So I guess I'll start with Bear Lake. It wasn't my hundred, but that's ok. It was a good race. All said and done I completed 80.1 miles (78 according to Garmin) in just under 19 hours. With no crew there was a fair amount of "stopped" time filling bottles, using the facilities, and even changing shorts one time; at a certain point you just want clean clothes and a bit of comfort. For most of the moving portions I kept a pretty respectable pace and the heart rate wasn't too far out of range for where I would like it. But, I broke a golden rule in running: never try anything new on race day. I tried increasing my calorie intake, eating new foods that I hadn't tried fueling with, and one that I HAD tried to fuel with and not had good success (it was pizza, I was hungry, sue me). So, in hindsight I definitely know where I went wrong. And this race was no different than any other in the fact that Ultras are always a series of ups and downs. Things went as well as they could until about mile 40-45 when I started running into a bit more dehydration than I had planned and a slight bit of nausea because of it. Once that was handled, things went really well up until about 65 when the nausea hit hard. The hill that led into the aid station every three miles was getting increasingly more difficult and my pace had slowed significantly. In training I had been running routes that had an elevation gain of approximately 100ft/mile, this course was about 115ft/mile. So not far off. but the hills weren't gradual like in training. And that late in the race it really began to kick my ass, pardon my French. By the time I hit mile ~80, I realized with the time I had left and the mileage I had left I would need to perform as good or better than I had been for the last ten miles. And that just didn't seem in the books considering how my gut had been feeling for the last 15 miles. When I considered how I would feel, mentally, if I stopped now at 80 vs. potentially hitting even like 98 and then having to stop because of a time cut-off I decided that I was happy with 80 miles in the time. Even though 98 would be quite an achievement, I know me, and I know that I would have been devastated and equally frustrated not hitting the 100 because of a time cut-off. So, once again. A mileage for another day. But that's running.
After "failing" , I stubbornly decided that I wanted to take another whack at it, if at all possible, before the end of the year. After looking at a few training schedules, I had decided on a tentative date for a self-supported style of ultra. Thankfully a buddy I had met running the Lighthouse 100 showed me a 30 hour event that happened to be running the same day I had decided I would go for my next attempt. Perfect! a race that will be away from the comfort of my bed, have reasonable aid station supplies, and have access to a bathroom (thank the lord). Having come away relatively unscathed from Bear Lake I was coming into this fairly confident: feeling good about my training, the miles I had put in in the past few months, and most importantly, uninjured. So, here comes race day. Everything is prepped. I'm ready. I haven't slept (do you ever before a big race?). Let's go. Race time: " Fuck, its cold," was my first thought. "God, I do not miss road running" being my second. I knew within the first fifteen miles that this was going to be a long day. I was already a bit bored and honestly just kind of "over it." But, with anything, if you can just take it a minute, a lap, or a few miles at a time you can keep going, and so I did. Until about mile 34. I started dealing with a new twinge behind my right knee this time. Always something new. So I decided either I was going to call it or I was going to lie down in the back of the car for a bit before making any brash decisions. Thankfully I did the latter. I assumed it would be a 15 minute lie down, tops. It ended up being an entire hour. I guess sometimes it's just what you need. Having made really good time for the first 34 miles I didn't feel too guilty about dedicating the time to that, and I figured with it being a 30 hour cut-off I would have plenty of time. So after a good hour of cat-naps I trudged my way back out of the car and started moving again. Unfortunately the leg never did improve. When I tried bracing it, it caused my ankle to hurt. So it was one thing or the other. So I just took it lap-by-lap. I broke down each lap into small sections to complete and slowly, but surely I started nearing the 50 mile mark. For the last lap my right knee was in such poor shape I decided the Crocs were getting popped on. So for the last lap, about 4.8 miles, I ran/walked in what's aptly named, 4-wheel drive mode, in my Crocs. And honestly, they performed great. I don't think I would have been able to complete another 50 miles in the state that I was in, at least without further injuring myself. And with my twin running his first 50K in just a few weeks I decided that was more important to me than finishing something I would ultimately have plenty of time for in the future. So, I completed the last lap in my Crocs, finishing out a double marathon in just under 11 hours total. I can't really be terribly unhappy with the results from the day considering the variables. But there is still that small part of mind that just whispers: "you still haven't completed 100 this year..." so, we'll see how I contend with that. But for now, 2021 is coming to a close and even though 100K is my only new mileage PR benchmark (~80 being the top) I can't be terribly unhappy with the year when I consider how much my training has evolved, how much my diet (and the importance of it) has evolved, and how much I've grown as an athlete, especially when I consider my running career as a whole. I started from scratch in 2018. When I consider that, I am very happy. But of course... that 100 is on my mind.
I realized my posts are becoming more like race reports rather than anything truly insightful about running, and I feel this is because you can say too much and never enough with the same statements about running. It's always essentially the same thing, just worded differently. I liken the feeling to that of love, you can never really put your finger on it if you try to explain just what it is, what it does, and how it feels. For some people the reexplanation gets old and pushes them further from running (not that I imagine they enjoy race reports either for that matter). So I try not to harp too much on it. But it's frustrating at times. No matter how you explain it. No matter what metaphors or analogies you use. You can never quite feel satisfied with your explanation as to why we do what we do. I've come to the conclusion that it's something you really just have to experience to fully understand. Unless you're racing at the elite level. In most races (and especially) ultramarathons it's really just a solitary, but unified struggle. Everyone wants to cheer on the next person to finish that next mile as much as they want to. We're all out there struggling together. sometimes in the middle of the night. Keeping each other bright and cheery. Even if it is begrudgingly at times. But everyone is out there fighting their own war, oftentimes just to finish. There is no easy answer to why we do this. We just do.
Once again, I have to thank everyone that has come to read this. It truly means so much to me. This blog has become a great outlet to even just get my own thoughts out and be able to process them all. So, thank you all for the support.
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