sparse flagging and ninja cairns presented itself again, but thankfully I latched onto a more-awake 125er and it wasn't long before we found a dismantled aid station operating as a water drop at the end of Schnebly Hill Rd.  

I lost the 125er soon after, and the wind picked up as we ran six miles on this road with fuck all for flagging.  I would occasionally fall asleep while walking, and after what was probably just under two hours of seeing the trees come alive, I finally saw a sign that didn't transform into anything - "I-17, 1/2 mile".  I knew we had to hop onto the east side of I-17 so I started running with a renewed vigor, even though we were still a good 1.5 mi to the aid station.  It's amazing how sometimes the chance to play in traffic puts a little spring in your step.  

It was raining when I shuffled up the hill to Schnebly just before 2am.  I saw Scott was parked in the parking lot but didn't see him elsewhere in the aid station, so I elected to grab my drop bag and head over to the medic to get my feet cleaned up.  Scott woke up shortly after to collect me with my flip flops, and I hit the sack for another 2h.

 

Day 4: Schnebly to Elden (Salomon Ultra Glide)

Now teetering off 100k/day pace, I had Scott massage me before I left on a boring FSR section for 11.5mi out to Munds Park.  It was effectively a giant semi-circle running east and north back to the I-17, and there were runnable sections here as it was trending downhill.  The sun rose roughly a half hour after Schnebly and I made it to Munds Park with some speed.

I banged on the passenger window of the van to wake Scott up at Munds Park but he didn't budge for a good 5 minutes, so I had a volunteer rouse him from his sleep.  Clouds had started to set in amongst a pretty gusty wind so I took off my speed bob, ate a BLT breakfast sammie and ramen and then headed out on the 12mi to Kelly Canyon.  

These 12 mi was spent mostly alone, with no one passing me except for one gravel cyclist who appeared during a runnable section between an infestation of deadfall.  I still don't know if she was real but she encouraged me by saying I was within 100km of the finish.  

A friend of a friend, Dave Stinchfield of Washougal, caught up to me at Kelly Canyon - I had no idea he was running this and had last seen him at Bigfoot last year.  He led the 12mi out to Ft. Tuthill through some nice singletrack, but it probably took me all of 10 mins to lose him as I didn't want to push it without a hat on my head and with the clouds parting.  I blacked out from the heat while running into Mountaire and woke up while still running, before the pavement of the town.  

Memories of running on Memorial Dr. at the 2015 Calgary Marathon soon flooded as I found myself without a hat, running from shadow to shadow.  Thankfully the wind picked up again, and the temperature got bearable once I recrossed the I-17.  I managed to run into Tuthill a full hour before I told Scott I'd be there, without letting anyone else pass me.  

Ft. Tuthill is effectively the southern gateway into Flagstaff at mi 214 and is the last sleep station, but I had arrived here at 4pm so that was out of the question.  Naturally Scott wasn't there, but I saw there was an RMT on duty so I moseyed my way over with a bowl of pasta and meatballs while waiting for him to show.

The original plan was for Scott to leave the van at Tuthill and also have access to my crew bag (with my hat) as he started pacing, and we would Uber back to Tuthill at the finish.   But much to my chagrin he had negotiated a place to stay with Kiril and his crew, and had left the van AND my crew bag containing everything there, catching a ride into Tuthill with only my Squirrel's Nut Butter (which I already was carrying).  200s are all about playing the cards you're dealt so I decided I was just going to have to finish before the temperatures and sunshine warranted needing a hat.  I also had my half-size bigger Hoka Speedgoat 1's here at Tuthill via a drop bag but I had forgotten that Hardrock had removed an entire chunk of the outsole on the outside edge of my right version, so I elected to throw those out and run the remainder of the run on my Ultra Glide's.  

After getting a lighter pilates-esque massage, I scarfed down more ramen and headed out with Scott as a pacer just before 5pm on a 16mi jaunt to Walnut Canyon.  This would be mostly undulating except for a weird descent into a valley just around the 2/3 mark and subsequent ascent.  I could feel that it was getting cooler, so in colder spots my legs would release to get a fast trot going.  Unfortunately, Scott was moving at a pace that was causing me to get dizzy with all the headlight swiveling and I started falling asleep.  This eventually culminated with Scott getting bored of my non-talkative attitude (his words, not mine) and at one point even latching onto a 125 miler and pacing him instead, who noticed what was happening and tried to keep me within earshot.  =\

In any case, I was now glad to be within a casual marathon from the finish line.  

We arrived into Walnut Canyon just past midnight, and as it wasn't a sleep station I elected to try to catch a half hour in front of the fire.  I must have zoned out for 15-20 minutes instead but woke up to drool all over my face, so it must have been good.  Scott did one last massage in the medic tent cot for me before we took some obligatory tequila shots to ring in Cinco del Mayo, and headed off towards the silhouette of Elden.  

The next section was pretty much flat via the AZT through Picture Canyon and Sandy Seep, all the way to the base of Mt. Elden and then a good 2,400' climb in two miles.  We ran by a disabled camper van high centered on the road into Walnut, with the smell of gasoline waking us up, but it was soon before I started blacking out again from the sleep deprivation and falling up to 2-3 minutes behind Scott.  Holding on through the graveyard hours of 3-4am, we crossed under Highway 89 and saw continued signs for the AZT.  

Trying to time the sunrise for somewhere during the Elden climb, we made it just on time and passed knee-brace lady just shy of the ascent, which took roughly an hour.  Panoramic views of Flagstaff, Walnut Canyon, and the entire road we came in on in Coconino County greeted us along with the sun.  I was thankful for a hard climb as it finally gave me the chance to stretch out my stride with horribly inconsistent technicality.  The wind was barely existent until the top 1/3 of the ascent, which also gave us 3' of hardpack snow.  Historically we would just keep going up Sunset Trail but with all the snow we got sent to the proper Elden summit and was able to take the Elden Lookout Road all the way to the aid station.  

Day 5: Elden to Finish  

Still with me?  Somehow we're only at mi242 after all that.  And despite that, I settled into Elden by eating ribs and drinking Iron Monkey whiskey. 

 

The last eight miles were all downhill as you come down the backside of Elden.  I mustered up 8min km's pounding down Elden Lookout Road before Scott, me and eleventy bajillion folks missed the Lower Oldham turnoff.  We kept trotting where possible, as I knew from watching old livestreams, that after Buffalo Park was Switzer Canyon Trail through McPherson, and then a metric fuckton of pavement.  There was a 125er and pacer in front of us, but I knew Switzer Canyon was 6% downhill and decided to hold off on overtaking until I got onto this section.  It took us about a block on Forest Ave to finally overtake, and then once on Beaver Street we never looked back.  

The livestream cameraman was midway through Beaver St., and with the persistent downhill I never let my foot off the gas.  It was surreal reliving the streets I had researched through old videos, and once we made the left turn on Birch, Scott and I put on these Waffle House chef hats we promised our Sunday night Waffle House server that we'd wear once we crossed the finish line.  

It's probably better for Youtube to do the talking on this section.

yes, this is what four days of facial hair growth looks like for me

Me, Crystal, Martin and Scott at the finish line

By the numbers:

• Distance: 250mi/400k
• my watch said 397km =\
• D+: 13,171m
• Time: 100:30:24
• Place: 41/192
• DNF%: 29%
• Calorie count: 30,002
  

Well, there you have it.  My first 200, in which I did 50 extra miles because why the fuck not.   Obviously it was a bit of a clusterfuck not knowing what the fuck I was doing, but this race provided me with such a good base to do dumber things down the road like GO BIG, San Diego 200, Katy 225, and/or the Cowboy 200. 

 

In a way, my feelings of 切ない was probably from the realization that I was outgrowing the found family I was used to training with - but I think that's what growth is supposed to feel like.  We only grow by doing stupider and stupider shit, but every moment of joy from that sense of achievement comes at a cost.  Conversely, that mourning period too will yield to a broad horizon of opportunity and new adventures. 

Gear list

• Pack: Salomon XA 15
• Flasks: 2x Salomon 500mL speed flasks, 2x Hydrapak 750mL flasks, 1x 1.5L Salomon reservoir
• Black Diamond Carbon Z-poles
• Salomon short-brim speed bob
• Shoes: Salomon Sense Pro 3's, Altra Lone Peak 6's, Brooks Cascadia 15's, Salomon Ultra Glide
• Gaiters: that dumb Salomon one with the red trim
• Socks: Injijij low-cuts
• Tops: Salomon S-lab Anorak from 2014, Salomon full zip track jacket, Salomon Bonatti WP
• Bottoms: Salomon S-lab EXO shorts
• Hands: The thinnest Salomon gloves ever known to man, Manzella All Elements 3.0 waterproof gloves
• Lights: two cheap Amazon headlamps, one that ran on 18650s and one that ran on AA's
  

 shoutouts, in no particular order

• Scott, for agreeing to come back after the shitshow that was UTMB.  And for literally giving me the shirt off your back to get me through this race.  And also for somehow negotiating enough couchsurfing we didn't pay a dime to a hotel on this trip.  thank you for seeing me through this mid-week adventure. 
• And Crystal for backing him up on my diva requests!
  
• Ken - you did not agree to getting paced at HURT, but I am so glad you let me heckle you for a few hours and hear your wisdom in return.  that definitely helped.  
• Kiril/Joy for inviting us into your airBnB post-race.  amazing what a hot shower does.  keep being awesome!
• Aravaipa Running, for creating one hell of a race across Arizona.  The vibes really felt like a moving family reunion and the experiences/friendships I've made through these four days will always be cherished forever.  At no point did I feel pressured to quit and I can say with the utmost of confidence that I was given all the tools to get this run done. 
  
• Citizen Brewing, for letting me get my swass all over your barstools every Sunday and not asking about it.

 Tips for future Cocolocos and their crews

• A very very strong YMMV warning on what you just read.  This year saw higher than seasonal moisture on the course, so there is no guarantee you will be running with a water filter down the road in a future year.  Also this course has changed three times in three runnings.
• I am also going to caveat my mandatory gear was not checked but you would be an idiot to not bring it on the required sections.  
• Things I fucked up on - 
• keeping my feet dry on the first day
• bringing shoes to be thrown out to the race.  JUST WHAT WAS I THINKING
• Not having poles at the beginning of the course
• Drinking Naak as electrolytes despite it having 250 calories for every 500mL serving
• This is not really a fuckup as consumption occurred between Cottonwood and Crown King so I still got calories during a period where folks were vomiting left and right of me......it's just that my colon had a fun time at Kamp Kipa as a result of this.  
• Not having my racing shirt with me at the start.  Or a racing shirt at all. 
  
• Left my vape battery charger for my headlamp at home 
• sunburnt hands?  yes it's a thing
  
• I 100% do not recommend having 1 person as a crew and pacer.  Yes, I realize this is something I myself have done multiple times for folks, but you deserve more than that. 
  
• The Spot Live ETA to finish does not account for the whole last 8mi being downhill.  If you are meeting someone at the finish, subtract at least a whole extra hour from what Spot Live says.  My ride out of Heritage Square missed me by 10 mins, and then when we tried to meet Kiril later that afternoon, we missed him by seconds.
• The dust was strongest on the first day at Lane Mountain and I believe that was where I inhaled the most of it.  A good buff would pay dividends running down to Crown King, and failing that, chapstick in the nose.  It's very low humidity in the desert. 
• I didn't feel like asking Scott to go to CVS to load up on OTC vasodilators, but that's always an option.
• Mind your snot rockets, you can easily get a nosebleed going if you go too hard.  
  
• HAPE was a thing for some folks after Elden Lookout Rd.  
• That deja vu shit I had at Hardrock?  Yea it showed up here again after a bit of sleep deprivation. 
  
• Holy fuck, I'm just tired all the time the week after the race.  Not even hungry, just persistently tired and irritable.  Even with 7.5h of sleep a day. 
  
• Pick your poison: oxidative stress, muscle damage, inflammatory markers, decreased cardiac function from a fuckton of dust, free radicals everywhere, imbalanced electrolytes, sleep deprivation, cortisol *gestures wildly* everywhere, nephrons *gestures even more wildly* all over the place.  This shit is normal for such a physically traumatic event, but plan your life around it so folks understand what you're going through and that you're not just a bitch.  
• You have to train for everything.  Hot, cold, pavement, rocks, snakes, lizards, javelinas. 

Stray observations:

• Mike and Mika were both there running the race too.  Mika signed up the week before and yielded 3rd lady, while Mike ran with her the whole way and poetically was there at the finish line when I finished.  Funny how this shit works.  
• This was the first race I elected to go without a chest HRM strap as I would not take off my Garmin Vivosport on my right wrist at all, and I was afraid of all the chafing and sleep issues with wearing a strap for long durations.
• The Garmin Instinct has the ability to show distance in miles (which helps this Canadian avoid doing math on course) and pace in min/km (which also helps me to what I'm used to with training), but at some point during the race I lost two miles while retaining the requisite amount of km laps.  
• The runner bio I submitted: https://www.youtube.com/live/RyECUKxEXvY?feature=share&t=29868
• I saw no danger noodles.  Just one shed skin past Cottonwood.   
  
• Apparently I'm super triggered by orange pin flags now.  Also white dots from the Granite Dells. 
  
• The only time I've seen a wild javelina [so far in life] was during the day just past Cottonwood.  
• With the cutoffs enforced, the red lantern on the 250 came in 3h ahead of the total time limit, which was a super weird feeling because we all wanted to hit the finish line for the golden hour, but the finish line was basically packed up by then.  
• Someone wore crocs for ~40mi.  
• Someone else fell into Oak Creek and nearly went hypothermic in the night, but was saved by a timely bivvy from another runner.  
• The best way I could describe Gnarly - "does the job, and you can trust the corresponding farts."
• My Garmin Instinct soft restarted just after Walnut but it didn't look like I lost much data off that blip.  That was the only issue I had all week with the watch.  
• It's entirely possible to run this race with no crew or pacers, as there are a ton of drop bag locations and a shuttle between the finish line and PHX.  
• If you got off course during the race, Aravaipa would text you to get your shit together provided you had reception and your phone was on.  I received none of these texts. 
  
• The 125miler is a sizable challenge on its own but without the fun of the first two days in the desert.  You still get some exposure after Dead Horse but you won't have to endure the vomiting.  

Up next:

• Nothing.  Because despite my penchant for not wanting to be on camera, this race has given me and my physio a ton of footage for normalizing my running stride.  A lot of folks saw it, I felt it, the livestream caught it.  I just have a really unbalanced running form that should be corrected before I commit to more shenanigans.  I have racing options for later in the year, but I'm not going to commit to anything until I get my form sorted out.