This is part two of my Hood to Coast recap. You can read part one HERE.Those Hills are Mine

I used to avoid hills. They are hard. But when I returned to running back in December of 2010, after a three year hiatus from running I knew hill repeats would get me back into shape. It was during those snowy, cold repeats that I came up with a mantra that helped me power through the difficulty: Embrace the hill. I don't avoid hills anymore. I embrace them. Dare say, I love them. They are hard as heck, but they make me stronger. Life has hills. Hard. Long. Hills. Watch-your-son-suffer-in-pain kind of hills. Say-goodby-to-people-you-love kind of hills. When everything in you wants to push it away, embrace it. When all you want to do it turn and run away, turn back and embrace it.

Nuun sent out and email in April shortly after selecting the bloggers to be on their Hood to Coast team. They wanted to know which runner we wanted to be. I took a look at the chart, scanned over to the side and noticed there were difficulty rankings. It looked as if runner 5 had the most difficult runs, I wondered what constituted the difficulty ranking and scanning back noticed the hill icons. Hills. Those are mine. I thought. I immediately sent my email reply: Runner 5. I want to be Runner 5.

When I sent off that email in April, Jack was in the middle of his expansion process and still had one surgery to go. At the time I was in the midst of one of the most difficult things I've ever had to deal with in my life: watching my infant son undergo serious medical procedures. Maybe there was something inside me that thought if I could make it through that, then I could make it up those hills. Even if it meant walking. Embrace the hill. Those hills became even more meaningful when I actually ran them.

Why Can't I?

I wasn't sure how to pace myself through three races in less than 24 hours. Should I start slow and conserve energy? Should I just race each one all out? And how would I run straight out of the van with little time to warm up or do my dynamic stretches? It turns out I really didn't have much time to worry about any of this because I was in the portopotty every.single.time Hannah came screaming into the exchange. Seriously, this girl was amazing. On her first leg she blew her predicted time out of the water...by 16 minutes. So there I was taking my time in the bathroom, making sure everything was good to go for my first run and just as I exited the bathroom, our driver Jeantal came sprinting over yelling "She's here! She's here!" I jumped the cement barricade in one bound, stripped my longsleeve and threw it at Jeantal and sprinted to the exchange just in time to grab the slap bracelet from Hannah as she came into the exchange. And suddenly I went from pooping in a portopotty to running as fast as I possibly could.

Leg 1/Difficulty Ranking: Very Hard/Distance: 6.08 miles/ Time: 45:05/Pace: 7:25

Once I sprinted out of the exchange it took me a second to realize that I was actually running my first leg of Hood to Coast. And once that realization hit me a huge smile spread across my face. This is it! I'm doing it. I'm here and I'm finally running! I breathed deep and looked around, everything was beautiful, shrouded in mist and fog. I felt fast. I'm running fast. I looked down at my Garmin 6:10. Woah. Sarah too fast! Too fast! I eased up a bit. Save it sweetheart. [I seriously talk to myself in the weirdest ways when I run.] Ok. This is good. I glanced again. 6:40. Shit! Sarah! How the hell are you gonna be able to run your third leg if you keep this up? And in that moment about a mile into my first leg I made decision whose impact I realized only after the fact. Why? I thought. Why do I have to slow down? So what if I have to walk the last leg? Why can't I run fast now? Why can't I just completely go for it in this moment? I'm excited. I WANT to run fast. My legs want to run fast. And so, in that moment, I decided to run as fast as my body wanted to go. I decided not to play it conservatively. I decided to go for it. Even if it meant positive splits (because there was a three mile hill climb still coming). Even if it meant walking the third leg. I went for it and I'm so glad I did because it set the tone for my remaining legs and for my Hood to Coast experience as a whole. I ran like I had nothing to lose. I've never run like that before. I've always run a plan. I've always run with a nagging fear of failure. But this time I just ran and I ran fast. 7:03, 6:51, 7:00, 7:24, 8:06, 8:06. I totally positive spitted that hill climb at the end, and had to stop for a bit in the last two miles to try to work out a cramp in my abdomen. But. BUT! I ran like I've never run before and THAT felt amazing.

Passing off to Catey after my first leg.

Leg 2/Difficulty Ranking: Medium/ Distance: 7.68 miles (my Garmin said 7.46?)/ Time: 56:18/ Pace: 7:33

Around 9pm on Friday night, my second leg at 1:30am approaching I tried to curl up on the bench of the van and sleep. I was beat. I changed positions a thousand times before moving to the floor. And with my head under the bench and my legs stretched down by the doors, somehow I manage to get a few hours of sleep. Since Hannah now had a track record of smoking her predicted times I was slightly more prepared. She would probably be coming in early to the exchange. I got in line for the bathroom, I emerged and started to walk up the embankment to the exchange only to hear the volunteer on the loudspeaker yell: "715 in the shute!" I bolted for the exchange, grabbed the slap bracelet and set off on my second leg shaking my head. Seriously?! Again! I had no expectations going into the is run other than the knowledge that there were no hills. I thought it would be a good idea, since the terrain was flat, to take it slow the first mile and then see how it went. The first mile beeped: 7:56. Ok. Let's hold it here. I kept going, trying to keep an even pace watching the blinking trail of red lights out ahead of me. As I ran along I passed a few people and each time said something. I don't usually say anything in races, but I found myself trying to encourage people. It's always a tricky thing: the passing runner who says "great job!". But I really meant it. We were out there in the middle of the night, none of us are really winning so why not say something. One guy ran past me and said: "Thanks for pulling!" And honestly I thought, Yeah! If I can help you run faster by running my fastest then great! Mile 2 beeped: 7:48. Hmm. That's a little faster. Just hold it here. Mile 3: 7:37. Ok. I'm getting faster. This could be a progression run. Can I make it a progression run? Could I run a perfect progression at 1:30am. That would be kind of cool. And I decided to go for it. Each mile without much effort until the last two miles I seemed to be able to pick up the pace: 7:30, 7:28, 7:22, 7:19, 3:16 (.46). I sprinted into the exchange and hopped back into the van. Everyone was asleep and I was high on life and a great run!

Leg 3/Difficulty Ranking: Very Hard/Distance: 6.11 miles/ Time: 44-46??/ Pace: high on life pace

We pulled into the exchange of my third and final leg and I was determined to be in the chute waiting for Hannah. This was my toughest leg a 3.6 mile hill climb, followed by 2.4 miles down hill. I was looking forward to running that down hill. I knew I'd been running fast, but I wanted to see paces in the 6's even if they were down hill. There was no line at the portopotty so I ducked in super quick. I started making my way towards the exchange only to hear, yet again: "715 in the chute!" I sprinted up to the exchange grabbed the bracelet and took off up the hill that Hannah had already climbed a portion of. My climb would take me 575ft. further up in elevation. I knew if I could just keep a steady pace up the hill I could fly down the other side. Ok. Came the self-talk. Steady, Sarah. Steady and strong. I looked down at my Garmin it still hadn't picked up a signal. I ran a bit further and checked again. Still no signal. I was pretty sure that it wouldn't pick one up, so I turned it off and took note of the time 10:57am. The climb was gradual at first but I felt like I was running fast, almost too fast. But I felt strong, stronger than I'd felt on any other leg. Embrace the hill. I repeated to myself. Embrace the hill. I started passing runners. Lots of them. My legs turned over faster. I slowed a bit on some of the steeper inclines, but then recovered again to a fast pace when there was a break in climbing. I kept thinking, when is this gonna run out? When am I not going to be able to run this pace? This is fast for me. Can I keep this up? At that point I thought of the mantra stamped on the necklaces our teammate Catey had given us: She believed she could, so she did. I repeated that over and over, every time a steep part came I willed myself to keep running fast. Our van passed by and with the cowbell and cheering I surged ahead. I passed more runners. More vans passed by and they cheered for me: "Looking strong girl!" I must be running strong, I thought. I feel strong and I guess I look strong too! As I passed the next runner I couldn't help but think of Mr. Bean: "Its a race! I am weenning! I'm weenning!" I wasn't actually winning, but I sure as heck felt like it. Up ahead I could see the many of the vans that had passed me were now pulled over, waiting to cheer their runners up the climb. But really they were cheering everyone on. With each cheer and word of encouragement I could feel my pace quicken. Then I saw my van and teammates pulled over at the side of the road, right at the top of a steep stretch. I charged forward under the power bridge they made and as I ran through I could here Jeantal say "Again! Lets do it at the top." After 2.8 miles of a relatively gradual climb, the grade increased rapidly.My pace slowed a bit and I thought of the year we have lived. I thought of Jack. I thought of the fact that I had picked this leg, that this hill was MINE. This is hard. Life is hard. Embrace the hill, Sarah. The last three quarters of a mile were brutal and the winding road made it impossible to see the top of the hill. Was it around this corner? Or the next one? I had no way of knowing, other than a guess that maybe I'd run the 3.6 around 25 minutes. Everything was a guess. I looked at the trees, they were getting shorter I knew the top of this little mountain must be coming and then with a turn to the left there it was, about a quarter mile away: the top and my van and all my teammates cheering me on. I surged a head, matching the speed of the van next to me. How fast are you going? I asked. "Ten miles an hour," came the reply. "Nice!" I said. Wait...what is that on a treadmill? My brain couldn't do the math. I think that's fast for uphill. And I kept running towards my teammates. They made another power bridge and I threw my hands up. The climb was done. The struggle behind me.

Now it was time to FLY. And I flew. Down the side of that little mountain as fast as my legs would let me, one foot in front of the other. A mile out of the exchange the vans started stacking up: traffic waiting to get into the exchange parking. I passed our van and they let me know that Catey had run ahead to wait at the exchange. I could see Catey ahead and we ran the last little bit together into the exchange. I handed her the bracelet and glanced at my watch: 11:38am. I jogged back up the hill to the van, still waiting in line. "You were so strong out there! someone called out. "Thanks! Thank you!" I said probably way to loudly. I almost didn't want to get in to the van. I didn't want the run to be over: the exhilarating feeling of so completely OWNING a run, propelled by emotion and encouragement and the cheers of my teammates.

Relationships

One of the things I realized is that Nuun is an amazing company. It's amazing because the people who work there are amazing. And because the vision and mission that drives it is based in relationships. Nuun values relationships. It's why they choose to bring 36 women into an experience of a lifetime instead of buying print advertisement in a running magazine. I've always liked the product, but I love the company and the people behind it even more. They are people with big hearts and big dreams a big desire to bring as many people along with them on this crazy adventure called life. All 36 of us got to go along for the ride this time and it was AMAZING, I now have friends I know I'll be in touch with for a lifetime. Those relationships weren't there before and now they are and for that I am so grateful.

The Take Away

The pebble that flew with me to Seattle was in my pocket on each of my runs and when we arrived in Seaside I had a chance to walk down to the water, place it in the sand and watch the tide take it away. That little pebble with the white line through it: a little bit of this year, a little bit of me...it is somewhere in the Pacific now or buried in the sands of Seaside.

When I ran I gave everything I had. I left it all out there on those roads. But I am taking away so much more: a confidence I've never felt before, brought to life by the encouragement of the amazing women around me and an assurance that the steps of my journey have direction and purpose, even when I don't see it. The atmosphere that was created in our team, in our van, between each woman there, that inexplicable, yet completely tangible atmosphere that allowed each of us to achieve things we never thought possible...THAT. I have the POWER to create that for my own children. For Sophia and Jack, every.single.day. I have the power to cheer them on, to encourage them, to "power bridge" them to amazing feats; things they never thought possible, but when they achieve them make their face light up with excitement and joy. I can do that. My husband and I, we can do that. We can be Team Canney.

--Sarah

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Hood to Coast Recap: part two

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