Laurel Highlands 70 – How to Kill a Prius

Before Laurel Highlands 70.5.

I’ve been de-noobed!  Well, more like a thin layer of noob-onion has been peeled.

I got to pace a dear friend, Jennifer Cosco, during the…

Laurel Highlands 70 Miler

And Eric got to pace other dear friend, Loïc Bernard.

Jennybeanz.

Loïc

Jen and Loïc – Prerace interpretive dance. Some weird, post-apocalyptic piece I had never heard of…

Like WHOA. This was just the little looksie I needed into the world of ultras.  They should be called “sleepies.”  Cause, damn… Everyone gets sleepy!

Duh the runners get sleepy! Jen was on the trail for 18 hours! Read about her experience (and please forgive me for flipping you off in that picture).  Other runner homie, Loïc, 21 hours! Loïc actually recounted tales of falling asleep while running, only to be caught in the gangly arms of Eric.  Read about his experience– most of which he can’t remember!

See?  Poor guy just wants a NAP!

Enough about the runners. CREW get REALLY sleepy! It’s not easy lying around in the sun all day, watching runner after runner go by! Oh my goodness they were sweaty! And dirty! And everyone had huge staring eyes.  Like sea creatures who live in the deepest darkest waters.  Let me tell you about it.

Andrew gone wild.  Sleeping, of course…

And they pooped and peed all over.  They disrobed whenever they pleased.  They shoved cookies, chips and cantaloupe into their mouths AND their pants (for later).

Runners have pacers to distract them from what they are doing, to force them to eat and drink when they are sick of eating and drinking, and to catch/hug/spoon them.  During my time with Jen, we talked about our boyfriend/hubbies.  We compared and contrasted their beards, rated their cooking skills and made bets on how much and where they were chafing.

Beard vs. Beard.

When we tired of that topic (quite soonly), we moved on to “Why the FUCK am I doing this?!”  I tried to tell Jen that she needed to learn to brag a lot more, that it would make these events much more fun.  This is not her style – she is more of a DO-ER and less of a TALK-ER-ABOUT-IT-ER.  Though I admire her for that, I myself am an exhibitionist.  I will only run 70.5 miles so that I can unveil a new trail ensemble and then write a glamorous blog post about it.

I only hiked 11 miles that day.  It was really HARD.  Yes, I’ve been running A LOT (every damned day), but it didn’t help me at all.  I really don’t think I could have gone faster and the girl who had already done 46 miles before I got to tag along was kicking my ass.  I’d been told before that ultrarunning means lots of hiking, and my lack of hiking was showing in my performance.  I had planned to entertain the shit out of Jenn, but that didn’t really happen.

This is me as a pacer, full on cardiac arrest.

It was a privilege to be along for the ride.  I have developed a huge Ho-mance with this lady.  She is awesome.

Now, the story takes a twist for the worse.  I’m not proud of what’s to come.  But you must learn from my Noobness, so it’s all coming out.

I.  Killed.  My.  Prius.

We finally reached the damned aid station, called it a day-night-day and hobbled to the car with Andrew (homie who was crewing).  Andrew drove us in his Prius to my Prius.  I then started driving my Prius (with my precious sleepy cargo Jen) toward the finish where we were going to snooze and then cheer the boys into the finish.  I’m pretty sure my Mom is going to read this so I’m not gonna tell you how I barely stayed awake on this horrific drive.  As soon as we arrived at the party in the woods that was the finish like, we just crashed right there in our seats.  I turned the car off, but then “on”- the half-on where you can charge your phone but you’re not using fuel.  The ON where you’re draining your battery like a champ.

I woke to a completely dead car and a text from Eric.  “Where are you?  WE DID IT!”  I realized I had not only killed the Prius, but had failed to wake everyone up as I had assured them I would do.  We had all slept through Loic finishing SEVENTY POINT FIVE FREAKING MILES because I hadn’t woken anyone up.  I was very pissed at myself and of course projected it right onto Eric.  Not only did he have to run 24 miles with a hallucinating/passing out/reeking French man, but he also had to figure out how to jump a Prius with a Prius (which is just as sexy as you’re imagining).

The car was revived, all hands present or accounted for with one addition – a “handsome trophy” as advertised for those who completed the grueling 70.5 miles.  The artifact which was immediately brought to our level of class.

The Frenchman and his “handsome trophy.”

And all the sleepy kids finally got a good nap in.

After Laurel Highlands 70.5.