::Four to Go::

I've been trying to wrap my head around it all.

The last four months have come and gone like the cliche whirlwind I was trying to avoid and hope would never catch me. I wasn't running away from anything, just  straight into something completely unknown and hoping for understanding.

And then I clicked the button. It was a simple, unassuming gesture. I paid my money. Now they had it in their hands and I was theirs.

I signed up for a race.

It isn't just any race, well not for me. It is something I have been toying with for far too long. And finally, I got into enough shape to feel confident enough that I will not die on the run. But this time it is going to hurt.

I have  run this race before. A few years back. It was.. difficult. I have written about the experience since, and been vague and quiet about it all when I have shared with others. But in my own private writing, and my own time alone on the trails thinking and looking back on it all, I realized something big that needed to be “nipped in the bud.”

I've got demons.

Have you ever had that experience in racing? Maybe something goes unplanned, or you change your course of action and it changes things. Significant things. First place passes you, so does second. And you’re feeling just fine. It’s not your legs. It’s only partly your heart. But it is all in your head. It is like a mirage just jumped up and grabbed you, tackled you to the ground and held you there for just a little too long. Figuratively speaking, of course.

And right when things start going well in training, demons are laying down to be slayed, long runs aren't as bad as you once thought, and training on only four months of leg work is starting to become easier, it happens again.

It sneaks up behind you, and it has got you by the arm. It wrenches a little tighter and your head begins to throb with might as fighting back becomes harder, but it is all you've got. The bruise comes from under the skin and you can feel the scrapes on your limbs once more.

But what are you going to do? Fold? Lie down in defeat and mutter to yourself as you rock back and forth?

Training for an ultra-marathon is hard. Lots of people will say that. It takes time. It takes practice, patience, and the occasional upset stomach. It takes courage to step out on tired legs and run more miles than you thought imaginable in a year. I have so much respect for everyone who signs up for any race; whether it is one mile, or one hundred miles. Those of you who race over one hundred: God Bless and keep you.

I haven’t actually raced in two years. I have been in races, and I have run them. I’ve even stopped and had a popsicle along the way at Bloomsday. Bucket list: CHECK. So I decided my first race back in 2015 was to be an ultra-marathon. Yes, you read that right. Anything over 26.2 miles is deemed an ultra. Right now I wish my race was 26.3… But I am excited by it. I have raced this course before and come so close. And now I get to go back, a new woman, and see what I’ve got. I know I am stronger than I was then. I am not as hard as I once was, but that shouldn’t matter. I have to keep my head about me. I know that for a fact. This last week of training has been somewhat of a blur. And I had my first setback. I have to say I am proud of how I am handling it. I ran 24 miles on a Thursday, that’s how I handle it.

The setback wasn’t an injury. It wasn’t a stubbed toe or a broken bone. It was a hiccup. It was a mental lapse, an unfortunate sadness in the whole scheme. And I am dealing. I tripped, but I didn’t fall.

Tears streamed as I round the corners, gingerly stepping over roots into newly minted mud along the mile markers of Wildwood. I could have blamed it on the cold air, the breeze hitting me in the face and causing this reaction.

I could say I am scared, or I am sad, or I’m just having a bad day. But really, really why I am crying doesn’t really matter in the long term.

I am angry. I am frustrated. And this is how I show it. Which frustrates me more. It gives me a little more power in my legs though, as I try to keep cadence up the hills. It gives me a little more motivation to keep going, to fight back, to stand tall and stay in stride with the goal.

The goal is to finish. It is always to finish. Everything else is just icing.