Mary’s Peak 25K

This morning I’m running the Red Hot 33k in Moab. Hahaha oops. Hi Utah. Also hi I got up early enough to do this.

I’m wildly unprepared, finishing up a round of antibiotics for an inappropriate case of strep (long story, kind of), and still somehow stupidly excited. Road trips to explore beautiful places has been a constant around here, and I hope none of these adveture-enabling lunatics change their minds about them. Even the untrained racing part.

Just for shits and giggles, I finished the last 5% of this race report from my first “proper” trail race back in June.

Because why not.


Yes, I ran a race measured in kilometers. It was even on trails! It was also over a month seven months ago.

But perhaps the most shocking thing here (because come on, no one’s shocked by the untimeliness) is that I ran a race at all. According to Athlinks (my only source of information, since I stopped keeping a running log and can’t backdate my brain past last week) it was my first race since the Deschutes 5k last August when I was in Bend for Oiselle Bird Camp, and my first trail race since Haulin Aspen Half, which I ran during Emily’s cross-country move road trip. To cap off the full-circledness, we stayed at the Flomas House that weekend, who own the company I now work for. Kinda bizarre tracing it back like that.

Bend Races

Deschutes Twilight 5k (2014), Haulin Aspen Half (2013), Fangirl’ing my future employer

(wish I could trace back to wherever I left those sunglasses…)

Emily conned me into registering for Mary’s Peak 25K sometime back in May, probably after I said something along the lines of, “man I sure don’t miss running on concrete surrounded by a million people anymore!” which she apparently interpreted as, “get Sarah through the trail/ultra gateway, asap”

Sure, fine, sounds fun, twist my impressionable arm. I hear the snacks are great at trail races.

Race Weekend

After weeks of subpar training, fluke and faux injuries, and a super random illness, we’d gone back and forth between “maybe we won’t race” and “maybe I won’t come at all” and “fuck it, let’s just sit on the Ninkasi patio all weekend.” Early Friday, a few hours before I was scheduled to maybe possibly leave, we decided that I’d come to Eugene and if we were up to it we’d drive out to the race, and if not we’d just play on the trails (and patios, obviously) in town. A happy medium between all the options, really.

* Remember when a plan (err, lack thereof) like this would’ve sent Type A stick-up-her-butt Sarah into a tailspin of uncontrollable uncontrolledness? I left that bitch in SoCal. Oregon Sarah is super chill and loves non-plans.*

Just as I was shutting down my computer at work and getting ready to point the Dodge west, I got the following confirmation to our itinerary:

FullSizeRender 4

I expected to start feeling some nerves on the drive over. Two and a half hours over the Cascade Mountains, lots without radio or cell service, could’ve been a bad recipe for a self-imposed mind fuck.

“This drive is longer than I remember…” (you’ll be running longer than this tomorrow)

“C’mon baby, rev that engine, push up this hill!” (are you going to be able to encourage your legs like this tomorrow?)

“Damn, I really need new wiper blades…” (speaking of new things, hope those new trail shoes you bought two days ago don’t ruin you!)

“Man there really isn’t a single radio station coming in.” (there isn’t going to be a god damn single note of musical entertainment on course)

It never happened though. I actually had to force myself to make up those fake freakouts just now. The only thing I really ever worried about race eve was deciding between the panini or tempeh salad* at Beer Stein for dinner. (to accompany the don’t-even-think-about-anything-else soft pretzel)

Spoiler: There were probably a few other things I should’ve at least considered for a hot second prior to gun time.

*Went with the salad, if you’re wondering.

Race Morning

The race was a little over an hour away in Blodgett, and Em’s 50K boasted an ass-crack’ing early 7am bus time. To say the rattling of pans and coffee brewing (my alarm clocks when lodging at Sweatspace) woke me earlier than I desired consciousness would be a tragic understatement. I laid on the couch for a while with my eyes half open, not moving, waiting for the coffeemaker to chime, signaling it was safe to come to life.

As soon as it did I rolled over and, half to myself, half to Emily, said (in a gravelly mumble), “I get to wear my new shoes today.”


(continues laying on couch with covers pulled high, a tired, shitty grin slowly starting to creep on my face) “We get to play on some new trails today.” <—- still not quite excitable enough to warrant an !, but a major victory for non morning person OUaL.


We ate, coffeed, and dressed – which in yet another “Oregonian Sarah is completely not at all like SoCal or Ohio Sarah” plot twist, meant dumping 9 tops and 6 pairs of shorts onto the dark living room floor and picking the coveted race day outfit solely by what would match my Picky Bars hat best. Pockets? Chaffing? Possibility of being photographed in spandex? Fuck it all, who cares!

On the drive over I finally decided to address some of the lingering “unknowns” about the race. Here’s what I DID know:

  1. My longest training runs were 1:45, maaaybe 12ish miles (race is 15.5), and also has anyone seen my GPS watch? I clearly haven’t used it in the last few months.
  2. I’d never run a “real” trail race, and the use of words like “technical single track” “hazards” and “muahahaa, this is gonna hurt!” in pre-race correspondence from the RD had me thinking it wouldn’t be the same as the dirt path river loop in town I call “trail running.”
  3. My brand new Brooks Cascadias would probably, hopefully, perhaps not totally demolish my feet. If I was lucky.

If those small factors didn’t already have me concerned for my livelihood, the next few minutes did.

“So it’s technical, but only like 1000′ feet of change, right? I’ll probably be fine.”

“Where did you see 1,000 feet?”

“Oh I don’t remember, somewhere… 1,000 isn’t a lot, is it?”

“Sar, I’m pretty sure it’s more than that.”

After pulling up the course map the next 30 minutes were spent trying to convince myself that “2,500′ of gain and 3,000′ of loss” were practically tomato/tomahtoe to 1,000′ change. What’s the big diff, right?! RIGHT??


Luckily after a little while Emily distracted me with talks about aid stations.

“I’m SUPER PUMPED to stop and hang out at aid! What kind of snacks do you think they’ll have?! Man I’m just so stoked to not have to eat a fucking gel or worry about drinking while running. This is going to be the best. Do you think there’ll there be skittles??”

“… Did you not bring any fuel?”

“Oh well I have a Picky Bar I thought about carrying, but, no… Should I have? Will I need water, you think?”

*Emily makes sure her name and number are listed as ICE contact info on my bib*

So yeah, Oregonian Sarah has a few downfalls to work on.

sarahoual sweatyemily

“god speed, oual. you screwed yourself pretty good on this one.” – sweaty, who is hilariously almost taller than me in her stupid Hokas.


Shuttles for the 25K from Blodgett Elementary were 90 minutes after the 50K, so I had a solid amount of time to get ready (shed sweats, body glide everything), decide how to pin my number on (folded tiny, on left leg of shorts, because that’s how Em did it), and dick around on social media. Apologies to anyone that already saw the above photo 10x on every channel the internet offers.

We boarded the busses and I inadvertently did my best “seat’s taken” bitch face (thanks for the training, Southwest Air!) which produced a lovely solo seat free of any awkward pre-race small talk obligations. I stared longingly out the window watching the landscape go by, thinking how cool it was to get to explore a new place this way, and dreaming up the unknown adventures – good and bad – that lay ahead.

And also kind of wishing I had someone to talk to.

Mike the race director gave us a short briefing at the start, most of which was coated in inexcusable enthusiasm and genuine excitement over the course he’d built and the amount of times he was “going to make us hurt! <evil laugh that only endurance athletes can get away with before being accused of sadism>”

I heard him say the first 10k was pretty friendly, the middle was going to suck in the funnest way possible, and that “if you have anything left, the end is pretty gentle.” There would be two aid stations, and a neutral water stop (an unmanned table with jugs of water for refilling handhelds/hydration packs) right after the first gnarly section of climbing, around mile 7.

That turned out to be a helpful little tidbit to commit to the ol’ noggin.

Screen Shot 2015-06-21 at 8.22.37 PM Screen Shot 2015-06-21 at 8.23.51 PM

route details

The Dance

Alright I’m actually not going to talk a lot about the actual race since this is almost 6 months post-factum. But, I’ll give you what I can. (For better or worse, a lot of it is pretty vividly burned in my memory.)

After Mike the RD finished his speech we lined up at the nondescript start line (a cone? chalk line? I don’t remember) and after a short countdown all 75 or so of us took off.

Where I immediately rolled my ankle on the first step of non-pavement. GOOD START, SARAH!

The first few miles were incredibly fun. Bounding over rocks and roots in a lush forest, somehow remaining upright after the early clumsiness, already dreaming about what delicious treats awaited at the aid stations. (If you haven’t heard about the differences between road and trail aid stations, picture candy instead of gels, salty chips instead of sodium tabs, and liquids you refill your handheld/pack with instead of throwing them all over your face trying to drink them while running.)

Without much room on the single track to pass even if I wanted, it was great to just settle in with the pack and play follow the leader. Not caring about anything other than soaking as much of the scenery as I could without face planting and causing a domino traffic jam. I had such a great time I totally forgot about the “second 10k is going to crush your soul” warning from RD’s pre-race speech.

I came into aid station 1 smiling and doing a weird jazz hand salutation thing at the volunteers. At some point I’d moved away from the pack I started with, and the volunteers told me a couple guys were less than a minute ahead “if I wanted to chase them down.” I kind of did, mostly just for footsteps to follow. Sarah’s on-the-run navigational skills haven’t been tested too intently and I was fearing getting lost  way more than the miles ahead.

Which, again, was a nice distraction from the pain train waiting for me to board.

I’ve selectively amnesia’d a lot of the next miles. There was a section of trail called “Carl’s Adventure” that afterwards I told Mike the RD I wanted to have a talk with him and “Carl” about his “stupid Adventure” that almost marched me to my vert-dunce death.

But then also high-fived him and said “it was AWESOME.”

There was suffering. There was drinking out of a Hydroflask out of a park ranger’s truck that was parked along the side of the road at one point. Slightly sketchy. There was a dude sharing equal amounts of “kill me” and “ok fine let’s get this over with” that I ran/walked with the final mile. There was a charlie horse forcing me to hobble through the grass to the finish line. But ah, there WAS a finish line.

Then there was definitely some “what race is next?!” over lunch beers after.

Trails, I love you.


4 thoughts on “Mary’s Peak 25K

  1. Plus I love how you play at the circleness of life. Big circles. Small circles. All our lives ARE circles….among a zillion other shapes enclosed therein.



  2. Sarah Sarah. I do love you! Am sending you a blast from the waaaayyy past. Bend still does have snail mail?? And you will find the envelope with a stamp in the MAIL? Love from a gram who is so glad you are in Bend and so very alive!



  3. I wanted to leave a comment about how I love the new blogging style – you’re on top writing form these days. But then I read your Grandma’s comments and I just melted!! You’re so lucky to have such a sweet Nan!



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