What A Bunch Of Running Taught Me

I, with Danielle, ran a race that was a little over a 50K last week.
50K=31.6 miles. 
We ended up closer to 33, depending on whose watch you would look at (mine died directly at the 50K mark so it was unreliable).

I initially didn't share my intentions of running this race with many people.  Those who needed to know knew.  Jim, of course, and my parents, who sometimes watched my child or stuck a water bottle in their mail box during my long runs.  My bosses, because I thought they should know why I was so tired, starving, or hobbling around.  A couple of family members because during visits I had to explain that I had to be running for two or more hours on Saturday morning, or I couldn't eat this or that on Friday night.  Every once in a while the topic came up-- "what races are you signed up for?", "doing anything fun this fall?", and as the race neared "does anyone have any prayer requests?".

Anyway, a week ago today, I started my day off shiveri
ng under a borrowed blanket from Danielle's son, waiting for the longest race of my life to start.  It was a 10.5 mile loop done 3 times on trails.  Mostly single track, which was definitely written in the description of the race but definitely did not register in my brain. single track, if you don't know, is literally a beaten down trail about one persons width, like the picture below.

Part of the Cunningham Lake Trail, possibly where we ran (it looks slightly familiar).

not part of the trail we were on, but a better representation of most of it.  Deep single track with no safe places to run on the sides. 

The first loop was fine, I noticed more pain in my knees than is acceptable for 10 miles because I wasn't prepare for that caliber of trail-- the trail required a lot more balance than I needed on the gravel roads I'm used to.  It also had a couple of places where you needed to climb down a steep cliff-like thing, a hill where you almost had to use your hands to get up, and other crazy things I wasn't really prepared for. We also ran our extra mile in the first loop because someone directing wasn't in the right spot.

Loop two we slowed down due to some trouble for my running buddy.  She rallied and I struggled through the third loop as my IT Band threatened to "snap" as it has in the past, which would have led to a non-finish.  I also learned that my "wall" that runners so often claim to have-- the time in a race where all energy is lost-- is just a time when I start to cry.  It isn't really motivated by being tired, or wanting to be done, or even realizing we are close to the finish line.  It just meant tears for no reason.  Because, you know, crying helps with proper breathing.
We finished a lot later than I anticipated and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.  The goal was to finish, and we did, but it still stings to have an intended pace be completely missed.  An older man helped cheer Danielle and I on during the last mile.  She and I held hands at the end, crying and cheering as we crossed the finish line.  The race director, at least in the pictures, looked as though we had just won the race he was so thrilled for us.  We got our medals, we were handed orange julius drinks by my dad and husband (a request I had made before the race), I cried some more and hugged my kiddo. 
my family and I headed back to the hotel so I could shower and then we were off to Costco.  It was at Costco where I realized I was going to be more sore than I hoped for.  My foot, which didn't hurt at all during the race or even the hour after, started to become painful to walk on.  The next morning, I wouldn't consider how I got around "walking".
The side of my foot swelled a bit and hurt a bunch.  I didn't attempt any running until Wednesday and lasted a block before I decided it wasn't a good idea.  By Thursday morning I felt great and went out with my awesome friend Tanya and did a fast 4 and felt great until we were done, then I was back to hobbling.  I think I am on the mend again, but tomorrows very short run will tell me how far along I've come.

So, with that recap, here is what I learned while I trained for and ran a 50K.  These are in no particular order, of course.

1. It's hard not to talk about it because training for a race is like taking on a part time job.  Saturday mornings were spent running.  Most mornings were spent running.  When people ask what you are up to, it's hard not to mention it because it becomes a part of who you are.

2.  I would not do a long distance without a friend.  And it would have to be a really, really good friend.  Danielle and I are at similar fitness levels, though we both have our strengths and weaknesses that are different.  However, if I didn't have her at my side the last lap, I may have just slipped into my car at mile 28 when we saw my family and just went home.  If I had gotten that far to begin with.  There is something to be said about the vulnerability and trust you gain with a running partner, and I couldn't have done this race with anyone other than Danielle. 

3. People, no matter what you do, will have their opinions and jokes.  One of the first things I heard when I told someone I had run a 50K was "so when is the 100 miler ?!" with a sly grin on their face.  My response was "Never.  I'm pretty happy being an ultra marathoner without going that far, thanks".  It's just the way people react.  There are plenty of people who will be encouraging and impressed, but there will always be the "commenters".  On the plus side, for every "commenter" there are at least twice as many positive people.

4. This will probably never happen again.  The time away from family to train, the sacrifices my family had to make on race day to cheer me on, the constant fear of injury and worrying about eating too much or too little isn't really worth it for me.  I also have only run once since the race and running, as silly as it might sound to those who don't do it, is my therapy.  With how difficult life has felt these past few months anyway, not being able to run has been absolutely terrible.  Mornings have been hard, feeling like not waking up because I didn't have a run to go on.  I have felt like dough (like squishy and warm and blobby, lol) not being able to run, my mind playing tricks on me that I suddenly ballooned in size because I'm not getting that exercise in.  And not being able to joyfully play with my son without gimping around behind him isn't worth it.  Maybe someday, when my kids are completely self sufficient and I need another challenge, I'll do another one.  But I have no desire or excitement for that distance again.  It wasn't horrible, it just isn't what I want to do right now.

5. It can be done.  There was a time not too long ago I didn't think I would ever run more than 5 miles at a time.  Or more than a half marathon.  Or more than training for a marathon (never ran it, just trained with Danielle).  But now I can say I've run an ultra, and I never thought that was possible.  It's pretty dang cool what the human body can do.

6. All sorts of people do it.  I saw older people, young people, people that didn't look particularly fit, people who could probably bench press me in a second and people in silly clothes. 

7. Getting back to "pre-50K" life is difficult.  Of course with an injury I have a bit of an extra layer.  But running without needing to walk or eat is going to be a transition.  Not needing all of Saturday morning to get miles in.  I have some lofty fitness goals this year that I look forward to tackling, but figuring out how to get out of long distance training is going to be tough.

So there you have it.   I was in a 50K race.  Proud of my BFF Danielle and kind of proud of myself, too.