Thursday June 2, 2022
I was driving to Salem Tuesday to get an adjustment and I realized that since I had woken up that morning at 5 and going into the afternoon everything I was doing was part of the training process for States. And then I realized that much of my bedtime routine the night before was too.
In 2013, I had the good fortune of getting into Western States with one ticket after my first Mountain Masochist (you used to be able to qualify with a 50 miler). I had a rough spring with injuries and uncertainties, I thought for a while about not even going to California, but I eventually started getting in some miles and bought tickets to Reno in May. It was to be my first hundred miler. But throughout the training and even into the race the goal was always to see how far you can make it, never based on time outside of finishing and never quite sure of myself.
I remember being on the plane bound for the race and reading the quote about the man in the arena. I wanted to be the man in the arena, but did I? If I didn't really believe that I could?
Driving on Tuesday I thought about how different my training is right now than it was nine years ago for my first hundred. This time, I am not even worried about if, it's all based on how.
I finished Western States in 2013, but not without regret. Lots of regret and a strong desire to go back and actually be the man in the arena, going in I had no belief but after I knew I could do better. Much of training in 2014-2016 was about getting stronger for States. But then I didn't get in one lotto year after another, by 2018 I wasn't sure I even cared about it anymore, at all. My mental health was on a downward trend. Then I got pregnant with our youngest child. Then I stopped running.
I'm not sure I'll ever convey the darkness, the anger and sadness, the despondency of the next six months, I don't know that I need to. But suffice it to say I wasn't sure I was ever going to run again, I wasn't sure I cared about Western States at all. Somehow though, in the middle of the time off, I sent a paper application away for Laurel Highlands 70 Miler so I could qualify for States again, I would be roughly three months postpartum.
I never wrote a race report for Laurel Highlands. I'm sad about that now. Now what is left is the memories that are strongest and were most impressionable. The 30 second recap of things I remember: Todd's encouragement to run that April 1st after six months of no running, Todd's encouragement to run day after day, the friends and family who trained with me, cared for me, crewed and paced me. Trying to quit on myself, being unable to. I remember really wanting to qualify for States and believing that I would get in that December, wanting it, feeling like I needed it.
Instead Laurel Highlands drained me further, who knew that a 70 mile race after such a long break could be so taxing? I ran little over the next few months. In December I was ready for the lottery but I didn't get in, that very same day, hours after the lottery, I registered for my next qualifier, World's End 100k.
Twenty Twenty was a tough year for anyone old enough to remember it. I began to run more in anticipation for World's End. I trained as well as I could and I had a great race that September just so thankful to be able to race. To qualify again. Three months later I ran Hellgate (2020) to qualify for the following year's lottery. All this time I was training enough to qualify but there were still pieces that seemed to be missing.
Last spring and summer I took some time off of running. In the quiet space of too much time off I thought about Western States and how I didn't even know if going back fit me anymore. I started to think about running a different hundred miler. I started thinking about running less, maybe not even at all.
I didn't write a race report for the Cove in 2021, but the 30 sec recap of strongest memories goes something like this: I had a flare up of IT, I took time off but wanted to run the Cove with my friends, I had a tough day, I seriously considered that I wasn't a trail runner anymore, then on a trail headed for the finish I had this overwhelming and beautiful experience that I've had a few times but hadn't had for a while (but has interestingly happened twice at the Cove) where I knew, I just knew I am a trail runner. I can't honestly explain it any better, just that I knew it was in me, I remember getting emotional from the entire experience, finishing invigorated to get in better shape and come back stronger.
I kept qualifying, I knew eventually I would get back in, I knew I was a trail runner but I wasn't training like I believed those things. I guess maybe I was taking it all for granted. I guess maybe I was in denial. I don't know.
I do know that when I got in this past December, when my name was finally spoken aloud at the drawing I was so excited, I jumped in. I didn't check the water temperature, I didn't check how deep the water was or if the suit even fit anymore, I just jumped due to anticipation and with great enthusiasm.
We all know how much a belly flop hurts from the sound of the body hitting water.
Almost immediately it was shin splints and knee pain. Thankfully this isn't my first time around. I did play it smarter than I have in the past. But the knee pain persisted. I was reminded that plans are helpful frameworks but seldom do the final papers look like the original outlines.
I'm rambling and I know it. If you're still here I applaud you. You should sign up for an ultra, you have great persistence and it's possibly the biggest tell if you can make it to the finish line.
I needed help. I was convinced I needed a coach to help. But coaches, like running in general, are expensive, especially for people who have obsessions with shoes, running books and fancy watches.
All the while we were assembling a crew to take to California, buying tickets in early March even! Bethany Williams being one of them, she shared with me a podcast on Addie Bracy's new book Mental Training for Ultrarunning and I both listened to the podcast and bought the book. But I got stumped when it came to my WHY?
In early March, I convinced Todd I needed a coach, and not just any coach, but Coach Roche. Todd agreed. I was SO excited, I was like a kid on Christmas, I came straight home from our Monday hike and couldn't think beyond emailing him and getting the process started. I sent an explanatory email off late that same night. I woke to a response, he gets up early!
Unfortunately though, he was full. Boy should I have not taken that personally. But boy did I ever! I didn't even tell people about it at first I was so full of shame. Because if I was any runner with any kind of potential at all I would have a spot. It was crushing. I would have to go it alone.
Except of course, I wouldn't.
A few days later Todd forwarded me an email from Trail Runner, it was written by David Roche and it was about Western States. "Give me your heart and soul and the contents of your stomach, and maybe if you're lucky I'll give you a belt buckle you'll never wear." when I read these words he'd penned about the Western States trail I felt all of those hurts come back to the surface, I wanted this person to coach me!
Maybe he still could, I thought, there were plans on his SWAP website. Maybe he'd written a book. If not, someone should let this man write a book! Fortunately, they already have. I bought it from Amazon and devoured it in two days. After I was done I went back and read some parts again. Not a few months later, I will still revisit it, probably will for a time to come.
With Bracy and Roche's books as an aid, I slowly began to break down my running. I was reflecting on why I first started running, on why I believe I keep running particularly through adversity, what I want to get out of my running. By the time I got to Promise Land in April I had a foundation to my why becoming established but more importantly I had this most valuable piece of advice, that having a clearly defined why isn't necessarily more important than being in the process of wondering why.
Equipped with a growing support team, a pliable plan and a reinvigorated sense of purpose I moved into May a little more confident.
May wasn't without trial though. Knee pain is still here, the other got angry I suppose at the attention the other was getting, so now they both want attention. Left heel plantar is inflamed, there's a concerning knot on my Achilles, both the calves want breaks. I'm seeing the chiropractor, drinking the water, the protein, stretching, seeing a PT, reading, walking, giving self pep talks, reflecting, rebuilding, redesigning.
This past Saturday I went and ran Tobacco Row in Amherst County. On the drive home I thought about my friends and how supportive they are about my upcoming run. I remembered how much I love the process. As the days tick down to States I'm worried about the usual, have I trained hard enough, smart enough, will I overcome, but I'm actually growing a little sad that the process is nearing an end.
It's been a really long process. And where it started isn't where it headed, isn't were it's going now. In the years immediately following my first hundred, I trained, got faster, did a few more hundreds (OK, Grindstone twice), but then I lost the path. There was a while where I wasn't sure where I was, my path to States this year hasn't been easy, it never should have been of course, but it hasn't been hard in the way I was expecting, which is probably the problem to begin with. But I can say, in this moment anyways, that I haven't been as committed to running and the process than I am right now than maybe ever before. I may not be as fast or strong physically but there's something there that wasn't there before.
I thought about where I was nine years ago at this time. I was so afraid, so uncertain of if I could go a hundred miles. This time around though I am not worried about not finishing, I know that it's possible, it's always possible you won't make it to the next sunrise. But this time I have a big time goal, I'm worried I won't make that goal, which is sub 24 hours, but I'm not as afraid. Just how afraid can someone be of the dark if they go willingly out into the night?
I used to put all of my worth on a clock, sometimes I'll admit I still do. I used to want to be accepted so badly, I wanted to be agreeable and liked. I didn't mind losing myself, I didn't mind making other people's goals my own. I still want to be liked and accepted but I've come to the slow and necessary realization that sometimes in spite of myself some people will still like me and others will not. I just cannot say enough how aware and thankful I am for the time and support I have from my friends and family in this journey.
Right now I am loving the process of training, I've missed a deep connection to a goal. I'm worried what comes after States more than I am worried about States because I am so grateful despite the aches and pains of where I am right now, like the Front Bottoms, "I like the time it takes to get somewhere".
If I had been accepted into States in a different year, the journey and the process would certainly have looked different. At the beginning of this year I was disappointed in myself and where I was, but now, after time and with help, I'm not disappointed anymore. This year's training block has reminded me of why I love running, the trail running community especially, and that I may be more tenacious than I give myself credit.
In these final weeks of training I want to do what I wished I had done in 2013, I want to soak up every minute I can of the process. I made a lot of mistakes back then, I have made a lot since then, I may make a few more, but the one mistake I don't want to repeat is not fully appreciating the process and the people in the moment.
OK, maybe skipping that sock change, I would not like to repeat that either.
I'm wordy but I don't consider myself very good with words, so to borrow once more from someone else, what do I want, more than anything at WS? I want to live up to Rilke's words;
