Center

Over Christmas break, we drove over 3,000 miles to meet my wife's brothers and sisters and to celebrate Christmas. As we were driving through the town of one of her brothers, we were amazed at the Christmas lights at the center of town.  The lights covered the whole town square, neighboring streets, and courthouse/town hall at the center of the square.  It was so beautiful and something we rarely see anymore.  It wasn't a bunch of fast food restaurants and fashionable stores.  It was the courthouse and townhall with an outdoor ampitheater, a war memorial for valiant veterans, benches under shade trees, grass to picnic and play on, and the Ten Commandments on display.

The next day, I ran from our little motel to the center of town and was pondering the lights from the previous night and celebrations of the Christmas season. As I neared the town center, I remembered a lesson from sixth grade. Throughout history towns and villages were built so that the temple or other place of worship is at the center. The teacher asked us why we thought they did that. Why wasn't the market at the center, or the financial institution, or some other business or group of businesses, or a bunch of densely-packed residences? Most of the class answered that it was like a metaphorical focus or center to their lives. I came up with a unique answer, that if the city or fortress were attacked, then the temple would be the last building to get destroyed.  And if by some miracle a resurgence occurred, they could save the temple before the enemy pillaged or tore it down too.

So all of this was going through my mind as I ran down center street USA.  And I wondered a couple things: what happened to the classic setup of a town, why our town centers became shopping malls, and secondly, where was my own, inner center?  What is the focus of my life?

Running does that to me, it gets me to reflect on my own life.  I reflect on how things are going.  Things that need changing.  Things that need adjusting.  Things that are just right. I feel gratitude as I leap over downed trees or across streams.  I feel love for my family, both my running family and my actual family.  As I run through the forest, across the field, or along the river, I feel my heart burst with gratitude for nature and all of Creation.  That is my center: running, God, and family.

So the next question: is my life in alignment with my center?  Another question for another day.

Call Me Grace

My running club recently and secretly announced a new transgender policy. "Announced" is a strong word, perhaps "quietly posted" would be a better term.  I didn't know about it until I went to register for their annual 100-mile race. They had tucked the new policy on the registration page right under the male vs. female indication selection. The club president had sent me a couple emails a couple months prior, but I had heard nothing back, just that they were going to do something. Instead of actually coming up with something on their own, without much research, they decided to adopt the IOC policy which was adopted for the 2004 Olympics in May 2004 and basically requires three things:

1. Legal change of gender
2. SRS
3. Two years of HRT after SRS

So now, I feel that I have to disclose that I'm transgender to everyone. I feel like my privacy has been rudely invaded, and I have no choice other than to just accept it. It sucks. Really sucks.

Well, I came out to my club publicly on the Facebook group page.  The response was overwhelmingly positive and supportive.  Here's my post:

You can call me Grace.

I should have posted this a long time ago.  I'm not one to put myself out there but am completely open and honest if you can get me talking.  And I apologize for the length.  Basically, I'm transgender, and this is the gist of my story.

There's probably been a lot of talk and rumors surrounding me, especially since September when I ran Big Schloss as a female.  So this is my attempt to open the lines of communication and hopefully resolve any misunderstandings and misconceptions.  I'm grateful for all the support and acceptance I've felt from so many club members.  For a long time, I debated even registering as female and thought I'd be content staying in the shadows and running as male.  Then last year, I ran Boston as female.  At such a large event, I was one of thousands and nobody seemed to notice the gender change.  So I went along on my happy way.  For the small, local races I continued registering as male.  I guess that I wasn't ready.  I was content to be female on Strava, gender-neutral on Facebook, and female as passively as possible.  Now though, I'm ready.

My first run with the club was MGM 2013. I had moved from southwest Arizona the year before and had finally found the club.  From Hemlock, I started at the back of the pack and slowly made my way along the river.  I remember passing a few "seasoned" runners (probably the likes of Tom Corris, Gary, Clapper, etc.) while on the rocky section (little did I know that these were mere pebbles compared to the infamous rocks of MMT).  I hadn't cut my hair for over a year, so it was getting pretty long.  From behind they called me Anna (name changed; she's an amazing runner from the area) and said something about me being a fast, real runner.  I just smiled at both comments and continued down the trail.  When I ran Masochist the next year, the same thing happened - they thought I was the lead female at all the aid stations.  Anna (as I understand/remember it), caught up to me near the turn-around at Catoctin because she thought I was female.  (Then, she left me in the dust, finishing nearly 15 minutes ahead of me.)  Part of me rejoiced at being seen as female, but another part of me yearned to register in races and run as such.

When I married my wife over two years ago, she knew everything.  We agreed that together, we'd find our path and exactly how my transition fit into it.  She had never had her own kids, and we both wanted that.  So when the time was right, we worked it in.  Many times I have asked why I was born with this body.  Every time I've asked, I've felt that only I could father these three beautiful boys.  Only my genes.  As much as I want to be a mother in every way, I can't.  I am these children's father.  I am proud to be their father and rejoice in the title of daddy.  Sure I'd like to be mommy, but that just ain't gonna happen.  And I won't ask them to call me that either.

I grew up in a conservative and very-sheltered Mormon home.  Things like this weren't talked about.  So I learned to shove everything down, deep inside.  Eventually it blew up, and at about the same time, thankfully, I found ultra- and trail-running.  My life would be very different  and dismal without running in it.  Like the great Emil Zatopek, I have three great loves: God and country, my family, and running.  I embrace, support, and actively participate with my church even though it is struggling with how to handle this part of me and of others like me.

As for my name and pronouns.  You can call me whatever you want.  Crazy, fast, mental, weird, etc.  That is your right.  That is part of this great country.  I avoid confrontation almost at all costs.  That is why I haven't been vocal about my new name and preferred gender.  I do prefer you call me Grace and use female pronouns.  I won't have an anxiety attack and start demanding you apologize or change your beliefs if you or someone uses male pronouns or calls me by my old name.  For those that want to use my preferred pronouns, I understand it may take some time, and no apology is needed.  After all, that has been my name for over three and a half decades, and I'm somewhat attached.

There's a lot more to my story.  Ask me about it some time on a long run, and we can really get into it if you want.  Or feel free to ask me any questions, and I'll most likely answer them, perhaps in private.  Or send me a private message, and I can hook you up with my blog.

Happy Trails,
~Grace

"Are You a Survivor"

The race director asked me, "Are you a survivor?"  I didn't know how to respond but was humbled and grossly effected.

It was the day after my last day working as a civilian with the Army.  Saturday morning, I went on my run and decided to visit the post where I (previously) worked and run the Breast Cancer Awareness 5k that the hospital was hosting.  I had seen a flyer the day before and thought why not.  So I ran the 4-5 miles from my house to the starting line.  Right as I got there, the gun went off.  So much for registering.  The race was free, so I just jumped in and followed everyone else.  As I picked up the pace, other runners quickly fell behind me until eventually, at about two miles, I was in the lead.  I was feeling great, running at about 6:15/mile.  Not my fastest, but pretty good.  I finished with a time of 18:30, a good minute ahead of the next runner.  The race director came up to me and asked my name.   I noticed she was writing my name down as the lead female winner.  I didn't object and had a huge smile on the inside.

For the next hour or so, I stuck around and ran around the parking lot waiting for the rest of the runners to trickle in so that they could start the awards.  I grabbed some of the free food (the berry applesauce packets were delicious), drank some water, and got another six miles added to my workout.  They took a podium picture of the top three, with me in the middle.  Not long after that, the race director grabbed me and asked if I was a survivor.  Meaning, a survivor of breast cancer.  I felt the emotions surge.  At first I was elated she saw me strictly as a woman and had no idea that I am transgender.  Then I felt the gravity of the situation: other women battling a deadly disease and surviving.  I felt honored but also like I was mocking them.

Pinhoti 100

Pinhoti was a beautiful course.  I remember being super-elated around mile 30.  I was making good time, the weather was manageable, and the course was gorgeous.  Around mile 70 though, my right leg started hurting.  At about mile 52, I had also slowed down because of the fog.  That's when the winning female passed me. :(.  There was a LOT of road/fireroad running.  There was so much, next time I'll wear road shoes for the entire course, even coming off of Big Bald.


Aid station volunteers were great.  Unless it involved accurate distance to the next aid station.  At least three times, they told me the next aid station was one mile less than it actually was.  I don't know if it was intentional, but it was very annoying and frustrating.  The worst was coming from AS #15 Wormy's Pulpit at about mile 80.  They told me it was just over five miles to the next aid station comprised of first just 2 miles on the road and then a few on the trail down to Bulls Gap, AS #16.  Well, it turned out to be about 4 miles on the road (the whole time I was thinking I had missed the turn-off) and a couple miles after that.  I was PISSED.  It was cold, the rain had picked up again, and the wind made it even colder.  I was having trouble moving and was seriously concerned about hypothermia.  I was so scared, I even yelled for help a few times.  No response.  I eventually made it and besides being near hypothermic, my blood was boiling.  Erin helped me change clothes into something much warmer (I ditched both bra and heart rate monitor because the chafing was so bad), got me some food, and basically pushed me out the aid station.  As I was leaving, my right leg twinged.  I reached down, massaged it, and limped away one step at a time.

The final two aid stations are a blur.  By the time I got to the last one, the sun was up and spirits were returning.  Here they told me only 5 miles to the finish.  Well, it was over SIX!!  And almost all of it was road which my feet, knees, and legs abhorred.


Here's almost everything I ate:

• about 4 oranges
• 2 monster sandwiches (2 eggs, 2 full pieces of bacon, half avocado, costco torta roll, 4 slices of thick oscar-meyer mesquite turkey)
• about 4 pb&j sandwiches
• 15-20 scoops of TailWind
• 1 cup ramen noodles
• 1 cup loaded tomato soup - super delicious at AS #14 The Pinnacle, mile 75
• 1/2 peanut butter cliff bar
• half costco torta roll
• half chicken quesadilla
• 1 cup ginger ale
• 1/2 small can ginger ale
• 2 small pieces of ginger
• 2 scoops of Costco whey protein (27 g protein / serving)
• water, lots of water
• 4+ scoops Heed
• avocado
• small serving sweet potato
• potatoes with salt (about 1 medium total)
• 2 pickles and some pickle juice
• 0 cookies
• 0 gummy bears
• 0 gu/gel
• 0 bananas :(

Equipment

• Cheap Wal-Mart disposable poncho from start to first aid station and again later next morning
• Asics Kayano 20 from start to AS #7, Bald Rock, about 38 miles with Asics socks.  Worked great.  Felt a little movement and beginning of blisters.
• La Sportiva Raptor from AS #7 to AS #13, Porter's Gap, about mile 68 with puma socks.  They were great going down from Bald Rock but otherwise KILLED my feet, especially on the roads.
• Brooks Cascadia with green compression socks to the finish.  I think the socks are what hurt my right leg.  I suspect that they were pulled up too far and bruised the tendons on the back of my knee deep in the calf muscle.  These shoes were pretty much new and definitely too small.  Both of my big toes will lose their toenails as a result and a few other toes will lose theirs too.  Again, they were great except on the road and that they're a little small.
• I started with my blue/green Marine Corps Marathon Brooks Volunteer shirt but it seemed to soak up water and caused most of the chafing on my back.  So I switched it early on for the good ol' blue VHTRC short-sleeved shirt.  Later I donned one of my MMT shirts and finished the last 15 miles with the blue double-layer Patagonia MMTR shirt.
• I wore my new Asics shorts from the ATM team the entire time.  Chafing between my legs was minimal.
• Bag Balm did wonders.  I applied some between my legs early on but don't think I needed it. Then at the Bulls Gap AS, Erin put some on my back where the chafing was real bad.  It did wonders and really helped!
• A headlamp in the fog was almost worse than no headlamp. So I grabbed one of my bike lights from my bag as soon as I saw Erin and held it most of the way.  At times I used both the handheld and the headlamp to light my way.  I also used the portable battery/light after I had charged my watch.

Recovery
They had showers across the street from the finish.  The water was cold, so feeling more irate, I skipped the shower.  Then we headed back to the breakfast near the finish line.  It looked disgusting (fake scrambled eggs, warmed-up biscuits and gravy, and some bacon), so we just left with my shiny new buckle.  We found a delicious vegan restaurant in Chattanooga using the Happy Cow app.  The food was exactly what both my mouth and stomach needed since my mouth gets real sensitive if it has had too many carbs and sugar.

Lessons Learned

• organize drop/crew bag.  Label bags with aid station to minimize time at aid station and make it easier for crew.
• eat towards the end of the race too
• start even slower
• I can walk pretty fast.
• have a handheld light ready in case there's fog
• get a new hydration pack with more front storage
• The deluxe avocado, egg, bacon, turkey sandwiches taste great but are heavy to carry.  Cut in half or try some wraps instead.
• spend less time at aid stations
• ask about the type of running surface; I think a pair of road shoes would have done just fine on the whole course

  

  The start!  With my very fashionable rain jacket.

  
  

  

  Coming in to the 2nd aid station

  
  

  

  Boardwalk on top of the mountain.
  It was all foggy when I got here.
  Supposedly the view is amazing.

  
  
  
  
  

  

  Looking at my watch, pumped legs, wearing the cheap Marine Corps and carrying my rain jacket

Day 24 - Favorite LGBT Artist

24 - Who is your favorite LGBT actor/musician/director/artist etc and why

I'm not up on famous people and whether they're LGBT or not.  And it would be someone who doesn't advertise that they're LGBT.  Someone who just goes about their business.  Someone humble, hard-working, family-oriented, patriotic, etc.  Someone who constantly strives to help and lift those around them.

It's a Boy!

Our baby was born on July 31.  He weighed 7 lbs, 12 oz and was 20.5 inches long.  My wife was past her due date and went in for another weekly checkup with an ultrasound.  The doctor was concerned that his abdominal growth had slowed down in relation to the rest of his growth.  So she had us come in for induction.

My wife picked me up from work on Tuesday around noon.  But when we got there, there were no rooms available for us.  We lounged for a few hours in the waiting room until finally a room was clean and ready.  Then we waited for a few more hours before our first of many midwives came in. She suggested a plan for induction and how we would proceed.

They administered first Cytotec then Cervidil to try and get things going.  And Pitocin.  The contractions did increase in both intensity and frequency, but not enough.  Her cervix never came down and was stuck at 6-cm dilation.  But her water did break!  After many hours of contractions, little Trystan must have gotten impatient since his heart rate decreased during and after contractions.  So they decided to pull him out via caesarean section.

We reiterated that dad (since mom couldn't) would hold the baby skin-to-skin as soon after the delivery as he was ready.  Our original plan was to have mom hold him on her chest with cord intact before cutting his lifeline and cleaning him up.  But after they yanked him out, they cleaned him up, swaddled him in a blanket, and handed him to me.  Totally not what we asked!!! It really irritated me that they didn't listen to our request.  I felt that the nurse who had that shift was really annoying and inexperienced.  So after holding him for a few minutes, I got the nurse to unwrap him and put him inside my shirt.  Finally!  And oh so wonderful!

Taking his vitals.

First holding him.

Holding him skin-to-skin inside my small shirt.

Looking up at me with those beautiful, curious eyes.

Autistic big brother meeting him for first time.

Another big brother. :)

First set of stairs. #FutureUltraRunner

Boston and MMT

It has been a difficult three months.

Boston was a huge disappointment. For most people, my time was outstanding - I even qualified for next year. But for ME, it was horrible. My final time was nearly 15 minutes slower than last year. The last 5 miles were very difficult. Yes, it was an unusually cold year, it rained, the wind blew, but cooler weather is better for running. Here are excuses/reasons why I didn't run as well, or rather, lessons learned:

• I wore the wrong shoes. Going for lighter shoes, I used my trail NB 610 shoes.  I'll keep them off the pavement from now on.
• A tendon on the interior of my left leg near the knee has been having issues for a few months.  It was so bad that I took a couple weeks off and rode my bike.  The rest didn't help much, so I kept running on it. It feels okay now, a few months later.
• My training was inconsistent.  Sure, I think I had more miles for the 3 months prior to the race than last year, but a lot of the miles were "junk miles".  And my weekly mileage was all over the place.
• I'm sleep-deprived.  Since I started teaching a precalculus class at the local community college, my time has been a hot commodity. To keep up my training, I cut out some sleep.
• The drive up to Boston zapped my energy.  Driving through New York is very exhausting and stressful.  And the tolls were outrageous!
• My socks were too big, and I got blisters on the bottom of my feet.
• It was cold, wet, and windy.
• I wasn't ready mentally either.

In Pain

After I crossed the finish line, my body temperature plummeted.  But the warming blankets were after the water bottles, medals, and other goodies.  So 300 yards later, I finally got a blanket.  I could barely walk.  I was shivering uncontrollably.  I tried toughing it out and walked about 200 more yards before they put me in a wheel chair and took me to the medical tent.  Once there, they checked me in, disapprovingly checked the back of my bib for medical alert information - it was blank because someone didn't fill it out... ;) .  Then they got me a bag of hot water, warm towels, and layers of blankets after stripping me down to my bra and undies. Talk about awkward!  My temperature was about 92.5 degrees.  So naturally, they kept me there for a while.  While I was laying there on the cot, they practically poured a couple gallons of warm Gatorade down my throat.  My core temp eventually returned to normal, and they released me.  I was in the tent for over an hour!

Wet, Cold, and NOT Happy

My wife was naturally very worried and had been looking for me, dragging the two boys around with her in the cold.  And did I mention, she was 6 months pregnant?  But all was good, I went direct to one of the meeting areas and found her there.  She had barely gotten there, so it was good timing.

The day before, we met a running friend of mine whom I hadn't seen since my move from Arizona.  We went to church together and then picked up our packets and had the pre-race dinner together.  It was real nice to chat with him and his new wife.  I had thought we might meet up after the race, but it was too cold, and I wanted to get going ASAP.  So instead of waiting for them, and after the little reunion with the family, we made our way to the subway.  Boston's transit system is way better than DC's.  It's cheaper and the fees are much easier to understand - one flat rate per trip regardless of distance.  Their monthly passes are much more reasonable too.  We chatted with locals and had a good time.  Even though we had already checked out, the hotel still shuttled us back to our car.  Before leaving the hotel though, we grabbed some hot chocolate from the lobby.  It tasted so good!

Then we hit the road which isn't such a smart thing to do right after a race.  I've never been so sore, not after any of the 50-mile races or even after the Massanutten Mountains Trail 100-miler last year.  Granted, those runs were all on trails and at a slower pace, but you'd think a short 26.2 miles wouldn't phase me.  It was so bad, I couldn't sleep (very well) for a few nights.

So Boston was on Monday.  On Friday, I had my blood tested for ongoing hormone treatment and monitoring.  The endocrinologist had appointed herself as my primary physician and so had ordered a diabetes screening test (Hemoglobin A1c) and cholesterol levels in addition to the regular blood platelet counts (CBC), comprehensive metabolic panel, and hormone levels.  As expected, the enzymes (AST and ALT) that test for decreased liver function were abnormal.  They get elevated not only when the liver is struggling but when muscles are doing extensive repair work - like after a hard race.  The same thing happened when I had my blood work done a day following Ragnar.  So that didn't worry me.  But what did worry me, was the Hemoglobin A1c results. I'm pre-diabetic.

There, I said it.  I'm diabetic.  (I'm having trouble accepting that fact, much less embracing it.) So what do I do now?  Lose weight?  I can't or I'll truly be skin and bones.  Exercise?  Some might say I exercise too much at about 10 hours per week.  So I'll have to change my diet.  Throughout my life, I've had the luxury of not having to worry about what I eat.  I've always eaten whatever I wanted.  That's great, except that my sweet tooth directed most of my diet.  So I persuaded the doctor that I didn't need medication, that I'd work on my diet first before even considering that drastic measure.  (I don't like any medication and would drop the estrace and spironolactone if I could.)  So, for the past couple months, I've been trying to cut out sugars and ease back on carbs in general.  Last week, we took it a step further and have been easing our way into a Paleo diet.  I'll see in a few weeks what the results of my efforts are with another round of blood work.

Next on my calendar was MMT.  I ran it last year, and except for the last 30-ish miles, I did great.  This year, I just didn't have it in me to run those same 30 miles at the end that I trudged through last year.  So I dropped at the 70-mile mark.  And here are my excuses for dropping:

• I wore the wrong shoes.  At the New River Trail 50K last October, I earned a pair of La Sportiva Raptor shoes for winning the race.  Prior to MMT, I had run in them quite a bit and loved the superior traction.  But they were brutal to my feet on longer runs.  My feet simply need more padding than what they provide.  So I put different soles in thinking that would help.  It didn't.
• My left knee was still bothering me.
• My training was still inconsistent.  Sure, it was only a month since Boston which doesn't give much time to properly prepare for a 100-miler.
• I need lots more sleep.  Getting by on 5 and 6 hours per night eventually snowballs into a disaster.
• Mentally, I wasn't ready.  I simply didn't have that resolve to finish that I had last year.
• My crew (my wife) was now 7-months pregnant.  She was just as tired.
• My knees hate downhills.  From experience (last year), I knew I had to work on the downhill running to help alleviate the stress and amplified forces put on my knees.  So I borrowed some trekking poles.  They helped but were somewhat of a hindrance from having to carry them.
• It was a hot, humid day.  Almost record-setting hot.
• I had the wrong shirt on.  It did a very poor job at wicking away sweat and moisture.  Instead, it collected all of my sweat.  And it is too big for my lithe body.
• My braided hair chafed my neck.
• I ran too fast during the heat of the day.  If I were smart, I would have taken it a lot easier until it cooled down at night.
• It rained the last 10 miles that I ran.  Last year it rained the day before leaving the trails full of water.  The nightmarish prospect of running in water for 30 miles frightened me.
• I HATE rocks.  MMT is known for it's overabundance of rocks.  Rocks of all sizes.  Some have to be scaled and crawled over.  Some are hidden on the trail just barely out of sight and just barely big enough to trip you.  Experienced runners of the area counsel younger folk like me to "embrace the rocks", to dance through them.  No thank you.  I'm not a dancer and much less an embracer of inanimate objects, especially of hard, unforgiving, and immovable ones.  
• I didn't have a pacer.  Last year I was lucky enough to get someone else's pacer (they didn't show).  I had been prepared to run solo.  And last year, I don't think it would have made any difference.  I don't feel he helped me finish.  That may sound cocky and rude to him, but I really believe that I would have finished in the same time or maybe even faster.  He didn't push me.  That said, I am grateful for his companionship during the wee hours of the night.
• Supposedly, my blood says I'm diabetic.  I don't believe it.  The jury's still out on that.  But I do know that I struggle to get energy from food and keep enough energy in me (look at how I crashed at Boston).
• Boston threw me off, mentally.  I had a mini bout of depression from performing so horribly.
• and the list goes on

All in all, there were a lot of lessons learned from both races.  Sleep more, use the proper equipment, and somehow get back to enjoying the experience.