24-Hour World Championships 2013 (American Record)

Hi! Thanks so much for all of the love, support, and kind messages you've sent me in the wake of the 24-Hour World Championships. My race report can be found on irunfar.com this time, at this link.

Thanks!

Sabrina  :)

Pants Wearing Pants

portrait by a professional artist 8th grader

One of my students drew a picture of me every day for two weeks, so eventually, I started brushing my hair more nicely and making sure my outfits matched.

I entered the school building today to the tune of a 7^th grade boy telling his friends he beat me during warm-up laps in our morning workout. His back was turned, so as I walked by I added, “Mrs. Little is slower than my grandma,” and darted into the copy room.

These days, I am hanging out with a pretty rough crowd. They all wear neatly pressed uniforms, say things like "yes, ma'am," read in Latin, and have clean-cut hair. But don't be fooled: They are tough. They provide a new honesty to my life and training—letting me know when my diction is unclear or my cultural references have expired, informing me when I look happy or unhappy, drawing accurate sketches of my worst hair days, and having selective memories for the days they beat me in anything (sprints, repeats, out-and-backs, warm-ups, trips to the water fountains, or tying their shoes. Any victory will do.)

There are only a few weeks remaining before the World Championships in Steenbergen, Netherlands. There will be 350 runners on the starting line, with thirty-seven nations competing. I am excited, and I'm nervous. I am training as much as I can in quantity and depth, without compromising more important things—time with my husband and with several flocks of ducklings (my students and athletes).

(during a comma usage quiz)

Student: Mrs. Little, did you write this quiz yourself?

Me: Yes.

Student: And you’re running a lot these days?

Me: I guess so. Why?

Student: Oh, no reason. All of your sentences are about types of cakes, and I figured there must be some reason why you’re so hungry.

Texas has many lovable qualities:

1-the people

2-the food

3-the ubiquity of zoos and aquariums

4-the weather

It never gets too cold in the winter. In New Jersey winters, I would often triple-layer my pants to stay warm. A panoply of pants. A pant-oply. Texas has been more of a singular-pants venture, and there is greater freedom of movement when my pants are not wearing pants. My winter training was unhindered by unsustainable (for me) cold weather, so I didn't need to do as much mileage rebuilding at the beginning of Spring as usual.

I run 2-3 times a day (short runs). It's called prepositional running--when training has to happen before things, between things, and after things.

I lift twice a week, and do longer runs plus cross-training (basketball and tennis) on weekends. I rest when I need it. I train consistently, but (excepting weekends) each run is only between thirty minutes to an hour-fifteen, and often with my students. This means, I have to focus on pushing myself harder each time I’m out alone. My focused intent is to extend the length of my stride, which shrunk down a bit because of so many years on technical trails in minimalist sneakers. And I am perfecting the fine art of quick changes from school dress to running clothes in the stalls of the students’ restroom, using my prep period for speed work a few days a week.

It’s a bit of a hectic schedule, and sometimes I have to step back and breathe or take some time off. But my legs feel sharp, and I’m adjusting to a new life with great people in a wonderful place.

I am writing this in study hall. The last time I was inattentive in study hall, the 8^th grade girls put a magical pony sticker on my Physics book and named me Queen of all the Ponies. True story. Teaching 8^th grade is an exhaustion I have never known. I have run for 48 hours before, so this is saying something.

Two weeks and two days until I fly away to Steenbergen. David is coming with me. I can’t wait. Go U.S.A. and happy trails.

Bandera 100K: USATF National Championships 2013

Event: Bandera 100K: USATF National Championships
Race Results: 3rd Place, auto-bid to Western States
Weather: Perfect! (misty, humid, 66 degrees at the start) Never cold, never uncomfortable.
Race summary: There comes a time in every girl's life when she is hungrier for more cereal than the capacity of her stomach will feasibly allow. Today is my day for that. Mountain racing is exhausting.

 There is a metal bird on my mantlepiece--the perfect signifier of ultramarathoning? and...metal craft. 

On Tuesday, I told David there was a race in Bandera--not to ask if I could run it--more just to have something to say. David told me the timing was good for a race--before the semester got busy--so I emailed Joe Prusaitis (the RD). On Saturday morning, I was on a starting line. I don't actually know how to race a 100K.

It's a Port-a-Party.

I was standing in the port-a-potty line six minutes before the start, juggling apprehension, ebullience, and fatigue, and counting down the seconds until the gun. Olga King and several other familiar faces from different races passed by and greeted me, so I started to feel at ease. Two spots up in line was one of my student’s parents. We had a brief parent-teacher conference. I was wearing hot pink spandex, so I adjusted my posture to look academic. Unsuccessful.

I found a spot on the starting line alongside Meghan, Stephanie, Sandi, and Michele. Meghan is an ultra-hero of mine. I asked her, "Is this where we stand?" And she said, "Yes." So I can cross meeting her off of my to-do list because that was a successful exchange. The gun went off, and we trotted. It started in a muddy clearing that collapsed into a narrow trail system, which had us running single-file. 

I wasn't sure how I should pace myself over the distance or on rocky, mixed terrain. I did know that I was going a bit too slow in that single-file section and asked the man in front of me if I could pass him.

Sandi and I passed the man together. I was thrilled to finally meet her. We ran together for a bit, then had some back and forth with Stephanie. Liza was flying--spirited and chipper like usual. I was happy to see her and to catch up.

After the first quarter (15-16 miles), I felt warmed up and started to move more aggressively. David says my second quarter was 20 minutes faster than my first. Maybe the second section was easier. I never felt like I hit a solid rhythm all day, but I stayed engaged and enjoyed the experience tremendously. I love 100Ks, and I love love love the mountains.

Fauna: 

cows, horses, turkey vultures

Flora:

cacti, flowers, lichen, sotol

Sotol marks

Trail friends told me to "beware the sotol," but I forgot to google what it was before the race. Sotol sounds like something akin to lentil, and I fear no beans. Sotol are actually aggressive plants with high turgor pressure and serrated edges that approximate sporks at Wendy's. But sotol absorb so much water that they were also the least muddy parts of the course, and I missed them when they were gone. 

The first 50K loop was over. From carrying mud, my feet felt weak, and I stumbled a few times over the rocks because of Charley horses. The views were beautiful. The course had enough variation and visual interest to keep the experience lively all day. Race director, Joe Prusaitis, was well organized and kind, and aid station workers were attentive and helpful. I loved running Bandera. 

From the last major aid station, David ran alongside me as my pacer. We watched the sunset as we finished and made it in just as the darkness came.

I got third place! And I received a spot at Western States. Thanks so much for all of the encouragement. Thanks, RD Joe, Olga, DAVID, aid station workers, and friends. Thanks, DryMax! Your socks kept my feet dry all day even in the mud. Thanks, UltrAspire. It was a great adventure. I'll never forget it.

MetroPCS Dallas Marathon Report

Today we ran a marathon together because David is the best, and dreams come true. It felt like when you are five, and you’ve built a fort out of chairs and blankets. You want to show your mom what you’ve made. To your delight, she doesn’t just sit outside of it but crawls in to enjoy it with you, from the inside. That’s what David did. He came inside my fort of distance running and delighted in it with me. It was wonderful, and he was outstanding.

We ran the MetroPCS Dallas Marathon, which goes from downtown Dallas, through Highland Park, around White Rock Lake, and back. The race began at 8 a.m. with a releasing of the doves.

Actually, the doves were pigeons. They were fleeing the scene, agitated by our mass exodus: majestic pigeons emblazoning the occasion with significance and symbolism, providing us with palpable imagery of forward progress in downtown Dallas—taking flight as we did, dodging the Texas-shaped confetti, running through a long hall of port-a-potties, as we also did. It was very beautiful. It was bucolic.

Not to sound like a librarian, but marathons are noisier than ultras. There were drums, bands, clapping, and people talk-yelling. You are never alone. (This is not an existential claim.) And Darth Vader was standing next to bagpipes.

There was a Darth Vader.

He was standing next to bagpipes.

I almost missed him because he seemed natural in the crowd, alongside a banana-girl and Spiderman.

The miles ticked by. It was very fun. We talked a lot. I asked David if my mascara was running. He said no, but it was a trick question because my whole self was running, eye lashes included, and I wasn’t wearing any mascara. I liked having someone to talk to. One time, late in an ultra, marking a decline in cognitive lucidity, I invented apple juice. This apple is so delicious. If only there were some way to extract its fluid so that I would not have to chew. And no one was there to tell me that it already existed. It was neat to have conversation while we ran in stride, dropping Gatorade cups on each other’s sneakers and dodging other runners.

 

When you finish, you wear aluminum foil blankets similar in texture to the wrappers that Pop Tarts and other snack foods come in. Can we have a moment of silence for the Twinkie?

I wanted to get David’s perspective as a first-time marathoner and include it here, but he is writing a paper. Therefore, I created a Mad Libs and have his responses recorded below, wholly undoctored.

I, David, confirm that this Mad Lib accurately captures the substance of my experience in the Dallas 

(your name)                                                                                                              (town you grew up in)

Marathon.

To summarize my first marathon, it is the most Sabrina event I have ever encountered. I count it among

                                                                   (synonym for best)

my favorite things, including reading books and Sabrina. My wife, Sabrina, said that it would be fun, 

                                                                     (something you love)   (name of other person in this room)

and it was inarguably the best. My favorite part of the race was White Rock. I had wonderful company

                               (antonym for horrible)                                 (part of the race) (synonym for awesome)

and enjoyed the release of mockingbirds at the start. Will I be back to run another? Yes, I’d like to run 

                                            (type of bird)

these for eternity because long runs are probably a lot like heaven. 

              (synonym for forever)

                    –David Little, first time marathoner and sold for “eternity” (an official quote)

It's been a great day. I've got an awesome husband.

UltraCentric 24-Hour

Race: UltraCentric 24-Hour (Texas 24-Hour State Championship)

Race Results: First place overall, male and female. Approx. 135-136 miles (67.75 laps).

Race Summary: Sometimes, when farmers domesticate goats, they grind down their facial horns because goats are intractable, so the goats are left with raised stumps on their foreheads. I have one now, but it’s a bruise from my headlamp pressing against my cranium while I ran because life is complicated.

Course: Unlike other 24-hour road events, this course is distinctively not flat. It is sinusoidal, like a soup bowl. The road is also cracked and crinkly, like bran cereal. 

Ate: Turkey sandwiches, chicken burrito, Honey Stingers, Shot Bloks, Fig Newtons

Social Timbre: Conversational for the first 20 hours, but then people started running out of things to say.

Race Day

UltraCentric is a race event in Grapevine, Texas, with offerings from 6 to 72 hours. It is the nation’s oldest multiday, and it serves as the Texas 24-hour state championship.

On the starting line, I felt joyful and almost relieved to be in a race setting again—free to be outside and to compete. I visualized the day ahead. I hugged David goodbye, like I was going on a journey—as though I were Tom Sawyer and he was Aunt Polly, and I’d not be coming home for dinner.

Dan Rose introduced himself just prior to the start, and we became fast friends. He was light-hearted and fun. It was an exercise in nostalgia as we caught each other up on the lives of shared friends. We ran shoulder to shoulder for the first 14 miles before splitting off.

With Dan early in the day

I was crewed by David and his parents (Kaky and Louie), my win-laws. They kept me fed and encouraged all day. Kaky held out turkey sandwiches like batons, so I didn’t have to break my stride to eat.

100

2 4 6 8 10 12 14 16 18 20 22 24 26 28 30 32 34 36 38 40 42 44 46 48 50 52 54 56 58 60 62 64 66 68 70 72 74 76 78 80 82 84 86 88 90 92 94 96 98 100 miles.

Just after 12:20 a.m. (15 hours, 20 minutes into the race), I hit 100 miles. It felt unforced and was an encouraging benchmark for November. I paused for a 100-mile dance. The bar is not high, but my dance moves were not significantly worse than if I’d not just run 100 miles. “You dance like a dinosaur,” my students say—not as a euphemism for the elderly but in comparison to a Tyrannosaurus.

The night was cold. There was a biting cross-breeze in the gully of the course (where there were bodies of water on either side), so David gave me sweatpants. I told him I thought I was falling asleep, so the next pass through, he handed off a small bottle of coffee. 

Eight miles later, David went to sleep in a little tent. Left to my own devices, I floundered to self-entertain. I looked up into the giant Texas skies because Dan informed me there would be a meteor shower, and astronomy class was the best part of college. Unfortunately, we were about 20 miles away from DFW Airport, so nightfall was punctuated with airplanes, not astronomical wonders.

Unraveling

The night was silent. One man bobbed along singing out loud to his iPod, but I'm not sure he knew he was doing that. The timing people had long ago departed to get some sleep, and many of the aid station workers were napping. I suddenly became exhausted. I drank another small bottle of coffee and ate a few Honey Stingers, but it was no good. I was 10-12 miles ahead of the closest racer and had little competitive impetus to remain engaged, so I just started drifting...

I began to play this game where I would allow myself to close my eyes for 5 seconds, just as long as I kept running, and then I’d make up the speed over the next stretch. But one time, I closed my eyes and they didn’t open. I slept-ran into a bush. Almost as soon as I had struck it, I was wide awake but demoralized.

I ran back to the start/finish area and sheepishly approached David's tent, the way you do when you are five and have to wake your parents up to say, "Mom, Dad, it seems my bed is wet. It wasn't me of course, but whoever is responsible for this has fled the scene." 

I told David about the bush and the 5-second nap-runs, and he let me come in for a power nap. My legs seized in the cold, but I was able to sleep for a bit. Every time I opened my eyes, I could see long shadows moving against the lights of headlamps stretched over the side of our tent. "I see men like trees, walking." I remained in there for about 50 minutes. I emerged fresh and started bounding up and down the course. My lead barely disintegrated, but the chance to improve upon my PR did. I am disappointed in myself for that.

I ran past Dan, and he motioned for me to join his group. He (the race's male leader) had somehow used his charisma to charm the second and third runner to form a merry band of marchers. Hilarious. They ran half the route and speed-walked the other half, laughing and enjoying each other's company. I declined and continued to run. Time passed, and his band continued to add group members. It was a counter-movement. 

Sunrise came. It was breathtaking. The world woke up. We bobbed along. 

(The sunrise got in the way of this photo of me, but if you squint, you can kind of ignore it.)

With race places locked, David walked the final part of the race with me. Dan and I won our genders, and we were gifted with the option of either a 1 oz. American eagle gold coin or its current market value in cash.

Post-24 Hours, waiting for the wheel to track final "partial lap" mileage.

Thanks RD Robert Tavernini for a great event. Thank you UltrAspire and DryMax socks for your sponsorship and support, and thank you Little family for crewing me! It was the best. I had a wonderful time.

Next up: The Dallas Marathon with David. I can't wait.

Adults Rarely Sleep in Spandex

Photos by Lauren Shannon

When David and I were engaged, we read a lot of books about marriage. Many of them had case studies about how marriages can suffer--moody wives, husbands who work too much, differences of opinions about raising children, and philosophical conflicts about whether Kant or Hegel better accommodates a theology of sin.

The last one I made up.

There are no books for philosophers who are preparing for marriage, so I'm going to write one. It will be called No Refutations at the Dinner Table: A Practical Guide for Married Philosophers afloat in the Noumenon at Supper Who Accidentally Espouse the Views of the Philosopher They Are Currently Reading and Talk to Each Other Like They Are Foes Responding to One Another within the Intellectual History when They Actually Love Each Other and Like Eating Dinner Together, by Sabrina Little.

And though we searched through the marriage books, there were also no case studies shedding light on what to do when your World Championship is the same week as your wedding.

Do you go?

Does that mean you have to carb load on your wedding day?

Do they make wedding dresses out of compression fabrics?

Is it cool if I lace our wedding cake with electrolytes and proteins?

Is it okay if after we say "I do," we jog down the aisle to keep my legs fresh and then you drive me to the airport so I can go fly to Poland where I can achieve my life-long goal of representing the United States by running in a paved circle for 24 hours?

I decided not to go. I wanted to be fully present at the wedding, not forward-looking. And since I've already qualified for the 2013 team, I'll be okay. So here is my race report.

Race Report:
Race Name: Marriage
Race Results: Everybody wins. Name change.
Significance: permanence, be-husbanded
Amount of Gatorade: zero cups
Hair status: straightened it so that we could put curls in it because being a girl is complicated
Complexity: I didn't know if I was going to fit into my wedding dress because I had my final fitting 2 days after I ran for 24 hours at BOMF. (This happens to every bride.) I was still swollen because I'd worn the wrong sneakers, so I had some elephantine qualities. The fitting of the race sneakers had been incorrect, so my feet were too cut up for me to wear heels while having it hemmed. But even though I was almost like an elephant, I was also still dehydrated--desiccated like a raisin--so it probably balanced me out. The dress still fit. I'm the luckieeeeeesssst.



My next race will be the Ultracentric 24-Hour event in Grapevine, Texas in mid-November. I can't wait. Since starting this sport, I haven't gone this long without racing, so I am already itching for competition. I think this extended period of rest will serve me well. Until then, I am enjoying married life down here in Texas--teaching, coaching, and running.

Here is one thing I recently learned:

Adults rarely sleep in spandex.
(I mean spandex of the running variety.)

But I love to because:

Sleeping
Pants
Always
Need to
Decline
Evading
spandeX

I like your pajamas.

Cute pajamas.

Those are great pajamas, and I can tell that you have goals.

I'm not the authority on spandex, and probably not on pants. But I do set goals. I know that it is a shortcut to sleep in running clothes because it takes the guesswork out of your morning. If you're already wearing spandex, you have already made the decision to go running. Tip for success: Make proactive steps toward your goals when you're awake. Sleep in your spandex.

Happy married trails,
Sabrina

BOMF Lone Ranger 2012

I am wobbly and swollen today but also blithe and jaunty. If you saw me, you might think, "Wow, she doesn't look too great." But it's like that oft repeated adage: 

Never judge a girl by the swollenness of her legs. 

She might be blithe and jaunty. 

Results: 1st Place, 135.3 miles
Race Status: The worst one of my life.
Weather: Rain. When it eventually cleared up, I was already demoralized and soggy.
The glass is half full: I might have gotten all sweaty, but there'd be no way of knowing since I was drenched.

Ultramarathoning has allowed me to experience a lot of the world. It has brought me to many exotic places--like Huntsville and Philadelphia. The Lone Ranger was in Philadelphia.

I love the Lone Ranger 24-Hour, so when I was asked to return for the third year, it wasn't even a question. The race is easy-going, and the people are wonderful. The director, Anne Mahlum, is affable and attentive to her runners. Plus, she has a HUGE heart, and her races are fundraisers for Back On My Feet. You can read about the organization here.

Still, it was only two months after nationals, and these longer races demand longer recovery times. With other big races on the horizon, I hoped to approach the event more like a fitness test. If it felt reasonable on race day, I would aim to break my own course record because when I set it last year, I did poorly with time management...

(Last year, I got the giggles 126 miles into the race and worked on my modeling portfolio.)

David, Tala, and I drove up the day before so I could register and get my vitals taken. We crashed in a hotel that seemed more like a geriatric care facility than anything else. We were the only people under 80. The race is a late start, so after a leisurely Saturday morning, we reported to the course. It was raining when the gun went off. After a few laps, my dad and Barrett joined. Later arrived my brother, Teddy, and his girlfriend, Amanda---quite literally the funniest pair I have ever encountered.

Here is an exchange from earlier this year:

Me: What did you get Amanda for Valentine's Day?

Teddy: Nothing yet. I've been busy. I am going to send her a ham.

Me: (silence)

Teddy: The girl likes to eat.

Therefore, Amanda received a ham for Valentine's Day, four days late. She was just as thrilled as he anticipated. 

Teddy joined in and ran a lap with me. It was just like old times. With the same sensitivity in which he gifted Amanda on February 18th, he affirmed me in my athleticism. 

Teddy: The first thing I thought when I saw you run by was…

            …I am proud of you.

            …I love you.

            …I’ve missed you.

            …You've got giant arm muscles.

As the day proceeded, five other runners cycled in and out to pace me on the course. It was wonderful to meet them and so kind of them to do that. I enjoyed hearing their stories and learning about their interest in ultrarunning. It took my mind off of my stomach. 

I had a weak stomach. This is not a twist in the story. If I wanted to, I could make every race report about my stomach because it is always a mess. 

I wanted needed chicken.

People confuse ‘wants’ and ‘needs,’ but I really needed dry, skinless chicken. It became my commanding affection. David and Tala gave it to me in a Ziploc® bag with a twisty tie, and my heart melted into a thousand puddles. I have never felt so loved and cared for. 

Dad, me, David, Tala, and Barrett

My hands were secured within two hand bottle straps, so I had to open the bag of chicken with my face. I was still soaking wet from the five hours of rain earlier in the day, so I looked really pretty like a drowned rat with my face in a bag of chicken. I ran through a pack of tourists on a Segway tour and lifted my face from the chicken long enough to say, “Welcome to Philadelphia!”

Every 8.45 miles, along the front stretch of the course, we passed the staircase that Sylvester Stallone runs up triumphantly in the Rocky movies. It is apparently a popular place for brides and grooms to bring their wedding parties to have photos taken.

I still had my face in the chicken bag while I passed by one newly married couple, prepping for photographs. You're welcome, everybody.

If I’d had some extra time, I would have given them a toast: Sometimes love means the timely provision of poultry. May you one day experience the kind of love I have experienced today with my crew giving me this chicken.

I still felt awful. People kept passing by and asking how I felt, but I was trying to silence my inner life. In these situations, tell people how they feel. Create their reality. "You're doing awesome. You look great." Otherwise, you are suggesting they reflect upon the hard things. 

Without taking in enough food, my quads were weak. With about 5 hours to go, I decided to just hold my position---to not cede any of that ground and to finish conservatively---rather than blowing up or risking injury. It happened somehow. My crew was wonderful. The volunteers were great. David ran the final lap with me. It was the best lap. 

Thanks for all of the support! I hope to come back.

Lone Ranger through the years:

2010:

1st place, course record.

2011:

1st place, course record.

2012:

1st place, growth in self-knowledge.