The day after completing Western States I received a message from a friend that I interpreted as not all that supportive of my finish. I took it as a light, but direct, hit on what was hard but in ways I've yet to fully be able to articulate. What I took to be the message of the message took hold of my every thought and began little by little to break down the accomplishment I had reveled in not a full 24 hours prior. In place of trying to understand my hurt and make amends with it I decided to carry a chip with my every step, burden a pressure that was yet understandable but very real.
Finally, last night I admitted to Todd that deep down I've used the message as a way to veil my own disappointment, to conceal the way that I really feel about my run at Western States.
There is a part of me that knows what I should about the run, that it was my first hundred. Going into the run I knew that inexperience would be a factor, that my own self doubt would be a factor, that the distance by it's very nature would be a factor, for an indeterminable number of unforeseens may present themselves at inopportune times. I realize that I accomplished overall what I set out to do, which was finish, but there is a growing discernment that what was a unique and treasured experience was not all that good a day.
And so back and forth my emotions swing, maybe it has to do with the distance but I remember a familiar swing of peaks and valleys following Hellgate last winter. One moment I would hold a sense of pride over my conquering the scary night and the nasty lows but then other times I would experience the lowest lows. Half a year later I'm still somewhat in the middle knowing that this year I'll have to go back and better my time, and in doing so conquer myself as much as the Devil's trail. Now, a week or so out from Western States I'm experiencing the same sort of feelings but with more lows than I would have expected. I decided to compile the thoughts that are haunting me, figured the release of all the pent up second guessing would afford me a reprieve.
For starters, I started slow, like stop and smell the flowers and take a dozen photos slow. At the time I thought this was smart and I was being patient. I don't regret the hike to Emmigrant Pass, I think that was necessary, but I continued on at a snail's pace for the first 24 miles or more of the race. By the time I took to really running a quarter of the run was practically over. In retrospect I worry that I took it too easy, too slow. I don't personally believe you can 'bank' time but I never anticipated what later happened to my feet. That second half wasn't about muscle damage so much as painful feet, had I moved quicker, covered distance faster in the beginning, I wonder if overall my time would have been better.
Then there is my poor grasp on Nutrition. Every really bad race I have had I have later reflected that it all stems back to not eating enough either from the start or at one point or another in the run. On training runs I never bonk, even training runs of up to 25 miles or more. But that's 25 miles. You take me out to a 40 or 60 mile race and eat as poorly as I tend to and it's going to catch up with you. I struggled from the beginning of the day to eat, I even had it written on my arm to eat (but it had completely faded by mile 30). Looking back there were spans of several hours where I ate a few grapes and a slice of Watermelon, a single GU or a couple of crackers. By the time Todd caught on that I wasn't eating enough I had fallen rather low. Despite eating again I never fully came back. To keep moving, even at a much slower rate than I train at, for a sum of nearly 29 hours, my fueling was just sub sub par. And what makes this worse for me is that I do have enough experience to have known at least a little better, Douthat and Hellgate both illustrated, or so I thought, the extreme effect eating has on my run. Sure your energy suffers when you don't eat but so does your ability to handle emotions and pain. I wonder how much better I could have hobbled through those last 35 miles if I had kept up throughout the earlier part of the day on eating more. In my mind this is the single, biggest downfall of my time at Western States.
But there was also inexperience. I had been warned that your feet could and probably would suffer from the dust and heat of the day. I was warned about blisters and gators came highly recommended. I bought a pair of Mountain Hardwear Gators the day before the run, attached them to my Hokas. In doing this I changed my plan of starting in my Montrail Bajadas. In my original race plan I was to wear my Montrails for the first 30 miles. At Robinson Flats I was to change both my socks and shoes, and move into my beloved Hoka Stinson. However, with the gators attached to that one pair of shoes and fearing the dust and blisters I decided to go all willy nilly and change this plan. This has weighed heavily on me every since. People have asked me how I got trench foot by mile 38! Good question. I love wet feet. I have never had problems with wet feet. As stated before, others were dodging that water early on, I did not even pass a thought over what damage wet feet at 20, 25 or 30 hours could do. The time it took me to reach mile 38 was much longer than any of my previous 50k times and was pushing, I believe, my 50 mile time. I've never run with wet feet that long, I didn't realize the consequences until I was living them. Having wet feet and an empty stomach worked quickly to take the good day I had started having away from me.
I thought I was being smart and running easy, that I was saving those quads of mine. And I did. So well that I never in the days following the run experienced any Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. Just Delayed Onset Run Regret. But now I am pretty sure the later is just as hard to walk around with.
There was also a lot of time wasted later on in aid stations. I needed the break at Michigan Bluff to change my socks. But I stopped and sat down in at least three different aid stations, something I had vowed I would not do going in. I had a massage before I crossed the river! These just ate time, they didn't benefit my run and are just extra regrets to burden as the days go by. In all though, it was really just the aid stations in the darkness that held me back, during the day I had gone in and out so quickly that I forgot socks and Tums and extra food even when it had been all I thought about for miles headed towards my crew.
And then there were the emotional breakdowns. Horton and Ellie had both warned about being relaxed and patient. But I had a number of lows. Running down to El Dorado Creek I thought I was lost, this was really the first low of the day and in retrospect my eating was just catching up with me at this point. But once I allowed myself to slip mentally it was just easier the rest of the run. I didn't have a 'breakdown' the only time I thought about quitting, but again eating played a huge part in my wanting to quit then. But later, reaching 85 miles I had a nice emotional breakdown that others got to witness but probably don't remember as we were probably all facing our own demons enough to not worry with what other's were experiencing. And maybe that's what happens at mile 85, but I never came back from that low at mile 85. The last 15 miles were a tumbling mix of fatigue, fear, pain and true grit.
I know when I think about the day that I must ultimately embrace that I finished, the weather and the mountains took a good number of people down before the weekend was over. A finish is a finish. But I can't help but wonder, if this then what could have come to pass?
When it's all finished tumbling the same thing keeps coming out clear, I did really enjoy the distance. It was harder than I imagined, and it asked more of me in ways I wasn't expecting, but I did pull through and I did finish. There wasn't necessarily the enlightenment I was hoping for but it did present a window into myself, that I can do what needs to be done with a little help from my friends. However, I hate that I keep having to remind myself of these facts. I could have been a casualty, and with the bad decisions and inexperience it would have been no surprise to fall victim to a DNF, to have bowed out before Auburn.
I am going to quote Ezra Koening at this point and say "I can't help but feel that I made some mistakes, but I let it go" and hope that I can...
-Alexis
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