Wednesday, September 19, 2012

On to the Ultras...with Heart Problems

This year saw an increase in my running. More running than I've done my whole life. Distances up to 50 miles...at one time. The ultramarathons. Any distance longer than a marathon is considered an ultramarathon, but the majority of these races are 50k, 50-mile, 100k, 100-mile.

I never thought I'd be one to care about running marathon distances. It was too long and after my first disastrous attempt, it didn't seem likely that I'd ever be running that distance or any distances again. But after my second time running the marathon distance at CIM, I wanted to run farther. I didn't feel that I pushed myself at all and wanted to see if I could go longer. I felt that I could have gone faster at CIM or ran farther at that pace.

After a short break after CIM due to injuries from improperly training for it, I spent most of the remainder of 2011 training for the ultra distances. To date, I've ran four 50k distances, a 50-miler and I'm signed up for another 50k this weekend and a 50-miler in October. My best 50k was my first ultra, the Way Too Cool 50k, up in Auburn. 4:28 and change. American River 50-Mile was my next ultra, finishing that in 7:53.

But then I started getting burnt out. At least that's what I think. I jumped in way too fast. Wanting to run longer and longer until my body just broke down. I felt sluggish, my legs were always heavy and I eventually eased up my mileage and didn't take training for races seriously. Then I started having some cardiac issues during the last 3 50k distances I've ran which have resulted in multiple cardiac tests that have yielded no unusual results thus far. With Coastal 50k happening this Saturday, I'm a little nervous about the cardiac issues returning. I was having an extremely fast heart rate (over 240 bpm) with palpitations followed by dizziness, near syncope, and this last time, some shortness of breath.

I am wearing a neat little device called the Zio Patch that is currently recording the electrical activity and rhythm of my heart as I'm writing this blog. So if anything were to happen during the race, I can press on the little button and it'll highlight the section for "them" to read and interpret..whoever those "them" may be. I suspect cardiologists. But who knows. Then if something does happened, they can see what that rhythm is and hopefully I can finally have something done to fix it.

Monday, September 17, 2012

DNF

Life is all about DNFs. Sadly, in my case, they've only occurred when it came to my education. I guess it's good that that's where they've only occurred. When it comes to physical activities, I'd like to think that I'm pretty capable of finishing what I set out to do. Whether it was a hike, backpacking trip, or a race, I've never had to quit any activities. At least, not because I was the one that was not able to finish. I've even battled running with diarrhea and stomach cramps from miles 18-31 of a 50-mile race and still finished...in under 8 hours.

But this past weekend was a different story. It was my first DNF. Fortunately, this didn't occur at any race. Sucks all the same. I spent the weekend with a couple buddies hiking up the Mt. Whitney Trail from Whitney Portal. The goal was to summit Mt. Whitney.

The plan was to head down late Thursday night/early Friday morning, pick up our permit and WAG (waste alleviation and gelling) Bags, then spend a night at the trailhead to acclimate to the elevation. Then we'd hike up to Trail Camp, and depending on how we felt at that point, either set up camp then summit with a day pack, or set up camp and spend the night acclimatizing to that elevation.

Well, we ended up arriving in Lone Pine early Saturday morning. Not quite ideal. We were able to pick our permit up out of the night drop box, but because we were one of the last two groups in to pick up our permit we were left with an empty box that should have contained a few WAG bags for us. More on that later.

We started our hike at the Whitney Portal just after 6 AM. After weighing our packs (mine was the heaviest at 32lbs) we headed up the trail. John was already feeling the altitude, stating that he was feeling short of breath. I was just plan exhausted from the 8hr drive, and lack of sleep. I think Sli was feeling the same. It didn't take long for the exhaustion to take its toll on me. Most of the hike was spent trying to keep my eyes open, walking straight, and fighting off some dizziness. Somewhere above 10,000ft elevation, I started to develop a throbbing headache.

We arrived at Trail Camp, 12,000ft elevation, just after noon. There was some question where the camp actually was because we passed by a lake that sat just below 12,000ft at 6 miles into the hike. We became too dependent on our Garmin watches. So after some welcomed rest while Sanders went to scope out the area, another backpacker came along and told us that Trail Camp was just over the ridge.

John was pretty exhausted and I was ready to puke when we found a spot to set up camp. It didn't look like we'd be summiting that day. So I pulled the 3-person tent out of my pack and started pitching it all the while trying not to throw up until I was done. I was determined to not show that the altitude was getting to me. After I was done, I sat for a bit, too nauseous to go filter water. I was hoping someone would head down to do it while I set up the tent, but feeling as bad as I was, I didn't expect anyone else to be moving around much. So after I eventually threw up, I grabbed the filter and headed over to the little stagnant pond to start filtering our bottles and hydration packs.

Filtering water became an issue too. My ceramic filter wasn't as clean as I thought it was but I was not in the clearest of mind to remove it to clean it to see if that would help. I did at one point pull it out, but all I did was look at it and determined that it was clean so I put it back in and tried to keep filtering water. John joined in and took over but was struggling as much as I was. I fell asleep on the granite while John was filtering one bottle. It wasn't until Sli, who was fairing the best at this altitude, came down and took over after making me a pot of spicy noodles. He asked if the filter was dirty, removed it, but instead of just looking at it like I did, actually scrubbed it. And sure enough, the filter was clogged. I headed back up to our campsite while Sli took over filtering duties and ate the noodles. Returning the favor, I boiled some water for his noodles, but he returned before I got to cook it.

After having some food and water, Sli and John took a nap inside the tent. I kept myself busy guarding our food from the marmots and walked around so I could get use to the altitude but mainly because I kept having to pee, a lot. So, it was mainly walking over to the same spot to relieve myself. At 12,000ft, you're well above the tree line and there aren't too many places to hide and do your thing.

After a short nap, the guys woke up and we decided to walk along the trail to see where we'd be heading at dark-o'clock in the morning. We were still deciding what time we'd actually start but wanted an early start so we could finish early and get back home by 8p. We headed back to our site, filtered more water, made dinner, sealed everything in our bear canisters, and headed to sleep before it was completely dark. I slept like a rock.

At 3a, my alarm went off. We were hiking up the 99 switchbacks by 3:30. I felt good initially except for the slight headache that I wasn't able to fully get rid of. But it wasn't long before the altitude got to me again. I was getting really nauseous and dizzy. John was struggling with just trying to get in some air and Sli was probably wondering why the two guys in his group were being such pansies.

After a brief pause to puke at 13,300ft, I continued leading the group up. It wasn't long until I had to stop to throw up again. I wanted to summit. I wasn't going to let a little nausea stop me. I picked my head up, and started up another switchback. This time the nausea got even more severe and my vision started to get a little fuzzy. My bright headland didn't seem so bright anymore. This is when the image of that warning sign at the trailhead of the hiker in a Stokes basket with rescuers all around her appeared in my head. I was not going to be that person. I wished the guys luck and told them that my condition was getting worse and had to get back down to camp. John who was still struggling said he was "torn" about heading up or returning to camp with me. I told him if it's just shortness of breath he's experiencing, he should just head up but go slowly. That was all the encouragement I could muster. I was beaten and would soon head back down to camp.

I stayed there sitting for a bit as I watched their headlamp/flashlight disappear then reappear as they rounded another switchback. Then their lights were out of site. I picked my decaying body up and started my lonely walk of shame back down to camp only stopping a few more times to throw up. I made the right decision this time although I still wished I was able to go farther up. I kept telling myself, "You have a bad case of altitude sickness. If you had kept on going up, you probably would have died." After puking for the third time on the way back down to Trail Camp, I stopped to take a photo of the east sky as dawn was starting to light up the trails. It was a beautiful sight. I finally accepted my fate and made my way back to camp passing several groups that were heading up. I arrived back at camp around 5:30, took a ginger chew, threw up once more and finally started to feel better.

I figured it would be several hours before the guys would return so I decided to climb back in my sleeping bag to squeeze in a quick nap. A little after 8a, I woke up and started to pack up. I figured they'd soon return so started filtering water for the hike down, took down the tent, packed everyone's bags, etc. and then sat and waited. And waited. I was excited to finally see them back at 10:30. Sli knowing that I was bummed about not being able to summit played it off as if it were nothing spectacular but was eager to share photos of the summit with me. The photos looked great. It was spectacular. And I wished I was able to summit. So, thanks for not rubbing it in my face.

After a short rest, the guys packed up the rest of their gear and we headed down. When we got to about 10,500ft, all was right with my body again. No more headache, no dizziness, no nausea. Sli and I were practically running down with our now 25+ pound packs. We waited for John back at the car, and then after a long drive with one nerve racking moment of nearly running out of gas in the desert, eventually made it back home.

As sick as felt, I would like to try it again. I definitely did put myself at risk attempting to continue to summit after throwing up so many times, but next time I would like to have a couple more days to acclimatize to the altitude for sure. And the WAG bags...well, I don't want to say that we packed our own poop bags. The poop bags that I keep in my car to pick up my dogs' poo when we go out. I don't want to say it because it may or may not have happened. I don't want to say that we used that in lieu of the WAG bags. I don't want to say that we pooped and picked up our poop with my dogs' poo bags and packed it out in a ziplock bag with the rest of our trash in our bear canisters because that may or may not have happened. I don't want to say any of that happened just so I can claim that I'm not sure why my bear canister smells "off" the next time you use it. But next time, I'm just going to swing by REI to buy my own WAG bags so I won't have to depend on other hikers/campers to take only the amount they're suppose to and leave one WAG bag each for the rest of the backpackers.