People refer to golf as a nice walk through a park ruined by
a small white ball.
A trail race can be a great day in the woods ruined by the
perceived need for speed.
I have now done the Trail full marathon twice. Both times the first loop was easy going,
filled with camaraderie and laughter. It
also went by much faster than I expected.
The second loop is when the real test seems to start.
I turned my ankle in the first mile of the second loop. It wasn’t a really bad turn, just enough to
really slow me down. It was especially
annoying going down hills on an ankle I couldn’t trust. Three miles later I was stung by something
black and fuzzy on my other ankle and I thought “Shit this trail is out to get
me!”. The next several miles I felt as
slow as syrup; I could not seem to go any faster. It became a mind game of staying positive as
I was being passed by run/walkers and speed walkers. There were lots of bright spots to the day to
enjoy and be grateful for. Perfect weather, the smell of wild lilacs, may
apples sprouting and the violets, trillium, and forget-me-nots sprinkled the
sides of the trail. Then the race director
Randy happened to be at one of the aid stations, he took one look at me and
said “You’re a sight for sore thighs!”
I tried to enjoy my day and not let self-doubt destroy my
run, but I was often caught in thought loops of “I guess my body just isn’t
made for marathons.” and “Maybe I should just focus on half marathons since the
first half went so well.” I really,
really wanted to quit and my body kept saying. “We could stop any time
now” But I didn’t stop, I didn’t quit, I
kept pushing and I kept moving no matter how slow. I used my mantras and looked for those bright
spots on the trail I had missed the first time through because I was too
focused on the path to notice the beautiful day. I knew if I made the
22 mile aid station I could finish. I
sang songs in my head and I told myself “I have a Toltec heart, I am worthy!” At mile 22 my friends were shouting my name
as I picked up pace and ran up the hill.
The heat was getting to me and I turned down a beer and begged for
something cold. Amanda scooped up handfuls
of ice from the cooler, and Brian told me to shove it down my sports bra and I
would feel better. I tried it and I started to feel a lot better. Brian looked at me and said it’s only 3.5
miles you’re finishing this I am not driving your ass to the finish line.” And he was right. 3.5 miles is the distance
of a typical after work run, where I am used to pushing through the
exhaustion. I remembered my friends from
BARS and Running lab runs and told myself over and over “It’s just a BARS or
Running Lab run, I got this, I can do this”.
I did actually feel way better, I was able to pick up pace
to 14 min/mi with less walking. I
started to meet random hikers on the trail who cheered me on. I caught up with some 50k runners on their
last 5 miles and they seemed to have had a rough run as well, and I felt better
about my own struggle. In the last half
mile I caught up to and passed one of the walkers who had passed me many miles
back. Steve was waiting for me as I
rounded the bend to take the last hill up to the finish. I managed to kick it up to a final sprint as
Steve ran me into the finish line. I finished short of my goal of under 7
hours, however I did finish 30 minutes faster than the last time I ran it.
I did it in spite of my brain trying to sabotage me with
gloomy thoughts. I joined my friends at
the finish party and enjoyed stretching out in the sun, boozie popsicles,
laughter and moans as we recapped our adventures. I know I can do this. I know I can survive the trail and conquer my
self-doubt to run 26.2 miles again.
Into the woods I go, to lose my mind and find my soul!
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