6 Day Races are monsters. You only do them for a few reasons:
- You have never done one before and so you are blissfully ignorant of the pain you are about to endure
- You have some notion that a 6 day race is just a 1 day race times 6
- You HAVE done one before, but, like childbirth, you forgot what it was really like
- You really really hate yourself.
I’m not sure what my motivation was – probably 3 or 4, but on
April 15th, I dove headfirst into my 4th 6-day race.
I’ve come to believe that it is not remotely surprising that
my debut 6-day was my best performance.
This is related to number 1 above – I went into that race with a goal,
and had a solid crew who helped me reach my goals. I battled the pain, the fatigue, the sleep
dep, and like a robot did what my crew told me to do to get what, in
retrospect, was a pretty big number (453).
Of course – having done it once, you figure… next time, I
can do better.
Race number 2 was 3 Days at the Fair in New Jersey. I went in looking for 500 and a women’s
American Record. I PR’d my 100 mile
time, and my 72 hour result in that race, but blew up spectacularly on the end
of the day 3, developing the dreaded “lean”. I came home humbled, having painfully achieved
385. Still got the women’s win – but the
number was less than impressive.
Race number 3 was back at ATY. Again, I went int it with a high goal – again
aiming for 500. Got 100+ on day 1, and
had a solid early race – steady first couple of days, then battled plantar fasciitis
for the last couple of days to the extent that I was changing footwear Every. Single.
Lap.
Still – ended up with almost 417, and the women’s win.
Given the results of my last 2 races, I went into this race,
#4 with smaller goals. I just wanted to
PR – which meant anything over 453.
Since going over 100 miles each day on day 1 of races 2 and 3 had gotten
me WORSE results rather than better, I decided to go back to my pacing strategy
for race number 1, which had been sustainable and, I thought, reasonable – it left
me in good enough shape for the last 3 days to be pretty solid. My plan was 95, 76, and then 4 days of 72’s,
for a PR of 459.
Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face.
The wildcard in this was my feet. They’ve been my weak point for the past year
or so. It took months to move past the
acute PF from the previous 6-day race, but the PF showed up again in an ugly
way in September, knocking me out of Spartathlon at a mere 22 miles. PF had improved since, then, but after my 48
hour at ATY this past New Year’s, I developed what I believe was a case of
acute extensor tendonitis that made dorsiflexion extremely painful. I had been able to successfully race at
Jackpot 48 a month and a half earlier (though stopped at hour 34 due to high
winds), but still – 6 days was a lot longer than 34 hours.
I brought 4 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of inserts, cloth tape, and
Voltaren in order to be prepared to deal with various foot issues.
Bob Hearn was also signed up for this race. Our friend Steve Troxel had originally been
signed up as well, but withdrew when he got accepted to Western States. Bob and I planned to meet a couple of days
prior to the race and do a little sightseeing, then share a bungalow at the
site.
I arrived on Wednesday April 12, mid-day, and met Bob at the
airport where we picked up our car rental and headed to St. Tropez for a
night. We checked out the lovely beach,
where I collected a handful of beach glass, had a nice French dinner, and then
did some sightseeing the next morning before heading to Vallon Pont d’Arc. This was the location of the race, and it was
about a 3 -4 hour drive from where we were. We had a nice lunch en route, and at the
restaurant I saw that we were just ½ mile away from the historic ruins of a fort. We decided to take a side trip to just check
it out.
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| Bob on the beach in St. Tropez |
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| My sea glass collection |
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| St. Tropez by the beach |
Lesson #1. Never trust
Google Maps in a different country. We
followed the directions toward the site, and got more and more concerned as the
road turned from road into off-road into something I’m not sure how to describe.
We wondered whether we should continue
when we saw that there was no pavement, but bravely (stupidly) soldiered
on. Bob was driving, so he didn’t have
the perspective that I had – of looking at essentially the cliff that dropped
below us on my right. The road was only wide
enough for one vehicle, and at some point we saw that we had actually PASSED
the site we were going to see. Google
was telling us to make a U-turn, but that was pretty impossible at that
juncture. We continued another 5 minutes
or so to the top of someone’s driveway where there was just enough room to turn
around.
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| Bob stopping to catch a photo as we drove back. Note road width. |
Driving back was somewhat less hair raising since we knew we could at least traverse the road back to the start. As we got close to where the pavement had originally ended, we saw a sign to the right that was pointing to the ruins we were seeking, along with a charming little staircase. It turned out there was even a little parking area there that we had missed on the way in. We parked the car and started to climb, thinking it would be just ahead.
The climb was actually steep , strenuous and somewhat technical, and made all the more exciting by what I would guess were about 70 mph winds whipping us toward the edge of what was essentially a cliff. We got up to the site of the ruins and braced ourselves against the winds. We took some hard won pictures (and a video of the howling wind) before heading back to the car. It was probably the most exciting part of the trip – but used up a good hour of our afternoon. We got back in the car to head on to the race site, since we wanted to get there in time for dinner. We made one more stop at Aix en Provence at a sports store to buy race belts and sleeping bags, and continued on.
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| Part of the climb |
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| The ruins of the Fort Freinet |
The hotel was beautiful, located about ½ mile walk away from
the arches that the area was known for. Our
check-in was uneventful, and I slept well and long. The next morning, I fumbled my way through an
unfamiliar French continental breakfast routine, the highlight of which was soft
boiling my own egg in this nifty little machine that had color coded egg
holders for all the folks boiling eggs at one time. Bob was not quite as charmed by this
contraption as I was, as when he had asked the proprietor the night prior as to
whether there would be eggs at the breakfast, he was envisioning a nice plate
of scrambled.
After breakfast we headed over to spend time viewing the magnificent
arch. This was one of only 2 known
natural bridges to cross a river, and it was truly impressive. We took lots of pictures, then headed back
over to the race site for preparations.
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| The Arch of Vallon-Pont-d'Arc |
Bob had reserved Bungalow #32, which had the unique advantage of being the only bungalow that racers would pass by 2 times on every lap – both on an out and a back, and also the only one right on the course. We had one other roommate – a Spaniard named Jose. We quickly learned that our minimal grasp of American Spanish helped us not one iota in speaking with Jose. Jose’s answer to our lack of understanding was to speak faster.
We went to the local market where I bought a few bins for my clothes and got everything arranged for easy access during the race. We headed into the nearby town one more time to take advantage of French restaurants before being held slave to the course for the next 6 days.
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| All the carbs. The cereal had real chocolate in it. |
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| This brioche bread was da bomb |
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| Europe knows how to do chips. Blue Cheese and Curry flavored. |
I slept relatively late on Saturday morning, but even with a
late wake-up, we still had a bit of time to kill as the race didn’t start until
2pm. Unfortunately, the race briefing
was at 11, so we couldn’t even take advantage of all of the morning time with
any sort of an outing. We were grateful
that they held a separate English briefing for the 3 of us from the states,
plus the Brits and the New Zealander. In
addition to Bob and I, there was Ivo Majetic (world record holder for modern
time 6-day walking), Sandra and Richard Brown, Kathy Crilley, Adharanand Finn
from the UK, and Richard McChesney from New Zealand.
Soon enough, it was time to start. We lined up and shuffled around nervously,
and just like that, it was “go” time.
Starting a 6 day race is daunting at best. You really need to not think about the fact
that you will be out there for an unfathomably long time. I just tell myself I’m going to run for a couple
of hours. Day 1 was the most crowded, as
in addition to the 6 day racers, the course included the 24 and 48 hour
folks.
I approached the first day with a new strategy – which was,
I couldn’t POSSIBLY go too slow. I picked
a few walk spots early on, as I’ve learned that this typically leads to stronger
running later. It also helps to avoid
the repetitive motion issues of constant running, and gives me a sense of
control of my pacing. My early laps were
all in the mid 11’s and felt smooth and easy.
20 miles in, I was feeling strong and confident, and optimistic
that maybe I could eek out my best 6 day yet.
Of course, this is never anything you should be thinking on day 1 – but it
was a testament to how good my body felt at that point.
Day 1 got me to my planned mileage of 95, and included some
sleep time after mile 80 or so. I went
into Day 2 feeling strong and cautiously optimistic.
My mileage goal for day 2 was 76 miles – but some time
during the middle of day 2, my plantar fasciitis started to act up. I was getting
uncomfortable cramping in the arches of my foot, along with some stabbing pains
that threatened to possibly derail my progress.
Having been taken out of Spartathlon by an acute PF issue at
mile 23, I had come prepared for this. I
ducked into the bungalow and used the PF taping technique that allows me to
continue to run and actually do some rehabbing of the issue at the same time.
By the end of day 1 and into probably day 3 or so, I was 1st
woman, and occasionally hanging out at 2nd overall, behind Bob. The next woman behind me was a woman named
Francoise Benet, who was running strong.
Heading back out on to the course with the tape, the PF
improved pretty quickly. However, hours
later, I started feeling pain out the outside of my right knee (the same side
where the foot was taped). My theory is
that although the tape helps the PF, it also affects my gait in such a way that
puts added stress on that knee. At 182
miles, I had to take some significant time off course because running had
become too painful. I decided to just
rest for a few hours to see if things improved.
I took some ibuprofen, elevated the feet and went to sleep
for a couple of hours. When I woke up, I
put on a pair of shoes I hadn’t yet worn, higher drop Hokas, and to my
amazement, my run was back and the knee was manageable.
Days 1 and 2, the weather was close to perfect. The daytime highs were about 65, and the sky
was sunny with big puffy clouds. I’d put
the lows in the low 50’s to high 40’s.
The sun was intense, but on those first couple of days, it was balanced
by some pretty strong and steady winds – sometimes up to about 20 mph. Day 3, the daytime started to warm up a bit,
and by mid-day it was distinctly uncomfortable.
Day 3 saw steady running and walking, but also steady
erosion of the lead that I had on the second woman. Every time she passed me,
her run looked incredibly strong, and based on the lap times I saw, she was
clearly running faster than me when she was moving. I started to get more and more stressed,
seeing the lead slip steadily away from me.
At some point that day, I made a conscious decision to let my focus on
maintaining the lead go, and just focus on having as much fun as it is possible
to have when you are running for 6 days.
I asked myself “what would I do if I were running for fun instead of to
win”?
Well. Have a massage,
for 1. Get some ice cream. Of course.
Take pictures. Talk to people.
And this is what I did.
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| Ivo's wife Laura was a godsend. |
I saw Laura – Ivo’s wife – and told her of my new approach,
while I flopped down happily on the ground, inordinately pleased with
myself. She quickly agreed to help me
with my plan and offered to check with the campground spa as to whether I could
get in for a massage that day. I did an
easy couple of laps in an entirely different headspace until she got back to me
and said that they didn’t have any room until the next day (which she booked on
my behalf). However, she offered to give
me a massage herself AND make me a salad.
Bliss.
Laura got a cot set up in the shade, and it was heaven to
just lie there face down as she worked some magic on my legs and feet. Afterwards, I ran another couple of easy laps
while she made me a gigantic salad with all of the good things – tuna, cheese,
lettuce, nuts, apples… the best thing
about it was that it wasn’t the pure “carb” diet that tends to make up race
food.
This physical and mental break gave me an enormous mood
boost, and I headed back out on the course a new woman. My run felt strong again, and I had the
newfound knowledge that I just needed to focus on my OWN run – it was all I
could control – and I needed to not be driven by what anyone else was doing.
The rest of the race, largely, was happy, based on that
mindset turnaround – although there was still plenty of drama and pain to come.
This was the first race I’ve ever been to where most of the racers did not speak my language. The first few days were actually pretty lonely, as Bob was flying and didn’t have time for conversation. Our times in the bungalow at that point were not intersecting, and he was dialed in to his pace plan. However, there were a few runners on the course who would reach out and say a few words… “comment ca va?” And I learned to answer “Bien. Et toi?”. Bernard was consistently supportive, encouraging “allez Amy” every time I saw him. Valerie and I would exchange nods and stilted conversation. I’d always say hi to Jose, our Spanish roommate. Also, the timer, Sebastien, was extremely supportive - he actually spoke English very well, and and provided a lot of clarity on what was going on. Sebastien reminded me of Mike Melton with the exception that I never saw him sleeping.
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| My new friend Sebastien |
At one point in time I put out a plea on Facebook to ask anyone who spoke English to call me. I got calls from a few folks, including Ed Rudman, Diana Obermeyer and Ray K. These were wonderful, giving me a respite from being in my own head. The race also had a cool feature whereby spectators could send written messages. These were delivered to the racers by volunteers, like mail, as you passed through the timing tent. I heard from Deb Sexton first, then Marie Boyd and Chris Bellevie. All of those messages and calls put a smile on my face.
Later in the race, I got to spend a bit of time talking to
Adharanand Finn. I recognized Finn because
a few years ago my father had gotten me a book Finn had authored, called “The
Rise of the Ultra Runners” (a great read, if you haven’t read it!) This was Finn’s first multi-day and he killed
it with close to 500K. He was great fun
to chat with, and his wife Etta was lovely.
She was on course taking pictures to record Finn’s journey.
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| Read this if you get a chance! |
I also want to say a quick note about the race food. Which is, this race actually had designated meal times, where racers gathered in one spot to eat together. Although I had initially been shocked at the idea of taking time off the course, very quickly these meals became something to look forward to. The food was plentiful and tasty (unless you were vegan or vegetarian, which I am not). Casseroles loaded with meat and cheese, lasagna, cheesy meaty potatoes, and sausages are some of the examples of the meals. Despite the dense calorie load (or likely because of it), my pace always improved shortly after a meal.
The aid station food was also fabulous. I’d highly recommend to all US race directors
that brie and baguettes be served, along with various charcuterie meats. These salty fat and proteins shots were great at providing energy boosts. There was
also real orange juice, along with sparkling water (a favorite of mine, but
rarely found at US venues).
I finished day 3 with close to 60 miles. Unfortunately, day 4 saw another resurgence
of my knee issues, and I found myself doing mostly walking.
Now, for some bizarre reason, when I lost 1st
place, I had thought that it would be pretty easy to maintain 2nd
place. It didn’t really occur to me that
there were still THREE DAYS left in the race – and that anything could
happen. Ultra brain.
With my low mileage day on day 4 (42.88 – the lowest of the
race) due to the walking and knee pain, I woke up from one of my naps to see
not 1, but 2 women who were close on my tail.
Fuck.
It quickly became clear to me that walking was not going to
cut it. (Or, in the memorable words of
Bill Shultz in my 72 hour debut at ATY, “25 minute miles are NOT GOING TO CUT
IT!”).
Clearly, I had to pick up my game if I wanted any chance at
the podium.
So it was that I found myself truly “racing” the last 48
hours of this race. Which is to say,
giving it my all out effort, being on the course whenever I could be out there,
and running it as fast as I was able to maintain without blowing up.
Now, you might say, it’s a race – and aren’t you supposed to
be doing that the WHOLE TIME? But in all
honesty, there are so many ups and downs in a 6 day, and motivation comes and
goes so much that, well, no. You
absolutely aren’t racing the whole time.
Sometimes you are doing other important things, like… learning French, by doing Duolingo lessons on
your phone. Or whateverthefuck you have
to do to keep your mind off of the fact that you have been out here for DAYS already,
and you still have DAYS to go.
But – now it is only 48 hours to go and I’m running my
little heart out, and employing every tool in my toolbox. One of which is to head to the med tent and
have them apply KT tape to my knee. Why it
had not occurred to me earlier to get some type of physical intervention for
this issue is beyond me – but these are the things that slip your mind when you
have been running for days. The first
time I went to the med tent, the med guy tried to put on the tape, but it didn’t
stick due to lotion on my legs. He
looked at me with a look that just said “Really?” Probably
6 hours later, I had gotten myself to the ladies room and scrubbed my legs so
the tape would adhere, and he applied it then.
Suddenly, my knee was manageable again. This was critical to my racing in the last 48
hours.
Sleep, speed and motivation were the other issues I needed
to handle during the last 48 hours, and the tools at my disposal were a careful
blending of sleep, caffeine intake, and really loud music.
I couldn’t rely on coffee alone to keep me up – but jolt of caffeine
in combination a 20 minute power nap was a powerful thing, and generally got me
a solid couple of hours of running before I crashed. The middle of the night was hard for the
sleepies, so I went to my loudest, grungiest playlist, cranked to 11, to keep
me moving.
There was a special couple of hours on night 5 where I was
completely in the zone. It felt like it
was just me, running a singular perfect run.
The music was pulsing and, at my steady 15 minute miles, I felt like I
was flying… run the flats and downs, walk the ups, run, walk, and when a song
with a great beat came on (there were lots), the walks were strong, with
purpose, arms swinging. Sometimes I’d
sing. Loudly. I was very happy.
Thus it was that day 5 handed me 60.45 miles versus the
almost 43 of day 4, and I was feeling strong and steady.
And at 2pm on Thursday, race day 6 dawned. It was that magic time of the race where the
end is in sight, and you are almost (ALMOST) not wanting it to end.
I kept on keeping on, all afternoon of Day 6. We had some exciting entertainment promised
that evening – Karaoke! All of the
runners were asked if they wanted to participate, and if so, which song they
were going to sing. Laura Majetic
proposed that she and I do a duet, and I was looking forward to it. (Another magical aspect of this race – most nights,
during and after the dinner meal there was live music playing on a stage by
where we dined. Even if you didn’t hang out and watch the bands, which,
of course, you couldn’t do if you were racing, you could hear the music all the
way across the course).
After what seemed like too many hours to wait, it was
finally dinner and karaoke time. Bob was
queued up first, and his song was (perfection), Cake’s “The Distance”. He
started with a jaunty swagger and it only got better – he was dancing and chanting
the words and the crowd was going wild.
I videoed the entire thing for him to send to Liz.
Laura and I were up next, and we did a harmonized version of
the Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Fine”. Going
back and listening to the recording, I can hear that I’m a bit off key – my voice
took a bit of a beating from 5 days of mouth breathing – but all and all,
considering we hadn’t ever practiced singing together, thanks to Laura’s gift
of harmonizing, we pulled it off and it wasn’t half bad. And it was LOADS of fun.
I may have lost a mile or 2 to the karaoke, but it was worth
every lost minute by the joy it brought me in anticipation, during, and after.
The end of karaoke brought us to sunset and the beginning of
the last night – always a special time.
At this point in the race, Francoise was probably less than 10K ahead of
me and Edith was about 20K behind. I
felt relatively confident in my ability to hold steady in 2nd place
to the end. Darkness fell, and I dug in. The hours from 8-11 were often highly
productive in that runners weren’t completely exhausted yet from a sleep
perspective, and the daytime temperature had cooled down so that it was
comfortable but not too cold. In
previous nights, both Francoise and Edith had gone to bed not long after 11. Edith, I’d observed, had longer periods of
sleep, while Francoise seemed to get by on 4 hours or less.
At this point, my biggest focus was on not losing second
place. I had already resigned myself
that winning was not likely, but Edith, in 3rd place, still had a
stronger run pace than mine, so I just needed to stay strong enough to not let
her overtake me.
By 11:00, neither one of them was sleeping yet, although the
course was getting more deserted. I was
dismayed to find that although it felt strong, my run was abysmally slow. I felt my best bet was to get off the course
and take a 20 minute power nap, have some caffeine, and get back out there and
power through. I knew I’d lose a couple of
laps to the other women with the nap, but I felt that I needed the respite to
regain strength to run again.
The nap did wonders – I had taken ibuprofen and had some caffeine
before I went to sleep, so the 20 minute rest with my feet up paid off in spades. I got out there and cranked my music as high
as it would go and I rode the wave.
I noticed on my first post-nap lap that Francoise had gone
to bed, although Edith had not. I just
stuck to my forever pace, making sure not to go so fast that I’d burn out. One lap, two laps, three laps, and then…
somehow, I was back up to first woman on the leaderboard.
I was still worried about Edith – she hadn’t gone to sleep
yet and there was every chance she could be planning on staying up for as much
of the night as she was able. Certainly
I would have had I been in her position.
But, there was nothing I could do about her choices – all I could do was
keep moving forward, which is what I did.
And, at some point in the wee hours of the morning, Edith went to bed as
well, and I was just banking miles.
All too early, I saw that Francoise was back out on the
course and running fast. She was clocking
laps at a steady 10:30 pace, while I was bringing them in closer to 12 or 13
minutes. Despite my 10K lead, you didn’t
have to be a math major to know that I either needed to speed up, or else at
some point in the next 13 hours she was going to pass me… it was just a question of when.
I tried one last desperate measure of another shot of caffeine
to see if it would get me moving any faster.
It did, marginally, but at a cost.
Whether it was the caffeine, or the all out effort I’d been exerting for
the past 36 hours or so, all of a sudden I needed the restroom pretty much
every lap. Additionally, every time I
stopped moving, I felt that awful heart pounding dizziness you get when you
realize you’ve had one too many cups of coffee (or, say, a Monster energy drink
on top of 4 cups of coffee). I was
feeling physically pretty strung out.
At some point in the wee hours of the morning, the gas just
ran out. I stumbled into the bungalow
and posted something on Facebook about not being able to sustain the pace, and
crashed for another 20 minutes in an anesthesia-like stupor. I knew, at that point, the lead was gone –
and I was OK with it. I really felt I
had thrown everything I had at it, and at the end of the day, Francoise had
more in the tank than I did.
And that’s all you can do.
When I got back out there after that second power nap, I
dialed back the pace to something that was once again sustainable, and just
focused on maintaining. I was tired,
happy, and content. Although there were probably still 10 hours
left in the race, effectively the places had been determined, assuming we all
kept moving.
Edith woke up in the early hours of the morning, and hit the
course like a bat out of hell. Her laps looked
astoundingly strong – 9:30 – 10 minute pace.
However, she was 30 laps behind me, and although I had an uncomfortable
couple of laps thinking 2nd place was in jeopardy, I did the math
and it didn’t add up. As long as I just
kept moving, it was incredibly unlikely she’d pass me.
Morning dawned, and for the first time in the race, it was foggy
and misty. Every day prior had been
bright sun. The fog lent a somber air of
mystery and solemnity to the course but kept it blissfully cool.
In all of the other 6 day races I’ve been in, the start and
end time was 9am, so sunrise meant there were only a few hours left. This one didn’t end until 2pm, which seemed
impossibly far away.
Sometime around 10, I happened upon Francoise. We were both, by this point, walking. She came up to me and we hugged, and then she put her arm around me and we walked together. With 4 hours left, the race was, effectively, done. Despite the language barrier, and largely thanks to Francoise’s limited English with the help of Google translate, we were able to learn an amazing amount about each other on those very special laps. I knew she was close to my age, and a grandmother. We talked about work, and the race, and running, and some other nonconsequential things. At some point I realized we were really lollygagging, and I suggested we run. As I ran with her, I saw that one of the reasons she had been such a natural in this format is because her run was super slow and easy. She had a short, light cadence, with a moving speed of probably a 13 minute mile, which, at that point, was lightning fast – however, it was slower than my run speed when I ran – which was probably why it had been more sustainable. She is a multi-day natural, for sure.
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| Amy & Francoise - last day - photo courtesy of Edith Doyen |
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| Running! Photo courtesy of Edith Doyen |
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| Francoise and her husband |
I met her husband during those laps, and he took a picture of us. At one point, we also saw Edith, and she took a picture of the 3 of us.
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| Top 3 - photo courtesy of Edith Doyen |
2 hours prior to finish, he and I were pretty even, and he
came up with a plan to stay together, and finish exactly together. He wanted to finish with another runner,
Christian, who had ALSO been second place male for a while, but was now 2 laps
behind us – so at some point not too far from the end, Patrick and I just went
and hung out on the porch of his bungalow, waiting for Christian to catch
up.
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| Some costumed runners |
These last couple of hours on the course were really nothing about racing, and all about bonding. There was an air of celebration and camaraderie as we approached the finish. A few runners were still running strong – but most of us were done, and just doing celebration laps. As Christian finished his catch-up laps, Patrick and I joined him, and we headed out for the last full lap. Herve and a few other runners were running in costume, and we did some selfies with them as we ambled around. We passed the timing mat, and then continued on to finish our partial lap. A few hundred meters into the lap, we stopped and lined up our ankle chips exactly together, so when you look at the clock finish, you will see me, Patrick and Christian – overall 4,5 and 6, with the exact same mileage. We’d officially clocked 632.55 km – or about 393 miles.
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| Amy, Patrick and Christian at finish |
And the race was over.
There were tears.
There were hugs.
There was palpable joy and shared celebration.
It really didn’t matter how many laps anyone had done
individually because we had all been out there pushing ourselves to do our
best.
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| Bob running his victory lap |
And so it was that my 4th 6-day race – second to
last in terms of overall miles – was probably both the most exciting, as well
as the most well executed (barring my first).
The fact that I was (significantly) stronger on days 5 and 6 than day 4
spoke to me about how much these events rely on dealing with whatever is thrown
at you, with the best strategy you can come up with, and moving forward.
My splits were as follows:
Day 1 – 95.6 miles (plan on target)
Day 2 – 72.4 (plan close to target)
Day 3 – 58.34 miles (falling off cliff)
Day 4 – 42.88 miles – pretty much all walking (walking on
the floor of the chasm into which I’d fallen)
Day 5 – 60.45 miles (Better!)
Day 6 – 63.41 miles (Whoa!
Not too shabby for a day 6).
OK – so – a ways off plan – but not a bad comeback.
I am… quietly happy. For
a while, those little voices are held at bay… the ones that say “you are not enough.” Like the fiery bird tattooed on my right
shoulder blade, I have passed again through the flames and have come through a
raw, new thing.
Rebirth is a gift. It
is up to me to figure out what to do with it.
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| Amy & Bob - he with his 1st place and I with my second. |
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| Amy & Bob with Sandra and Richard Brown |
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