“You’re my new favorite person. Bitsy! She’s our new favorite person!”
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| Bosco Bailey |
“Sounds good, Meaghan!” Bitsy piped in between breaths as we climbed into the third aid station.
I may have sounded, to those around me, a little obnoxious; too excited really for mile 20 of a 50 kilometer race.
Who is this girl being so upbeat? She’s faking it. There is no way she is excited. She’s been out there for way too long.
Had they seen me at aid station two, 14.6 miles into the race, they would have seen someone entirely different. Blue in the lips, tired, frustrated, and bleary eyed. Barely able to keep any kind of cadence whatsoever.
I guess this story requires the backstory as well. Some history for you:
I dropped out of a race last September. I had worked really hard, trained all summer, was ready to do something with my feet no one else thought was possible except me. I had people question me in my goals. They didn’t really think I could run the times that were predicted. I got in my head. I let other people get in my head.
And I got sick. I put a lot of stress on my body throughout the summer and it all just culminated in one weekend. The weekend I didn’t want it to. The weekend that I had worked for. I met a super cute EMT though. And the rest, beyond the race, was fantastic. I spent it with dear friends.
Less than two weeks later, I ran end-to-end on the Wildwood trail. I fell really hard with about 6 miles to go. Which was ok. I walked a lot. And had a fantastic meal afterwards with my girl, Aly. (Who started a blog! CHECK IT.)
Another two weeks and I was in another 50k. Goal was to finish. Finish smiling, safe and healthy.
Mission accomplished. And another beautiful weekend with friends.
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| Finish of the Elk Kings Traverse |
Took some time off. But went on adventures in the Gorge. Got really sick for most of November and December. Tried to go for a run one day, and had sharp pains in my leg. Took myself to the doctor, which for those of you that know me pretty well know that that is REALLY hard for me. I don’t like going to the doctor. And I like to just brush most things off and push them aside.
I found out I had a torn labrum in my hip.
Poop.
Literally the word that came out of my mouth first.
How long would I have to be off? Could I run? Was it going to get worse? What could I do? What are my options?
Surgery, but the ortho that I talked to said it would probably tear again.
I could keep running, but it was going to be painful. Yoga, Pilates, strength training, you name it I’m probably doing it.
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| adventuring |
It wasn’t about managing pain. It was about understanding it. It IS about understanding it.
This is the part of the story where things get a little bit tricky.
I’m stubborn. Oh, you didn’t know that? Well, there is a bit of insight.
That’s why I kept going on race day. The second aid station at Orcas Island was my longest run in nearly four months. And each step after that, was magic.
Honestly, I don’t know how I got myself into such a bummer mood those first miles. Actually, I know exactly how I did. But that is an entirely different blog post for another time.
I ended up giving myself an ultimatum. But really I gave myself only one option: Get out of the gutter.
Get out of my head, get everyone else out of my head. Stop listening to the naysayers, the “realists”, the ones who don’t believe you can do it, anything. And just enjoy the beautiful day. God gave me strength. Especially in those final miles.
I met Bitsy at around 15.5 or 16 miles. We started talking, she had a daughter named Megan. I told her I wouldn’t fault her for spelling her daughter’s name incorrectly. She laughed.
This was to be Bitsy’s fourth attempt over the arduous hills of the Orcas Island 50k. FOURTH. Holy Moley.
Her goal? To finish.
I laughed to myself, because that was my only goal that day too. People scoffed when I told them that. Questioned me about my motives. That’s the only goal?
It wasn’t meant to be on that Saturday on Orcas Island, and the focus had to shift going into the race. And that was completely ok by me.
“You’re about 80 meters from the aid station!”
“You’re my new favorite person!”
We climbed into the aid station, and my smile never left. My shoulders were more relaxed, I was scared out of my mind to squat down to my bag, and I only had a little less than 11 miles to get to the finish line.
Anyone, though, who has looked at the course profile, knows that the last 11 miles are some of the toughest out there, climbing nearly 3200 feet in 5.2 miles. Welcome to quad-city.
One thing I knew I was going to be doing in this race (and future races) was climb. So when I was focused on cross training, I would bike or elliptical, even pool run/swim, I would get out and get on the stair climber for at least 20 minutes. Climb while tired. A couple times I was on there for an hour or more.
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| pre-coffee |
“Bitsy! You ready lady!? We got this!”
I found myself full of energy. Bottles refilled, and a Picky Bar in my pocket.
Positive mind, positive heart.
I’m right behind you!” her North Van drawl smiled at me.
“You’d better catch me on the trail. Ok? Promise me you’ll catch me on the trail.”
Thanking the volunteers with a whoop and a holler, I was off to climb.
As I caught a couple women on the ascent, and wished them well, I was feeling almost refreshed. How could I feel so great when only two hours before I was barely standing upright coming into that second aid station?
I repeated some choice words to myself, a few from some men and women I admire dearly.
“I’m made for this shit.”
“Willing and able.”
“Super day.”
My hands grasped the refreshed Ultimate Direction Body Bottles, one with water, the other filled with a splash of ginger ale, Skratch Labs green matcha tea and lemon.
I am not going to say that it was not hard. I’d be lying to myself, to you, to James Varner… No, it was trucking HARD. My legs burned. I thought my calves would explode. But I wasn’t dying like I thought I would. Credit walking most of the first half I would imagine.
To climb from aid three to the fourth and final aid station, a mere 5.2 miles away, and nearly 3500 feet of climbing, it took me about 70 minutes. That was a faster per mile split than my overall pace.
I am not saying this in a braggart tone whatsoever. I am saying that if you can get yourself in the right mindset, work your ass off, and push your body past the point of discomfort and into a deep dark pain cave and be ok with being there, smiling regardless, you can do seemingly impossible things.
In that 70 minutes, I climbed the feared and dreaded Powerline trail, descending into the forest from a beautiful view and climbing once more to the top of Mt. Constitution, the highest point in the islands. I was told by volunteers I looked like Quasimodo climbing those hills, but I looked good!
“Bullshit.”
Whatever works for you, I guess.
I found myself on those trails. My actual self. She was there, under years of hurt and pain, and fear and dread. She was there when I most needed her to be. I started praying. The prayers we had said the night before, the ones we said the morning of, and all the ones I could think of. Thank you God for bringing me here!
Thank the good Lord. Because He missed her too I am sure.
Finally I realized, God had me, there would be no worse pain than this. So just keep pushing.
Reaching the top of Mt. Constitution I almost cried. Almost. Drawing in a breath, I smiled bigger still. Although I have no idea how, but my cheeks hurt for days after.
I did cry on the course though. As I was probably less than half a mile away, I could hear the finish line, I could hear the party. And I heard a whistle. It was the same whistle that I had heard many races before in my life. Same pitch, same tone, same cadence. It sounded like Grandpa. I choked on a sob, as I bounded past a man I had been racing for the final four miles. We yo-yoed down the switchbacks when he stepped aside and let me pass. I told him to just come with, stay with me and we’d run it in together.
Winding up for a high five with Brandon, and a sweet picture shot from both Katy and Aly, I was able to propel to the finish. A day that I thought might not happen. A day that I had everything to gain from and nothing to lose.
A weekend trip I will cherish for my lifetime. And a race I hope to actually be trained and healthy for.
I’m really excited for the adventures to come. I am excited by the endless possibilities running has given me, and for the friends: new, old and all the ones in between. I’m excited to be out of my head, and have the intention of pushing beyond the imagination.
Thank you to James Varner, Rainshadow Running and the entire cast and crew of Orcas Island 50k. The Portlander Puffins are rockstars, Five of Seven (James for his amazing documentation work) crew for conversation, hugs, laughter and love. The Hunts for feeding us, and giving us coolant for the drive home. My mom. St. Catherine of Siena. And everyone in between that I have forgotten in this decaffeinated moment.
Big things for 2016.
In the words of my friend,
“It’s going to be a good year.”
GEAR
Shoes: Saucony Peregrine 6
Socks: Stance Quarter length Bandit
Saucony Bullet Capri, Brooks Essential V-neck (duh with the V-neck!), Outdoor Research Helium II jacket.
Ultimate Direction Body bottle and Body Bottle Plus with Skratch Labs rehydrate potions, Picky Bars All-in Almond (Dudes, seriously, EAT THESE!), Trail Butter Ozark Original and DATES. SO FREAKING GOOD.
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| ecentdent-my new favorite photo |
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| PUFFINS |
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| Strider |
