My 2nd Silverheels DNF.... (One back of the pack runner’s experience and perspective of what an ultrarunner goes through when attempting a 100 mile race with an average elevation of 11,000 feet (2nd to only the Hard Rock 100 in the country). ) (My apologies....This post has some trail language in it.) As I marched down the last mile and a half into the dense forest, I couldn’t help but want to drag my feet. They felt like 20 pound bricks. Leaving these long lines drawn in the single track trails. One foot in front of the other. It was grueling. Each step was beyond hard. I kept wanting to bend over and put my hands on my knees and just stop. Okay, so maybe I did a little bit here and there. No shame in that. Or maybe I was just wanting to vomit. a lot. But, I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t. At this point I had my own personal finish line. I just wanted to make it there in one piece. Plus, I had people there waiting for me. Counting on me. My heart was pounding. A deep thud right in my chest. Over and over and over and over and over again. I could hear it in my ears. Feel it in my neck. even my hands. My pulse. Wanting to leap out of my chest. Several times during the race, in the stillness, I thought I heard other racers coming up on me. So I’d look around. Look back. Nope, just my heart pounding. In my ears. A sort of a tribal drum. Bum bum, bum bum. More so than normal. Not sure if it was anticipation of reaching my destination, the fear that I’d let everyone down who encouraged me over the past year of training, or myself. Ugggg.... yet another failure for me. It feels like this is getting old. I can’t do anything right. Even this. Then Mile 38. I was moving so much slower at this point. I almost didn’t even care. Didn’t give a f*{¥ anymore. My head hung low in a sort of defeat. A boxer, who’d had his ass kicked, repeatedly, after a prize fight. A Mike Tyson uppercut to the head. My A race was a bust. Again..... I didn’t even want to emerge from these trees. Nope. I wanted to hide out here. Sit down and just bury my head. I felt defeated, embarrassed, depressed. I kept repeating the “f” word. I was angry. Unbelievably angry. Shake fists at the sky kind of pissed. Damn I was furious. At myself. I had already missed the cutoff by over an hour at this point. I was on “the list” again. Fuck! I had people waiting for me. I’m sure they were worried. Know they were. Upset. Panicked. This wasn’t like me to be so late at this point in the race. I was moving well and feeling so strong all day! I also didn’t want this day to be over. The scenery. The runners. Family. The knowing that I was doing something hard. Your head can be a dangerous place while running an ultra. I knew what was coming. And I was ready for it. Through all of my training and other races. I knew how to get past it. The thoughts in my head were starting. The negatives. The soul crushing feeling of not going to make the cut off. The way the emotions roll all throughout your body. Like ocean waves knocking you on your ass while the undertow takes you under. Sort of kicking when you are down. And you constantly churn in that cycle. Wave smacks you, undertow pulls you under, you stand up and repeat it over and over. And once those negative thoughts begin to creep inside, its relentless. Almost impossible to stop. Like a small leak in a boat or that crack in your windshield. If you don’t fix it instantly, it will begin to spread to the point of no return. I was ready for this. I trained for these moments. And I got through several of them this day. All I could think after the cutoff was “damn it I failed this time. Again! I fell flat on my face.” I didn’t even make it to where I did last year. Not even close. Talk about a kick in the pants. My goal was 100! Not 40! My head and the thoughts inside my trail stupid brain were bouncing around. That thrill of victory I would not feel this year..... yet again. Great, yet another day of chalking this one up to a “learning experience”. The questions of “what happened?” “What went wrong?” Or the “encouragement” that is a sort of.... “Hey you made 40 miles! That’s amazing!” “Not everybody can run 40 miles! Way to go!” “You crushed it!” “Don’t give up running or your dream to run 100. Be proud of what you were able to do today! Stay positive for yourself because how many people can say they’ve ever run 40 miles?” “I could never do 40 miles”. And the usual rhetoric. I’m not saying they are wrong or that I don’t appreciate every single word they say or have said. It’s not that I want them to even be impressed. I’m not running for them. I am not sure many can truly understand why we do what we do and why this hurts so much. It is important to also remember that I am “in this moment” of my race. My perspective. My feelings. My heart. Nobody else’s. They don’t know what it feels like. I’m in my own head. So I’m allowed to be angry. I’m allowed to feel like a failure in this moment because I worked so hard for something over the last year and I didn’t make it. I marched on. Off in the distance I could hear the cheers of the people coming in and out of Tarryall aide station. A main hub of the race out in the upper parts. I could hear them from what felt like miles and miles away. As runners came and went through it. Families, crews, friends, and fellow runners. They were all there running, singing, blowing horns, and just having a great old time! Sigh..... I was happy for the other runners, my tribe, my family. Truly I was and I still am. But I was crushed at the same time. This was supposed to be my year. I trained my ass off. I put in the time. The distance. I ran other races to learn and to grow. I climbed mountains and made significant gains. Mentally and physically. I learned how to run at night and in extreme temperatures. I lurked and learned on sites, social media, watched videos, listened to podcasts, read books, ran with friends, and through my own learning “in the moment” experiences. You see, I am the type of learner who takes new learnings and then has to get out and actually apply them in a real situation. It’s also how I teach kids. So, I had taken all I learned about suffering, nutrition, night miles, distance, weather, experiential learning, and about a hundred other things and then try to go out and apply them in real world situations. That is how we best learn. I knew the map. I knew the course. I knew the miles. It was time to put it all to use. And wham. The rug is pulled out from under me. Sucker punched. As I continued to put one damn step in front of the other on the single track, I got upset. I was pissed. Angry. I was sad. But I was going to get there on my own damn two feet. I was going to crawl in if I had to. I was embarrassed that I’d missed the cutoff. But my body kind of said f¥{k you this day. (Sorry trail potty mouth). In the moment, you kind of forget all decency and sort of feel gritty both inside and out. Especially when you feel like shit. I remember clear as day walking out of the thick forest into this lush brush like meadow. You come downhill on these beautiful forest switchbacks that seem to continue winding down and around. Almost never ending. Some spots were rocky and you had to make sure of each step. You had to pick up your feet. Especially with each step when your head is pounding with excruciating pain. This area is perfectly runnable when you are feeling good. As I came through the trees and finally to the clearing, I remember hearing cheers, cowbells, and some New Years Eve party horns. Stopping to take in the forest one last time and just admiring the beauty of it. Just before emerging onto the river/stream crossing. I took a deep breath waiting to receive all of the questions and concerns. As I emerged and descended the last part of the trail before the bridge crossing, I see my adventure sister, Kelsey, my lifeline coming across the bridge to meet me with a genuine and frightened look across her face. “Hey buddy. What happened? Are you okay?” I lost it. I put my hands on my knees and just lost it. Tears flowing. Feeling I let her, my crew, my pacers, Scott and Terri, Sherpa and Hollis, my trail friends and everyone who was cheering me on, down. They expected more of me. Thought I would do better than this. Failure. I stopped and bent over in a moment of defeat. Pissed at myself. Pissed at the trails. Pissed at my body. But damn it I was determined to get myself to my own personal finish line. So be it at mile 40 instead of 104. I needed to walk the last 100 feet up the hill to cross my own line. Kelsey tried to take my pack and help me up the hill, but I was determined to make it up that last bit myself.... I’m sure I reacted in a bit of anger. But when you are trail stupid, you sort of get this little bit of grit. A sort of no... I’m going to do this. As I crossed my own imaginary line on the edge of the trail. I fell to the ground and put my head almost between my knees. That’s when the sobbing started. I was done. Done for the day. Done “racing”. And done suffering for this round. I created my own river with my snot/blood filled HPRS buff that was wrapped around my wrist. Addning tears to the mix. The floodgates have opened. It was so hard to look at anyone in the face. The concerned looks. The surprise that I was “quitting” here and now. So early in the race. The emotions that consumed me today was hard. One of the hardest days ever in my young running life. How in the hell can I run 67.7 miles (62.5 of which I got credit for due to a wrong turn, aka “BONUS MILES”, on the Purple People Eater Loop at Stories 30 Hour Ultra) in a wintery 8 degrees (-15 windchill) race? And yet this 40 miles causes such a crushing blow? On top of it all, I was mentally and physically prepared. Nutrition felt on point. After all, up until this day I have run for 988 days in a row. Some of those days with massive climbs and others on the treadmill with incline set to 10% and a -3 decline. In order to get the repetitive motion that sometimes running gives you! I’ve run back to back races to prepare for the distance. One was the North Fork 50 with ups and downs that Silverheels can throw at you. Less elevation for sure but climbing nonetheless. And the next day getting up after 3 hours of sleep to go run a downhill half marathon with someone who has started sharing a love of running along side you. Someone who you can support and push forward. I even stayed up for 36 hours and climbed a 14er to practice staying awake that long. So what the hell went wrong. Why did it happen this day? You know when they say the shit hits the fan? I never realized how quickly it can come! Here’s a look back on the day. 4 am. Sherpa says, “What are you all still doing here? Get the Fuck out of here.” To start the race. So we start running underneath the start/finish arch. It’s about 10 miles uphill to the Silverheels mine. So I start slow and steady. Running a bit and power hiking most of it. A dirt road in the dark with headlamps. Many of which take off ahead of me. I’m cool with that. We still have 103.9 miles to go out of a 104 mile race. I’m not going to kill myself at the beginning. So I just keep moving. We spend about 5 miles marching up this dirt rocky road until we get to the town of Alma. Then we hook a bit of a right up into some crazy little forest and trails. Not easy by any means. You do this zigzag of trails crossing over this rocky road that goes straight uphill. Zigzag side to side that almost feels like you aren’t going anywhere. It’s so frustrating. But awesome at the same time. By this time the sun is starting to poke out in the early AM. Headlamp is useless at this point. I also saw several deer on the course so far. Pretty cool at this point. Feeling great. Plus this section is pretty. Especially in the morning. Then the course gets fun. You see a few freaky as hell cabins along the trails.... reminds me of horror movies. I half expected to see a red balloon or Bob Ross.. You are working your way to this station called High Point where some trail friends are cooking up some breakfast and an amazing aide station. Stopped to fill up some water and head up to Silverheels mine. A dirt road where it comes to a point and then you have to sort of go up a grassy path to get your heart shaped hole punch at the top. The mine is pretty cool. Neat story that goes along with it. Legend of Silverheels. Then it’s back to high point aide station. This whole time I’m in great spirits. Running (slowly) the downs and flats and power hiking the uphills and climbs. Not too shabby. It was starting to get hot but the weather was almost perfect at this point. I knew it was going to get warmer. And my pack was a little bit heavy with all the crap I had in it. Probably way too much. I had a lot of food in it and was eating about 300 calories every hour and drinking tailwind and water pretty well. The plan was to drop off all the stuff at the crew point in Poor Man's. I made my way down to Poor Man's where my crew was waiting. Nice little forest decent. Yet another friend was manning the aide station. Got what I needed and dumped all the excess crap out of my bag. That felt so much better! Made it lighter and more sustainable. I was in and out of Poor Man’s pretty quick. Got resupplied, dumped off all my crap that weighed me down. It was hot so I left my coat there too. I ate watermelon and pickles. Among other things. Tailwind was still my go to. I got bug spray and sunscreen to start the long grueling path to Trout Creek. Thank you so much to my crew Kelsey and Ryan for having everything ready to go to make it such an easy transition. I knew this was going to be a fun section as there are 3 big climbs to Tarryall. I know two in particular are going to be a struggle. But I was staying positive. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. I made the first climb and was feeling pretty good. You go down a good section that is utterly beautiful. I was still feeling pretty darn good. Moving pretty well. One foot in front of the other. I even made it to the new out and back known as Crooked Creek. I saw some of my very good friends as they were heading out. Knowing then I was in pretty decent shape. I made it down to the out and back turn around. Refilled my water and started to go to the turn off toward the Trout Creek area. As I knew the next climb was going to be one of my hardest. A rocky dirt road that is relentless. Every time you turn a corner it keeps going up. And then I hear a rumble of thunder off in the distance. The clouds are turning dark and the temp is starting to drop. Shit! My coat is at Poor Man's..... As I come up towards a long and wide meadow the storm turns right towards me. I still have a good distance to go to even get to the Trout Creek side station. So I move faster. As fast as I can go. Suddenly, my head begins to get a dull pain. Right in the middle of my forehead. It’s like someone is holding a white piece of paper about 6 inches from my face. All I can see is out of the left side of my face. The peripheral. Each step begins to pound something awful. An onset of a migraine. Each step is getting worse. Possibility of dehydration, altitude, and pressure change due to the storm.... It’s funny how fast the shit can hit the fan. How easily the wheels can fall off..... Just have to get myself to the aide station for a cup of noodles. The temp dropped and I started feeling like complete shit. The kicker.... I left my coat back at Poor Man’s. As I get around the corner a little white Subaru pulls up and asks if I want a ride. Ummmm.... the car is full. As the front passenger door opens up and the lady in front begins puking over and over again. Hell no I don’t want to get in that car. No thank you! Then, I see my buddy Chuck in the back passenger side. He looks in bad shape. Not feeling well. Then, suddenly he jumps out of the car and sits with me at the aide station as it is a complete downpour. He said he is not going to let me go it alone. I sat down and ate a cup of noodles, Maybe some gingerale will help and some other treats. My goal was to get a bit warmer before I get myself to Tarryall. At that point I had about 2 hours to get there. And about 4.7 miles to get there. But this headache.... damn this headache. And the burning I had during my last pee... ugggg.... As the storm died down I felt like I wanted to get moving and get to my next goal. At this point I knew it was going to be aide station to aide station. But there was still hope. I thought I could do it.... I took off with Chuck and we began our next big climb. But damn my head was splitting. Now every step I took it went from the center of my forehead all the way down my back to my ass crack. Throbbing and painful. We had a big climb to make and then a nice forest downhill section. Each.... step.... white blurry vision..... and pain when I pee. Like a hot fire. Scary as hell. Great way to run a race for the next 65 miles. Put it out of your head. It only hurts for a bit they say and then you can get past it. It’s nothing. It doesn’t hurt. I can do this. But time started slipping away. Each step more painful than the next. And it feels like someone sucker punched me in the lower back. Damn.... kidneys. Why is my body doing this? It shouldn’t be! I’ve been training so well! And the kicker, I started pissing blood. Yep! Good times! Chuck was struggling too. It took us forever to get to the top of that hill. Both struggling. Both “dying on that hill”. By then the cut off of 4pm had come and gone. 12 hours into the race! Now we had a downhill section that was easily runnable but my body sort of said nope. So we hiked it down. All 2 something miles of it. Through the forest and over some technical type of rocks. I was defeated. I knew my race was over. Put a fork in me. This is when I was crushed. And Yet I still wanted to keep going. Didn’t want it to end. This is where the story started for me. . That night I went home and called urgent care to see what I should do. I ended up going to the Dr. a few days later. Everything was okay but severely dehydrated and some “damage” to my kidneys. Whatever that means. I filled the cup for the nurses. Gave the dr some good old coughing too. Possible infection. Even nearly two weeks later I still feel off. Not back yet. And even better, a week later, I think I had the norovirus from our pool. Even G had it. I still feel a bit off. So lesson learned. Sometimes the wheels fall off and you have to move forward. The joy of it all is that the next day I watched my boy Gavin take off his training wheels and learn to ride his two wheeler like it was nothing. Like he had been riding a bike forever. He has never looked back. The joy for me is that I need to take off my damn training wheels, use the anger and frustrations of this race and never look back. Relentless Forward Progress. Put one foot in front of the other. Because the past two weeks..... I wanted to give up on running. I suck at it. I wanted to put it aside. And just say, I’m not good at this and I’ll never be..... even though in my heart I am good and it is a passion that is who I am. Like soccer used to be for me. So I need to get back up and “ride” again. I think my take away is to drop the training wheels and go get it anyway I can. That when the wheels fall off, you need to keep riding. Off into the sunset only to never look back. (Especially the hard parts) I’m also writing a trail glossary.....
Trail glossary DNF - uggggg.... seriously. I have to give a definition of this? Fine. It means you are a dance hall patron. It means you couldn’t make it to the end. Did not finish. There. Are you happy? Trail language - the in the moment, don’t give a shit what comes out of your mouth language. You are doing something hard. Might include explicatives, rants, emotions, or even really really bad words. Trail stupid - this is when you have been out on the trails for a substantial amount of time usually with altitude gains. Your speech, ability to find words, and your mouth can’t keep up with your brain. You ramble ridiculous words that no one else can understand and your friends/hiking/running buddies laugh at you because they too are trail stupid! Trail gas - when altitude causes bloating in your stomach due to the pressure building up. And you have to let out an earth shaking or gunshot type farts. Careful though as you never know what else may come out with those farts. See also : shart, chafing, and popping in the woods. Buff- not being naked. Darn! I know.... it’s a round circular piece of super soft fabric that can be worn about a thousand different ways. Even like a mini skirt (not that I’ve ever used it for that on a trail by Silver Dollar Lake while hiking). Often it’s used around your neck for a break from the sun or a snot rag around your wrist to help wipe off the salt that accumulated on your face. DFL - Dead f¥€£ing last This is me every race because I’m soooo slow. They give awards for this for having the most heart! Which I think is amazing because guess what.... you still ran the same distance as everyone else!
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Never Trust a Trail Fart…
Words of Warning…. This is TMI… Way too much…. (Plus this was a team name at Ragnar) So…. last weekend I was at the Ragnar Relay in SnowmASS, Colorado. It was one of the most interesting, most amazing weekends ever. I only had met two of our teammates before the weekend. I didn’t really know what to expect. Running is such an individual sport. You pretty much have to run your own race. This team concept was very different. But that’s a different story. We set up our tents in the tent city. 17 x 17 grid. 4 tents. A giant light up pyramid that you could see from space. A huge shade tent with grills, coolers, and all the food you could want. It was a chill out place. But, once again you are in close quarters the whole time. Even if you did have a few minutes to nap or to close your eyes. You really were never alone. A few hundred of your closest friends. Everyone smells. Everyone is trail dirty. Everyone is sleep deprived. But whoa… this is one of the coolest adventures you could have. Okay. If you know anything about me… I am pretty gassy. I can’t help it. I must swallow a lot of air. It is what it is. So, this weekend I wanted to let it go. To let it fly. Butt, as runners will often say, never trust a trail fart. See what I did there? I had to let them fly so bad. The food, the runner’s nutrition. The Tailwind….. Yep, there it is again. Tailwind is an amazing drink but for me it has a double meaning. Usually on the trail, I will yell out loud…..TURBO BOOST!!!!! Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I just have to unload. So, I go to the double row of porta potties to blow off some steam. I open the door as the wave of…. Nevermind. I go in and…. Geez. Talking about farts and poop are necessarily my favorite types of conversation, however, they are a solid #2… I decide to take my time. I sat down and just let one go. PFFFFTTTTTT. Whoa. That was kinda loud. Wonder if anyone heard that. Oh, the people outside waiting. Wait a minute. It is midnight. Everyone is doing their own thing. That’s when I hear it…. A giggle. A laugh. An OMG!!!!! Next door to my poop prison was someone else in my same crappy situation. I hear a ladies voice, “NICE ONE!” If it wasn’t dark and my headlamp was off, I am sure you could have seen my face turn 8 shades of red. “Ummmm, thanks?!?!?!” “I have been waiting to do that all freaking day long!” So, I decide that seal is broken and just let loose. I’m so glad the campfire was about 100 yards away because I might have ignited all of Ragnar in that moment. It must have been a minute or so long. Can’t help but giggle as I think there was a competition happening in these last two stalls. I’m not even sure what really happened but it was freaking hilarious. Especially at midnight during a relay race with 0 sleep. “Oh Crap! Ummmm…. Excuse me…..” I say. “Yes?” a small voice answers…. “Can you spare a square?” I respond. You could hear the clock ticking…. “Seriously?” “Nope. Just playing. Good luck” as I walk out of the door and into the night. Someone recently asked me, “When do you get to call yourself a runner? A real runner? At what point do you get that title?”
Actually, I have had several people ask me this simple yet complex question. So, I had to lace up my Asics Gel Kayano 22 (light shows) with my insoles, mix some Tailwind nutrition drink in my handheld water bottle, throw on some compression socks for warmth, find my hat, strap on my Garmin Forerunner watch, grab my headlamp out of my full gear closet, and head out on the trails to go out for a run and really think about this question. I think around mile 5 it sort of hit me…. When did I start calling myself a runner? I remember thinking back to the time I finally found it acceptable to call myself a runner. I don’t really know when I made the switch. I think when others started calling me a runner. Maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t stop talking about running. Or about the race I was set to finish. Not win, but just be a part of. As I was outside on the trails pondering this deep, deep question, I realized that I hated running. No, seriously. It is 100% true. I….hated….running. It hurt. It was boring. There was no reason to do it unless I was being chased. I was the kid who despised even running around the block. Only if I was running the bases in a baseball game, or had a soccer ball at my feet and was heading to goal. I remember the street lights coming on and I knew I had to be home. But I still hated running. So, when is that single moment I realized that I was a runner? I know! It’s when I went out and bought a pair of “running shoes’! Yeah! That is it! I became a runner that day. I went to a sports store. Bought a pair of running specific shoes and I was all set. Oh! And I got a new pair of shorts too! That made me a new runner! I was going to do this thing! No, wait. I went out and tried to go. Nope! Dang it! I still hated running. The first mile I was winded. I was tired. I couldn’t catch my breath. My legs hurt. The sun was bright. My feet hurt. Nope. I still wasn’t a runner that day. But….. I had the shoes and the gear! What the heck? Okay, I got it now! I know what changed me! It was the next time I went outside to run. Yeah! That was it. I decided that I was going to like this thing called running. So really, it all began the 2nd time I went out for a “run”. That is the moment I would become a runner. It is because I decided to make a change. I remember having some issues. I wasn’t feeling that great. I had a ton of stomach issues. Huge sweet tooth. Plus I found that I had no energy all the time. I was constantly tired. Oh, and to boot, I had high cholesterol. So, I was determined to make a change. I was going to improve. I was going to change the way I look. Plus I was going to feel better. It was that mental game that was going to change me physically and emotionally. But, I laced up my new fancy shoes and tried to go out. Nope, still not a runner. That first mile about killed me. I wanted to go home and play some Xbox. Okay, so, new shoes, new attitude, forcing myself to go out, was not the day I became a runner. Seriously, I felt so driven though. I wanted to succeed at this. It was the simplest of all sports to do. Throw on shoes and go. How hard can it be? I have spent a lifetime in sports. Team sports. That dependence on a team. The way you work together for a common goal. That drive and desire to achieve something together. I knew I could do this solo thing. I wanted to succeed. I always had a bit of the competitive edge ingrained in me. I always wanted to be good. To do well. I always got close to mastery and then have moved on to something bigger and better. I remember when I started climbing the mountains the year before I even thought about running. I was hooked the first time I went up a single trail, stood atop that peak and had my eyes completely opened. However, it was hard. The altitude, the elevation gain, the lack of oxygen. I remember being a little scared that day. Scared I was going to die. I remember certain times that I just couldn’t catch my breath. I felt out of shape. I felt sluggish and slow. But I did it nonetheless. So, maybe running would help me with climbing all of Colorado’s highest peaks? Think so? I think I found my reason. My explanation. My passion. So running would be a catalyst for climbing the peaks faster and more efficient. Hmmmmmm……. The problem was that the climbing season for summer is short. The weather rolls in and you have to really watch what you are doing. Especially for a newbie. So, now am I runner? I have all winter to train. So, I found the Cherry Creek Sneak. I had been walking the 5K the past few years. But something in me wanted to really try the 10 miler. The 10 miler? What was I thinking. I struggled with the 5K’s and 10K’s. This was 10 miles!!!!!!! I toed the line that day in April. I took off. Literally, I think I started sprinting that race. The first 3 miles were fantastic. I was like, whoa! I can do this. Then, a hill. It felt like a mountain. Literally is was like 100 feet of elevation gain, but whoa. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was like, I have to slow down. I am going to die. I want to puke. And about 100 other bad, bad things floating in my head. I slowed way down. Then, I started to recover. I remember just kind of coasting the next few miles until I came around a park. It was mile 7-8. Talk about wheels falling off the wagon. I think I completely slowed to about a 12 minute mile and was about to lose my breakfast. However, I still plodded along. Still wanting to like this running thing. This point was the longest thing I have ever ran in my life. So, I continued to work through all the issues. The legs cramping, the nausea, the mental game, the cold rainy weather, and not having the right gear for this race. I came down a hill and rounded a corner. Knowing that I only had 1.1 miles left. I stopped to tie my shoe. I literally bent over, tied it and stood up. I went into this weird feeling. It was like an out of body experience. I felt like a ghost. I felt someone pushing me along. LIke someone was pushing me from behind. My body felt strange. I can’t even describe it. The only way that I felt okay was when I caught up to the pace I was racing the whole entire time. Then, I felt a bit better. At mile 9.5 I was completely trashed. Completely wasted. I was zombie like. I didn’t know who I was, where I was, or what I was even doing. I just knew I had to finish. I knew the line was just ahead. So, I plodded along. That’s when my dad, Alan, caught up with me. He had just finished the 5k and was going to bring me in. He jumped on the course with me and was shouting words of disbelief and encouragement. Normally, I would take that and run with it. But I was so completely trashed that I just wanted everyone to shut up. It was so hard and so bizarre to me. I crossed that finish line and I wanted to die. That was the most miserable thing in my life. Every moment of that race was horrible. The nausea, the hamstrings cramping, the cold, rainy weather, the drinks, the noise, the people,.... I was completely miserable. I walked down the finish shoot and ended up in the Safeway parking lot. I remember Alan offering to go get me my warm clothes from the car. The next thing I remember was trying to step off a curb and face planted. I laid there for about what felt like 5 minutes. The next thing I know, I was pacing the entire Safeway parking lot of the Cherry Creek Mall for the next 20 minutes. I was a zombie. I felt terrible. I was cold. I was wet. I was completely crushed. Miserable. And about 1,000 other negative adjectives. But, I finished a 10 mile race. Was it that day that I became a runner? Is it because you embrace the suck? Is it because you are miserable? Are you a runner when you are in the middle of a suffer fest? After that awful day, I was determined to set myself right. The zombie like state wasn’t going to happen to me again. And, I decided to just add about 3.1 more miles to the next race a few weeks away. I signed up for my first half marathon. The Colfax. This time, I was going to enjoy the race. Slow down. Take it all in. Conserve energy. I was going to run start to finish this time. So, I now had a game plan. I was going to enjoy this day. Started of slow and built up steam throughout the race. I ran it with Someone who used to be a good friend. I remember saving up enough energy and really taking off the last 2.5 miles. I pretty much sprinted those last miles. I passed a ton of people. We call it the rabbit hunt. You let all the rabbits out front and then you slowly start picking them off one by one. I remember this other girl had the same idea. We were neck and neck those last few miles. Sort of taking turns leading. As we approached the finish line someone slowed down in front of her. I sort of slingshot around and finished right in front of her. As we were handed the medals, I took my and put it around her neck and she did the same. She pushed me those last few miles and she told me I did the same. She told me she PR’d that race by 3 minutes. No way she would have done it if we weren’t racing each other. Is that the day I became a runner? So, now I am starting to sign up for more and more races. One of the things I have learned over the last 3 years is that you don’t wear your race shirt EVER on race day. You have to earn that. Just like you earn your medal. You don’t just get it. You have to accomplish something. You have to go from start to finish. You might have to struggle, or slow down, walk, speed up, fight through nutrition issues, or stop at bathroom/port-a-potty. Whatever the issue, you have to fight through it. You have to keep your mentality going no matter the distance. If it the hard road race with cement or concrete or asphalt, or a dirt trail, or a snowy, windy 50K. You have to endure. I wonder if overcoming a lot of the mental issues of running have made me a runner? Or the collection of medals I have? I wonder if it is a collection of running books, nutrition guides, runner’s world magazine, trail running magazine, or listening to podcasts is when I became a runner? Maybe it is having a closet full of different types of shoes, inserts, hydration packs, handhelds, headlamps, glow vest, socks, shorts, shirts, and even massage/recovery tools is what makes you a runner? Maybe it is that first time you get the runner’s high that makes you a runner? Because you just can’t wait to go out again. Maybe you are a true runner when you hit a trail and feel like you can go on forever. Maybe it is when you keep trying to up your distance (100 miler bucket list) to see what you are really made of. Maybe you are runner when you become addicted and you realize that it is a time when you can be outside clearing your mind, body, and soul. Maybe you are a runner when you join a tribe. These are your people. You win and lose together. You suffer together. Maybe you become a runner when you coach or train someone else. You share that joy that elation that you have found yourself. Running is a release. It is hard. It is whatever you make of it. It is a way of life. A way to improve yourself. A way to see what you are made of. And if you ever need help determining when you became a runner, you just have to look deep inside yourself and you will find that answer. Even if you were that kid who hated and despised running around the block. That question is one that only you can answer yourself. You have to open your soul and search for it. It is there that it will appear to you. Wow. Just wow. I just finished my 3rd Backcountry WIlderness Half marathon this weekend. It was the most amazing day. But really this wasn't just about me this weekend. I was really just out for a great trail race. I wanted to just be out in nature and prove to myself that I have grown as a runner. I wanted to run a steady race, have fun, and just enjoy the course that I have run quite a few times in the past few years.
This year was different. I had a friend run it this year. Honestly, it was Ryan's first half marathon. What a crazy crazy race to chose as your first half. Seriously. This race is not easy by any means of the word. It is tough, it is grueling, and it is amazing at the same time. I can't even describe the first time I ran it. It was such a disaster and learning experience for me. I have run a few trail races since then and have learned big things about myself since that first time. We started out in the middle of wave two. Planning on running a few miles to get out in the pack. The trail later starts to become an ant race on the single track. You can get 35 deep and have nowhere to move. The first mile and some are a gradual uphill on some nice concrete. It can make or break your race if you do take off too hard. Nice and easy. Nice and steady. That gradual uphill is tough. Finally, you get to the dirt and the race begins to open up. Ryan was looking really good to start. He was steady and you could see him starting to dial in as I have seen on the soccer field so many times. I have reffed soccer games with him. Watched him coach many many teams as well. But mostly it is through the soccer world. You see, I have always known Ryan as a competitor. A bit of grittiness to him. We used to play on several indoor soccer team together and against each other. It kinda seemed like we always had a rivalry. Pretty evenly matched teams, skills, and competitiveness. Almost always had nerves on some games! It was always fun, even a bit gritty sometimes. That's what made the game so much fun sometimes. It also humbled me many times over. I remember playing 3-3 at our indoor center. Our team was named Yellow socks. We were usually yellow shirts and yellow socks. Well, we are all ready to go to start the game. Well, Ryan's team showed up with yellow shirts, shorts, socks and even wigs that game. What made it worse, we were the home team, so we had to change jerseys! Hilarious. Or there was the time we were playing on the same over 30 team on the big field. I made this run, got the ball up and over my head at half, noticed the keeper off his line, and took a shot of a volley. One of the most amazing finishes I have ever had. Well, Ryan takes one from the keeper from the left said and does the same thing but left footed and off the cross bar. It's that kinda stuff that makes the game fun. That's why this race was special too. The cool thing about this race was that he was putting his grit to work this day. The temperature was right. The trails were in great shape. There were about 1,000 people at this race too. Just all around a great day. We made it to an uphill around mile 4 and that is where many people start to struggle. It is about the first aid station and potties too. This is where I start to go and get excited. But that first year, it is where I started to feel awful. I learned a lot about myself that first trail races. I know Ryan did too. I sort of kept going and stayed consistent the whole race. I knew the course and knew when I was going to start struggling and when to bomb the downhills. I got in the favorite downhill section and for the first time in this race was able to run it super fast. I got into a group that was sort of sprinting downhill. I LOVED it. The past two years, I got stuck in the ant march. This year I was able to really get moving. I remember one point at mile 9ish that everyone started to struggle with the uphill. They were trying to run it. I have learned that you power hike it. I was walking faster than they were running and passing people. Plus my heart rate was starting to drop down to normal levels. It was amazing. I remember coming to the last two miles and really cruising. It was amazing. The part that hurt the most was the cement around the rec center park. Then, came the last climb up to the finish line. That is the cruelest finish ever. It is a real mental game too. The best part? Was having Gavin and Alan at the finish line cheering me on! It was a glorious feeling to feel supported! I finished my race but I had another one going on in my head. I wanted Ryan to finish and finish strong. I walked up and down the trail looking for him. Waiting for him. I think I was as excited for him as he was. At the beginning of the race he told me his nerves were running wild. As I was standing on top of the hill I was talking to a lady with this beautiful husky. I kept saying I am looking for my friend Ryan. She finally asked me.... "What is Ryan's last name?" To make a long story short, it ended up being his mother in law. We saw Ryan make his way around the loop. Cheered him on and up the final hill. He finished and finished strong. I know how hard this race is. And for your first half.... that is no joke. Not one bit of that course is easy. To watch a friend struggle through something hard, finish, and finish strong is even more of a thrill that actually finishing the race myself. It is a suffer fest the whole half. But when you cross that line, get that medal, can wear your race shirt, eat pancakes, and can't stop eating the next day, that is what makes it all worth it. And to share that love of something with your soccer "rival" that you have known for some 18 years, that makes it all that much cooler. I look forward to many more adventures and trails. (Problem is, I might have to pick up some biking now.....) On a side note, my other friend hit the podium for her age group. Wow! Just wow. She is a triathlete who just keeps crushing everything she does. Even qualified for nationals again. What in inspiration and example to us older folk! Okay... so today is my Runaversary. Or Streakiversary. 365. One year. I started this adventure of running on a whim. October 24, 2015. I just went out on a whim. Like... oh crap I have a half marathon in 2 weeks, I better start running again. Training. I did 5 miles that first day. Every day since, I have run at least 2 miles.
I've run through Sunshine, and hail. I've run through blizzards and sunsets. I've watched the F-16's take off and land at Buckley. I've run above 14,000 feet and at sea level. I've run in dry climates and through nasty humidity. I've run on the treadmill and on crazy single track trails. Pavement and crushed gravel. On trails packed with ice, mud, fall leaves, and cracked from drought conditions. I've split my runs between 1 mile in the morning and several at night. I seen wildlife and dead silence. Ive watched shooting stars, full moon, and blacker than black. I've hurdled a rattlesnake on a trail and run in the opposite direction of a bear cub. Ive been chased by coyotes in a green belt with willows. The glow of their eyes in my headlamp. I've avoided dear and have run straight at prairie dogs. I've run races and I've run in the stillness of the night. Each run has had its own adventure. I've run in a club and with ultra runners. I've run solo. I've finished the entire series of Harry Potter, The Maze Runner, and the Divergent on Audible. I've learn to run without music and just listen to my heart beat and my soul. Ive been in tune with my surroundings and completely lost focus. 3 miles turned into 13.1. I've thought about life and I've shed tears, both of joy and sadness. I've watched my little boy run and get his first medal. I've run just 2 miles. I've run 5k. I've run 10ks. I ran a few 15ks. I've done over 10 half marathons in this year. I ran 3 full marathons. And, I have run my first 2 50ks. One in blizzard conditions in April where 16 of us finished. And the other was in perfect conditions in the mountains with about 10,000 feet of elevation gain. I pushed myself in ways I never thought I could or would. I made myself sick and struggled with recovery and nutrition. But, I have always come back stronger and more alive. I have run through the flu, vertigo, and even some depression. I have even run through some complete exhaustion. Like sleep for days kind. But there is something that clears your head when you are moving just for that 20+ minutes. You can settle yourself down, calm you demeanor. Calm your entire being. Even if you are in a fog. It lifts your spirits. It pushes the toxins out of your body (with the electrolytes and water). It releases that tension. It helps me sleep better. Even when you are sick? Yes! I'm not fast by any means. It's more of a zombie like run. But it helps me focus and sleep. So, when people say why a streak? Why do you run every day? Aren't you going to hurt yourself? Your knees? I want to ask them.... why don't you? Okay... so today is my Runaversary. Or Streakiversary. 365. One year. I started this adventure of running on a whim. October 24, 2015. I just went out on a whim. Like... oh crap I have a half marathon in 2 weeks, I better start running again. Training. I did 5 miles that first day. Every day since, I have run at least 2 miles.
I've run through Sunshine, and hail. I've run through blizzards and sunsets. I've watched the F-16's take off and land at Buckley. I've run above 14,000 feet and at sea level. I've run in dry climates and through nasty humidity. I've run on the treadmill and on crazy single track trails. Pavement and crushed gravel. On trails packed with ice, mud, fall leaves, and cracked from drought conditions. I've split my runs between 1 mile in the morning and several at night. I seen wildlife and dead silence. Ive watched shooting stars, full moon, and blacker than black. I've hurdled a rattlesnake on a trail and run in the opposite direction of a bear cub. Ive been chased by coyotes in a green belt with willows. The glow of their eyes in my headlamp. I've avoided dear and have run straight at prairie dogs. I've run races and I've run in the stillness of the night. Each run has had its own adventure. I've run in a club and with ultra runners. I've run solo. I've finished the entire series of Harry Potter, The Maze Runner, and the Divergent on Audible. I've learn to run without music and just listen to my heart beat and my soul. Ive been in tune with my surroundings and completely lost focus. 3 miles turned into 13.1. I've thought about life and I've shed tears, both of joy and sadness. I've watched my little boy run and get his first medal. I've run just 2 miles. I've run 5k. I've run 10ks. I ran a few 15ks. I've done over 10 half marathons in this year. I ran 3 full marathons. And, I have run my first 2 50ks. One in blizzard conditions in April where 16 of us finished. And the other was in perfect conditions in the mountains with about 10,000 feet of elevation gain. I pushed myself in ways I never thought I could or would. I made myself sick and struggled with recovery and nutrition. But, I have always come back stronger and more alive. I have run through the flu, vertigo, and even some depression. I have even run through some complete exhaustion. Like sleep for days kind. But there is something that clears your head when you are moving just for that 20+ minutes. You can settle yourself down, calm you demeanor. Calm your entire being. Even if you are in a fog. It lifts your spirits. It pushes the toxins out of your body (with the electrolytes and water). It releases that tension. It helps me sleep better. Even when you are sick? Yes! I'm not fast by any means. It's more of a zombie like run. But it helps me focus and sleep. So, when people say why a streak? Why do you run every day? Aren't you going to hurt yourself? Your knees? I want to ask them.... why don't you? So.... I am completely trashed after today's 13.1 mile race around downtown Denver. Rock N Roll. Yesterday a 5k and today a half marathon! I was set to PR today and PR by a lot. I was cruising. First mile was a warm up and then I sort of took off and maintained it throughout. I even stopped for a potty break at mile 2.5.
Yep! It was a beautiful morning. Cadence, stride, breathing, all working together. Heart rate was a little high, but not too bad. I was feeling it! Attacking within my abilities. Approaching any little hill with a plan. Cruise the downhills. Use the aide stations. Only use what you normally would. Drink water. Etc. It was amazing! And then mile 9 hit. And so did Chipotle. And so did.... Yep... Chipotle. (I've been telling a terrible joke lately. I'm sorry for those that have had to hear it. Did you all hear about the movie Diarrhea? I guess it leaked and had to release early. Yeah, the producers were hoping for a long run streak. They were hoping it wouldn't tank) Anyway, well, mile 9 hit and ....... Well played Karma, well played. I never really recovered. I dropped my time down and still pushed through it. I was trying to be mentally strong. But crap(bad pun) started happening. Like cramping in the hammies and calves. I was trying to hold it all in... I mean together. Dang it! I finished the race with what I am sure looked like a zombie with something crammed somewhere as I "streaked" toward the finish line. I still hit a sub 2 hours but dreams of crushing my PR by over 8-10 minutes just slid right out from under me..... A week ago, I was running the Rock N' Roll Denver 5K with a very good friend of mine. Kelsey G. She is more like a sister to me. She has found a love of the 14ers after hiking Mt. Massive and Mt. Evans this past summer. Kelsey has also started to pick up running a little more. Starting to see the lure of it. Knowing why running is good for you but not really loving it. Joining Strava and starting training.
It is fun to see how other runners develop. How they struggle. How they change. How they mold and make little tweaks. Changes. There is no joy more than that. As we toed the line on Saturday morning, we were laughing, bouncing, listening to the music, and just ready to run the 3.1 miles with about another 2,500 runners. Coral number 2. Looking around. Checking out the other people around us. We had the conversation about the race shirt on race day. For me, it is a total no no. You don't EVER wear your race shirt at a race. On race day. My philosophy is that you have to earn it. You don't just get it. You have to accomplish something. Something bigger than you. It is okay to wear it after you finish. We took off down the starting chute at a nice pace. The sun was shining. The music was blaring. It was such a perfect setting to run. Down Bannock street, out past my old apartment off of Sherman Street, and out and around town finishing on 14th Ave. We were cruising at a nice pace. You could tell Kelsey was pushing herself. You could see her digging deep the whole run. It was a little faster than her normal training runs. So, we continued to push it. We slowed it up on a few of the uphills and coasted the downhills. Just easing into each section. Mile 1 always seems to be the hardest. Then it becomes a game just to finish it off. At about mile 1.5 there was an incline which must have felt like a mountain while we were running at a faster pace. We backed off and I could see it in Kelsey's face. The grit, the determination, the struggle. It was real at that moment. Just fight it. You are half way. Watching that was a thrilling moment. The hard work, the training the desire was there. And to be able to share that moment was amazing. It is something that you face yourself as a runner. Being able to struggle in the moment and conquer that at the end. Being able to coach someone through that pain. Watching them fight through it and beat it. As we neared mile two, we began picking up the pace. Knowing we only had one more mile. Trying to keep our minds free and our stride loose. We shortened up our cadence and just started to glide over the pavement. The last mile getting faster. I remember just saying to finish strong. You are almost there. The finish line was nearing. The street was starting to narrow as the chute approached. People lined the sides of the finish line. Cheering, singing, and live music in the park. Kelsey's eyes are lit up. The finish line was nearing. Steps away as she hits the first timing line. Striding across the finish. Hands in the air. Stopping a few feet behind the finish line taking it all in. We walk the finishing coral to get the goodies. First stop, getting the medals! I took mine and put it on Kelsey. More of a celebration of her achievement. To share in the joy of running a distance. And finishing it off! We walked through the chute collecting all of the goodies and drinking water, grabbing bananas, fruit cups, and chocolate milk. Going to sit in the amphitheater while listing to some crazy band play a variety of music. From Bon Jovi to Joan Jett. She was rocking! It was just an all around amazing day. My favorite part of the day was getting home and cleaning up when my phone buzzes. A series of texts ensued. I remember one saying, "I feel so amazing!" "I could run that again right now!" "Let's sign up for another race soon!" I feel awesome! "I feel like I could do it again haha! So much energy right now!!!" A huge smile across my face because I knew it instantly. I knew that I be witnessed and heard her first experience with what we call the Runner's high! I remember writing and saying, "that my friend.... is called the runner's high!!!!" There is nothing quite like watching someone else experience that. It is just a huge joy! People always me ask if runner's high is a real thing. Yes! It is a real thing! Then, I briefly describe it. They even ask how do you achieve it when you have been running so long or during a run streak. It's different for each person. It is a different feeling each time. Sometimes you can't even describe it. I sometimes describe it like the butterflies you get when you are going into a big game. Or like watching your favorite football team in the Super bowl. The world cup finals. The fact that the Cubs actually just might do it this year.... Yeah, it's like that kind of feeling. Every time I stepped onto the soccer field I had those butterflies. Just like the year in 1995 when my soccer team won NCCAA Nationals. Every time I played baseball, my heart would start pounding out of my chest. The thrill. The fun. But the feeling of runner's high is so much like these but different. It is actually when you want more. You crave more. you feel like a million bucks. Your mind is clear. You are ready to to sign up for another race. And that is just what I have done! Trying to get to that 100 miler one day. A few more 50Ks on the horizon, and a 50 miler in store next summer. Maybe another one in a year. Let's do this! So, when someone asks me about runner's high and why I run.... I like to ask them, "why don't you?" |
Jme K.
Soccer player turned ultra runner. |