Psycho Wyco Race Update

What an experience. Whoever said Kansas is flat has never visited Wyandotte County Lake. This trail was roughly 40% uphill, 41% downhill and 19% flat. It was covered in snow. Packed snow. Slippery snow. For me this meant 40% of slow running, hiking, walking, gasping, crawling, and pulling myself up using whatever trees, ropes (yes, one tree had a rope tied to it hanging down to pull youself up) and even tiny saplings to haul myself up hill. It meant 41% of skidding, sliding, giggling, jogging, walking carefully, and even some sliding on my backside. There was 19% running, even if the snow was deeper, if it was flat, I could run. But let me take this chronologically, with pictures.
We visited the screw station before the start to have screws put in our shoes. A handful of 3/8" hex head stainless steel screws strategically placed added traction. And confidence.
The starting time was 8:00 a.m. and the first 100 yards were across a field. Ankle deep snow, about 170 people. Steve is on the right. I'm in the back, you'll never find me.
From there, we went into single track trail and immediate uphill. I was a little freaked out about what I had gotten myself into, uphill on slippery snow and some ice, but I told myself I paid for a good time, now it's time to have fun. And that's exactly what I did. There is a lot of jockeying for position at the front of the pack, but at the back of the pack, there were just a few of us. The first three miles were uneventful. Quiet, pretty, and fun. (And hard work. My calves were screaming.) Mile 3(ish) was the "Triangle Aid Station" for the Wyandotte Triangle portion of the trail. Thinking Bermuda Triangle? That's right. It weaved and wound and we just grabbed trees to stay on the trail as we maneuvered around the corners.
At this point, my race began to get more difficult. I missed a turn. There was a point where you came down a switchback and then took a hard right toward the Dam. I missed the right turn, and went up quite possibly the worst hill all day. (The worst, because it was totally unecessary). When I realized I wasn't seeing any pink ribbon markers on the trees, I knew I was in trouble. When I turned around, I didn't have any better idea where I was. So I headed back until I saw pink ribbon. But then, I couldn't figure out which way to go based on the footprints and so I waited for the next person to go by. (This will be explained later). This took about twenty-five minutes, the going the wrong way and finally figuring it out and getting back on track. I was still having a good time though. So back on the trail and looking at my watch, knew I was definitely behind where I wanted to be.
I left the 5 mile aid station feeling pretty good.
Somewhere between miles 5 and 6 I went down a hill that was very unexpected. I tried to run down hills, but with very quick short steps. This hill took over. My strides got longer and faster until I think they were about twelve foot strides and I was getting some big air underneath me. Starting to worry how I was going to stop at the bottom. Fortunately, there was a tree. So I'm hanging on to the tree catching my breath and giggling, when I hear behind me "oh crap" and a woman charges down the hill screaming "ahhhhhhhg". She managed not to bite it either. Gathering by the expletive the guy behind her let loose with, he wasn't so fortunate. Shortly after this hill, I came across the patch that would make me decide to stop after one time of the ten mile loop. The trail was about a foot wide, steep incline on my left, steep decline on my right, trail slanted slightly down, and was starting to get slippery. And I was feeling vertigo. I was leaning right, running off the trail, and afraid that the roll to the bottom of the hill, while it would be bad, wouldn't begin with trying to get back up it. When I finally passed this point, I came to a little hill that had a rope tied to a tree with knots in it so you could haul yourself up. The vertigo at mile 6 was scary. I figured at mile 16 when I was even more tired it might be dangerous. And that was my decision to not go back out. Not sure if it was the cold medicine, or that I'm just prone to motion sickness and vertigo, but I didn't want to experience it again.
From here on in I began getting out of the way of the fast people. Ten milers that had a later start were now catching me. My time was shot because of getting lost, and it wasn't going to be official because I was dropping back, so I just stepped aside for everyone.
And I finished the hardest ten miles of my life.

Steve finished the 50K, he did awesome. He didn't struggle with anything. He blew through the first loop at a 10 milers good pace, and he was conserving because he was planning on doing twenty more. He's gotten so much stronger. He did have an little stomach issue all day which affected his run a little, but the biggest impact was before he started last 10 mile loop he spent a little extra time in the aid station to calm his stomach down and take care of a few things he didn't want to take care of by the side of the trail. So that added 25 minutes. He was relieved that I didn't do the second loop. He knew it was hard, and he's waaayyyy stronger than me, so when he went back out, he at least wasn't worried about me. He would've supported me running it, but told me it was the right decision. I knew it was. I also found out several people missed the hard right turn at the dam, and that is why I saw footprints going both directions.
I'll finish with a few extra pictures, and this. If you want to know my overall feelings of this run, I plan to run it again next year and finish the 20, I'll just take motion sickness medicine before I start. And look at my face in the pictures. Yep, I loved it.






We both got hoodies, I got the little dog tag, Steve got the big medal and the 50K sticker. I was also number 5. First time I was single digit.