Kat Ran Antarctica : 2009 : March

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I finally put together all of my pictures and videos on a Facebook page that can be found here. Please visit, become a fan, enjoy, and share with others! I'm so fortunate to have been on this trip and I'd love to be an ambassador for all who have yet to go.

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RR: Shamrock Marathon

Posted by DCtoPgh Mar 25, 2009

In a very last minute decision I decided to run the Shamrock marathon. I needed to get out of Pittsburgh and Isaac, Michelle and Mike made the stars align. I’ve never run two marathons twelve days apart so I didn’t have any goals. The course was flat and the weather was supposed to be perfect; I just wanted to have fun.

Pre-Race

I split from Shell, Ike and Rob who are running the half. I hang out in the lobby of Craig’s hotel so that he can get some extra sleep and I watch the sun rise over the water while making friends with the runners. I head up to Craig’s room about a half hour before start to see that Mike and Irene have just arrived. Craig offers me a pair of throwaway gloves and a throwaway hat which I am enormously thankful for since the beach start is going to be colder than the Antarctica start.

Craig and I before the start.

Race

The gun went off so quickly my Garmin didn’t have time to find the satellites. It can’t take more than a minute to cross the start and the crowd is thankfully thin. In the first half mile I meet Scott, a Marine from Maryland who I run with for the first 10 miles. In contrast to MCM there are very few spectators and the hotels aren’t very inspiring. Through mile 5 there isn’t anything too interesting until the lead runners start to pass us after their turn-around. I see Mike, a fellow Antarctica runner (he finished fourth overall) and scream and cheer for him like a madwoman. Shortly after, I see Jerry and Craig and exchange high fives. I’m keeping up a pretty solid 9:45 pace and I keep feeling like I should reign myself in. We turn into Camp Pendelton and there is no way I can reign myself in. The soldiers are out in force, and there were times when I high-fived so many soldiers that it actually slowed me down. They are cheering and chanting and it was my favorite part of the course. There was so much energy it was just incredible.

We head towards the boardwalk and Scott runs ahead as I slow down. It’s only mile 10 and I’m discouraged that my pace is already starting to lag. The loss of my marathon buddy, the absence of spectators and doubt about running 2 marathons in 12 days begins to creep in. Ok, it doesn’t creep, it smacks me in the face. I’m considering pulling out of the race at the half, but at mile 12 I see Mike and Irene and they look so happy that I just can’t quit. I tell myself I’ll run to mile 15 when I can stop to take my inhaler (I’m starting to wheeze a bit) and eat a bit of a granola bar.

At this point the winners are finishing the final miles and it is inspiring to see such athleticism. There are a few more spectators and it is starting to warm up to be a spectacular day. As I walk, I try to eat my granola bar, but can’t stomach it. Every pea-sized nibble is a fight to keep down. I’m a bit demoralized but I cheer for the halfathon walkers, the marathon leaders, thank the volunteers, and encourage the spectators. As we head into Fort Story I am cranky and bored. Around mile 17 I (gasp) begin to listen to my iPod. I am very anti-iPod for races because I feel like it detracts from the experience. However, the way things are going, I’m willing to make a concession. The iPod is incredible in that I start running more than walking and by mile 20 I have a second wind. Around this time I realize that the 4:30 pace group hasn’t yet passed me. In my first marathon, I lost the 4:30 pace group at mile 20 and in my second marathon, the 4:30 pace group passed me at mile 20. I can hear them behind me but have a new goal of holding them off until mile 21. Mission accomplished.

I feel strong. It feels odd to feel so strong. Around mile 23 we rejoin spectators and volunteers. I’m cracking jokes with everyone while my pace drops into times that start with 9 again. I’m having a blast and loving life. Around mile 24 I pass a man who asks if I was the one “rallying the troops back there” I slowed a bit to chat with him, responding “I was trying to, at least!” and he encouraged me to go forward, telling me to “Go kick @ss, girl.” I follow directions well. I keep second-guessing myself. I feel great, but it’s mile 24 of the marathon. Surely this can’t hold up? Let’s try. Mile 25 and 26 have a 9:45 average and as I run down the home stretch I realize I’ve PRed. The icing on the cake is seeing Mike, Irene and Craig and then seeing Ike, Shell and Rob. I scream that I PRed to my friends who have waited for me to finish and race through the chute for a final pace of 9:00. My time was 4:31:07, a PR by over 11 minutes.

Me coming into the finish after shouting to my friends that I had PRed

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RR: The Antarctica Marathon

Posted by DCtoPgh Mar 25, 2009

"When you see someone putting on his running shoes, you can be pretty sure that an adventure is about to happen." ~Winnie the Pooh

Pre-Race

I awaken to Rupert, our German expedition leader, over the intercom: “Good morning. Today is race day. The temperature is currently zero degrees. Breakfast will be served in a half an hour.” My first groggy thought is zero is mighty cold. I then convert Celsius to Fahrenheit and realize that all the times I said Antarctica would be warmer than Pittsburgh, I was right. We take zodiacs, small boats, to the race and are greeted by our race ambassador, a crabeater seal.

We walk up a short hill to the starting line/staging area where we are handed giant red trash bags which will serve as secondary containment for our belongings. We must place all of our possessions, including our muck boots and bright red wetskins, inside these bags. As we wait for the race to start, people chatter with the friends they have made the last week, take pictures, and use the “porta potty” a box which is placed inside a tent.

The Race

Right as bright, beautiful sunshine lit up the bay around King George Island, the race starts. I plan to run with Sarah, my travel companion, and Tim, a new friend about to finish his seventh continent. However, as we climb the second of two steep hills in the first half mile, I decided that for the rest of the race I’d walk uphills to conserve energy and Sarah and Tim ran ahead toward the Argentine research station. The trail was packed dirt that had frequent steep hills with flats that were either mud fields or glacial streams. The terrain was breathtaking as the sun shone down on glaciers, 30,000 year old moss, hills, valleys and lakes. I began to smile ear to ear, a huge stupid grin about which many of the runners would comment, because it was such an incredible opportunity to run this marathon and such a beautiful day to run it.

Two miles into the run I approached the Argentine base and I saw the other start line. Yes, you read that correctly: the other start line. Due to restrictions that only allowed 100 people per landing, our boat, the Ioffe, had a start line at the Russian and Chilean bases and the other boat, the Vavilov, had a start at the Argentine base. The Argentine start was set up much like ours- boxes in tents, an array of red bags, and it also served as a water bottle drop station. In order to hydrate we had to carry water from our start towards the Argentine base where we would drop it, and on second trip on the figure eight course, return it to our base camp. There were very few spectators, but as I run I see Kelly, a Pittsburgher, and wife of a Vavlovian runner. She cheers for me by name and it feels so great to have support. As I begin to head towards Collins Glacier the lead Vavlovians have already turned around and are heading towards the Ioffe start. It was so cool to see the leaders of the race the first of several times on the course. As I approach the glacier, the terrain shifts from “just” mud to rocks and quicksand mud. The mud was so thick it would literally suck the shoes off of your feet- one runner lost her shoe five times! At the base of the glacier I look up to see Mark, a Brit dressed as Superman, fall and Sarah and Tim holding onto each other as they try not to lose their footing on the descent. I carefully climb the glacier, slipping a few times, but not falling, and put my Yak Trax on at the top.

At this point we turn around and run back to the start where I pick up a water bottle to carry and drop on the other arm of the course. I depart, heading West towards the Chinese research station. There is a hill leading up to a hairpin turn and I see Kelly’s husband, Chris, coming towards me and on the other side of the course I see Sarah and Tim. The camaraderie on the course is incredible. Everyone is cheering for each other… and when you pass people at least four times over the course of the race, that is a lot of support from other runners. The abundant sunshine is starting to fade and I can feel the wind starting to pick up but I catch a nice long downhill and am greeted by a Chinese scientist saying “Welcome to China.” A short while later I see Sarah and Tim and Sarah frantically yells “The Chinese have beer!” When I arrive at the Chinese station they are kind hosts to the West Side Bottle Drop and also have their own aid station complete with water, Coke and beer. Welcome to China, indeed! I head back to our start and cross the half at 2:30, which means I have 4 ½ hours to beat the 7 hour cutoff. This is the point where I really start to relax and have fun.

As I head back towards the Argentine station the mud starts sucking my morale. I’m thrilled to be alive and I can’t believe I’m running a marathon in Antarctica, but really, the mud is exhausting and I swear the streams are getting larger (other runners later collaborated that this was, in fact, the case and I wasn’t just hallucinating). The sun has gone away and the wind is steady. Runners are more spread out than before and I keep myself entertained by cheering for other people. Past the Agentine station, Kelly returns the cheering karma, and then it’s back to the glacier. Runners start yelling at me that there’s a penguin ahead. I run ahead to see a cute little chinstrap penguin (one of only two I’d see on the trip) hopping along. He is so funny that me and Natasha, who is about 50 yards ahead of me, just stop to point and laugh and love the moment. The glacier is much less slippery this time around and at the bottom I mean the nicest couple, Bruce and Saw Lan, who are completing their seventh continent. We chat and share granola bars and I walked with them about a mile just because I enjoyed their company. I considered walking the rest of the race with them, but decided to forge ahead.

Then I had a penguin encounter.

Running all alone I am thrilled to see the little chinstrap penguin again as he waddles along the trail and up a hill. I approach him and realize that in order to give him the recommended 15 feet of space I would need to step on 30,000 year old moss. No can do. Which environmentally insensitive thing do I do? Penguin? Moss? Penguin? Moss? Penguin. I know that they get stressed if you approach them, but no one told me what happened when they get stressed. I approach him very slowly as he stares at me. I stare at him. I creep past, dreading that I will go down in history as the marathoner attacked by a penguin, but successfully pass my tiny tuxedoed competition, and run ahead.

The next few miles are the toughest of the course. The wind picked up to a fierce 40 mph and there are no runners in sight. I pull off at the start to grab some water where I see Matt, who has already finished, and Tim, who I think has finished. Instead, Tim is also taking a pit stop and has the last Chinese loop like I do. I pair up with the man who was originally supposed to be my marathon buddy and we head out for the final five miles. As we’re heading out, we see our friends starting to finish. The last five miles are filled with chatter, encouragement, and running where our bodies and the course allow. Tim is soaking up life, and what a pleasure to see it, as he drinks beer with the Chinese, takes pictures, and makes new friends. The final five are some of my favorite, and as I come upon the finish line I realize that I really did this. I ran a marathon in Antarctica.

It was a terribly anticlimactic finish. There was a tiny sign indicating the finish line and a staff member holding a stopwatch. There were no spectators to cheer, no finish line clock and Chris served as the finish line photographer. The medals were too heavy to bring from Boston so we didn’t get one at the end. But none of that mattered because I had done something incredible. My time was 6:04, but that is completely meaningless to me. I was seeded 111th but came in 105th which is also nice, but unimportant. For me, the marathon wasn’t about the race, it was about the experience. And it was the experience of a lifetime.

Pictures can be found here.

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Charity: The Final Pre-Antarctica Update

Posted by DCtoPgh Mar 1, 2009

It is with great nervousness and excitement that I begin the last blog post before I run the Antarctica Marathon. My bags are packed, my cat is in his temporary new home, and my friends have given me hugs and wished me well. Although I haven't left, I feel as though I've already been on an adventure.

Training for this marathon has been a trial in and of itself. Pittsburgh winters are nasty and running in cold, snow, ice and wind didn't kill me so it must have made me stronger. Although I hated almost every long run training for this marathon, I am so thankful I live in Pittsburgh so that I have the peace of mind that I can deal with nasty conditions. Also, this winter I was diagnosed with exercise-induced asthma. If I didn't live in Pittsburgh I may not have had conditions extreme enough to exacerbate my symptoms and I could be on my way to Antarctica with an unmanaged and potentially dangerous condition. Although at times unpleasant, training in Pittsburgh during the winter was something that I expected when I registered for the marathon.

The crazy thing that was completely unexpected was the experiences I've shared with people about my adventure. The cool thing about the Antarctica Marathon is that people love to talk about it and ask questions. It is such a great opportunity to share with people and speak with them. I've made so many wonderful connections with people that I'm not sure I could have made without a "talking point".

My favorite thing thus far has been fundraising for the Injured Marine Semper Fi Fund. Yesterday I met my goal of raising $2,500 (another $500 that should come through in March which will put me at $3,000) and I am so thankful for all of the people who have so generously donated to the Fund. Seeing such an outpouring of generosity has truly been humbling and inspiring. My goal was to help others and in that process I have learned so much about the goodness of others while becoming more generous myself. After this experience I strongly believe that everyone should fundraise at some point in their lives.

One woman, Linda Quirk, has taken fundraising to an incredible extreme. Another Antarctica runner, this grandmother of three has a goal of raising $1 million for the Caron Foundation. There are so many wonderful charities and while the Caron Foundation is not a charity, it is an organization that is near to my heart. I have chosen to make adolescent substance use my career because when he was a teen, my brother had difficulties with substance use and went to Caron for treatment. I got in touch with Linda this morning and I am so excited to meet her in Buenos Aires to learn more about her extraordinary adventure and her efforts.

Heading south tomorrow, I am so excited about the people that I am going to meet- Linda included. I've met really incredible people through running, including Elora's dad, Dan. If you read my blog, you may remember a post about Elora Palooza, a 5K celebrating the life of a little girl who made a big impression on the people she met during her short time here. Today Dan joined Jen and I for a run. At the end of the run, Dan asked me for a favor. He reached down and unpinned a picture that was fastened to his Team in Training singlet. It was a picture of his daughter Elora, who lost her battle with cancer, and his sister Sarah, who is still fighting hers. He asked me to take them to Antarctica. I was really moved, and, like the big sap I am, started to cry. I am so incredibly honored that Dan would ask me to run with them. Between my Semper Fi singlet, Elora and Sarah, I'm going to have a lot of sources to channel strength during what will be a very tough marathon.

So, as I get ready to leave, I'm already floored by the experiences that I have had. I can't wait for this trip which will surely be an adventure. I hope that when I come back, I can change the name of this blog: Kat Ran Antarctica. Wish me luck.

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Once a non-runner, I am now an ultrarunner and triathlete. Running has taken me to Antarctica, and past what I once thought were my limits. My races and training cover the good, bad, and ugly, but it's always an adventure- one that you can follow here.

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