The Day Ultra Running Almost Killed Me

Ok... that's not what happened, but I got your attention, right?

I know there are "negative Nancys" out there that would blame my DNF at San Diego 100 on the fact that ultra running is crazy and I 'failed' due to poor race management or some other running related issue. You are right that ultra runners are nuts, but wrong on the second part. I ran a smart race, but my heart, quite literally, wasn't in it. If you are willing to keep an open mind, please read on. 

This is a race report unlike any I have ever written. This is a report of how the choices I made may have avoided a much more serious issue.

San Diego 100 was my 'A' race for this year. My motto all year has been "all roads/trails lead to SD100." I repeated this mantra in my head when training runs were tough. I struggled with it when I was injured. This was the race I wanted most.

Running with this guy makes me smile!

The race started at 7:00 on Saturday, June 8. So many of my ultra friends were there. I was very anxious. I remember telling my friend Deb that my heart was pounding. It was annoying, but I thought I would calm down once the race started.

Steps into the race with Rob and Brady

After last minute RD instructions, we started on this amazing journey. I settled into a nice slow pace with my friend Rob. We enjoyed the scenery and beauty of the area. The first few miles were pretty flat and in a beautiful meadow.

The first hiccup came about 3.5 miles in. I tripped and fell pretty hard on my right side. Thankfully, I fell in soft dirt, so I wasn't hurt. It always shakes me up to fall. My heart was pounding again until a few yards down the trail when I was able to calm down.

Rob and I cruised along quite easily for the first few miles. We caught up to Brady (because he waited for us) at the first aid station. We grabbed a few snacks, bottle refills, and hit the trail again. The sections between A/S 1 and A/S 2 are where my struggles really began. Every hill, even the smallest ones, were difficult for me to climb. My chest tightened and my breathing was labored. My legs felt super heavy and I was sick to my stomach. The issues would resolve pretty quickly after the hill was over. I kept telling myself to calm down and things would be ok as the day went on.

We got to the second aid station and our crew was there. It was great to see smiling happy faces waiting on us. I told them of my struggles. A volunteer overheard me and reassured me that I was over an hour ahead of the cut off and doing great. Her confidence in me was very helpful.

Brady, Rob, and I made our way back to the trail. I was fine and happy on all the flats or descents. The hills were an increasing struggle. I worried and struggled quietly as I followed the guys. I tried not to consider quitting or not making the cut offs. I tried to stay positive. Sometimes it worked, other times I was having heavy doubts.

Every experienced ultra runner knows that highs and lows are normal. You go from thinking, "boy, I am so lucky! I love this shit!" To "I feel like a big shit sandwich and I can't believe I PAY money for this!" many times throughout the course of a long race. In 100 milers, the lows are longer and closer together as the race progresses through the night. I thought I was just experiencing lows early in the race. Was I experiencing low points that would resolve themselves as the day went on and my body adjusted to the heat and altitude?

Around mile 15 or so I heard the familiar ring of the Jester's bells. He patted me on the back and reassured me I was ok as he passed. He also told me he had been struggling with the altitude too and had adjusted in the past few miles. I prayed that would happen for me too.

Rob, Brady, and I stayed relatively close to each other throughout the day. Brady was almost always ahead, sometimes just out of sight. He was having a great day and I knew I was holding him back. Add that as another issue I was juggling in my head.

It was hot out there (some have said as hot as 100 degrees). There wasn't a lot of shade or relief from the direct sun. I was always mindful of my hydration. I had ice in my hat whenever it was available. I had ice water in my pack and electrolytes in my handheld. I was sure to empty them between aid stations. I was very cognizant of heat management and electrolyte replacement. I also avoided caffiene throughout the day because I thought that may have been adding to my rapid heart rate.

As we made our way through Noble Canyon, I enjoyed the relief from the breathing troubles. This part of the course is downhill, but ridiculously rocky and technical. We had two small water crossings and many areas where running was impossible and even walking was probably dangerous. We tried playing a game to keep our minds busy. Apparently finding the names of fruit for each letter of the alphabet was too big a challenge for our tired brains :)

We finally got to mile 31. It was the aid station after the descent of Noble Canyon. We were to go through a 4.7 mile loop and hit the same A/S again before facing the longest climb of the day between miles 36 - 44. This reality was weighing heavy on my mind. The climbs to his point had been almost too difficult for me and they were not that long or difficult, I knew something was wrong.

It didn't take long for the climbing in the loop to hit hard. I had to stop and sit down to catch my breath. Rob kept going and we told him we would try to catch up. Brady was trying to talk me out of my funk. He didn't realize that this wasn't just a low point. I hadn't yet shared with him that there were new issues.  I had come to realize that my chest hurt in a new and more intense way.  I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. It felt like a truck was sitting on my chest and it hurt. Bad.

I started crying and told Brady I couldn't go on. I had to get medical help. He asked questions and I explained what I was feeling. He agreed it was smart for me to get checked out. I kept telling him to go ahead so he could stay in the race. He flat refused and stayed with me as we made our way to the aid station. I had to stop and rest several times in the process.

I got to the medical tent and told them what I was dealing with. They immediately made me sit and went to work checking my vital signs. One of them told me, "you are done for the day." There you have it. The words no runner at mile 36 of 100 wants to hear.

Done. Over. No buckle. DNF. My reality. I was crushed.

Ok, I wasn't surprised. I was pretty sure that is what they would say. What I didn't expect was what happened next. I honestly thought they would give me some oxygen or watch me a while and let me go home. That isn't what happened. They called an ambulance. Before long a fire truck, the Sheriff, and the ambulance arrived. I was surrounded by men asking me questions and poking machines at me. I was scared, disappointed, and worried.

Aid Station Captain Jimmy Dean Freeman came over and hugged me. I told him I felt guilty for ruining a great day for Brady. He said, "you feel guilty now, but if he left you here you would be mad at him for that!" So true. I needed Brady and he knew it. Brady got busy calling friends that were out crewing for us so they would know not to expect us coming in to the next aid station.

Lots was going on around me. They finally got me in the ambulance and off to the hospital. Brady stayed behind to connect with Deb who had my car. He needed to get Colby as well. Poor guy. I know he wanted to be with me, but it was the smartest way to handle this situation.

In the ambulance they did an EKG. The EMT told me the results were "suspect" and he was going to give me aspirin and nitroglycerin. I knew that meant they suspected a heart attack. The reality hit me hard. I am 37 years old. I don't smoke and I am healthy. How the hell could I be having a heart attack? Damn you ultra running, you ARE KILLING ME!

We got to the hospital and the fun really began. No less than 12 people were around my bed. They poked me for another IV (I already had the fun of that process in the ambulance) and other tests. They drew blood and did more heart monitoring. They cut off my sports bra. It was scary and intimidating.

Before long someone yelled "code cancelled" and several of them left the room. A nurse looked at me and said, "That's a good thing. They don't think you are in immediate danger." Thank God.

My nurse took the time to ask me, "what the heck have you been DOING? your legs are disgusting!" I looked down and realized that the sunscreen, sweat, and other gross things were all over my legs. They weren't even skin colored anymore. She had the nasty job of taking off my shoes, gaiters, and socks. SHE deserves the buckle.

A few minutes later another said to me, "I am here to give you a psych eval. Anyone that takes on 100 miles on foot must be crazy!" The opportunity to laugh with her was welcomed.

The next few hours included a lot of tests, including an echo-cardiogram a chest x-ray, and more blood draws. At one point I was finally told what they suspected was wrong with me. Pericarditis. It is a swelling of the sac that surrounds the heart. I have a viral infection that likely caused it. Running the race did not cause any of my issues (okay ultra running you're forgiven, for now). What it did was bring them to light.

I was admitted to the hospital for observation. They drew blood every 2 hours and refused to let me take a shower because of the monitors I was on. Imagine running 36 miles in the dirt on PCT and having to sleep in your salty, sweaty, filth. Needless to say, I was pretty miserable all night.

They let me go home on Sunday with prescriptions for steroids (to bring down the inflammation) and other meds to keep my stomach protected from the steroids. I have a follow up appointment with the cardiologist.  He promised I'll run again when this is cleared up. That's good because I have a date with SD100 in 2014!

 Lessons learned:

- Ultra runners embrace the suck. They suffer. It is part of the beauty of this sport. We push through the pain to the finish. The smart ones know the difference between suffering and stupidity. I feel the decisions I made in this race put me in the smart category. Both my doctors told me that had I stayed in the race, the consequences may have been significant.

Jimmy said to me, "Your 'DNF' this weekend stands for one thing, primarily: "Did Nothing Fatal". We're in a sport of extremists and addicts. We do what we love, and we do it to excess. But you are still able to know the difference between epic adventure and when to call it a day." Know when to call it a day, people!


- Run with a phone. I had mine in my pack, turned off. When the issues came up Brady had it and access to all our friends as a result. Things would have been much more difficult if he didn't.

- Know when to support your friends in their DNF and when to push them to stay in the race. There is a fine line in just giving up because you are tired and doing so to be safe. Learn to see it in others and yourself.

People to thank:

 - Scott Mills, Race Director of San Diego 100. Scott is a true professional. He came and found Brady when he was waiting to go to the hospital. He was worried about me and wanted to know if anything could have been done at the race to avoid what happened. His concern was appreciated. The answer to his question is a resounding NO! The race was amazing. The volunteers were the best I have ever seen. They met us at every stop with smiles, suggestions, support, and encouragement. It was obvious they were runners themselves and knew how to support us in our journey. This was a top notch organization and race. For those of you that have experienced the atmosphere at Badwater, SD100 rivals it. Amazing communication, enthusiasm, dedication, and professionalism combined with amazing athletes = epic adventures! Thank you for everything! Scott, please give us the chance for a do over!

- My crew. Deb, Martha, Colby, Matt, Terri, and Louie - you guys are awesome. I am sorry to have worried you!

- To my pacers that didn't pace, Ryan and Tanya. Raincheck for next year? Sorry guys!

- To Rob, I am so sorry that our results were what they were. You are an amazing runner and I look forward to following your journeys. Thanks for being there and waiting for me when I sucked!

- To the most awesome, badass ultra running Dad I know, Brady: I love you. I am sorry that my issues caused you to DNF. I love you that you were there for me. Thank you for believing me and not giving me grief when I said I needed to stop.

- To all my ultra family that was concerned about my health. I love you too. Thanks for sharing your love. I felt it!