Welcome to Crazy Town, Population: Me...and her, and him, and him, and...

Some months ago some clever person gave me the very clever idea of signing up for the Jemez Mountain Half Marathon and the Santa Fe Century, both of which happen to fall on the same weekend. At the time, I was sorta half committed to doing the Bay to Breakers - a race I love, but which is, when you get down to it, a really expensive 12K race, and not exactly the best training material for Vineman.

It was a tough call: two local, high quality, distance races versus a 12K in another state featuring naked runners. Hrm...

Now, when you break it down to just distance, doesn't seem so crazy. It's not the first time I've done a long run on one day and a long ride on the other, I do that every weekend. Even the distances didn't seem outrageous. So why did it seem just a little bit extraordinary to sign up for two events in one weekend?

I dunno. Yet everyone I mentioned it to had the same reaction: (sharp intake of breath) Really?

Long pause.

Yeah. That makes sense.

Still.

I had a lot of company: several Outlaws who signed up for both races, plus several others who did one or the other.

I got up at 5 on Saturday for The Jemez Mountain Trail Run, a run event featuring 3 distances: 50 miles, 50 kilometers, and a half marathon. The half marathon was also described in the race info as a 20K, but Garmin says it was neither: I picked up a neat 13.6 miles by the end of the run. I knew going in that it would be tough, partly because

a) several of my Outlaw friends were signed up for it
b) other ultra runners I know were signed up for it and
c) my husband signed up for the 50K.

Any race which my husband signs up for is guaranteed to be a real ass buster.

Here is the terrain profile for the half marathon. Garmin says it's only a wee 3500 ft of climbing, but it does start at a few thousand feet higher than where I live. Oh yeah, I thought, I'll be feeling that. But it'll just be a long training day. A long, catered training day, at mileage I'm familiar with.

My husband left for his 50K adventure about an hour before I did, but Maria and I managed to see them leave just as we arrived to check in for our half marathon. Goodbye honey, just have fun out there.

An hour later and we were on our freezing way down the trail. Los Alamos had a big fire in recent memory, much of the forest that we ran through is in recovery from that fire - so picture a landscape that looks pretty surreal: lots of spiky burned logs, scrubby undergrowth, exposed hillside. The trail up to the peak of Guaje Ridge was a stiff grade, Mo waited for me, and she and I walked hard all the way to the top. No point in wasting everything, I have a long weekend ahead of me!

Aid stations were extremely well stocked and friendly, and after a brief stop at the halfway point, I felt like I had plenty of gas left in the tank. Off I went down the hill - the "easy" part.

Huh. Easy. What was I thinking? The backside trail was exposed, the terrain varied from burned forest to sandstone, desert and scrub, and back to high desert. While it was beautiful, I didn't get to see much of it, as I was too busy focusing on my feet and the terrain about 4 to 6 feet in front of them. I was focusing so much that I found myself off trail briefly. I don't know what made me stop and turn around - oh that's where the flags are! - then I got back on trail and kept running.

Oy, what a long day. By the last mile I was fatigued. My legs hurt, my brain hurt. And then came the sandstone stairs back to the finish. Whose crazy idea was that?! Total time: 3:18:05. I was guessing it would take me around 3 hrs for this course, I was not surprised with 3:18. This is not a PR course, it's a survival course, challenging terrain.

That's when I found out that many runners had not finished at all. How frustrating! I don't know how many half-marathon runners DNF'd because of the wrong turn I almost took myself, but it was a lot. Ouch!

After a shower and some food, I felt almost normal again. I was surprised how quickly my body bounced back.

Here is the course profile for the 50K run. See that little blip at the beginning? That's our little half marathon peak. Whatever pain I may have been in for my long training day could not compare with what the 50K people were doing.

I won't even show you the 50 mile profile. You'll pass out with sympathetic exhaustion.

My husband finally came in at 8:47 something. You know you're in a different realm of athletics when you start talking about your event in terms of the first few hours...and then the second few hours...and then...He had evidently also taken a wrong turn - many of the 50K racers had done the same - and done about 55K (he claims 2nd place in the unofficial 55K race). He rolled in across the finish line feeling great, as if he could have easily done a 50 mile race. Good job honey! I'm super proud of you!

We drove home, I passed out and let him drive, I could not help myself - he was UP and I was not. I began actively eating, packing, and resting as much as possible for my second long day of training.

I got up at 5 on Sunday for the Santa Fe Century. What was I thinking? My quads were already sore, and although I slept and ate as much as I could, I knew there was no guarantee that I'd have enough in the tank for a full day of my VERY FIRST CENTURY.

Are you kidding? Bike 100 miles? People do that? Are they crazy?

I carpooled up with my fellow Outlaws Iron Maiden and her spouse, the Silver Bullet, with a plan of riding with them and Flamin' Mo (fellow Jemez Trail runner) and whomever else we could scrounge from our Outlaw friends: Mighty, Sluggo, Gogo, and others -- all of them did the same crazy run the day before. I don't know about them, but I was seriously unsure of my performance ability on the day.

Ulp.

To further handicap myself, I brought my heavy bike (Irene), because she's the climber and that's how I roll.

I should mention that my longest ride ever to date has been about 73 miles - and that was last summer. My longest ride this year was sixty-something, a month or so ago. I figured like the day before, this would just be a long training day. A "just do it" event. Catered training. Sure.

Ulp.

We left Santa Fe in beautiful weather conditions - cloudless, windless, slightly cool. My legs were sore, but I figured it would work itself out. 25 miles later we found ourselves in the scenic mining town of Madrid, NM. I was starting to think this would be OK, as we stopped at the first food stop and ate snacks.

OK, so the first 25 miles were downhill. I knew that. Here's the ride profile - it's quite something isn't it?

As soon as we left Madrid, I started to have bad feelings about the ride. Looking at the ride profile, you can see that the ride heads sharply uphill after Madrid - payback for all those downhill miles. I have gone down Heartbreak Hill before, and I knew it was coming. That's right - down -- but never up. At the second food stop I got a dose of Ibuprofen and more food. I had a good stretch. OK Mo, let's shake and bake!

All of us crazies with toasted legs had discussed Heartbreak that morning - would we climb it? Would we walk it? It's at least a 13% grade. 13 doesn't sound like much, but try pushing yourself and your bike up that for a half mile. Would we make it?

I'm proud to say I did! I traversed the grade quite a lot, but I didn't stop. I knew stopping would mean falling over - and there was no way I'd get started again if I stopped. So I forced myself up - as slow as I could without falling - and I did it!

Of course, after watching Mo power up on her giant heavy 14 speed Schwinn, I had to - I have like 9 million more gears than she does, and Irene weighs at least 2 pounds less. Mo, by the way, is an animal! She came in a whole 15 minutes or so after me on the day before - not because she's a slower runner, but because she ran about an extra 6 miles more, due to the trail misunderstandings that plagued every other runner there. She is bad. ass.

Anyway. Heartbreak hill faded into memory almost as soon as we crested the top - we headed back down the east side of the mountains and picked up Dave at Cedar Grove. Dave coached us through the most tricky part of the ride - the second half. I had never even really seen this part of New Mexico, and it's very subtle. You can easily be seduced into thinking it's just flat with a headwind, but it's a subtle uphill grind that eventually wears even the most solid riders down to nubs. Dave and Woody cut big holes in the wind for Mo and I as we pressed on toward Stanley, through the Estancia Basin into Gallisteo, and on past Lamy. We weren't going fast, but surprisingly, we were hoovering up all riders who were ahead of us, one by one. After the foodstops, groups of riders would pass us, only to be passed by us within a mile or two.

By the next to last foodstop, I was relishing the end. The self talk started. Only 35 miles. I can ride 35 miles. I had totally ditched my nutrition plan in favor of stuffing everything into my mouth. I emptied my Heed bottle and filled it with Gatorade - not because it was better, but because I was about ready to barf heed, I was so entirely fed up with it.

By the last foodstop, I had abandoned my eat everything plan, I poured out my perpetuem and filled my bottle with coke at a gas station. At the last 2 aid stations, when I got off the bike I was grateful to not be sitting down. My legs felt OK, I was walking fine, but every time we got back on, I was looking for any possible way not to be focusing on the misery that started at my saddle and went right up to my shoulders to my wrists, down my quads, to my feet. My low back and hip were throbbing. And my feet hurt.

My feet! What the hell is up with that?

Oh yes, there was a lot of swearing. Isn't there always a lot of swearing in first centuries? The last 5 miles were on the freeway. The freeway! Oh yeah, I was totally freaked about riding on the freeway, but that road is made for speed, 'cos we were hauling ass for the last 5! Before we knew it we were back at the start, off the bikes, grateful to be done!

Thank f*ck!

I had turned Garmin off at every food stop, and my total rolling time was a little over 6 hrs 40 minutes for 101 miles. We dawdled quite a bit at the aid stations this being catered training and all, and we were probably out there for about 8 hours (about 15 minutes at each of 6 food stops). The Iron Maiden told me, on the way back, that the ride was described as "moderately difficult." Hah. Moderately difficult. We agreed a more apt description would be f*cking hard.

When I got home, I discovered how inexpert my sunscreen application had been. I have sunburn patches pretty much everywhere - my calves, my forearms, parts of my knees. My face is OK and my feet are un-burned, due to being in the shoes from hell, which only hurt after about 95 miles. Thankfully, I'll still be able to use them. At 95 miles, everything hurt. I'm willing to believe maybe it was just me, and not the shoes.

Also, about my butt. Though my butt was grateful not to be moving, it has been surprisingly ungrateful about sitting down. Parts of my butt will never be the same again. Until the next time. Yes, this reminded me exactly of the first time I ever had a bike ride of any distance. I thought my girl parts would never be the same. And they might not be.

Every time I stand today, I'm reminded sharply of the effort I put in this weekend - my quads are really pissed at me, my skin's a little swollen. My hip flexors are toast. After sleep and food, I'm sure I'll be able to get up and do it all over again, just like I did the first time I ever rode 50 miles. I'm still eyeballing that saddle with a deep sense of mistrust.

I'm proud of what we did this weekend - that was a big chunk to bite off. Yay us! I may have even impressed my husband, who treated me to sparkling cider when I got home. And an ice bath.

Ok, the ice bath was my idea.

Next up: Iron Horse. Oh, I think I'm ready for that now...as soon as I make friends with Irene again.