Got a girl who can run faster, lift harder, and climb higher than the chick next door? Try not to make her gag with stereotypical flowers this Valentines.

Clueless men everywhere have been inundated with commercials promising that their women will get knobby knees over pink hearts and sparkles this year. I call BS.

Badass girls have steady knees and they have nowhere to put your stupid flowers because… they drink their green smoothies from a vase. That’s how much green smoothie they drink. Yeah.

If you have a badass, athletic girlfriend, here’s what you need to know to please her:

3 Valentine Gifts That Suck Butt Nuts

1. Flowers

It’s hard to water flowers when you’re hanging off the side of a cliff or running on the beach in your jammies. Plus flowers are temporary. They die. Badass girls can’t relate to this. They like practical things that last forever, so if you want to get her a plant, try something that will grow food she can eat after she’s done 71 pushups.

(See me doing 71 pushups >> http://www.facebook.com/v/10150492637001922)

2. Jewelery

Jewelery gets in the way when you’re lifting weights and making the boys blush. While it’s nice to have some pieces tucked away for a special occasion, this isn’t something your athletic girl can use every day.

She doesn’t want to keep valuables in her gym locker and she certainly doesn’t want to lose your ring on the trail. If you’re determined to slap something on her wrist, maybe try a Road I.D. It says, “I know you like wandering in the woods lifting logs and shit, but I’m actually fond of you so I’d like you to come back at some point. Dead or alive.”

3. Chocolate.

Just kidding. Chocolate’s fine. Pass it here.

3 Valentine Gifts That Are Awesome Sexpants

1. Electronics

Gadgets are not just for dudes. Badass girls are just as fascinated with gadgets.

Here are some to consider:

• GPS says: “I don’t want to lose you.”
• Kindle says: “You have a hot ass AND you can read.”
• MP3/iPod says: “You don’t always have to listen to my stupid shit.”

2. Chores

Badass girls do a ton of stuff to keep your home cozy and clean on top of being insanely awesome and making all your friends jealous. It’s a lot of work. So throw your girl a favor and pick up some dishes or fold some laundry. NAKED.

3. Gift cards.

Your girl wants a ton of stuff and you have no clue what those things are. You will never have a clue. So give her a card and cut her loose. Let her go nuts on Amazon or at her favorite athletic store (If it’s Lululemon, she’s probably not badass. Try the flowers).

With gift cards, she can buy Kindle books, running skirts, or cute tiny tops that say badass, possibly-sexual things. Drive her to the places she wants to go and sit there waiting patiently for her without complaining even once. She may just want a vacuum. Or a weight set. Or a dog. Either way, you have no idea.

A Fool-Proof Note for Dudes

Badass girls love gifts that are genuine, no matter what they are. If you get her flowers that you deliver with all your love, she will probably adore them. If you bake her cookies from your heart and they taste like fart, she may still eat them.

The best gift you can give your girl is YOU. Just cuddle her on the couch and let her have the remote. Don’t judge her. Don’t mess up her gym bag. And don’t you dare cut her workouts short.

 A Note to Badass Ladies

Guys are clueless. You will both be happier if he’s not guessing what you want to do for Valentine’s. Tell him exactly what you want and chances are, that’s what you’ll get. Guys are weird like that.

For balance and fairness, I thought I should also include a list of what guys want for Valentines:

1. Sex.
2. Maybe a sandwich.
3. More sex.

Happy Valentine’s Week! 

A few days before the Spartan Race in SoCal, I got a note from my uncle Pat Sweeney asking if I wanted a free entry. My initial reaction was HELLZ NO.

I do not like obstacle races. I do not like jumping through fire and I am afraid of electric shocks. I have trouble opening pickle jars and I dislike paying money to roll around in mud, which I could do for free.

But I also had some second thoughts: Maybe I shouldn’t be such a pussy. Maybe I could take this as 100-mile mental training. I should get used to doing things I’m not comfortable with.

Pat said he couldn’t open jars either, so I said fine. I’d run it.

The night before the race, Pat slept over and kept me up past my bedtime playing Trivial Pursuit. On race morning I didn’t really feel like going. I was kind of nervous.

I had no idea what the obstacles would be, but I had seen some other mud run pictures where people have to sprint through live wires. I’m not scared of much, but I’m actually pretty scared of electricity. Sometimes I get a chill when I plug in my hair dryer. I may have been electrocuted in a previous life.

When we got to the race, we met Pat’s hook-up, Anthony. I asked him if there would be electricity. He said, “No, this isn’t Tough Mudder.” I felt better. Pat says that if it weren’t for electricity, I would have taken over the world by now. Truth.

After picking up our bibs, we were instructed to write our ages on our calves and our race numbers on our forehead. Shacky and I weren’t really into writing on our faces, so we wrote on our arms instead.

I was pretty intimidated looking around at the other race participants. Everyone was bigger than me and they all had more muscles. At the starting line, Shacky and I looked out of place. We stood there like good little trail runners, waiting for the start. Everyone around us was screaming and doing chest bumps. These guys ate testosterone for breakfast.

This wasn’t our scene, and it was making me nervous. These guys looked like gladiators and I was just a short little mountain runner. I decided I should probably start in the middle or back of the pack.

Finally, the race started and we were off. It was an 8-mile course, with 10+ obstacles. We were only a few yards into the race when we hit the first hill. Seconds later, we were walking. Seconds after that, we were stopped completely. Just standing there.

What was the deal? Cross-fitters don’t do hills? The guys who had been screaming at the starting line just a few seconds ago should have probably saved their energy for the first hill.

As soon as we got some space, I weaved ahead with Shacky. It was obvious these were not trail runners. At one point, we got stuck behind a girl who was running a good pace uphill, but as soon as she hit a downhill, she would stop completely and inch her way down.

We were wearing Vibrams with no tread, so it was extremely hard to stop suddenly to avoid falling on top of her. I started getting frustrated and soon left her behind.

We ran for what seemed like a long time before hitting our first obstacle. A lot of people were walking, and I realized I should have started further ahead in the pack. I always imagine I’m in worse shape than I really am, so I always get stuck in race congestion.

A few days before this race, I watched Two Weeks in Hell with Shacky. This a series about some really intense military training. Much harder than any 100-miler, and unbelievable challenging. This is actually what I imagined obstacle races to be like. So I came up with a little soldier mantra for myself:

DON’T THINK. JUST DO.

I’m a thinker by nature. I like to take my time and analyze whether I can make it through an obstacle or not. But I knew this would work against me at the race. I had to just DO. I needed to complete the obstacles as they came, without questioning or doubting myself.

So this is the mantra I was thinking of as I came up to the first obstacle (D’oh! Thinking again!).

OBSTACLE: BARBED WIRE

I am really short. I was nervous about this going in, because how the hell am I supposed to scale a wall? But it didn’t occur to me that it might also be an advantage. Like in the barbed wire crawl.

Several of the big guys ahead of me were dragging themselves on their bellies and getting their backs nicked. I saw one guy with a big gash in the middle of his forehead.

I was so tiny that in certain spots, I could crawl on my hands and knees and still not touch the barbed wire. When the wire got lower, I lay down and easily rolled under it. I noticed that nobody else was rolling, so I caught up quickly to the people ahead of me. There was no room to pass, so I had to wait for them to finish the obstacle. Then I rolled right out.

It occurred to me as the race progressed that these obstacles were not at all about strength, but about efficiency. However, most of the big guys were approaching them as tests of strength. They were exerting more energy and moving slower. I’m lazy. I don’t like to exert any extra effort. Why crawl when you can roll?

OBSTACLE: OVER AND UNDER

For the next obstacle, we had to crawl over or under a series of bars or logs. I could crawl under faster than most people could climb over. I’m a fast midget.

OBSTACLE: HAYSTACKS

Next we had to climb some haystacks and jump off of them, into a big soft pile of hay. I don’t like heights.

“DON’T THINK, JUST DO,” I told myself. So I did.

From the top of the haystack, it actually looked like a significant drop. People were hesitating and taking their time. I just went for it and leaped off that shit without thinking. I landed like a fucking ninja.

The volunteer at the bottom said, “Whoa! That’s the best jump I’ve seen!” I tried to run away but fell on my ass instead. I’m a clumsy midget.

Next was more running and more hills.

The people around me were not running anymore. C’mon Cross-Fitters! I watched the Cross-Fitters slog through the uphills and inch down with worried looks. This was a trail runner’s world.

OBSTACLE: MONKEY BARS

I was so short on this one that I literally could not even reach the bars. I had to CLIMB up the side of the posts in order TO GET to the bars. Then I had to swing across. Elementary school all over again. This one was no big deal.

OBSTACLE: SPEAR THROW

I’m a gatherer, not a hunter. I’m supposed to suck at the spear throw, and I did. At least I knew this was about technique, not strength. I watched some guys throw the spear with all their strength, have it land flat against the target, and fall to the ground.

The target wasn’t even that far away. All you had to do was aim it straight, so the spearhead would make first contact. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn’t do it. I got one try, and then had to do burpees as a punishment.

OBSTACLE: BOULDERING

The next obstacle was a bouldering wall. It looked pretty straightforward, and I’ve done bouldering before, so I hopped on. I put my feet on the first rocks, then looked up for the next step. They were too far away!

I couldn’t reach them at all. Even stretching my entire body across, I was way too short. I didn’t have the arm length or foot length to reach that far. Damn my mini-ninja frame. I had to do “in and outs” as punishment.

I was getting pissed about being short after that and decided to speed up. I ran to the next obstacle.

OBSTACLE: BUCKET CARRYING

Next we had to fill a bucket with sand, carry it up a little hill, and back. I was determined to get this done and get it done fast. I filled up my damn bucket.

It was obvious as soon as I heaved it on to my shoulders that this was about balancing and positioning. Again, someone forgot to tell the burly guys who were trying to push through with brute strength. Some were even carrying the bucket by its handles, which was the LEAST efficient and most uncomfortable way to carry it.

I don’t have kids, but I have a lot of baby sisters. As soon as I lifted that bucket, the weight felt familiar to me. I hooked it onto my hip like a toddler, wrapped my arm around for support, and started running. It felt pretty awesome to hustle past all those big guys who were struggling. This is how women run with babies, bitches.

Running the short downhill section was challenging, but I knew weight distribution was key. I shifted the bucket and held it right in front of me like a big ol’ pregnant belly. It felt light there, so I kept running. This was by far the most female-friendly obstacle. If you’re a woman with a baby, you can nail this.

OBSTACLE: TIRE CARRYING

The tires were similar to the buckets. You had to heave one on your back and carry it up and down a hill. There was a big pile of tires to choose from, and I noticed that many runners were picking one from the start of the pile, which was further away from the trail we had to start running on. So they had to carry their tire an extra few feet to GET to the trail. I’m no dummy. I ran to the end of that pile, and picked the last damn tire. I turned around and I was right on the trail.

I hooked the tire on my back in a way that did not feel heavy. People did better with the tires. If it were up to me, I would have rolled it. But I don’t think that was allowed.

More running was next.

OBSTACLE: MUD

I don’t think this was an official obstacle; it looked like pretty natural mud. But the four skinny girls in front of me must have thought it was obstacle because they were tiptoeing and whimpering all the way through it. Why do you sign up for a mud run if you are afraid of mud?

My favorite part was when the girl in the lead (who was walking about 10000-minute miles) kept asking her friend right behind her (who was walking 200000-minute miles) if she wanted to pass. Her friend kept saying no. In the meantime, other runners were catching up and clogging right behind them, causing a huge congestion. I watched them until they started irritating the hell out of me. Then I passed.

OBSTACLE: PULLEY ROPE

There was a big bucket full of cement that we had to lift with a pulley, and then let it down slowly. Again, it would seem this was about strength, but I knew I didn’t have the muscles to lift the bucket. So for me it was about momentum and body weight.

Instead of lifting with my arms, I leaned back into the rope and used the weight of my body to get it up. Combined with the momentum of swinging, gravity was my best friend and I finished the challenge quickly. As I ran off, one bigger dude let his bucket come crashing down because he couldn’t hold it anymore.

Next came a lot of hill running. A LOT of hills. And steep. The terrain reminded me of Los Pinos, and it was actually a satisfying, familiar burn on my legs.

The Cross-Fitters were dropping like flies. I spent a couple minutes standing behind one guy who was crawling on his hands and knees, grabbing at the dirt in front of him. Other people were standing on the sides. Big guys were sprawled out on the ground, and some were putting their heads between their knees.

I just kept moving. These trails were definitely hard, but it was a good hard. It was the kind of hard that I knew and loved. Some people were getting upset and cursing. Ironically, the angrier they got, the more at peace I felt.

How can a mountain goat get angry at the hill? It is his home. And like them, this was where I belonged. And then I was at the summit.

OBSTACLE: WALL CLIMBS

The walls we had to climb were about a thousand feet shorter than what I had imagined. I could hop over and scale them, or I could climb over using some of the footing on the side. I saw one lady who kept trying to work up the courage to hop the wall. She’d run up to it, and then she’d stop cold and turn back. Finally, someone had to give her a hand.

“DON’T THINK, JUST DO,” I told her telepathically.

Going up to those walls could be intimidating. So I made a point not to think about how I would get over. I just ran, full-force into the wall and let my ninja skills take over at the last second. And that’s how I scaled those mother-fuckers.

It was windy at the top of the hill. At one point, a huge gust came by just as I was at the top of a wall, and I had to cling to it to keep from being blown off. I felt like Piglet.

After this, it was downhill. I passed more people than I cared to count coming down hill and I still had a lot left in my legs.

I was passed by only one person here—a 51-year-old female trail runner and fellow Dirt Devil. I found out later that she actually started half an hour after me, and she passed me easily like a freaking gazelle. My new hero.

OBSTACLE: DRAG A CONCRETE THING

There was a rope tied around a big concrete block, and we had to drag it through mud and water. People coming up to this obstacle were just grabbing it and going. But I knew that I had to get an efficient position, so I shifted a couple of times.

One of the volunteer saw what I was trying to do, and he told me that the best way to hold it was with both hands behind my back, near my bum and dragging it behind me. That worked great. Thanks volunteer!

OBSTACLE: ROPE CLIMB

This was the only obstacle I completed that Pat did not. Surely rope climbing is about upper arm strength? Nope. I just used my arms to hold myself in place, but used my legs to push myself up, as well as more momentum.

OBSTACLE: MUD PITS

The mud pits were FUN. Some people were jumping right over them, but why the hell would you do that? We’re here for the mud. I sloshed right through those messy pits. Heh.

OBSTACLE: MORE BARBED WIRE

People were tired, and were moving slowly. I repeated my rolling technique, but still had to wait for the people in front of me to finish before I could get through. There was no way to pass.

OBSTACLE: ROPE LADDER

This was a short rope ladder like the ones you see in playgrounds for little kids. Yeah, I still play on this stuff.

OBSTACLE: DRAGGING WHEEL

We were right at the end, so all these obstacles were one right after the other. This one looked like a gym machine. We had to manually pull down a wheel-thing that would count down from 200 yards. We had to make the wheel move for the entire distance. It wasn’t hard, but it took a minute.

OBSTACLE: FIRE

I almost didn’t see the fire pit because it was so tiny. One hop and my short legs were over it. I was envisioning a tight circle of fire that I would have to dive through. I can’t believe I was nervous about the fire.

OBSTACLE: GLADIATOR HIT

They had guys right before the finish line, hitting you with gladiator stick-things (I don’t know any of the Spartan terminology). I put on my best I’m-a-scared-little-weak-girl-please-don’t-hit-me face, and it worked. I just got lightly tapped.

And that was it! At the finish line, I saw defeated Spartans sprawled out on the grass with pulled muscles. Efficiency is everything and flexing is overrated.

10 THINGS I LEARNED

1. I’m way stronger than I think I am.

2. Girls rule and boys drool.

3. Looking cute at the finish line can eliminate an entire obstacle.

4. Put the muscle away and use your brain.

5. Being short improves stealth ninja skills.

6. Wall climbs give you camel toe.

7. This was way easier than the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

8. Pass the skinny girls. They’re slower than you.

9. Pass the husky guys. They’re slower than you.

10. If you see a 51-year-old female trail runner, follow her. She’s faster than you.

If it weren’t for this race, I might have never done a Spartan event. I might have always thought the big guys were stronger than me.

Above all, I learned to not be intimidated. To be confident in my fitness. And that in the end, maybe the life awards don’t go to the biggest guys. Maybe it’s better to be tiny. To slip easily under every obstacle.

Maybe the award can go to the shortest girl who can hold a bucket like a pregnant belly. And run all the hills.

Six months ago, our dog Ginger couldn’t play for more than five minutes without getting winded and lying down for the rest of the day. Today, Ginger glides through 20-mile trail runs without a sign of fatigue. We can’t keep up.

I’m not a dog trainer. I’m an ultra runner currently training for my first 100-miler with a dog that loves trails. After searching for information on how to train my dog to follow me on my ultra-long runs, I found nothing. So I decided to become my own expert.

I started training Ginger the same way I train myself: back-to-back long runs, night running, trail running, elevation training, and hills. Below are the 20 steps I followed to transform Ginger from a couch dog to an ultra dog.

1. Assess your dog’s physical features.

We don’t know what Ginger’s breed is, so the dog articles that discussed breeds were useless. Ginger was adopted when she was just days old. She’s a mutt. Some people say she looks part Dalmatian or part German Shorthaired Pointer. We just say she’s Mexican (she was abandoned in Tijuana), and have no interest in learning her breed.

Ginger is physically built like a running dog. Her dog-care experts say she has the traits of a hunter. She’s quick, long, lean, and sharp. She’s an amazing sprinter, and her hair is short so she doesn’t overheat easily. Her size and shape compliment distance running.

If Ginger were smaller, or if she had thick fur, she might not have been able to run as long. Keep that in mind when establishing the limits of your own dog.

Not all breeds are physically built for efficient long-distance trail running. But then again, not all humans are training for ultras. So chances are there’s a happy medium where you and your dog can run together.

2. Establish an interest.

It’s easy to project our own interests onto the things or people we love. I love trail running, so my dog must love it too, right? Not necessarily. It’s important to make sure this is something your dog enjoys.

Does your dog like to run? Does your dog love trails? Much like humans, you’re not likely to convince someone to train for an ultra if they hate running. Dogs are usually great at showing us what they enjoy. Get their paws on a trail and see how they react.

Sometimes when we drive Ginger home from a trail, she doesn’t want to get out of the car. She thinks the next stop might be another trail.

Trail love

3. Start slow.

It takes time to train a dog. It took us six months to get Ginger in ultra shape, but it may take much longer. On a positive note, it takes a long time to train a human as well. So patience is important for you both.

Do not ever rush the process. Dogs want so badly to please their owners, and that’s a strong motivation for them. Don’t make your dog “push” to please you, or make them feel that they’ve failed you by not running far enough.

Your dog doesn’t need to be mentally pushed the same way that you do. Dog-hearts in it 100 percent and they always give their best. They’re not stressing over speed or goals or race fears. So if your dog is showing signs of wanting to stop, take it seriously.

4. Build a base with play-training.

Ginger loves chasing her ball, but six months ago she would get winded after five minutes. I started playing with Ginger until she got tired, then I would let her recover before playing again.

At first, it took Ginger half a day to recover and we’d only get in two or three play sessions. As time passed, her recovery times got much shorter. We play-trained for 30 to 60 minutes, two days a week until Ginger was able to play for one hour without stopping. Only then did I start to run with her.

5. Watch for cues.

Dogs are less complicated than humans. If they’re tired, they flop on the ground. If they’re thirsty, they drink. If they want to stop running, they will show cues. They may dawdle or just walk. Being receptive to their cues is crucial. Your dog knows what it needs.

My friend Cynthia recently started running with her dog. She knows when her dog Penny is ready for a rest when she stops often to pee:

For the past month, we have gone out about three to five times a week on this little 2K stroll and we do running pickups. Sometimes we do 2.5K depending on how she feels. If I see she is stopping often to do her business, I know it’s not a good day so we take it easy.

6. Start with short, local loops.

I started Ginger with a single run around the block, letting her rest when she got tired. When she recovered, we’d go back out. As time passed, her distances got longer (more loops, less recovery).

When we got to the point where she could run steady for an hour or more without getting tired, we started taking her out to the trails.

7. Keep track.

As silly as it sounds, Ginger has a Dailymile account where I track her mileage. This helps tremendously as far as knowing what she’s capable of and how far she’s come. It helps me determine what types of distances and conditions she’s ready for, and I note her mood and energy as well.

Every once in a while, tracking her progress also helps me call out and celebrate her milestones. We celebrated her highest elevation run. Her roughest terrain. We even note which wildlife she sees and how she responds.

I record Ginger’s mileage in “Ginger-speak,” typing about the run through her eyes. Here are some examples of her entries:

“I SEEN THE DEER AND I HUNT HIM. IMA WOLF.”

“I RUNNED FAST AND THEN I STOP TO PEE.”

“I SEEN A CAT I TRY TO EAT IT.”

“TIME TO GET SERIOUS ABOUT MY TRAININ….. SQUIRREL!!!!!!”

Ginger has had “Friends” add her and encourage her on her journey. I translate their messages by patting her head. You can add Ginger as a friend here.

All the benefits you get from tracking your own workouts apply to your dog as well. I strongly suggest keeping a log.

8. Open a line of communication.

The dog-master relationship is precious and your dog will often be bonded to you more strongly than what you imagine. Communicate with them about running, and you’ll be surprised at how much they actually understand and can share in your passion.

Tell your dog they’re going for a run. They’ll probably know exactly what you mean. This is my friend Cynthia’s experience:

I tell Penny the night before that we are going for a run in the morning and she knows what it means. Since (my husband) wakes up before me, she knows she still has some sleeping time until I wake up and we go.

When I get out of the bedroom, I ask her: ‘Are you ready for your run?’ and she gets so excited! Funny thing is she actually stretches before we leave. She does Downward Dog.

The book How to Talk to Your Animals describes how one dog owner started speaking English to his dog, and was shocked to find that his dog understood what he was saying.

“He speaks English!” he exclaimed to his wife. She looked at him in disgust, “Of course he speaks English! What’s he going to speak, German?!”

The author goes on to describe how many words dogs have been known to retain, and tells stories of dogs in Mexico who understand Spanish. According to this book, it’s easier for dogs to understand our language than for us to understand theirs.

Talk to your dog about running. This can keep you accountable as well. If you promised your dog a morning run the night before, you have to get up and do it.

9. Introduce trail running.

We started with a group trail run of 6 miles, then slowly incorporated other mid-week runs when we could no longer tire her out. Trail running adds a different dynamic to your dog’s experience, so it’s important to monitor this transition.

For Ginger, running in a group was a huge distraction. She hated to be in last place, and would often lunge forward to cut people off. It took some time for her to understand this was not acceptable.

There are also cyclists and wildlife to deal with. There’s a lot of stimulation for a dog. Take your time on this transition until your dog is comfortable with trails.

I found it helped Ginger to have some time off-leash (where possible) to sniff her new surroundings and explore a little. This prevented her from stopping dead in the middle of a single track trail to sniff some poop while tripping the person behind her.

We are still trying to perfect Ginger’s trail manners, especially when it comes to running with strangers and spotting other animals. She recently tried to take down an entire herd of deer by herself. Hunter, much? It’s an on-going process with her.

Some basic obedience training could go a long way here as far as following basic commands. Ginger is learning:

• “Slow down”
• “Stop”
• “Walking”
• “Come on”
• “Let’s go”
• “This way”

Ginger and I on the trails

10. Pick a side on pooping.

Ultra trail runners are well known for pooping on the side of the trail. In fact, I’ve heard people say that you’re not a true trail runner until you’ve pooped in the woods. I know that not all runners do this, but when you’re training to run 100 miles, any bush looks like a toilet.

The doggie bags I carry for Ginger are attached to her leash. On one trail run, it dawned on me: Why the hell and I shitting in the woods yet carefully carrying my dog’s poop around?? I picked a side: the Non-Doggie Bag Side.

Depending on your distance and your trails, you may pick the Doggie Bag Side. Maybe wood-pooping isn’t something you or your dog want to get into right now. It’s your call.

I always make sure Ginger goes off-trail and if she doesn’t, I’ll move it somewhere I’d poop myself, or slide it over the side of a cliff. She usually tries to bury it herself.

11. Train for danger. 

Trail dangers include things like wildlife and rattlesnakes. We will be putting Ginger through a snake training class where she will learn to recognize and avoid snakes.

It’s best to do this at the beginning of the year, to coincide with rattlesnake season. It’s also best to refresh this training every once in a while. This is an important point to follow. One of our trail running friends lost her dog when it was bitten by a rattlesnake.

12. Make running fun, not work.

Dogs and humans both appreciate variety. On our shorter runs, I like to shake things up with Ginger. Sometimes we run “people pace”, and sometimes we run “Ginger pace”.

Ginger pace is where she gets a turn to lead. Instead of following me, I follow her. My pace is always steady and slow, but at Ginger pace we’re either running a mad dash, or stopping dead so she can sniff some pee-mail. This puts some fun into our routine, and keeps both of us engaged and smiling (yes, she smiles).

Does it get much more fun than this? Hellz no. 

13. Leash wisely.

The leash that works well for road running with Ginger doesn’t work on trails. Most of the trails we’re running are single track, which means that if Ginger is leashed, she can’t run right beside me—she has be in front or behind. She needs a longer extension.

Also, technical trails can have sudden drops or rocks we have to scale. A shorter leash will start to choke her and severely limits her movement. If she has to leap off a rock and I’m still on it, a short leash is a disaster waiting to happen.

We have opted to let Ginger go off-leash as much as possible, and we often choose our trails based on their seclusion so she doesn’t bother anyone. Ginger is actually much better behaved and obedient when she’s off-leash than when I have her leashed.

If there’s a biker up ahead or another dog that might be aggressive, we’ll hold her until the threat has passed. If we spot other people on the trail, we’ll leash her until we pass them.

14. Trust your dog.

Letting your dog off-leash can be scary, but in some ways in comes down to trusting your dog. I knew that Ginger’s nature was very submissive, and she wasn’t one to run away. When we decided to trust her off-leash, we found that she became more protective of us and careful.

Instead of charging ahead like she tends to do on her leash, she would run close to the side of the person who was leading. Then she’d keep looking back to check that the other person wasn’t being left behind.

When we put enough distance between us that we could no longer see the next runner on the trails, Ginger would run back and forth to check on both runners. At one point, I stopped to take off my sweater and adjust my pack. Ginger sat beside me and nudged for me to catch up.

Last weekend Shacky hid behind a bush to see what she’d do if she lost one of us. She ran up and down the trail in search of him until he came out of hiding. She refused to leave him behind.

Miss Ginger checking over her shoulder for Shacky

15. Encourage hydration.

Your dog needs water just as much as you do. Encourage drinking at the end of every run and make it a routine. As your runs get longer, you should encourage your dog to drink mid-run.

We have Ginger drink every 6 to 8 miles, but some dogs may need to drink more frequently. When we’re on the trail, Ginger is great at drinking from creeks or streams when she needs it.

We keep an eye out for good water sources for Ginger and if there’s nothing appropriate, we pull out her collapsible doggie dish that hooks onto my own hydration pack. If we’re travelling long, she carries her own doggie pack with her own water dish.

Ginger has never gotten sick from stream or creek water, although if the water source doesn’t look clean, we give her water from our own hydration packs.

When we first started running trails, Ginger was so excited that it was difficult for her to settle down and drink. Now she is better at understanding when we want her to hydrate.

16. Do night runs.

Night (especially trail) running adds a different dimension. You may find that your dog behaves strangely under the moon. I have a small doggie light that I attach to Ginger’s collar when we run trails at night, more for my benefit than for hers. It doesn’t do much to light her way, but it ensures that I can spot her easily.

Running in the dark with a leash could take some practice as well. Your dog probably has better vision than you do, and it may take them some time to adjust to your more cautious form and speed. Humans should always wear headlamps.

17. Introduce elevation and hills.

This is the same process as introducing trails. Monitor the transition closely, and listen to your dog’s body (bet you never heard that one before). Stop if your dog needs to stop. Chances are your dog will probably adjust faster than you can.

18. Introduce higher mileage.

I used the same endurance-focused technique to build Ginger’s mileage. Speed didn’t matter, only time on her feet. When she got tired, we recovered and continued. We did this until she was comfortable running 20-mile distances without stopping.

19. Consider nutrition.

If you’re going to be on the trail long enough, your dog may need to eat. We are still experimenting with different foods for Ginger, but we try to give her some mix of carbs and protein. I have read of dogs eating anything and everything on a trail, from Cheezits to beef jerkey.

For the most part, we let Ginger tell us what she likes and doesn’t like. Interestingly, she loves pizza (hard to carry on a trail) but will also eat whatever we’re eating, from sandwiches to burritos.

On our last long run, I shared a bean and rice burrito with Ginger. At home, we feed her raw meat as well as high-quality, grain-free dog food. Sometimes Ginger’s diet is healthier than our own.

Mexicans love burritos. 

20. Introduce back-to-back runs.

Back-to-back long runs were key for my own ultra training, so that’s where we headed with Ginger. Her recovery is impressive, and she has now caught up to my own training. We start to break down at about the same mileage, and we recover at around the same time. I’ve created the perfect running partner.

Immeasurable Benefits

1. BFF-status

Your dog can become your most loyal running buddy and bring out the fiercest loyalty in you. You’ll look out for each other and understand each other’s needs. I’ve passed up races because I didn’t want to put Ginger up in a doggie-hotel. Sometimes I’d rather bust out a long run with her.

2. Safety

Any run that I do with Ginger is safer. She’s not an aggressive dog, but I know that if danger calls, she’d step up and defend me. I also know that her mere presence is a deterrent.

I am never approached when Ginger is with me, whereas when I run alone I sometimes get comments, cars slowing down, or some lingering. Recently I was running in the dark with Ginger and I saw a man cross to the other side of the road to avoid us.

3. Fun and Enjoyment

Dogs know how to appreciate trails. They frolic. They sprint. They stand out over a lookout and gaze. Watching them teaches you to appreciate the trails. It reminds you where you are and why you’re here.

On roads, Ginger can be clumsy and careless (she once ran into a brick wall), but on the trails she moves with grace while I stumble along.

Here’s an exerpt from the book How to Talk to Your Animals, which outlines the similarities between wolves and dogs as far as movement and behavior in a natural setting:

In the woods I need not ask him to sit when we come to the top of the hill in view of the glorious Hudson. He glances at me, then the vista, sits down, and, like myself, gazes across the river valley. Only a few weeks ago we were on a new trail that opened up over a lake. Qimmiq lanced back at me, ran to the ridge, and sat down.

‘You’re right, it is beautiful,’ I said. He wagged is tail.

His wild kin, the wolves of Mount McKinley, dig their dens high on hills in view of gray-green valleys and snow-covered peaks. And they, like Qimmiq and me, sit and enjoy the magnificence.

At such moments the glance from either of us will say a volume, and the abyss between species is crossed from both sides.

If you’re thinking about getting a dog, please consider adoption

I cringe a little when people ask me how many layers they should wear in the winter. How the hell should I know how cold you feel??

I try to be helpful and polite and direct people to resources on Active like these great posts by Christian Peterson:

How to Layer This Winter

What to Bring on Your Winter Run

Your Guide to Winter Running Gear

I write and edit articles like this and I try to remember that when I was a newbie runner, I didn’t know a damn thing either. I’m also a huge consumer of running articles on topics that I have never experienced.

But ultimately, I didn’t start growing as a runner until I stopped listening and started doing. And neither will you.

So put down those running magazines and get your ass outdoors. Try a few layers. If you’re hot, learn something and do better next time. If you’re cold, learn something and do better next time.

Try everything. Run barefoot. Run in clunky shoes. Run in jammies. Run with your hair up. Run with your hair down. Run in the day. Run at night. Run without underwear. Run without a bra. Eat veggies. Eat meat. Eat junk food.

It doesn’t matter what you do, just try it differently. Become your own expert and don’t live within a plan that somebody else created.

This is not to bash the validity of training plans or expert tips. But every year I am more shocked by the ignorance of the questions that come through. Is there ANYTHING we do by ourselves anymore?

There’s a fear associated with going off on our own and trying something unusual, and that upsets me.

Don’t be afraid to switch up your diet. Or to run faster or slower or longer or shorter than what you’re “supposed to”.

There is no right or wrong. You’re not going to die at your next race. If you feel like crap or shit your pants, tweak your routine and learn from it.

I’m personally a knowledge-glutton. If I’m interested in a topic (like running), I want to read everything out there on that topic. But I also found that I was using research as a crutch for masking my fears:

Excuse: “I want to run an ultra, but I haven’t researched it enough…”

Truth: You’re just scared shitless to run an ultra. I’ve been there.

I recommend Jason Robillard’s recent post, Stop Letting Dumb-Ass Excuses Keep You From Your Dreams. It definitely inspired me.

So to practice what I’m preaching, I did something recently that I’ve been “researching” for a while:

I registered for my first 100-miler, Rocky Road. It’s only four weeks away.

I’m probably (ok, definitely) way over my head. I haven’t even raced a 50-miler (though I’ve run the distance at Across the Years).

I’m not 100% on nutrition or sleep or the mental strength it will take to pull past 80 miles. I haven’t read enough articles or asked enough questions. I don’t have any pacers.

Many could argue that I’m wasting my money. But goddammit, I’m registered.

Am I scared shitless? Hell ya.

Do I have what it takes? Who knows.

Will I learn something? Probably a thing or two…

Regrets? Ask me later.

But at least I’m not going to sit around asking how to wipe my own ass. I’m just gonna grab me some soft leaves and hope to God it’s not poison oak.

See you on the trails.

This marathon was Part 2 of our Goofy Challenge weekend. Read Part 1 HERE.

On marathon morning, the alarm went off at 2 a.m. (again) and I stepped out of bed. I didn’t feel so bad. Maybe this would work out after all.

Instead of going barefoot, I felt I should try to preserve my feet. I opted for my pair of very minimalist Kigo Drives, which was still a little risky since I hadn’t tested these on long distances. I hoped they could pull me through 26 miles.

During the half, I had done some miles in my Zem 360s, but the seam was starting to bother me and made a small indent on my sole. So I opted to leave those behind today.

We got dressed, packed our bags, and loaded up the car. As soon as we started driving, a deep sleepiness started to hit me. By the time we parked, I had my eyes closed and I soon fell fast sleep. Minutes before the race start.

I’m a fairly strong runner, but there are two things I have a hard time fighting: sleep and hunger. Both make me cranky and I don’t particularly give a shit about running when I’m tired. Next thing I knew, Shacky was waking me up. It was time to go.

I wasn’t ready to be awake. I got out of the car and started to walk—I was actually sore. I felt like I had already run 20 miles, and I didn’t have the slightest clue how I would now run a marathon.

It was chilly, but I had my space blanket to keep me warm. While we waited in the mob of people, Shacky covered me with his space blanket as well so I was pretty toasty and I almost fell asleep again leaning up against him. I was happy in my little cocoon and hoped I could just stay there for the entire marathon.

Go away crowds. I’m sleepy.

I remembered reading a book a few years ago about a prisoner named Richard Wurmbrand who was tortured and brutalized because of his faith. He was put in a tiny cell too small to lie down in, and in his biography he wrote about how he would sleep by putting his forehead against the concrete wall and leaning against it, letting the rest of his body go limp.

I felt like a martyr myself, so I wondered if that would work for me now. Before I could try, Shacky was shaking me awake for a Marathon Maniacs photo.

I managed to bust out a smile for the picture. See? Wide awake.

The long walk to the race corrals wasn’t as fun this time as it had been in the half. We’d made this trek before. The Disney race announcers were saying the same lines and making the same jokes. They were funny yesterday, but this morning they sounded scripted and cheesy.

Donald came on the speaker. Then Mickey. Then Goofy. All with the same stupid lines. Was this a tape? The race announcer made a comment about Corral B that was identical to the comment he made about them yesterday, even though it was a new set of runners. I was grumpy.

By the time we had found our place at the race starting line, my entire body was sore. I thought I should try to stretch it out a bit so I wouldn’t collapse in the first five minutes. I sat down on the side of the road where some other runners were stretching, and covered myself with the space blanket as best I could while I stretched out my legs.

Closing my eyes, I tried to bust out some mental strength. “I will get through this somehow,” I told myself. But I had never in my life felt so shitty at the beginning of a race.

As I was doing some deep breathing and trying to get into my groove, some clumsy runner came through and trampled all over my sore feet. She kept apologizing, but I still wanted to jab her eyes out.

When she left I wanted to either cry or go to sleep. If Shacky wasn’t there, I might have just gotten up and walked home. Instead, the countdown started and I stood up to run.

The first three miles were miserable. I ached and thought about dropping out, but I was motivated by the fact that I had paid a shitload of money to run this race and I’ll be damned if I didn’t somehow get my ass across that finish line. It felt like mile 35 of an ultra. What a disaster.

After 3 miles, my funk suddenly lifted. My body stopped screaming at me, as if it suddenly decided I was hopeless and would not listen. I felt much better and the sun was starting to come up.

I decided to pull out my video camera and do some filming (stay tuned for a video post). I started appreciating my surroundings, looking at some of the other runners, and shaking off my introverted mindset. This was an experience that may never repeat itself. I was in Disney World!

I saw my grandma again.

And Carlos. 

The first few miles of the race repeated the same course as the half, but it seemed to go faster this time. I ran towards the Disneyland castle for the second time and envisioned princesses cheering me on.

I saw Pocahontas, one of my favorite Disney characters, and suddenly I was running with all the colors of the wind. I was going to finish.

My thoughts were soon broken by a loud and piercing shriek:

“BUZZ LIGHTYEAR!!!!!! OMGGGGG!!!!! BUZZ LIGHTYEAR I LOVE YOU!!!!”

There was a tiny Asian dude behind me in compression gear who had just spotted Buzz at a post taking pictures. Instead of lining up for photos, he opted to jump up and down from the sidelines, waving his arms wildly and screaming like a pre-pubescent girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

Buzz waved back.

After the first park, I concentrated on running from one park to the next. This helped me worry less about distance and enjoy the journey.

The parks were amazing, and very distracting with the scenery and spectators. As long as I was going through a park, I forgot I was running.

The Animal Kingdom was my favorite. They had a little pig who snubbed me when I tried to take my picture with him, some beautiful birds, some sheep, and a couple of mules. I wanted to pet them all.

One of the three little pigs.

A few times Shacky and I saw random birds (not part of the race attractions), and I’d stop to take pictures with them too. I probably could have easily run through a petting zoo and been equally thrilled.

At one point I heard someone behind me and ask, “Are you Vanessa?”

“Yes….” (Who are you?)

It was Paul, one of my blog readers who recognized me from my Facebook profile picture. He was from Toronto and before I moved, I had mailed him some of my marathon running books. He was doing the Goofy challenge as well.

We chatted briefly and Shacky took our picture.

My first time meeting Paul.

Edit: Meeting Paul actually happened in the half marathon. I confused it for the full because the whole weekend is just a big blur.

The stretches in-between parks were starting to feel rough. My legs were wincing with every step. I had to focus all my mental strength on relaxing my muscles and running with loose legs. If I allowed them to tighten, I knew I would end up on the side of the road like many others we were passing.

I walked at one point to eat a banana since my stomach was growling, while Shacky ate a Vega bar. At that point, it was just as painful to walk as it was to run. So I wanted to run to get it over with faster.

Around mile 20, I caught a glimpse of Buzz’s #1 fan again, Mr. Asian guy. This time he was very quiet, staring hard into the ground in front of him like he was hoping it would open up and swallow him. Or maybe that’s what I was hoping.

Shacky started encouraging me again. I needed it. The water stations were becoming more frequent, so I knew we must be close to the end. I didn’t want to count miles anymore because they seemed to be getting further apart. And I didn’t want to slow down at aid stations, because I would break my stride and that would just hurt more.

Instead, Shacky offered me some Vega drink from his handheld, and when I emptied it he’d run ahead to an aid station to fill up. Then he’d catch my pace again so I wouldn’t have to speed up or slow down. Sometimes all I could manage to indicate that I wanted to drink was a rude grunt. After drinking I’d immediately hand off the bottle because it felt heavy.

I have no idea how Shacky ran this so smoothly and still took care of my hydration needs while also making detours to take all the pictures. I kept asking him if he was hurting, because it looked like he was just cruising while I was shriveling away into nothingness.

A lot of people walked. I could feel their pain, but it still surprised me to see runners stopping on that final mile. At that point, it was easier to push ahead and finish strong. Besides, walking would just extend the hardship.

We passed a ton of people in the final mile. Not because we were running fast, but because we were one of the few still running.

In the final stretch, I was digging deep. Shacky said, “Just a couple loops around the block with Ginger!” That really helped.

I remembered Ginger in her doggy hotel, and how much we love to run loops around the neighborhood after work or early in the morning. A couple loops never killed anyone… I was going to make it.

Around the final corner and… There was the finish line! Crossing it, I announced “I can’t believe we’re done!” And I really couldn’t. I imagined we’d be running forever.

The race volunteers at the finish were amazing. We got our medals, lined up for pictures, and were out in front of our car within minutes with food in our hands. These were the most organized races I have ever attended. We even had enough time to stop back to the hotel and shower up before heading out to the airport.

The plane ride home was in many ways more painful than the actual marathon. I couldn’t find a comfortable position in my tiny seat. My feet hurt when I stood up and my ass hurt when I sat down.

I sprawled across my seat and annoyed at least one stranger with my shuffling. The only comfortable position I could imagine was on my knees with my face planted on the floor and my butt in the air. I wanted so bad to fly in this position. But the flight attendants would have scolded me.

At one point in the airport, I put my hand on my quad and I could physically feel my legs muscles still pulsing under my fingers in a running motion. Somebody forgot to tell my legs we were finished.

Before boarding the flight, I noticed a bunch of runners were wearing all their medals and doing deep stretches in the middle of the aisles. I was reluctant to do this. I felt it looked like a cry for attention, “Hey look what I can do! Run a marathon!” when probably half the airport ran the same race but were NOT sprawled out on the floor jingling their medals. But maybe those guys were in less pain during their flights.

On the car ride home, I was out like a light. I don’t remember ever being so tired in my life, not even at Across the Years. But the next morning, I was up bright and early and thought I might even be able to run again. I brought my shiny medals in to work and hung them up. Now I only have fond memories.

Cube bling.

Disney races are painfully pricey. The flights to Florida are packed with screaming toddlers, the airlines are overbooked, and the souvenirs are expensive. But these races materialize your dreams into objects you can see and touch. They make your miles magical.

Running Disney is about running with the eyes of a child. Some are lucky enough to do that regularly, but many of us need reminders. Disney delivers wonder at every turn, sometimes a princess and sometimes a hero. These races remind you that it’s OK to stop and make a memory.

And if you do it right, you can go home and realize that the wonder is still there. A bug in your backyard. Wildlife on your trails. An unexpected sunset. There’s still magic at every turn. All you needed was to run with the eyes of a child.

My parents never had a TV in the house as I was growing up, so when other kids talked about Disney movies, I was the weird-dumb kid.

Then one day I saw the Little Mermaid at a friend’s house. Her parents were babysitting, so they sat us down in front of the TV (how Mexicans babysit) and played Disney. My friend was restless and soon moved to her toys, but I was hooked. I had never seen anything like it.

I went on to watch other Disney movies, and they blew my little mind. Before Mulan and Pocahontas, I didn’t know that women could run with men. Or fight wars. Or grow a pair…. of legs. I wanted to be just like them.

Apart from fueling my ambitions, I never did buy into the Disney experience. I didn’t desire to visit Disneyworld and I never played with dolls. Instead of princess dresses, I just wanted to be let outside. I’d build my own castles.

So when Shacky suggested a few months ago that we run the Disney Goofy Challenge—a half marathon followed by a full marathon the next day—I took it as a great training opportunity and a new running experience.

We flew into Florida on Thursday and arrived late at night. After finding our way to the hotel, we settled down for bed and headed to the race kit pickup on Friday morning. The crowds were massive.

I hate crowds, so I was slightly frazzled with the process, although Disney did an amazing job at organizing the pickups. We were in and out as fast as possible and even managed to find our friend Emil in the crowd.

I didn’t take the time to browse the race expo because I didn’t want to spend more money than I already had, and I don’t always trust myself with running gear and a credit card. We did get some sweet gear in our goodie bags—three long sleeve tech shirts. One for the half, one for the marathon, and one for the Goofy Challenge.

Crazy expo crowds

On Saturday morning, I was feeling great. I hadn’t run since Across the Years, and I was eager for more miles. Our hotel didn’t offer a shuttle, so we got up at 2 a.m. to drive to the start (race started at 5:30, but we’d have to wait at least 30 more minutes for our wave to start).

This was by far the earliest I’ve ever gotten up for a race. It was still 11 p.m. (as in, the day before!) San Diego time. That’s said, I’m a hardcore early bird and I like running in the dark, so I didn’t mind too much.

The race instructions said that if we weren’t in our corrals by 5 a.m., we wouldn’t be admitted to the race. So we had a lot of time to stand around and freeze. The parking was massive, but again Disney was extremely organized so we ended up with a great parking spot and plenty of time to sit in the car before heading over to the race.

Race morning was cold, but not as chilly as it had been in San Diego. Plus the crowds helped keep me warm as we moved in cattle-like droves to the start. From the parking lots to the race corrals, it’s a good 20-minute walk. But the atmosphere was lively and there was good crowd-energy, so it didn’t feel long.

People were shuffling along in their elaborate Disney costumes: glow-in-the-dark wings and fairy dust and sparkles and wands. Dudes in princess dresses were lifting up their shiny skirts to pee in the bushes for some laughs.

I wanted to kick myself for not executing a proper costume plan for Shacky and I. He would have been Beauty and I could have been The Beast.

Our bibs were soon checked, and we were funnel to our appropriate zones. We were the fourth wave to start.

I’m not a fan of huge crowds or sold-out marathons, so I was eager to just start running and recover some of my personal space. It was still dark when we started running, but once we did I felt great.

I though we were running faster than normal, but Shacky said we were on a steady 10-minute per mile pace. We were also doing a lot of weaving through the crowds, snapping pictures of awesome costumes.

Woody. I tried to pull the drawstring behind him, but it didn’t work.

There was music and floats and spectators cheering on the sidelines, urging people to run faster. There were old fashioned cars and people on stilts and those old bicycles with the really big front wheel.

Shacky commented that Barefoot Ted might like to own one of these.

When we saw Disney characters we loved, we’d stop for photos:

• Mickey
• Goofy
• Phineas and Ferb
• Winnie the Pooh’s house
• Some lady that looked like my grandma

The atmosphere was joyful and lively. I didn’t even feel like I was running.

I was shocked to see the first aid station less than 3 miles in. Both the Disney events were incredibly well supported as far as aid, which was great because I didn’t have to carry any hydration at either event. Instead, I wore my hydration vest with a spare pair of shoes in it so I could run barefoot as much as possible.

At one point I saw a station and ran in for water, only to find that it was a medical aid station. They were offering pills and Vaseline and some other gels that I had never even heard of, all before mile 5. I asked Shacky what the hell they were for, and he said they were for relieving muscle soreness.

I probably shouldn’t have scoffed, but I did a little. Really? Popping pills at the third mile? I wondered if there were people who ran these races for the Disney experience, who maybe really weren’t properly trained.

Then I was shaken out of my thoughts by the most awesome sight of my running career—the Disneyland castle right in front of me!

This one from the movies.

Maybe I’m an idiot, but I didn’t actually realize there was a real castle like that (it’s real, right?). I felt like jumping up and down.

We ran through the park which is set up like a small town, with the Disneyland castle in the background. We were running towards the castle.

The sun was starting to rise and there were spectators cheering us from the sidelines and my grandma’s double was dressed up like the olden days. It was surreal. I felt like I was in a happy dream or in a movie.

My grandma also looks like the maid from Family guy. This is her double.

All the princesses were near the castle—Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty. I didn’t slow down to take my picture with them because those bitches never did nothing cool. You went to sleep and woke up after a long time? Really? That’s what you did?

I’m more of a Mulan fan. That girl fought the fucking Huns.

They had a ton of photographers at this spot. As soon as you passed the castle, you could make a quick left turn and get a photo right in front of the castle with a race photographer. There was a fast-moving line and a box outlined in tape that you had to stand in. The camera guy was clicking so fast, you had about half a millisecond to pose. I wish I could have looked through all those pictures and laughed because most people weren’t ready.

There were two more times when I wanted to freak out during these races:

1. The Villains

We passed a stretch of very respectable Disney villains. They were blasting the song “Bad to the Bone” and dancing around to it. I wish I could have gotten their autographs but I was frightened. My favorite villain is the fat octopus in the Little Mermaid, but she wasn’t there because she can only breathe underwater.

2. The Green Soldier

From Toy Story. He was very green and that made me happy. I think he was plastic too. I like them because they say, “NO MAN LEFT BEHIND!” Which is true for trail running as well.

These guys mean business.

At mile 10 something unexpected happened. I hit a wall. WTF (Well That’s Fantastic)??!!

I never hit a wall this early! But I suddenly felt the weight of Across the Years on my legs and my body reverted to the same way it felt at mile 45 of that 24-hour race. I had 3 miles left.

Shacky pushed me through this stretch. He kept encouraging me forward, “Just a few more to go!”
“Almost there!”
“This is the final corner!”

I didn’t always reply, but I fed off his encouragement. I had to put on my power face and just power through it. Like that bitch Mulan.

The finish line was sweet, but I had never felt this tired after a half. I was really starting to get concerned about the marathon the next day. So instead of walking through Downtown Disney, I opted for the hot tub at the hotel, jammies, and an early bedtime.

Read Part 2: The Marathon!

I have a soft spot for timed races. Usually when I tell someone I’m doing a timed race, they react with horror and surprise. I understand that running a one-mile loop for 6, 12, or 24 hours hardly sounds appealing. But I find comfort in it.

At a timed race, I don’t have to think. I can zone out, clear my mind, and just RUN. I experience running in a very raw state. I’m not worried about falling, hydration, or supplies. I’m only focused on the trail ahead. One foot in front of the other. Forever.

This race was my longest timed event yet.  Across the Years is a 72, 48, or 24-hour race over a 1.05-mile loop in Arizona. We registered for the 24-hour event, starting at 9 a.m. on December 31^st, through to New Years, and ending at 9 a.m. on January 1^st.

I had no idea what to expect. The longest I had run before this was 50k, and the longest time I had ever spent running continuously was eight hours. I was a newbie.

I had it in the back of my mind that the best I could aim for was 100 miles, but I really had no idea how I would feel past the 50k, or how my body would respond with lack of sleep. I have never experienced sleep deprivation while running, and I knew that 100 miles was extremely ambitious. So I decided to just do my best, put zero pressure on myself, and have as much fun as possible.

We drove up a day early with my sister Elizabeth (attempting her first ultra), Carlos (attempted 100 miles) and Shacky (attempting a distance PR). We would also be seeing my uncle Pat and Jason Robillard with his awesome wife Shelly.

We stopped by the race on the 30^th and I was immediately excited by the atmosphere. Watching the runner’s circle, I wanted to start running right away. It wasn’t long before we saw Jason, who was doing well and going strong. We also caught up with Pat and chatted with him for a bit before heading back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.

The next morning we were at the race bright and early, eager and ready to run. I started the first few miles with Shacky, running comfortable and steady 10-minute miles. It was cold at the beginning, so I started in my sweater and jammies. When it warmed up I shed my layers. I was wearing the InknBurn cherry blossom set – my favorite outfit. I got a ton of comments on my InknBurn gear, and people wanted to know where they could buy some.

I found myself feeling thirsty as it started getting hotter, and I stopped to drink at almost every mile. Shacky was stopping every five miles to have some Thrive homemade, vegan pudding (a mixture of dates, bananas, cocoa, and coconut). Brendan Brazier eats this on his races. It tasted delicious and was very easy to digest.

At the 50k mark, I was feeling unbelievable. And I wanted to go faster. For my other events, I’ve always tried to pace myself in the beginning, just as runners are supposed to. But I’ve never been able to shake the feeling at the end that I had more in me (except at Los Pinos, which damn near killed me). I usually want to run further, and I always wonder whether I could have done it better or faster.

I’ve never been injured since I started running in 2007. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really fortunate, or if I’m not pushing myself hard enough. I have made great progress as a runner, but my body doesn’t seem to understand the high injury rate it’s supposed to suffer from. It refuses to break.

Another thing I’ve noticed at my past races is that no matter how well I pace myself, I seem to always hit a wall at the same TIME, as opposed to the same distance. So if I’m going super slow, I just end up with less miles logged before I feel exhausted. In any case, I thought that this would be a good opportunity to run faster. I sped up.

Running faster felt amazing. It actually felt easier to run faster than to run slow, which is probably because my “slow” muscles had already been working for over 6 hours. Activating new parts of my legs gave me that second wind.

I did a few sub-10 minute miles until Pat warned me that I was going too fast. I figured that when Pat tells you you’re going too fast, you probably really are. But still, I didn’t listen. I paused long enough to make a Facebook update stating that I might hit 100 miles after all.

Then at mile 45, out of nowhere, I hit a wall and I hit it hard. This was a wall I hadn’t felt since the end of my first marathon. It knocked me right out. Up until that point, I had been saving my motivational messages. Now I stumbled over to my folder and yanked all those papers out to read them all at once.

I was determined to keep moving, but it took me the same amount of time to run from mile 45 to 50 as it did to run the entire first 13 miles. I was half-walking and feeling miserable.

Meanwhile, Shacky was starting to feel an old injury act up, so he opted for a beer run with Jason instead. Pat was also suffering from a recurring shin splint, and wasn’t running anymore. I walked one painful loop with Pat before he decided to sit out. I kept plugging away, and by the time I was ready to run my 50^th mile, Shacky and Jason and Pat were all sitting around drinking beer. I wanted so badly to join them.

Instead, I pulled Shacky away for one more lap, so he could run in my 50^th mile with me. Then I sat down.

Until this point, I had remained vegan. I was eating fruit, tons of liquids, some vegetable soup, and PB&J sandwiches. I had also brought chips and nuts from home. But dinner at Across the Years was pizza. Cheesy and meaty pizza. They had volunteers standing on the course holding it out for runners to grab as they darted past, as if it were Gatorade. Every loop I made for at least 5 miles, I could smell it.

By the time I ran my 50^th mile, all I could think of was pizza. And I was HUNGRY. Although I had brought tons of vegan snacks, I didn’t really think to bring any solid food for a real meal. And that’s what I was craving. A sit-down meal. No more aid station snacks.

I eyed the pizza and waited until there was only ONE slice left. Then I grabbed it. I wasn’t sorry, but I thought I should confess. So I went to sit over with the guys and let Pat make fun of me.

After my pizza break, I tried to keep walking laps. My legs were sore and the guys were just sitting around and chatting, making it really difficult to get back up and run alone. I really didn’t want to run anymore.

I managed to meet my sister as she was just about to complete 50k. I ran that last lap with her and took pictures. I remember when I first set my sister up with a Learn to Run program. She couldn’t even run for three minutes. Now look at her. She had a run a distance she could barely understand. I was so proud of her.

The ultra distance is an amazing thing. I told my sister: “No matter what has happened in your life before, or what will happen in your future, nobody can ever take that ultra away from you. When you’re an ultra runner, you’re a runner forever. You could go out the next day, join a gym and hire a personal trainer. And that trainer may not ever accomplish what you just did. You can flip through a magazine and pick out the most beautiful girl on those pages, and that girl’s body may never be as strong as yours. Her legs will never carry her this far. After an ultra, you are beyond beautiful. You are unbreakable.” She cried.

My sister would end up covering over 40 miles, logging over 100k during her entire stay with us over the holidays. She hadn’t trained for one single day for this. I surprised her with the flight to see us, and also with the entry to this race. Before this, she was running about five miles a week or less. But I knew she had an ultra in her. We have the same blood.

As a sat out watching the other runners, I was inspired by so many still fearlessly circling that loop. All different ages, different shapes, different goals. There were people who looked like they were 80 years old, and there was one 8-year-old boy who ended up with over 30 miles. Some people were slow, but consistent. One foot in front of the other. And they just never stopped.

I was amazed at the strength and resilience of the human spirit, and it seemed almost unfair to me that such strong souls should reside in weak bodies. Why can’t our bodies keep up with the resolve of our spirits?

Earlier on, Shacky and I met Sarah, a really pretty girl with long dreads. Sarah was running in minimalist Merrell shoes, so we stopped to ask her how long she had been running in them. She was embarrassed to say – only 12 miles.

It turned out that it was actually her husband and BRS member (username Abide) who had registered for this race, but he had become injured and could no longer run. She agreed to take his spot, even though she was only training for her first half marathon. She thought she’d take it easy, run a few laps, and see how she felt.

Sarah would take a break every so often to breastfeed her youngest child before jumping back on the course. She ended up with over 50k. Take that, half marathon.

In many of my motivational messages, people said I was an inspiration. But these are the people that inspire ME. I’ve done the training, planned the course, and eased into ultra running like an old man into a chilly pool. But these guys come up to a mountain they have never seen or imagined and look at it without the slightest fear. Then they say, “Meh… What the hell.” And dive right in.

I managed to stay awake until midnight, cheer in the New Year, and run one final lap with my Shacky, Jason and Pat. Then I crashed. I don’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew I opened my eyes and it was still dark. All I could hear outside was the patter of feet – people were still running.

I crawled out of my tent, slipped on my shoes, and ran in my jammies. It was 5 a.m. The runners on the course were few but faithful. They hadn’t just crawled out of their tents like I had. They had been there for the entire night.

The vibe in the air was tired and subdued. No one spoke. All you could hear was the shuffling of feet and slow breathing. Just one foot in front of the other. Forever.

A few hours before the end, I saw one runner hunched over shaking his head violently, as if he were trying to wake up from a bad dream. We made eye contact and he exclaimed, “I’m hallucinating! I’m seeing shit that’s not there!” He hadn’t slept for two nights.

At 7 a.m. I saw Shacky. He was also still running, and hit his distance PR at the same time I hit my 100k mark. Shacky could only get a couple of laps in at a time because of his injury, but he still pulled out his longest distance.

I really wanted a Starbucks after that, so Shacky drove me to one. By the time we drove back, it was less than an hour until the finish. Jason was out padding his miles, running at an impressive pace. We hung around to watch the end of the race, and I finished with 101k (63 miles).

In the end, several people had run this event so many times in previous years that this year they hit their 1000-mile marks for overall laps on the Across the Years course. Ed Ettinghausen, who had called it quits after the first day, pulled himself back together and ended up in second place. We saw him on his last few laps with his wife.

Yolanda Holder ended up walking for 48 Hours and hit 100 miles. Kimberly Miller also earned her 100-mile belt buckle. And one girl who looked just like Kate Kift looped me about a gazillion times. I never saw her face – only her back as she kept passing me. The back of her shirt said, “Don’t be a pussy.” So I pretended she was Kate, and smiled whenever she passed, nodding at the wisdom of her shirt.

This was an unbelievable event, very well run, and a perfect way to spend the end of the year. I’m really proud of my mileage. I think I had it in me to hit 100 miles, but I definitely needed more time.

I plan to try the 48-hour race next year, or even the 72. Meh… What the hell.

Here is my video recap:

Related Links:

Jason Robillard’s Across the Years Race Report

Patrick Sweeney’s Across the Years Race Report

Carlos Frias’ Across the Years Race Report

I love stats. The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 100,000 times in 2011. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 4 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Also, the stats above didn’t seem to pick it up, but on December 19th my blog went viral somewhere (still not sure how) and my traffic shot up to 58, 663 page views. Wow!

• Total views for December: 147,949
• Total views for 2011: 244,168
• Total views for 2010: 46,408
• Current average hits per day: 873

I’m so humbled to see such tremendous growth and I want to take a minute to deeply thank all of my faithful readers and commenters. You guys are such an inspiration to me. You keep me on track and focused. When I’m out on a hard run, I think about not letting you down. Some of you have been with me since the first day I started blogging. Thanks for a great year. I hope you will follow me into 2012 for more adventures!

The next few posts will contain:

• A race report for Across the Years (This is a good one!)
• Goals for 2011 (What they were and did I meet them?)
• Goals for 2012

Stay tuned!

I hope everyone had a great Christmas!

Mine has been very satisfactory and relaxing. I’ve spent the holidays doing what I love: running and eating and reading.

Shacky got me a Kindle so I’ve had my nose stuck in it for the past few days. My sister is also here from Toronto, so we’ve been showing her some of our great San Diego trails and restaurants.

Tomorrow we’re all driving up to Arizona for Across the Years 24 Hour Race. Some of our friends are already there running for 72 hours.

I’m super excited about this race since it will be a distance PR for me, and I also know a lot of the participants. Among them, the Robillards, Ed Ettinghausen and Pat Sweeney. My sister Elizabeth also plans to run her first ultra here.

We start to race on December 31st at 9 a.m. and finish on January 1st at 9 a.m. We will take a break at midnight to pop some champagne and welcome a new year! I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate.

I’m posting today with a special request:

Please take the time to send the runners some motivational notes via Runner Mail HERE.

This race has a great Runner Mail service. You can visit THIS SITE, choose your runner’s name, and type up a motivational note for them. The notes will be delivered to your runner to help them remember that they have people cheering them on. You can do it right now and it will only take a couple of minutes.

Motivation is everything in long races like these, and it’s easy to feel alone. Please take a few minutes to remind someone that they have inspired you. If you don’t know any of the runners, pick a random name and send a note. It can make a huge difference.

You can also view the race through a live webcam HERE.

Thank you all for your kind support throughout this last year and enjoy these last few days of 2011! See you in the New Year!

This afternoon I read this blog post, meant to be funny. I failed to see the humor:

>>>> Running a Marathon Does Not Make You Mother Teresa <<<<

It wasn’t so much the cheap jabs, or predictable stereotypes that bothered me. It was the fact that this was supposed to be funny.

This post was not actually funny. Hear me out. I’m a comedian. (Really.)

None of the cool kids thought you were funny. If my Facebook feed counts as a scientific sample, then 83% of people think you are pretty lame. It’s an epidemic! The worst kind. You know, other than runner’s trots.

I have a theory. It boils down to this: You’re a jerk.

You tried to be funny. I will grant you that. You probably wrote like crazy, did some proof-reading, and even checked for typos. That’s a lot of damn work. It has a pretty big pay-off, however. Some people actually thought you were funny. They visited your blog. They will probably follow. They cheer your name and share your post. Obviously, you are on the road to being funny.

Nope. Sorry to rain on your parade, but you’re still an asshat. You’re just an asshat picked on a group of people that you obviously don’t understand. I know it’s hard to believe, but marathoners don’t really wear Lululemon.

Laughing at bad jokes is bad for your heart. You’re actually a worse person now, after having laughed at this post, than you were before you ever read it. If you read it multiple times, you will turn into a sour grape.

Here’s my advice: If you don’t like running, don’t run. If you see other people running, let them be happy. It’s Christmas dumbass.

Now copy and paste the following after every negative comment below: “This post was meant to be funny and not offensive. I’m sorry if you are offended.”