Ordered Chaos

Trail running mud bath

A decision to register for a 50-mile race comes with sacrifice. Of course, there are the obvious ones: 4- to 6-hour long runs on the weekends, after school hours on the trail, income allocated to running gear & registration fees. Then there are the not-so-obvious: pricey grocery bills for elevated caloric needs, early weekend nights before morning long runs, and maybe surprise visitors inside your shoes on a muddy trail.

Last fall I enthusiastically trained for the same 50-mile race, only to be left injured and unable to run consistently for a couple months. It was part of a plan that was to culminate in a 100-mile race this June. Needless to say, without the foundation of my plan in place, the entire plan crumbled to the ground. Well, kind of.

I spent the winter cross training and rediscovered my love of yoga. With a more balanced routine, I fully resumed training in February, just in time to run the Free State Trail Marathon about a month ago. It was a blast! Aside from the discovery of a new form of nutrition on the run (Nutella tortilla wraps), the race re-focused my efforts go long…really long.

Now, registered again for the North Face Endurance Challenge 50-Miler this coming September, my training has accelerated. In an effort to ramp the mileage before heading to Kenya in less than a month, I joined a few friends for 25 miles on the trail yesterday. Assured by local meteorologists that there was just a “slight chance of storms”, we were greeted on the trail by a gorgeous sunrise at 6am. Three miles later, mother nature’s true hospitality manifested itself in wind, rain and hail. As trail runners, we fully understand that the unpredictable terrain is in large part what lures us away from the monotony of road running. A little unpredictable weather completes the harmony that is inherent to going off-road.

Seven miles in, I am overcome with a new sensation. As my foot sweeps through the grass, I catch a thistle with my right shoe. At least, I though I was wearing shoes. The ease with which that thorn pierced my shoe, tore through my sock, and came to rest under my toenail has me thinking otherwise. A mile later, I would confirm this suspicion by removing my shoe and extracting said thorn. The sight of blood upon removal was complemented by much-needed pain relief. Perfect, now all I have to do is run 17 more miles!

In the company of supportive friends, mutual accountability, and personal motivation, anything is possible. Upon reflecting on yesterday’s jaunt through the woods, I am reminded that the path ahead is forever unpredictable. There are times to stop, times to take a break, and times to simply adjust and keep moving. Last year I had to stop. I don’t know what will happen between now and the 50-mile race in September. But, if I can retain the ability to distinguish between hiccups and choking hazards, I will keep moving forward, one stride at a time.

About a week ago, I found myself taking part in an act of idiocy – I registered for a 50-mile race in Wisconsin on October 24th.  Though it fits into my long term plan to ascend the trail running staircase to a 100-miler, I still am left wondering why anyone would do this. Time will only tell.  Well, time and pain…and hunger and blisters and dehydration and glycogen depletion. Seriously, what am I thinking?!?

During a long trail run with Scott this summer, we exchanged goals, both intellectual and physical, and I vocalized the principle that hangs like an umbrella over my life: to do something each year that extends beyond the realm of my past achievements.

Last year I ran my first 50k, and it was glorious.  I felt great throughout the race and even had enough left in the tank to kick at the end. A banner day, really. Though I can’t plan on that happening on any given day, I’m trying to convince myself that the only difference between a 50k and a 50mi race is a couple arbitrary letters.  And so go the mind games. Those very mind games will either wreak havoc or act as my savior during the race…though both will likely occur.

However, come race day, no matter how mentally prepared I am, I also must be physically prepared, and to that extent I have a lot of work to do. Hours of running, miles of pounding, gallons of sweating. Left, right, repeat as necessary. It’s so simple, yet so difficult. But at the end of the year, I’ll have peace of mind in knowing that I did something this year that I’ll never forget, at least one “moment” that can help define 2009.  Cool.

Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to cross a big ticket item off my list.  And I didn’t just succeed, I ultra-succeeded.  Yes, it was my very first ultramarathon!! For the past few years, ever since I heard about people running farther than 26.2, it’s had an enticing lure. That gentle pull soon turned into ambitious curiosity, and a few mouse clicks later I was signed up for the North Face Endurance Challenge 50k in Wisconsin.

Because teaching doesn’t allot me the luxury of taking chunks of time off (well, at least three seasons a year), and because running 26.2+ doesn’t leave me with record breaking motivation to drive 8 hours back home, my mom & stepdad graciously decided to roadtrip with me to Wisconsin.

Even without considering the race, we all had a great time!  We laughed, we ate, we drank, and I almost cried.  More on that later. Race morning began not so bright and early at 5am.  And with a quick shower, bowl of oatmeal and coffee, we hit the road for the 20 minute drive from our hotel to Ottawa Lake.

Mom & Jerry at race start

The race atmosphere was nothing like a road marathon. It was fairly low-key, but with plenty to eat and plenty of stories to soak in with all the ultrarunners exchanging tales of blood, tears, blisters & victory. At 8am sharp, the race began with instructions to stick together until the course’s first highway crossing.  You’d never get road runners to obey these kind of instructions.

Race start

Although it was a brisk morning, it was perfect for us runners, and the course was beautiful! The path wove through Kettle Moraine State Forest, through heavily wooded areas, prairies, tall native grasses, and the Ice Age Trail.  Though never too brutal, some hills were definitely not runnable. The most common piece of advice I’ve heard & read is to establish a run/walk strategy throughout an ultra.  That is, maybe run 25 minutes & walk 5.  I don’t think I walked at all during the first 10-12 miles of the race.  At that point I deliberately started to insert some walking on the uphills while scarfing Clif Bars.  Mmmm, chocolate brownie…

Throughout the race I exchanged many words of encouragement, and chatted it up with fellow runners. Ultrarunners are definitely a chatty bunch, and this makes the race atmosphere much more enjoyable and less competitive. What also makes a race more enjoyable is spectator support, especially family support.  I’m officially naming Mom & Jerry uber-spectators. The plan was for them to hang around the first three aid stations at miles 1, 6 and 11, where the course wove back to the same aid station three times.  Then, I’d see them next at the finish. However, to my relieved surprised, they hit every single aid station except mile 16! One thing about having your mom cheer you on during such a long race is that you have to do some “mom” things.  Like pose for a picture with cheerleaders at mile 27.  Thanks Mom! :~)

Me & the cheerleaders at mile 27

The race was long, and I started to feel it after leaving Mom & Jerry (and the cheerleaders) at mile 27. But those feelings were put to death upon spotting a lady on a seemingly endless uphill.  Upon passing her she said, “Great job! Only 1.7 miles to go!”  And that was it.  I surged ahead and started running like I was running the mile in junior high.  I passed several runners during that last stretch, and as I crossed the finished line I think I choked on my own tears. If Allison had been able to make it to the race, I’d have been sobbing at the end.

The emotional uplift that follows the accomplishment of such a big ticket item is priceless.  But one thing’s for sure, I’ll never run my first ultra again.  But I will run my second.  And I’ll run longer. I’ll do many things I’ve never done before, because that’s what I enjoy most.  The challenges of the unknown, the freshness of new goals, the exhilaration of sweet victory.  Also, the presence of family & friends throughout all walks of life, cheering me on both in person and over the phone.

Victory! (and a medal to prove it)

It’s not everyday that I look so forward to an afternoon snack, but today was one of those days. With cool, 40-degree temps and a sunny calm afternoon, conditions were perfect for feasting. Feasting on some serious 0₂, that is. With a brand new pair of running shoes, it may as well have been Christmas morning, and I, Ralphie, with my new Red Ryder BB gun. “Don’t shoot your eye out!”, my mom would say. Except today, the stars were aligned for a glorious run. If Karma has anything to do with the day’s conditions, I must have been a much better person in a previous life.

So, sporting my new kicks, and with a childish grin on my face, I take off from my car, seeming to flee from the day’s worries. As my legs turned over faster and faster, my lungs willingly and rapidly accepted the late winter air. A mile and a half in, I pass a teenage playground – the neighborhood skate park. Any other day my head would be filled with parental criticism for the absence of helmets. Today, though, I’m content with the fact that, helmets or no helmets, these kids are enjoying the outdoors in a way that’s impossible to mimic on the couch (even with a Wii).

My pace increases. Even with below average temps on an early March afternoon, new signs of life hint at an approaching Spring. Birds chirp, fair-weather runners emerge, and a few more walkers are unleashing their dogs. In some ways I’m driven by a need to forget. I’ve found that a career in education inevitably brings stresses and concerns that reach deep into the soul. In the business world much of my stress seemed to be widespread and shallow, with concerns of office politics and saving face. In education, stress runs deep as I reach out to empower students and motivate them to realize their true potential.

This comes with a price, however, and relieving this stress takes a much more concerted effort. This is why I run harder. If even for a moment I can run so hard, so as to focus entirely on my physical effort, then my mind can rejuvenate and be more prepared to tackle the next day’s challenges. Today, I’m successful. Tomorrow, I may not be, but that’s okay. Though we gain momentum through successes, we learn only from failures.

Back at home, barefoot and logging my mileage, I catch the faint smell of new shoes. Briefly I’m reminded that it’s only through hard work that something unfamiliar eventually becomes a part of us. For soon the smell of new shoes will be gone, and the bright white will fade with the elements – a signature end to the “honeymoon” stage. However, we all know that greatest rewards are the ones that lie deep below the surface, long after the honeymoon has passed.

It’s been awhile.  Yes, quite some time for so many things.  First, it’s been quite some time – almost a month and a half – since I posted on this blog.  I’ve felt disconnected.  Second, it’s been awhile since I’ve really gotten away from the craziness that my life has relentlessly presented.  In this way, I’ve felt way too connected.  Well, last weekend was my “Psycho Getaway” to disconnect and reconnect at the same time.  To be more specific, I ran the Psycho WyCo Run Toto, Run 20-Mile Trail Run in Kansas City last Saturday.  At the very least, I was able to accept a beating from the brutality of the race course: hilly, rocky, rooty, snowy, muddy, icy, and did I say hilly?  Sometimes hitting rock bottom (or muddy bottom) can be the surest way to success.  World War II General George Patton said it best:

Success is how high you bounce when you hit bottom.

At best, this race for me represented an introduction to a mysterious population: the ultrarunners.  The event also included a 50k (31-mile) race, which draws a crowd much different than you would see at a road race.  Trail runners & ultrarunners seem to compete with much more of a “big picture” mentality. In a line of runners, the front runner is always happy to pull over and let those behind pass.  Road races are more free-for-alls and it’s the runner in back who carries the burden of fancy footwork to side-step the front runner. You see, trail runners realize that the stealthly runners looking to pass everyone will most likely tire sometime before mile 31, or even 20 or 10.  It was nice to be exposed to such a big-picture mentality…maybe just what I needed as I start my career in the difficult world of education.  The best things in life cost us blood, sweat or tears, or some combination of the three.

Anyway, coming back to the surface, the race was a wonderful experience.  For now, though, I’ve got my sights on my next marathon, even two. It’s looking like Lincoln for the spring, and Chicago for the fall.  If I can’t measure my life in any other way, then it’ll be one marathon at a time.  That’s my big picture.