I've waited a whole week to start this post in hopes that I would think of something to say. Strangely this experience has left me a bit speechless. You'd think that after a 28 hour run, I'd have TONS to say! That's a long time! But no. ***** ***** ***** 11 days past now. I think I'm starting to have some feelings about it. I suppose I'll start at the beginning? Welcome to Tennessee! We arrived at the Volunteer State late Thursday evening. I have never even driven through Tennessee, so being in an entirely new place was kind of cool. The drive through Kentucky was really beautiful, but there is definitely a shortage of Wendy's restaurants! We made it to the hotel shortly before bedtime and called it a day. On Friday, we got lunch at the cutest little soup place and then wandered a bit until we needed to be at the school. The race was hosted at Alcoa High School, which seemed a little strange but ended up being wildly convenient. The nearby Smokies were visible from the campus, which put me in a smiley place. Growing up in the Poconos, on the AT, I have a special place in my heart for mountains! We were sitting in the foyer (I think?) of the school waiting for the keynote speaker, Lazarus Lake, to arrive. If you're reading this blog, I'm thinking you know who he is. If you don't, I highly recommend watching the Barkley Marathons documentary on Netflix. This guy is unlike any other, hence the reason I'm borderline obsessed with him and was SO EXCITED to hear him speak. He was giving a talk on "How to finish the Barkley and other Ultramarathons." Now, most of you are already laughing at this title since you know that the former is a near impossibility and quite unlike the latter. If you don't, click the link. Really. Do it. Laz's talk was really interesting. He gave all sorts of advice that I will never follow, including questioning the reason for eating. There is no question that this dude is of the old school of runners. Included in his seemingly against science advice were some gems that really stuck with me. The one that impacted me the most was "You have to play the game the way the game unfolds." That statement hit me like I'd never heard anything else before. It just made so much sense, and was such a simple perspective that made all the pieces driving me crazy fall into place. (Not to mention the life lesson!) I left that talk full of adrenaline and excitement.
After packet pickup, we were supposed to attend the "almost mandatory" pre-race meeting. Since there is often important information at these things, we went. (Plus Laz was there. So there's that.) There must have been some directional mishaps in the past, because the RD Will made us call and respond what to do at rather obvious signs. It was pretty funny and definitely lifted the mood. Mrs. RD, Gail, was clearly in charge. She went through a very generous raffle with a mission! Add in a pistol squat contest, and the meeting was complete. Suddenly, we were both really hungry. We picked out a local brewery with a crazy long line, so Panera it was! After some mediocre carbs, we headed back to the hotel to relax and prepare for the following day(s).
Race Day. Now, this is where I have trouble coming up with things to say. We'll see how this goes. There was frost on the cars when we left for the school, but the temperatures were supposed to rise into the 40s before long. I am a chronic overdresser, so I went with one layer less than I though I'd need. The first lap was uneventful, and a little bit cold. I started in the shoes I'd done most of my training in, and figured I'd wear them until my joints started to hurt. While I love my Ultraboost, they don't have the cushioning that a road 100 needs. I grabbed an extra layer and went off on lap 2. Sometime during the middle of this loop, I started to develop hot spots on the balls of my feet. It was unexpected and I got a little freaked out. I tried to get the rest of the loop done as carefully as possible and then I dealt with my feet. I figured it would be worth it to finish the loop a little slower than anticipated than risk a DNF because of blisters? A bunch of lube, a new pair of socks and a change of shoes, and I was on my way. Loop 3 was completely unremarkable. My legs started to get tired, and I didn't want to eat anymore at the end. Both of these things were totally expected and my crew dealt with them flawlessly. Loop 4 got crazy windy! I was still moving kind of well but the feet issues kept up. I was concerned but not worried. I continued to lube up and change socks every loop, and lance things when needed. Yuck. Loop 5 brought the dark and the rain. Fortunately, I brought a LOT of gloves. I developed the fun game of trying to guess where people were from based on how they were dressed. Some people (southerners?) were in straight up parkas! The Canadians were in shorts. Go figure... I was excited to finish out this loop because I would get my pacers! My legs were starting to fight me and I was walking more than I anticipated. Play the game the way the game unfolds. This thought was in my head so often, along with a famous-ish ultra running quote- it never always gets worse. Typically I would have a minor freak out if my race was not going as planned. I knew that forcing the issue would likely be my downfall and I couldn't let that happen. I kept repeating those thoughts over and over and trying to prevent any other thoughts at all from entering my headspace. I finished the loop in about 12 hours, which was exactly where I wanted to be, but this was definitely when the wheels began to fall off. Loops 6 through 9 were essentially the same. I had Tim, Jen, Beth and Tim again, in that order, doing everything they could to keep me fed/watered/focused/unfocused/moving forward. I would run a little more on some laps, and almost none on others. My feet were becoming incredibly blistered and nervy and it took A LOT to put those thoughts of pain aside. It was dark and raining and people were starting to look like zombies. the highlight was definitely Woody's Aid Station during loop 7. The New Year turned around mile 64, and I was SO HAPPY to have Jen with me to kiss and hug. It seems like such a small thing but right then it was everything. Woody's had champagne to celebrate, and I was more than happy to partake :) Loop 7 gets a special place in hell. When Laz spoke, he broke the miles down like this: 1-30 as the beginning, 31-70 as the resolve, 71-90 as despair, and 91-100 as the reward. I call shenanigans on ALL OF THIS. I think being with Jen allowed me to subconsciously let my guard down a smidge. There was some ugly crying pretty much every time I saw her, and I allowed myself a few negative thoughts knowing that she would be there 100% and actually function as my mental state, making me get my shit back together. She is the only person that I have that trust in, and I knew that no matter what I was thinking, she would get me pointed int he right direction. I can't imagine how hard it was for her to see me like this, and she has already told me that she would prefer we not have this adventure again. You can't retain who you are as a person and maintain the focus and mental game to finish a 100. They are mutually exclusive, and you become an empty dissociated shell of your otherwise charismatic self. Anyway, loop 7. Yay distance PR, 100k! Woohoo! Oh shit, I still have 40 miles to go. There is no feeling in the world more devastating that I have ever experienced as a runner. Compile that with the fatigue of 60+ miles already run, awful feet, and a sour stomach, and I honestly have no idea how I kept going. But I did. Beth and Tim got me through the next 20 miles somehow, and it was slow and painful. I had the PT stretch my legs out at some point, and my crew worried that I was wasting time. This was the closest I ever got to being cranky. I just wanted to stretch, my legs were killing me. Did it take a while? Yes. They were really trying to get me moving (which they were completely right to do), and I think they were worried after the loop 7 mental breakdown. But I got up and kept going. Nobody was going to stop me from doing this. Until loop 10. I had no thoughts of quitting until 90 miles. I was hiking back up the hill to the school, talking to myself about how 90 miles was really a great accomplishment and couldn't I just be happy with that? Man, thoughts are the DEVIL. I felt like complete roadkill and I did not want to go back out. It was still raining, the paths were starting to flood and other people asking me how much longer I had was depressing me. Even though they were supporting me. Weird thoughts, seriously. I knew the best way to keep myself from stalling was to get in and out of that school as fast as possible before I had time to think about anything, So I grabbed my food and Jen, had a quick change of shoes, and took off. Despite knowing that I would finish at this point, I couldn't turn myself back into a normal human. The change of shoes was a huge mistake, as was not re-lubing them. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything I don't think, and I think that's exactly the way it needed to be. My feet were on fire, swelling, and felt like lightning every time they hit the ground. Jen and I agreed on a specific run/walk ratio, and I was able to keep up with it which made me feel good. I had to stretch a time or three which helped my hammies stop protesting, and eventually we got it done. With a LOT of silent tears. I know it was probably harder on Jen than me. We crossed the finish line at 28:52, I was now a 100 miler. I went through the finisher's chute, to even more swag! We received a finisher's shirt, a finisher's visor, and the coolest buckle ever. Pictures were taken and hugs were given. And I felt nothing. This is where I really have to look at myself and reflect. While that was exceptionally hard, it wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, which was almost the point. I have always had a hard time being proud of myself. Everything I do is just another box checked off. Do I feel like I accomplished something? Sure. Not many people can run 100 miles. And it's true that nobody can ever take this away from me. I don't know what's wrong with me that I have trouble seeing what I did as pretty cool. I don't know when it will be enough for me. I'm hoping soon, because I'd like to know what that feels like. Aftermath As soon as I finished, my legs (um, more like everything from my belly button down?) sort of locked up. We all changed, watched some more finishers come in, and finally headed out for home. Neither Jen nor I had slept for the previous 30 or so hours so it wasn't long until we pulled over so Jen could nap for a few minutes. An hour later, I had to go to the bathroom and we both needed food. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that it took me 12 minutes to get out of the car, walk (that's the closest approximation of what was happening biomechanically) into to restaurant, and get on a toilet. It was something! I even left while Jen was still eating so I could get to the car and take some Advil and not have her wait for an additional 12 minutes. I always have a moment immediately following races when I can hardly move, and I always question how exactly I just did what I did. This was no different. The week that followed was better and worse than I anticipated. Better because my legs healed up much quicker than I thought they would. I had a rough day or two at work but then my body was pretty okay! My feet, however, persisted in their misery. I swelled up pretty badly and had a lot of bruising. My left pinky looks deranged, and everything was itchy!! I have no idea what that last part was about. Maybe a heat reaction? The swelling went down in 5ish days, but then the real pain set in. Makes sense, since there was no longer a cushion of swell to rely on? That lasted another 4-5 days. I went for my first run back yesterday, 11 days post-100. It was gloriously hard and painful and wonderful and magical. All the things. The right side of my body is still pretty angry, but I don't think it's anything Advil won't cure. I know I'm having trouble processing the Pistol, but I sure am glad to be running again :)
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