First.

So, what if we do something every month. Say talk about some of our firsts? And since this is a primarily running related blog, we can talk about those. What are some things you would like to talk about? Read?? Let me know!

My first ever ultra marathon. One day I would like to get back to it. I want to be free to run those miles once more. Or many times more. I have other running aspirations as well, but those are just pushed aside until I can once again be healthy. Today, though, I'll recount my first ultra. 

To say I never had any intention of running a marathon, let alone an ultra-marathon, is quite possibly the most extreme understatement one could possibly conjure. Never was in my plan. But those who know me know I am not exactly one for plans. Or rules.

A year ago, I was presented with the idea of running a marathon. Wonderstruck and smitten, I said, “Why the hell not?” Training went pretty well-injuries came and I stubbornly pushed; still making it to the finish after an extremely emotional 26.2 miles. Stating very matter-of-factly, “I will never do that again.” Only after a mandatory 20 minute thought provoking walk, did I change to “Let’s do this, better.”

I signed up for this ultra- marathon, TheBadger MountainChallenge 50k, in a less than emotionally stable mental state. Quite possibly rationalizing the sign-up. I needed something to focus on for a couple of months. And in all actuality it was to keep my mind off of other things. I needed something to keep me occupied. I needed to prove to myself I could do this, I would survive-live another day. And I could do it all on my own. This is not to say that any number of people tried to talk me out of it. They did. I was even told, “it would be impressive if I finished.” Fuel on the fire. But then again, those who know me, knew I would thrive from this competitive jab.

I trained. The majority of it on my own, letting my mind wander and slide through memories and future dreams as I climbed every hill I could think of in and around Spokane.

A relative “newbie” to any distance longer than 13.1, I tried to gather as much information and knowledge as I could. But a lot of things came down to trial and error, experimentation. What would work for me?

the morning of the race. 

Listening to others who had fared distances far exceeding my imagination and my own endeavors, I found a combination which would best suit me.

 Laying out checkpoints for myself in training led to that in the races as well. The week of the race itself was a trying one, to say the least. I let questions and doubts creep into my mind: Could I really do this? I almost quit. I almost just threw it all away, all the hard work, all the time, all the effort, all the emotions. I lost it mentally. And I needed to be fully able on all levels. My heart was in pain. I was not a quitter.

I did not want to put any expectation on myself. Really, I wanted to finish and not feel like absolute death. So, whatever I had to do. However, the largely competitive runner within me put some kinds of goals on the back burner-just in case.

The morning of the race could not have been more majestic and beautiful. Starting at the base of a hilly neighborhood, we were still high enough to see an orangey-pink sunrise over the city, smiling down upon our treacherous endeavor. I actually felt a rising happiness inside as I was about to embark. I had also never felt more alone even in a crowd of nearly seventy runners with varying degrees of wakefulness. But it was an ok feeling. Scary, but ok.

Instructions were laid out and not knowing the area or terrain ( at all!) I only really took to the “follow the green markers” as my guide. Don’t get lost.

Starting on the asphalted incline-some took off charging, while others just got moving. Again, reference the varying degrees of being awake. I was somewhere in the middle, knowing that I did not want to get stuck on the bottleneck of the trail. Unlike most of my races in the past, going out hard would most certainly make me pay dearly later. I had decided to stay within a certain pace on the uphills and that would save me. Or at least, I hoped. Rhythm, in the end, is what kept me going.

Having a full handheld, I smiled at the cheers and called out my number through the first aid station. I could see a small group of strung out runners ahead and there were a couple behind me even. But I was in a place called no-man’s land and I was perfectly fine with that. I had practiced that; letting my mind wander and roam as I traversed through the climbs and downfalls, guided by the little green flags, like breadcrumbs marking my trail.

I laugh now, but my strong suit is not downhills. Especially steep, rocky ones. And there were times I wish I had been watching myself, only to garner a laugh.

While I know that my mind did wander, it must have gone much farther than I though, because I do not remember a lot of the race, just getting into some kind of rhythmic run. I stopped caring about everything outside of me. I just moved forward, onward. The final major climb before my turn-around was difficult. The incline itself would prove to be taxing, but add in the steady, heavy sidewind-I was in for it.

One of my weakness as a runner has always been mental toughness. Let’s face it- as a person it has been difficult. And it has already been an extremely long year of testing that. Admittedly I had broken already on a few runs and workouts. And in a few life moments. And I was adding to the difficulty by doing this on my own. I could not break. I didn’t have anyone to pick me. I was not going to have anyone at the end to hold me if I broke down and cried. No one could be there, but me. It came down to simply telling myself I was tougher. And I did not allow myself to question it. Each step was that much closer.

At the halfway point aid station, I chatted and thanked the volunteers for everything. I did not stay long because I was actually on pace for one of my goals. The competitor in me was creeping up and growing stronger as the miles, piled on. No expectations, but it would be pretty cool…

Fueled with a bit of coca-cola, some m’n’ms and peanut butter, I was ready for my second 15.5 mile run of the day. Staying contained and within myself was going to be a key to finishing. I could not get crazy. Having done most of training at a much faster pace was falling into my benefit. I had strengthened myself in my own way, and I had found what was best for me. And all I could do was just keep going. Climbingg was taking its toll of course, but I kept telling myself that I was ok. Hitting sections of basalt rock with rough footing, I remembered a warning I had received back in December. Laughing I was blown off the course by the wind, only heightening the difficulty. I was again alone with no protection. It took some strength, but I powered through the gusts.

At this point, I broke down the remainder of the race by aid stations. I knew where they were and I just focused on each section. Checking in with myself, I continued the rhythm and the wandering.

Hitting the second to last aid station, I caught a woman about my age and we kept each other going-discussing previous races we had run. She laughed when I told her this was my first ultra. I told her she was awesome and that we’d see how I was doing in a couple of miles. Eventually we separated, but she would pass me later on, after an intense trial of my own. But she was the first person I ran with. And there was only nine miles left at this point. Reaching the second to last climb, I could feel myself reaching a breaking point. Mentally I had made some kind of misstep. I could not really tell you exactly what it was, but I could feel everything breaking down. The bricks and stones I had used to build the wall around myself, protecting myself, were cracking and slowly crumbling. I was letting things inside and get to me throughout the previous week. I couldn’t do that now; not if I wanted to finish. I felt a mirage form in front of me. Something I knew may happen, but didn’t want to. Well, who are we kidding; I did, but knew it wouldn’t be good for me. I fell into the mirage and followed it for a couple miles, feeling comfortable in the warmth of its presence. It spoke to me in soft words, never getting too personal, but trying to edge around touchy subjects. Finally, I realized I needed to guard my heart. That was the thing I needed to keep beating. I didn’t want to lose this mirage though. I wanted it to still be there at the end. I wanted it back. I would rather live in the uncomfortable knowing of that mirage than without it. 

running strong in my brooks cascadia.
blister free!

But I needed this for me. Not anyone or anything else. I dropped it. I got to the final aid station and pushed everything aside. Or tried to. I fought through the pain. I fought through the tears and finally I crossed the line. No one was there to hold me. No one was there to hug me. I found friendly faces, sure. But I was by myself. And that was a pretty ok place to be. Not ideal, and maybe not exactly what I want, but I was ok. I was going to be ok. I did it on my own. 

I would survive. I would live to see another day. I made it thirty one miles.

What’s next?