One day can change your whole life.
I’ve had lots of those days, but the one I’m referring to here occurred one year ago today … the day I ran my first ultra. Hence the goofy title of this post, which I came up with on Saturday on the way home from my long run in Bastrop. See, this Saturday was the Palo Duro trail race, where last year I ran my first 50K … and where I officially became an ultrarunner.
I have to agree with Jolly, that it’s hard to believe it’s only been a year. In that time, I’ve completed three 50K’s, ran one great 50 miler, and attempted (and sort of finished) a second 50 miler. Of course, there have been countless other, smaller moments along the way that have gotten me to this point. And so many other blessings that have come into my life as a result of this journey. But Palo Duro will always be special to me, and not just because it was my first ultramarathon. It’s also where I met Henry … so you can understand if I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for this particular race. As I said, one day can change your whole life. :-)
This year of ultrarunning has also presented its challenges and disappointments … getting sick during Bandera 50K, spraining my ankle pacing at Rocky Raccoon, having to drop out at Mile 40 of Grand Teton when I just couldn’t breathe anymore. But those challenges just make the successful runs that much sweeter, and provide the mental toughness necessary to get through the hard times that inevitably crop up during even the best of runs. And even though Grand Teton was a disappointment at the time, it has turned out to be a huge blessing in disguise. If not for that experience, I might never have found out what was actually causing my breathing problems, might never have realized that I don’t have asthma at all … and I am absolutely certain after the past two weeks of running with no inhalers that there’s no asthma there at all. All the breathing problems I have are because of the VCD.
So while I was reflecting on Palo Duro, and all that has come since, I experienced another small achievement this weekend. I’ve been a little concerned about how much I could actually ramp up my training while trying to deal with my various health issues. But this weekend, I ran 20 miles on Saturday, and another 10 (on some serious hills) on Sunday … with no meds, and few breathing issues. It was actually more than I had hoped to accomplish, and gives me great hope that I can successfully train for my next big goal … the Bandera 100K this January.
So while we’re on the topic, I wanted to post this article that I found, called Inside The Endurance Athlete’s Mind, that tries to explain how (and why) we do what we do.
According to the article, “Many endurance athletes have common personality traits … These traits include persistence, endless curiosity, a lack of fear when it comes to failure and a sense of boldness.” I’d certainly like to think that describes me, but I think the article does leave out one critical ingredient … I just love to run on trails. From the very first time I tried trail running, it made me feel like a little kid running in the woods … wild and free and goofy and determined, all at the same time. And so doing that for hours on end just seems like a privilege to me, not a burden.
The article goes on – in an attached slideshow -to break down some of the common traits of endurance athletes …
They’re Looking for a Greater Challenge – Endurance athletes tend to be people who seek greater challenges than the average person and like the idea of constantly exploring their mental and physical limits.
I can’t argue with this one. I don’t know if it’s true in the rest of my life, but one of the reasons I love ultrarunning, and why I keep attempting longer and longer distances, is because I derive enormous satisfaction from pushing my own limits, from seeing just how much I’m capable of accomplishing and withstanding.
They Think in Baby Steps – Focusing on finding the energy to just get through the next step helps them turn seemingly impossible tasks into manageable micro-goals.
This is soooo true, for every ultrarunner I know. It’s not “Okay, now I’m going to run 50 miles.” I don’t know anyone who can truly get their head wrapped around something that big. Instead, it’s just getting up that next hill, it’s just finishing that one training run, it’s just getting to the next aid station in a race. This is one of those mindsets that thankfully has carried over into the rest of my life, helping me to be less overwhelmed by the insanity of my daily life.
They Don’t Compromise - Endurance athletes know that if they compromise when it comes to training, they will pay for it during their events. Athletes use that knowledge to fuel their sense of discipline and commitment when they need it.
It’s true … training doesn’t stop for anything. I can try to work around other things in my life, but in the end, training takes precedence. It’s one of the reasons that many of my friends are fellow runners … they understand and share my philosophy. They get why I almost never go out drinking on a Friday night … not when I have to get up at 5 a.m. for my Saturday long run. It’s why I did my long run even when my mom was in town for the weekend this summer. It’s why last year during ACL I got up at 4 a.m. to go out to Bastrop to get in my long run before Jolly and I headed down to the festival. Training doesn’t just magically happen. You have to work at it, and it has to be a priority.
They Compete Against Themselves – While winning an event is always nice, endurance athletes often compete against someone more important than their peers: themselves. Many say the most memorable events are those in which something went wrong or they faced a major obstacle and still managed to cross the finish line.
Once again, I think they nailed it. I will probably never win a race, but that’s not the point. It’s about challenging myself, and reaching my own personal goals. And yes, some of the most memorable races are the ones where things fall apart – like Bandera last year, where I was recovering from a sinus infection, got sick to my stomach a couple hours into the race, and then got an entirely different infection in the middle of the race, and yet still managed to be the 12th place female finisher. Not the race I was hoping for, but very much a success in its own way.
They Embrace Failure – Unless you push yourself to the point of failure, you may never know how far you can go. Collapsing during a race, while never pleasant, can give athletes a chance to step back and analyze what went wrong and what they can improve on for next time.
I was all set to disagree with this one, until I read the explanation. But now I have to agree. Grand Teton was the best failure I ever had. As I already said earlier in this post and elsewhere, had it not been for that race – and the problems I endured there – I might never have found out why I actually couldn’t breathe. Each experience like that teaches me something else that I can use in my next race and moving forward with my training. It also teaches me to embrace my training … because a race is just one day, and anything can happen. So you can’t be too attached to any one race, or any one run. You have to try to enjoy and find meaning in the entire process.
They Find the Magic in Misery – While much of Western culture is geared toward pain avoidance, endurance athletes tend to be miserable when they’re too comfortable or there’s no struggle in life.
I have to respectfully disagree with this one. I cannot honestly say I enjoy misery. I think I would probably rephrase it to say that endurance athletes have an unusual tolerance for misery. There’s no magic in it … it’s more accepting that misery will come and go, choosing not to focus on it, knowing that it will pass, and taking a certain satisfaction in overcoming it.
They Find Ways to Finish – When endurance athletes enter an event, they make a commitment to complete it.
As I’ve often said, one of the things that makes me well suited to ultrarunning is that I hate quitting more than I hate pain. At Bandera, I kept going even though my body was clearly falling apart. At Grand Teton, I made the right decision and pulled myself from the race when it seemed too dangerous to continue … but I still went out the next morning to finish the last 10 miles of the race. Because even an unofficial finish is better than no finish at all. It may not have counted in the actual results (although it’s not listed as DNF), but it meant something to me that I didn’t quit, that I finished regardless of what it took or whether it counted.
So Happy Ultraversary to me! I can’t wait to see what this next year brings … with a lot of training and more than a little luck, I hope to see the completion of both my first 100K and 100 Mile races. I also pray for continued improvements in my health … and of course, as is always the primary goal with my trail running, I hope to just keep having as much fun as I had this past year!
