Fresh Starts and Feelings

The minute I learned when the official day would be I circled it in my calendar, red marker with big capital letters – DIVORCE DAY – declaring it a sort of personal holiday. The kind of holiday that signifies a completion, and acknowledges new things to come.

The kind of holiday you throw a fucking party to celebrate.

But as the weeks neared, “House boat on Lake Shasta, 70:1 beer:person ratio!” whittled down to “Night out on the town in Bend!” and to “Afternoon backyard get together” before finally landing on “Just kidding there’s no party I’m going out in the woods to crew a 100 miler for a friend I barely know.”

I mostly blamed the deteriorating plans on laziness – the logistics of corralling people (what if no one can come, or I forget someone?) and fear of hosting (I still didn’t have chairs around my dining table) were easy scapegoats. But I think deep down I wanted to keep the “celebration” to myself. Making a spectacle over my newfound singledom, around people who’ve only known me in this stage of my life, felt disrespectful to the years Brian and I spent together. Our marriage wasn’t a sham or anything I wanted to throw away (although I did a lot of literal throwing away of things in the weeks leading up) and without anyone here who knew us in our good days, it just didn’t feel right to celebrate its ending at all.

I wrote the passage below the night I decided to cancel the “Divorce Day” party. It’s pretty hippieshit and personal, not something I’d typically share with many people, let alone blab all over the internet. And I know this is “supposed” to be a “running blog” (please do the hand gestures), but in the end I felt like it would be good to air out the thoughts and let them breathe, in case someone would relate somehow.

And even if not, it just feels good to get the words on paper (/screen.)

*we filed a Summary Dissolution which means instead of appearing in court you fill out some papers and then just wait six months and voila, divorce. it pays not having kids, lots of money, or things to fight over.


One of the things about our divorce that I’m most grateful for (other than skipping over the meat aisle at the grocery store and sleeping in the middle of the bed) is the opportunity for a fresh start. Combined with the move to Oregon, I started 2015 with as clean of a slate as you can possibly get. New town, new friends, new job… Squeaky fucking clean.

And while I was settling into all this new-ness, I realized for once I had complete, unbridled control over what stayed, and what got kicked to the curb. Sure, there’s the literal packing of things in a move, and the literal separation of belongings in a break up. But what about the other things in my life? The non-tangibles? My hobbies, habits, ideas – all the things that make me “me”? How many of them were intentionally developed, and how many either fell into my lap out of habit or laziness? How did I feel about bringing all of those things into this new phase of my life?

Am I really such an introvert I can’t make small talk with the person behind me at the grocery store, or is that a personality trait I’ve slowly acquired over the years?

Is it fun to pass on participating in things because I’m not super good at them just to protect my competitive ego?

Do I really hate olives, or did someone tell me they were gross and I never gave them a chance?

I’ve spent a lot of the past months thinking about these things – who I am, who I want to be, and how I see this new chapter playing out that is being written only by me. (That sounds depressing when you think of it as, “instead of co-writing with the person you said you’d be together with forever,” but ridiculously invigorating as, “you’ve got the pen, girl, write the motherfucking chapter(s) of your dreams!”)

What surprised me the most about this whole deeply intrinsic, uncharacteristically personal self-assessment was how much I think I’ve been wrong about my interpersonal relationships.

Being open, approachable, and welcoming do not come naturally to me. None of the folks who know me – from any stage in my life – would describe me as any of those things, I’m pretty damn certain. Plus, I have a severe case of Resting Bitch Face that I just don’t think there’s ever going to be a cure for.

But I realize that a lot of the walls that I had built up were there for silly reasons. To protect myself from some unknown something or another that I worried would hurt me. That exposing any part of me to people I hadn’t screened, put through a personality test, and checked their FICO score would make me foolishly vulnerable and soft. That if I relied on someone they’d let me down, or even worse, I’d let them down. I kept myself impermeable to any threat of hurt, and in doing so kept myself from fully experiencing the joy of moments and people surrounding me.

It still takes me a while to feel comfortable around someone, but I realized I kind of do like discussing thoughts, feelings, and ideas with people. Instead of squirming at the first mention of emotion and running for the hills when shit gets serious, it’s really liberating to let everything air out, both as the presenter and the audience, even if it’s uncomfortable as shit. Having those thoughts fester privately in my own brain (or pretending like they don’t exist) has never done anyone any favors, no matter how well I like to think I’ve managed it over the years.

So new chapter Sarah is making an effort to chip away at some of those protective walls, to see what happens when the drawbridge is lowered and the alligators are deported from the moat. Independent, closed-off Sarah is rolling over in her grave over it, but I think it could be good.

And if not, at least I can’t say I didn’t try. (ahem, olives.)

In closing (does that make this sound like I’m speaking to you from a podium?) I’m seeing this separation as a fresh start to so much more than just love. While I’m scrubbing such a big corner of my life clean, why not wipe down the rest of the walls too, right? Reflecting on why our relationship failed made me reflect on myself as a partner, friend, and human in general.

All of those things can always be improved.

 

 

Ultra Crewing: Lessons From Cascade Crest 100

Over breakfast tacos and possibly some residual intoxication (endorphins, exhaustion, and beer make for a delicious post-race buzz, FYI) I rambled off three pages of anecdotes about my experience crewing Cascade Crest 100 as Emily furiously scribbled them onto the back of a page from her Runner’s Manual. Some serious, some funny, some just for an excuse to reminisce on the whole EMILY RAN 100 FUCKING MILES thing.

Because you know, that happened.

Cascade Crest Finish

Conveniently, I think I can tell most of my side of the CCC100 tale through these lessons, albeit not in much of a chronological fashion. So that’s what I’m giving you in lieu of a traditional recap. (Plus, Emily’s is a much better read than mine would’ve been. Check it: Cascade Crest 100 Race Report)

I left the list in its original form, to preserve the randomness in which barely-caffeinated, recently ultra-devirginized Sarah found them most important, with postscript elaborations for each. Keep in mind that means absolutely nothing to the actual validity or importance of them, and that actually you should really never take anything you read here very serious at all.

Here we go!


Lessons Learned from Crewing my first 100 Miler

1. Crewing is equal parts hard work and really fucking fun. Like babysitting at a party. But you know, less “call child protective services.” Being responsible for someone’s well being is stressful. Sitting around waiting to see them once every few hours is boring. Staying up all night is exhausting. But you get a secondhand high from their progress, make friends with the other runners’ crews, and get to run around in the dark wearing a headlamp. What’s not to like?!? Might as well have fun while you’re out there, you know. Plus it turns out most everyone out there is down to have a good time.

Kicking anything off with a parking lot dance party is a sure sign of copious amounts of fun ahead.

Kicking anything off with a parking lot dance party is a sure sign of copious amounts of fun ahead.

2. Never ask “How are you feeling?” I knew this was the #1 no-no and then did it anyway. Somewhere around four miles into a six mile climb at midnight during pacing duty, after repeating to myself all day “don’t ask how she’s doing… don’t ask how she’s doing…” I blurted it out. WOOPS. Sorry, Em. [good news: she was actually feeling really good at that time. Or she was lying. I believed her if she was.]

3. Ultra runners love junk food more than anyone. You want to go back to the days of eating whatever the eff you wanted? Go hang out at an ultra aid station. Pop, potato chips, all kinds of candy, white bread ham sandwiches with mayonnaise, donuts, entire bags of bacon… There was even a mention of Cheez Wiz at one point during the weekend. Whatever works I guess, but seriously, gross guys.

100 miler aid station feed bag

The feed bag. Mixed nuts to candy bars to bacon jerky to many varietals of chips and everything in between. (I will not admit to staging those Picky Bars in there…)

4. Read the driving directions and/or at least put them in the car. It was probably less beneficial for me to read the Runner’s Manual six times cover-to-cover than it would’ve been to look at the crew instructions and driving directions… at all. (To be fair they were in a separate document I didn’t see on the website.) Had an unnecessarily tough time getting to a couple aid stations, but hell if I didn’t know exactly where Emily was supposed to turn at mile 43.5 and what kind of hot food they’d have at each aid station. [sidenote: most times there were enough people heading out when we were to just follow the train, except for you know, the real hard to navigate ones, when I was alone, in the dark, deliriously tired… directions would’ve been helpful then.]

5. There’s no Stranger Danger in ultra running. It’s totally normal to bump into someone on a trail a few weeks before race day, discover they’re also running it, Facebook friend them, invite them to stay in your cabin, and then become best friends forever. And if it’s not, we’re well on our way to making it the new norm. [Hi Gordo & Dan!]

Cascade Crest Gordon

Also NBD if they’re stupid fast and finish Top 10. Also-also Dan was much better at juggling crew + photog than I was.

6. The most important and controllable aspect of crewing is being happy. You can impact a lot of the race with a good crew plan. Feed your runner. Know the logistics. Have every imaginable I.C.E (in case of emergency) item on hand at all times. But shit can (and probably will) happen. Tried and true foods betray. The weather turns to shit and your runner refuses to wear a trash bag as a poncho. Trail markers are stolen and everyone runs a million miles off course. The aid station has turkey sandwiches instead of quesadillas.* No matter how you handle these things, a big cheery smile and high energy is easy to provide and pays immediate dividends to your runner, no matter the shit storm going on around you.

*note: only 1.5 of these things actually happened.

6a. The second most important is probably being a good liar. “You look great! The coffee maker’s totally not broken! There’s no way I could keep up walking, this is definitely a run pace! No, we 100% did not stop at that brewery you like between aid stations while you were running through a torrential downpour! Seriously, you look great!”

7. Instead of asking your runner what they need, just start shouting things until they say YES. “What can I get you?” “Uhhh I don’t know, uhhh…” “SANDWICH? COKE? NEW SOCKS? PEANUT BUTTER M&MS? LUBE? APPLE FRITTER?” “Oooohh, yeah, fritter!”

Feed your ultra runner

Also be prepared to literally feed them if necessary.

8. When it comes to snacks, spare no expense. Emily took care of all the snacks, which apparently took multiple trips to multiple grocery stores (to avoid judgment when purchasing two dozen different bags of chips) and also took up 80% of the cargo space in the car. I’m pretty sure we ditched a couple pairs of shoes and some sleeping equipment to accommodate a last-minute box of Bob’s donuts. PACK ALL THE SNACKS.

9. If you can make a large cabin with a hot tub part of your race weekend, definitely do it. And then invite enough strangers to outnumber familiar faces, host a post-race dinner party, and sit your tired asses in the hot tub until it’s time to go to bed. Sunday’s taco fest featured our aforementioned two bunkmates, plus two more late adds to their crew team, putting the final tally at Team Emily 3, Stranger Danger 4. It wasn’t weird at all. <— Not sarcasm. Really.

10. Have a safe word. “Citra” = hike break. “Simcoe” = slow down. “Mosaic” = I’m ready to go, let’s run this bitch. So much better than straight up asking for a break. [even if it did trigger some mid-run IPA cravings]

11. Being able to sleep in unconventional settings is an invaluable crew quality. True story I pulled off the side of some random road between aid stations at like 3am and zonked out HARD for two hours – still in my wet running clothes, in the driver seat, seatbelt still fastened. Best power nap ever.

Woke up like dis. Literally. Buckle up for safe car napping.

Woke up like dis. Literally. Buckle up for safe car napping.

12. Alleviate as much decision-making from your runner’s plate as possible. What fork in the trail to take, which type of salad dressing to get for race eve greens, which leg goes in which pant leg… Which leads to:

13. Get your runner in dry clothes as soon as possible after finishing. Ignore her resistance and/or the fire station’s claim the restroom is “NOT FOR PUBLIC USE.” Now is not the time for decency and shyness, and your time as bossy crewmember is definitely not over. Dig them out from under their pile of blankets, help them out of their comfy camp chair, and take your runner and that post-race bag you so smartly prepped beforehand somewhere private-ish for a costume change. Remember that sports bras require some houdini’ing after running 26 minutes, let alone 26 hours. Be gentle around their feet when removing their stinky Hokas and sweat/dirt/who-knows-what-caked socks. If they have to bend at the waist at all you’ve failed! Perhaps practice on a sleeping toddler a few times if you’re worried about this one.

Cascade Crest finish

Guessing not all 100 milers have strong firemen and emergency rescue blankets at the finish, but Cascade Crest definitely does.

14. Beware of being hated by your runner, for something, at sometime. Emily actually had a shockingly even temperament the whole time… when I was around. Apparently Chris took the brunt of the lows during his pacing section through the last 50k, including this fine interaction I got to witness after jumping in with them for the final stretch:

“Chris! Quit running in front. Get behind me.”

“You mean you don’t want me up here where I’ve been for the last twenty seven miles?”

“I need you to just not be in front of me right now.”

Cascade crest crew running in last four miles

Runners run in front when they say they want to run in front.

15. Monitoring the fuel gauge in the crew vehicle is just as important as monitoring your runner’s fuel gauge. Especially if you find yourself driving alone through a remote area at 3am with no gas stations around and 20-some miles until the next crew check in. Dodged a bullet on that one.

16. Make sure you have easy access to you runner’s pump up jam at all times. Additional crew hurdle when the artist doesn’t play nicely with Spotify and cell service is spotty.

“Having the same pump up jam for two 100s makes me respect T.Swift’s timeless qualities.” – Emily ‘Shake it Off’ Halnon

cascade crest finish

Trying to cue up some TSwift for the final mile (photo cred Glen Tachiyama)

17. If you know your runner has the snacks handled (see #8), spend the time you would’ve at the grocery store on curating the best playlist ever. “Is there anything NOT on this playlist?” No, sir, there isn’t. Please turn up the volume and enjoy the transition from Miranda Lambert to Meatloaf to Ja Rule.

#CCC100 Playlist

18. Never let a fellow crew member drink alone. A nice parking lot beer makes the hours of loitering around aid stations pass quicker. That’s science, actually. Just make sure you close your tailgate tab with enough time before pacing duties.

Obviously not from during the race. We didn't keep glassware in the trunk.

Obviously not from during the race. We didn’t keep glassware in the trunk.

18a. Practice your low-level buzz sustainability. You’ve still got a job to do, man! Don’t let those tailgate beers sabotage your role. Neither driving through mountains nor caring for an ultra runner are good things to do while intoxicated. Keep it clean, practice safe liquid carb’ing.

19. Be prepared to talk a lot about poop, and maybe see it. All kinds of trail poop. Animal poop, human poop, who-knows-what poop, plastic bagged poop… It’s like a shitty Dr Seuss spinoff (harhar.) Keep your eyes peeled and some TP on your person at all times.

“Runners should stop being so selfish in only carrying enough T.P. for themselves.” – Emily/Chris

20. Ween yourself from electronic navigation. Maybe practice some old school map-reading. A cool thing about trail running is that you go off the beaten path and see places you can’t get to easily. Which means probably it’s not real easy to get the crew vehicle there either. You know where Siri doesn’t work? One-way dirt paths up the side of a cliff in the middle of the forest. If you’re lucky there will be other crews leaving when you do, but don’t count on it, or a GPS signal. Revisit #4. [tip: iPhones have a compass app. super helpful.]

cascade crest runners manual

there were driving directions and maps somewhere in this pile of papers. I couldn’t tell you about them because I failed at ever looking at them.

21. When pacing, know the route with such unwavering confidence that you can tell your runner you are “100% definitely still going the right way” at all times. The directions for my pacing portion were simple. Stupid simple. Literally only two forks to navigate over 16 miles. But when we hit 2.8 miles and were still running on flat pavement along the highway when the directions said we’d transition to dirt and start going up at 2.3, I got nervous. Obviously two microseconds later Emily decided to realize we hadn’t seen a route marker (reflective ribbons hung periodically along the way to assure you were still on course.) I frantically pulled up the screen cap I took of the written directions, tried to get service on google maps, and cross reference the course map pdf through the Ziploc baggie I was using as a cheap man’s waterproof case, all while trying to keep somewhat of a steady pace next to a locked-in Emily. I was terrified. Twenty minutes into my job and I got her fucking lost and off course! Just as I was about to… I don’t know, call someone? run backwards to see if we missed a turn? send up a smoke signal?… a beautiful little life-saving ribbon came into sight, the pavement turned to dirt, and we started climbing. I credit this for my absence from the Trail Squatters Guild, as I’m very confident it scared the shit right out of me.

22. When your runner is walking, SO ARE YOU. And don’t talk about it.

“If your runner is running 18 minute miles downhill, don’t tell her.” – Emily

23. Butt slaps at mile 96 are not as motivational or enjoyable as you think they will be. Actually just avoid any bodily contact at all costs. I really meant well, and admit what was supposed to be an encouraging little tap perhaps came out a little strong. The excitement of leaving the final aid station and getting to run the final four miles to the finish all together got the best of me! Old ball sports habits die hard, I guess.

hand holding at mile 96

‘you can hold my hand but please don’t smack my ass again’

24. Periodically peeing in toilets instead of the grass is good for hydration-monitoring purposes. After exiting my first porcelain commode in approximately 27 hours I proudly announced to everyone within earshot the clearness of my urine like a giddy potty training child. That’s a happy ending, but it very easily could’ve been a “holy shit I need to drink some liquid ASAP” situation. Bottom line: (convenient lead in to #25)…

25. Everyone says “make sure to take care of yourself, too!” BUT if you start looking second trimester pregnant somewhere along the course maybe it’s time to cut back on fueling your hurry-up-and-wait faux-workouts with Doritos and donuts. Not that this is a first hand lesson, ahem, but let’s just say I accidentally started that 16 mile pacing leg with a lot of extra logs on the fire.

26. Do not underestimate your runner’s ability to rally for the post-race party. The last men standing (er, sitting in the hot tub) with me? Our two in-house finishers. I’ve come to realize this as one of Em’s super powers though.

27. “Get Drunk and Sign Up for a Race” is still one of my favorite games. Reading the course description the next morning was hilariously awful. On the bright side, I have a good excuse to get my ass out onto some fun new (/scary) trails over the next few weeks.

elk kings 25k 50k

^ that shit should be a pop up warning after like 7pm on the weekends to scare off intoxicatingly impulsive race shoppers

[update since time of original drafting: for some reason the 50k with 7500′ of gain sounded easier, so I switched my registration. guess the Ultra Koolaid finally found its way into my flask. fucking hell where’s my brain?]

FINAL LESSON:

If you get the chance to crew or volunteer at an ultra, you should most definitely, 100% do it. The energy is incredible, the vibes totally different from road races, and the feelings at the finish line are warm and fuzzy enough to melt even the coldest of feelingless hearts. So much joy, relief, and gratitude all around, it’s impossible not to fall in love with the sport.

Plus, the snacks.

ultra finish line hug

super blurry, overly-zoomed finish line hug pic to sign off with, because no one comes here for stellar photography

Since Then…

green lakes trail bridge

Things that have happened since the last time I posted:

I wrote 85% of a race recap from the 25k back in June.

I decided to give up on finishing the race recap from the 25k back in June.

I crewed/paced a 100 miler. Emily ran Cascade Crest 100 last weekend and I had such a great time I enthusiastically wrote three pages of “lessons learned” at breakfast the next day. That post is DEFINITELY forthcoming. Promise. As soon as she fetches the list from wherever in her car I left it.

Cascade Crest 100 Finish

I got drunk and *almost* confronted my ex about his new S.O. a couple dozen times, and actually did it once. Wasn’t a very proud moment, but I can’t say I didn’t feel better after. We’ve talked about it since, and are on good terms.

I went on a few dates. This is legit my first time ever dating, and it’s pretty fucking weird. Weird and fun. Weird and scary. But I bet it was weirder in your early 20’s before you had anything other than college majors and entry-level jobs to small talk about. Anyway, my biggest fear about being “on the market” is accidentally hitting on a 17 year old.

I considered starting a new blog about dating after divorce. Remembered I can’t keep this one up to date, decided against it.

I settled into my new place. MY PLACE. Alllll mine. Well, mine and the dogs. And then mine, the dogs, and an eventual roommate when I come to the sad realization I can’t really afford the rent on my own… Anyone want to move in?

I stopped logging my miles. Ok actually I stopped keeping track a long time ago, but just recently stopped thinking about logging them. Not having an exact, to the decimal, number ready when someone asked how many miles I had on a pair of shoes felt like a real win in the Extreme Type A Recovery plan. Running feels like something I do for fun, for ME, not for my spreadsheet anymore.

Green Lakes Run

I started oversharing in person rather than on the internet. It’s true I used to unabashedly tell tales of peeing on curbs and other embarrassing and private things on the blog, but in person I was never much of a sharer. Believe it or not. Somewhere, sometime, without realizing it though, that changed. Wanna hear my life story? Some of my feelings? Thoughts on second chances, reincarnation, or gun laws? Sit on down, let me strip off this old steely outer shell I don’t want anymore and tell you ALL ABOUT ALL OF IT.

I climbed a mountain. A real life volcanic mountain. South Sister summit – 10,358 feet. Only asked Emily if we could turn around like three times (and am obviously really glad we didn’t.) Probably the most Oregon thing I’ve done since moving here.

south sister summit

And on that note…

I called Oregon home. Multiple times. All the time. Every chance I get, really. BRB gotta go buy some more Birkenstocks and a Subaru.

So yeah, things are good. Really great, actually. I’ll try to check in more often from here on out, and be on the lookout for a Cascade Crest Crew Report sometime soon.

-ish. Soonish.