A New Year ~

Franklin & Artemis
waiting to open presents~

We are well into the New Year and I haven't posted since Christmas time.  I must admit, I didn't want Christmas to end.  I left the tree up well into the second week in January.  The Christmas season did get a bit extended for me, since I was up in Portland with a friend and her two daughters for a few days and wasn't around to celebrate with family.  So, for New Year's, my brother and sister-in-law came down to Salt Lake from Pocatello for a couple of days and we opened presents together.  We skied at Alta on New Year's Day, and despite the low snow conditions (we are currently at 70% of our normal snowpack) we had a really great time.

I've been out backcountry skiing some, although not as much as last year because of the conditions (I'm really getting tired of the term "monsters in the basement") but really have been skate skiing as much if not more than I have been out touring.  The Mirror Lake Highway is groomed and although a little bumpy from the snowmobile traffic, absolutely delightfully soft.  The skate tracks in Park City are getting a little firm and icy with all of this high pressure, but are hanging in there.

My brother, Stefan, and Mimi-kitty ~

I skied in area a couple of other times too:  Deer Valley hosted the World Freestyle Competition which was an Olympic qualifier for the Americans, and I got in on a friend's event pass for free (it pays to know people!).  My friend's boss, who gave us the event and day passes to Deer Valley, was set up right by the Audi cars on display in the finish area, and we were just a few feet away from Jonny Moseley and the NBC crew when they were filming the intro commentary for the event.  I  also skied at Brighton one day last week and was pleasantly surprised by the laid-back atmosphere of that hill.

This week's adventures featured the Outdoor Retailers' Show in downtown Salt Lake City, and the national outdoor crowd got to see how bad the inversion [smog] has been with all of this high pressure.  It was great to catch up with folks at the show and see a lot of really great outdoor gear.  I worked with the Trail and Ultra Running website and looked for gear at the show that we could potentially product test and review on the website.

Deer Valley Moguls Competition

The Altra booth at the show is always a good time, with Seth Wold, Brian Beckstead, and Golden Harper's great enthusiasm and positive energy.  I was pleasantly surprised that the women's promo product line samples are all in my size, so I was able to try on every shoe in the line. Super fun stuff!  I have some Olympus trail shoes ordered and on their way, and am looking forward to running in the super-cushiony comfort of this fabulous looking show.  The Lone Peak 2.0s got a little bit of an upgrade with 3mm more of stack height, so they will ride a little more cushioned as well, but are still a nice low-profile shoe.  The Superior 1.5 is a classy looking shoe with a new upper and color scheme.

I feel like for the last month I have had less time for adventuring, since I've been working 10-12 hours one day a week at an urgent care up in Ogden.  It takes about 45 minutes drive time each way as well.  A little tough to motivate for, because I get slammed all day seeing patients, and the intensity never really lets up, but the staff is really supportive and great, and the extra cash will be nice for buying gear (I already have another Patagonia puffy coat on order).  I'll be working there for three or four months, filling in for one of the other providers who is on leave right now.

2014 Altra Women's trail shoe lineup~

So when I finish up my stint up in Ogden, it will be just about time to run the Zion 50k down south in Hurricane, Utah on April 5th.  I'm still getting out running here and there, despite the skiing and skate skiing, and was pleasantly surprised recently when I ran 10 miles on the streets here in town and it still felt really easy, despite "only" running 20-30 miles per week.

Perhaps the most exciting news of the New Year is that I was asked to be a member of the HUMRs (Happy Utah Mountain Runners) group.  This is a group of totally-fabulous trail runners here in Northern Utah.  Everyone in the group absolutely lives and breathes trail running and having met many of them over the last year, I've learned that they are such a fun group to be around.  I'm looking forward to running, laughing, and socializing with them.  I'm apprehensively looking forward to my "initiation" rites, which will perhaps take place at Rooster's Brew Pub in Ogden.

Gotta hike up to ski down ~

The ski down was fine ~

Me and my brother skiing at Alta

The dogs and I skate skiing the Rail Trail
in Park City ~

Mirror Lake Highway, High Uintas, Utah ~

Christmas then and now ~

When I was a kid, we celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, Bavarian-style.  I remember dressing up in my German dirndl dress and sitting with my mom and brother on the stairs while my mom read us a Christmas story from a big, red book.  We were really antsy with anticipation of presents and a special dinner.  There was a special Bavarian mountain club record that my mom would put on the stereo, with German yodeling songs and carols.

Part-way through my mom's reading of the story, my dad, who was downstairs, would ring a cowbell and yell out, "He's here! He's here!"  And we would go racing down the stairs and into the glassed in porch to find the Christmas tree, that we had cut down from our back acreage and brought across the property on a toboggan, aglow with real candles.  The lighting of the candles was always a mystery to me.  Apparently, it was the Christ Child (Krist Kindl) who lit them.  This was kind of a fuzzy image in my mind, because the image of a baby or small boy somehow got mixed up with the traditional American image of Santa Claus, and I was never quite sure whom I was supposed to be looking for as my dad called out that "He" was here and had lit the candles on the tree and brought the presents.  (Come to find out, my brother, being two years older, knew for several years that it was my dad, not the Krist Kindl who was lighting the candles, but kept it a secret as not to spoil it for me.)

The best present of all was always a large box with pink butcher paper on it, and a string to hold it together.  It was addressed in black marker, and had probably a dozen stamps on it with blue "Luftpost" stickers as well.  It was a box from my grandparents in Germany.  The other Christmas presents were great, but this box was truly special.  There was always a Steiff stuffed animal for me, lots of chocolate, some model train kits for my brother, and hand-knit sweaters from Oma.

After opening presents, my dad was of course starving for dinner after embarking on process that took entirely too long.  We would sit down at the table by the wood stove with our cozy new sweaters on and eat traditional Bavarian cold cuts, cheese, and fresh bread.  My dad always had something gross like creamed, pickled herring (which I now, of course love!) and would try to get us to drink a special drink of red wine mixed with ginger ale (like a kids' wine spritzer?!?) that was totally gross.

Someone asked me the other day, "Well, if you celebrated on Christmas Eve, what did you do on Christmas Day?"  We played with our new loot, of course!  Oftentimes, after our cousins were done opening presents on Christmas Morning, we would meet up with them and go ice skating on the lake or cross country skiing in the woods or on the golf course.  I remember the stark whiteness of the snow, the sparkling crystals, the clear blue skies, and the laughter.

Although my Christmases are quite different these days (there are no candles on the tree), I do try to keep some traditions intact.  My brother and I typically celebrate with a Bavarian meal of cold cuts, cheese, and fresh bread.  My sister-in-law's family celebrates together on Christmas Eve, so that tradition has changed for me a bit, but I think of it as an extended "Christmas week" in which the festivities are carried out for a longer period of time because the last few years we have celebrated together on Christmas night, the day after her family celebration.  This year, I won't be headed up to Idaho to celebrate with my family until the New Year, which I'm really looking forward to.  Hopefully I can get some skiing in with my brother and sister-in-law, and I'm sure the dogs will score all kinds of loot.  Kitty won't be left out from the gift giving (or receiving), but she'll be guarding the house and taking cat toys (aka ornaments) off of the tree, no doubt.

Christmas time truly is a magical time of year.  Full of thankfulness and giving.  I am so thankful for everyone in my life and the good fortune that I have had.  I am thankful for being able to give gifts to those whom I love and appreciate.  I am thankful for the people who have mentored me, especially the ones who are not physically here anymore but who live on in my heart.  I am thankful for having good friends and family who support me in everything that I do.  I am thankful to those whom have been cruel to me, because I have learned so much from them on how not to live my life.  I am so thankful for having two very strong legs to carry me wherever I wish to travel and for two happy dogs who remind me to smile, no matter what.  I am thankful for a little black kitty who reminds me of a certain little gray kitty.

I wish everyone a peaceful celebration and a prosperous New Year.

Taking a look around ~ the Oregon Coast

Netarts Beach

Sometimes you have to step back to take a look at what just happened.  The impact of my trip to Oregon nearly two weeks ago is just now hitting me.  Looking back through the photos from my trip, I am amazed by the beauty that surrounded me and the wonderful people whom I fleetingly crossed paths with.

Three Arches Wildlife Refuge, Netarts, Oregon

On Tuesday, November 12th, I loaded up the car and the dogs and headed north.  Much farther north than I have been in quite some time.  I drove 10 hours, and after a nice pit-stop to walk through a park in Boise in the 5th hour of our journey, I found myself topped out in the Whitman National Forest, heading for the high plains of the Columbia River Gorge.  The sun was setting just as I was headed down I-84 and the switchbacks which lead to Pasco, Washington, where I would overnight with my friend Jamie and her husband Shane.  On the way to see them, I had gassed up the car in Baker City, Oregon, which is absolutely worth the side-trip just to see the quaint Main Street in town.  A ribbon-cutting ceremony was taking place just as I arrived, and I chatted with the gas station attendant about my awkwardness with letting someone else pump my gas, which is the law in Oregon.

Cape Meares Lighthouse

I spent an all-too-short night in Pasco at my friends' house, and upon awakening the next morning, I found that the entire Columbia River Valley was encased in thick fog.  I drove west to the Oregon Coast, another 5 and a half hours, and marveled at the thousands of wind turbines along the cliffs above the Gorge that were not there 10 years ago when I traveled this way.  I stopped off along the Wilson River Highway (OR-6) and went for a nice trail run with the dogs in a mossy, dense forest.  The place looked, sounded, and smelled just like the forests in Germany where I love to run.  It felt good to stretch our legs after a day and a half in the car.  After a little over an hour on the trail, I ate a quick Nutella sandwich and headed towards Tillamook.  Leaving the trailhead, I couldn't help but feel a little lucky that I hadn't seen a soul on the trail as I passed a prison work camp and work-crew logging truck.

The walk to the Secret Beach at Cape Meares

I stopped in Tillamook just long enough to by some groceries and continued on to the town of Netarts, Oregon, a tiny, sleepy little fishing town just 30 minutes west of Tillamook.

The next 2 days would be spent reading books by the crackling log-fire, walking along the beaches in the rain, and exploring trails through the forests and capes.  The dogs had luck on their side as well, as Artemis tried unsuccessfully to drown herself in the 10 to 15 foot surf and also avoided getting swept out to sea in the riptide.  Her instinct to chase seagulls and cormorants is impressive, to say the least.  The cormorants (smartly) dove underwater when she got close to them and she was perplexed by their sudden disappearance.  After the near-drownings, she spent a good amount of time on the leash and we still had a wonderful time exploring despite being tethered together.

I hiked down a mile and a half trail to a small (100 yard-long) beach at Cape Meares one afternoon to find starfish, anemones, and red crab in the tide pools.  Not a soul around on this rainy afternoon, although Franklin did find a porcupine along the trail (no quills!).

Another day, I hiked along Cape Lookout, with 300-400 foot cliffs just off the trail to the side.  As songbirds darted amongst the cliffs, I could only imagine a yellow dog chasing the bird and suddenly finding only air beneath her feet instead of the mud and slippery rocks.  I kept the dogs close on the leash, to avoid a 300 foot drop which certainly would have ended in a lengthy swim along the coast back to a beach in the best case scenario (I tried not to think of the alternative).  I could see the big black rock of Cape Kiwanda from the overlook off the end of Cape Lookout, and resolved to head that way after the hike.  Along the Cape Lookout trail, I chatted with a 50-something old couple from Layton, Utah and a guy my age who tried to convince me to drink a "craft" beer at the Pelican Pub in Pacific City (it was only 2pm.  If I had drunk the beer that early in the day, I would have been asleep with the dogs in the back of the Subaru before making it back to the cabin).  I smiled to myself at his reference to craft beer, which I'm pretty sure most of the rest of the country calls micro-brew.  (See reference here.)


Driving the Whiskey Creek Road to the south, we stopped at Cape Kiwanda and went for a nice run along the beach in the rain with the receding tides (I didn't drink the beer at the Pelican Pub).  I found a good keeper sand dollar (most of the ones I found were broken due to the rough surfs) and a broken scallop shell.  I stopped at the convenience store for a latté, which was likely one of two worst lattés I've ever had in my life (the other being in Three Rivers, California) and scalded my tongue.  I did get some really great smoked halibut dip for a snack in the afternoon and decided that the owners of the store should stick to seafood, not coffee.  The dip was salty, smoky, and delicious.

Cape Lookout

Day three found us, sadly, packing up to leave the small cabin that had been our cozy home.  The time went by so quickly, and I wished I could have stayed longer (I would have had to buy more firewood).  Before driving up the Coastal Highway 101 to visit Cannon Beach, I stopped at the Tillamook cheese factory and watched the Saturday crew packaging cheese.  They all waved and smiled.  I watched the video of the history of the Tillamook Valley and how the dairy cooperative of family-owned farms started over 100 years ago and continues to this day.  I think it wouldn't be a bad job to retire to that little town, and spend a day or two a week working in the Tillamook factory.  Everyone was so nice and friendly and the scenery reminded me of Germany with the green cow pastures and rolling hills of coniferous forests.

Cannon Beach was beautiful in between surges of small storms that were coming off the Pacific.  On the way there, I passed through the idyllic fishing town of Garibaldi and put it on my list of places to visit in the near future.

I spent the night again in Pasco, Washington at my friends' house, but not until again passing through the incredible Columbia River Gorge.  I took a bit of a scenic route, taking old US Hwy 30 from Moser to the Dalles, and was rewarded with magnificent views of rolling vineyard hillsides and a rainbow out over the Columbia.

The view of Cape Kiwanda from Cape Lookout

Despite the rain, it was a wonderful, relaxing time on the Oregon Coast.  I didn't run a ton of miles, but was able to heal up some nagging injuries and mental fatigue from the long summer of running that I had this year.  The dogs and I were absolutely exhausted when we got home to Salt Lake City.  It's a long drive to the Oregon Coast, but absolutely worth the effort.

Cape Kiwanda Beach

Cape Kiwanda

Packing up ~

Crab Avenue ~ Netarts, Oregon

Cannon Beach

Secret Beach at Cape Meares

You can't have rainbows if you don't have a little bit of rain.

A lot of people have already heard about what I did for my birthday this year.  And I have to say, it was absolutely fabulous.  Surrounding myself with people who share the same ideals in life in a beautiful mountain setting made my day, quite possibly, the best birthday yet.

Running literally all day gave me time to reflect on birthdays past and think of my family and friends for whom I am so grateful.  Lots of memories flashed through my head:  driving in a rainstorm to Red Lobster with my immediate family, looking at my new sticker book in the back seat of the car.  Carving mini-pumpkins with my friends on the front porch of our Michigan farmhouse.  Sharing yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting and adorned candy-corn pumpkins (to this day, my favorite) that my mom had made for my 4th grade class.  Going to my brother's house in Salt Lake where he had baked me the exact same themed cake:  yellow cake, chocolate frosting, and candy-corn pumpkins on top.  Hiking with my first dog, Roxie, at Park City Mountain Resort and taking in the fall colors.  Hiking to the top of a Salt Lake mountain peak with my dogs and returning to the car to receive the last voicemail I would ever get from my ailing father, who had always in the past forgotten my birthday.  Running 40 miles in the mountains near Pocatello, Idaho with one of my best friends, both of us in our hunter-orange safety vests.  Tracking down the mailman in my neighborhood who had a ten-pound box of chocolate for me from my best friend in Germany.  So many good adventures.

October can be a tricky time to have a birthday, in part because of the weather.  But sometimes that weather can be the most glorious of the year.  This year, it meant perfect running temperatures, golden foliage, snow-capped mountain peaks, and of course a little bit of rain (rarely does it NOT rain on my birthday).  But the lesson I learned this year, is that you can't have rainbows if you don't have a little bit of rain.  A metaphor for life, really.

42 miles of running in honor of my 42 years on this Earth.  Quite symbolic.  Quite simply ~ fantastic.  Friends, cupcakes, cocoa, cookies, and running on the trails.  I'll be looking back on this one (fondly) for a very long time.

11 hours, 5 minutes.  42 miles. 

The Bear that would not be ~

I didn't plan to DNF at the Bear 100.  No one ever does, I think.  But when the weather forecast was looking like it was pointing to signs of an early winter, my thoughts raced back to March at the Buffalo 100, where I dropped at mile 50 because my knee seized up and I couldn't run.  I was able to walk 15 miles to the start/finish aid station back then and get credit for a 50-mile race finish, albeit a slow one.

You'd think I would do well in the cold.  I grew up in Michigan in the 1970s when it seems that we had record blizzards every winter.  But I do remember back in high school and once after college, playing soccer so hard in the cold that my quad muscles were strained so badly that I couldn't lift my foot from the gas to the brake pedal in the car.  In Germany, the second time it happened, I hobbled into my surrogate Oma's house and she reprimanded me for playing so hard, then wrapped my quads in herbal tincture.

Since my knee surgery in 2007, my left knee has always been a bit sensitive to the cold.  It gets achy quickly and feels stiff, making it hard to bend.  I ski tour in insulated ski pants even on the warmest of days.  I would rather sweat out gallons than be cold.  I wear my Patagonia puffy coat everywhere.  I relish the end of summer and the day that I can wear my puffy coat again, inside the house sitting on the couch as well as outside when I am walking the dogs.

The Bear 100 this year would not be what it was last year:  75 degrees and sunny, finding me at my second 100-mile finish.  I'm consoled this year by the fact that I did finish the Bear last year and was able to prove that my Wasatch 100 finish of 2011 was not a fluke.  I finished the Bighorn 100 this year, too, and am so grateful for that painful, well-earned finish.

I won't go into the details of my Bear run this year.  Suffice it to say that I was surrounded by people who love me and care about my welfare.  I am humbled by the fact that people will comfort me when the run brings me to tears.  In that respect, I am very lucky.

My mind turns now to redemption.  Several runs are lining up in the next 3 to 4 weeks and I am holding myself back from registering for any one of them.  Maybe I'll run, and maybe I won't.  For now, I will relish in my past finishes and think of how many good runs I had this year, trying not to let this one bad day over shadow the others.

Wasatch 100 volunteer report ~

Wasatch 100 race start in Layton, Utah ~

A lot of people asked me prior to the race if I was running the Wasatch 100 this weekend.  They asked me on Monday if I had run it, then looked at me and said, “Oh, you’re walking too well to have run 100 miles this weekend, I guess.”  Which is true:  it takes a few days for me to be walking normally again after something like that.

On Friday, I worked at the clinic until about 3:30, then went home quickly to change my clothes, feed the dogs, and eat a sandwich, and I headed up to Lamb’s Canyon aid station to volunteer for the race.  What I took part in was one of the most rewarding experiences I think I will ever be involved with.

Runner steps on scale at Lamb's Canyon ~

I knew over 50 runners who were taking part in the race.  I thought back on how many years I have been involved with this race in one form or another (volunteering, pacing another runner, crewing, running it myself, or just plain spectating) and it has been 15 years.  The race itself has been going on for 33 years, and I know runners who have been racing it for over 20 years:  one person I know got his 29th finish this year.

Local legend Brian Harward
with pacer John Wheelright ~

In volunteering on Friday night, I employed a technique that I had learned from the volunteers at one of the aid stations at the Bighorn 100.  When a runner would come into the aid station, the volunteers quickly took his or her pack off their back, had them weigh in, got the racer’s drop bag from the pile, and sent them on their way.  I kept an eye on runners coming in, to see if they had a crew or not.  Most or many of them did have someone helping them, but some did not.  As I mentioned before, I knew over 50 runners this year, so I ended up helping them (even if they had crew).  Basically, I served as the runner’s personal “gopher”.  I’ll give you an example.

My friend Steve came into the Lamb’s Canyon aid station.  He had been weighed in and had been given his drop bag by several volunteers and was headed for a seat in the corner.  He looked up and saw me, and said, “Hey!  Missy!  How are you?”  (I was thinking, after the extreme, unusual heat and humidity on race day, “How the heck are you?!?”)  He looked good.  As good as you can look after running 53 miles on a bum knee in 90+ heat with 40%+ humidity.

Local legend Roch Horton steps on the scale
with aid station captain Steve Westlund
assessing his condition ~

“I’m not sure where my crew is...” he continued.  I replied, “No worries!  I’m your crew now.  What can I get you?  What do you need?”  Then his crew (Lexie) showed up, and Steve said, “Oh, you can help someone else...”  “No way!  I’m here for you right now,”  I replied.  And Lexie and I proceeded to help Steve wash his feet, change his socks, change his shirt (I talked him into that...), got him food and drink from the buffet, emptied trash from his pack, loaded his pack with new food items, his jacket... I think we got him in and out of there in about 20 minutes, and we got a lot done!  I think I even talked him into taking his Jamba Juice with him (Lexie got it for him and had it ready and waiting.  So good!  I remember getting one of those a time or two from my crew as well, when I was racing) because there was a trash can located a quarter mile up the road at the check-out area.

Ogden Speedgoat Jim Skaggs
(me in background) ~

To give you a little background history, Steve had been my crew two times at Wasatch 100 (the time I dropped out with a knee injury at mile 62 in 2010 and the time I finished in 2011).  He also paced me from Lamb’s Canyon to Millcreek (mile 62) in 2011, the year I told him to stop looking at his watch (he was looking at how fast [slow] we were moving and I grumpily told him, “I’m going as fast as I can!”).  I felt I owed him so much from helping me those years, I couldn’t not pay back a little at this year’s race.

Female runner at Lamb's
stepping on the scale for weigh-in ~

The heat was a huge factor in this year’s race.  As they say, it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity that will get you.  Indeed, we are accustomed to 10% humidity or less in these parts, but the recent rain has caused the humidity to increase dramatically, to between 40 and 50%.  Not as bad as the South, the Midwest, or even the East Coast, but pretty tough still.  The finish rate for this year’s race was about 67% whereas typically it is near 80%.

And in true Wasatch 100 style, the race ended with thunderstorms and pouring down rain.  The finish venue was changed to Soldier Hollow this year from the Homestead in Midway, which afforded a great pavilion and grassy area with big shade trees and I think everyone really enjoyed it.  Drinking beers and visiting with friends at the finish line and watching the last of the racers come in in the driving rain, especially after enduring such awful heat the day before, was inspiring to say the least.

Founder of Altra shoes, Brian Beckstead,
attended to at Lamb's Canyon by family and friends ~

I was humbled by this year’s race.  The number of thank you’s that I heard was innumerable.  After all, they would have helped me if the tables were turned and I was racing.  Watching the perseverance of over 300 people; all of their crews and family members encouraging them on or consoling them if they were having troubles; watching runners helping runners through tough times; watching the smiles along the way certainly made this experience extremely rewarding.  The ultra-running community is very unique to say the least.  And the amount of love that is shared is extraordinary.

I can’t finish this post without shouting out a special thank you to Steve Westlund and his family, who were the core crew of the Lamb’s Canyon aid station.  They coordinated all of the food and supplies, set-up, and clean-up and were physically present at the aid station with smiles on their faces for what I estimate to be 16 hours.  Everything was clean, the food was good, and things were organized.  For this half-German girl, I think those are the basic necessities of life.  Special thanks to John Grobben, John and Joan Moellmer, and Claude Grant who have directed this race since the very beginning:  the fact that you keep coming back every year is a testament to your own perseverance.  This year’s race will not be soon forgotten, and I will assuredly be involved in some way with the event next year.  You can count on that!

(Many thanks also to Mark Kreuzer, who gets photo credit for all of the amazing images in this post.  If you would like to see the full collection, contact him at mark@trailandultrarunning.com and he will send you a link.)

Wasatch sunrise, day 2 ~

Local runner and 2nd place female
finisher, Andrea Stevens ~

Local runner Amie Blackham with race director,
John Grobben ~

Boise runner Dennis Ahern takes a sip
of well-earned champagne after finishing
the Grand Slam of Ultra-running (the four oldest
races, all completed in one season) ~

Well said, Carter Williams ~

Local runner Jill Bohney breathes a sigh
of relief at the finish line ~

Local runner Josh Greenwell~

How many finishes is that now, Deanna McLaughlin?

Craig Lloyd gives his mom a hug at the finish line

Me with Steve and his pacer, Mike

Steve Luker and Lexie ~