The Little Runner That Could…

This is me.

This is me after running 18 miles in the woods.

Easily the equivalent of a marathon on the streets.

If it looks like I’m in pain it’s because I am. It took me 4 hours and 51 minutes to cross this finish line and to tell you the absolute truth: I almost didn’t cross it. This is the Defiance 50k  I ran last Saturday and it will go down as one of (if not the hardest race) I’ve ever done. I was physically taken down, mentally chewed up and emotionally spit out.

It’s the first race I actually considered not finishing.

In fact…

I quit.

But before we get to the finish we have to go back to the beginning. The beginning where I felt good. Where I felt strong. Nervous yes, but ready to conquer this race and earn that 30k so that I could finally move beyond the 13.1 and set my sights toward what I’ve wanted more than anything: 26.2.

I’m smiling in this picture. If there is one important thing I’ve learned running races (besides not tripping and using Body Glide on all my sensitive girly bits) is to look up and smile when going by the photographer. Besides having your ample share of good looking pictures to choose from at the end of your race, smiling also reminds you why you’re running: Because it’s fucking hell fun. I don’t even know what mile this picture was taken. Super early on in the game though that’s for sure. Probably mile 3 or 4 when I still felt strong, still felt confident, still felt like this was going to be a great race…

This is the actual course. In order to complete the 30k portion I would have to run it twice. The first 9 miles went really well. I came out of the first loop with a time of 2:02:00. I was tired but I still felt like I could keep going and finish this course. I felt confident that my racing shirt would be earned and worn at the end of the second loop.

*A little side story about the racing shirt. I’m one of those runners that won’t wear a race shirt until I’ve crossed the finish line. I’m a staunch believer that it has to be earned. I don’t know when this started but I refuse to wear it before or during the race…this will come to play an important part later on in the day*

Something I’ve also learned about myself is that I have a hard time continuing once I’ve crossed over a perceived finish line. This trail race and the one previous (half marathon) consisted of “looping” or doing the same portion twice. There’s something deflating to my soul watching everyone finish knowing I have to keep going. In other words I finished the first loop strong but as soon as I started the second loop I was not a happy camper. I had to run past people carrying their belongings as they hobbled back to their cars. Back to where they could turn on the heater and rub their hands together to get warm. Back to where they discussed where to go for lunch, get a hot cup of coffee or whether to go straight home and soak their tired bodies. They had finished, I still had nine fucking, oh my god are you serious, what the hell is wrong with me, did I really sign up for this, miles to go. With 90% of the 300 or so runners finishing after one loop the trail became very quiet and it quickly became just me and….

Well just me really.

At some point after passing Mountaineer Tree but before Ellis Alley something happened that I’ve never experienced before: my hamstrings started to seize up. I mean seriously seize up. Like “I think I’m going to throw up from the pain” seizing. I can only explain it as if someone took a burning piece of wood and shoved it into the back of my thighs and said “Now keep running”. I walked a bit, ran (nope)…walked again, ran (nope not that time either). It didn’t take long for the tears to come and the defeat to settle in. I had my phone with me and started a conversation with Meegan to try and keep the panic down to a minimum. I had no idea where I was in miles. I had no idea how far it was to the one and only water station (Fort Nisqually) and I had no idea when I would see another runner go by. As hard as I tried I could not get my legs to move faster than a slow walk.

At some point I decided to quit.

Almost three hours after I started I had made up my mind to stop running and call this race a DNF (did not finish). I was mad. I was frustrated. I was in more pain than I remember feeling before. Above all else I was disappointed. I needed this race to prove to myself that I can run 26.2. The first time I pinned a number to my shirt, ran an official 5k and crossed that finish line I knew I was destined to earn the title of marathoner and yet eighteen months after I first laced up a pair of running shoes and started running it was still just out of my reach.

I had decided to quit but still had to get to the water station in order to seek the medical attention I needed and to get someone to take me back to the beginning of the race. I kept walking and talking with Meegan to keep calm and to convince myself that ending the race was the right thing to do. When Fort Nisqually finally came into sight and I could see people up ahead I ran…

Wait a minute…

Did I just run?

I realize now that the reason I ran again was because I needed to know where I was in mileage. I didn’t know how far I had run, how far I would need to go to finish the race or if I had even passed the elusive 13.1 mile mark I’ve been trying so hard to conquer. I wanted to be around people and the quickest way between where I was and where I wanted to be was to run. To my surprise it didn’t hurt as much as I had thought. However, I must have looked like shit I was done because the medical person came up to me and asked me if I was okay. I honestly told them I thought I was finished but that I wanted to sit for a minute before making the final decision to DNF this race. I took a banana and some peanuts and sat for a bit until it occurred to me to ask where I was…

“Where am I?”

– Sorry?

“What mile marker is this”

– Is this your second time around?

“Yes”

– This is mile 15.2

“Excuse me, did you just say 15.2?”

– Yes.

I did it. I had run beyond 13.1. My mind started racing. Could I do it? Could I keep going? There was only 2.8 miles left on the course. Yes the worst was yet to come on the trail but could I just move my feet a little faster than a walk and run this bitch to the end? I looked down at my handful of peanuts, my half eaten banana and asked myself one of the hardest question I had to answer: Can I give up my race shirt after coming this far? 15.2 wasn’t the end. It was the farthest I’ve run continuously but it wasn’t the finish line. To DNF meant to give up the shirt and to date I’ve yet to NOT earn a race shirt. I finished what was in my hand about the same time the medical person came back to check up on me.

– What’s the verdict?

“I’ll be finishing this race”

I don’t remember much about leaving Fort Nisqually as I made my way to the finish line. There were times where I felt strong and ran as well as if I had just started the race. There were times I had to walk but only gave myself a few hundred feet before running again for fear that my legs would seize up and this time I would have to wait for someone to come find me on the trail. I remember coming to the last part of the race (“Nelly’s Gnarly Descent” was a rope climb down a steep – and I mean steep – hill) and sending Meegan a text: “I’m almost done”!!! I remember letting go of the rope and realizing that this was it, I had finished. I came out of the woods and stared down the concrete path to the finish line. It was then I started cry almost uncontrollably. I was in pain but I was finishing. I had quit but then I didn’t. I tried to smile as I headed for the finish line but decided that I wanted my true emotions to be in these finisher photos…

After all, just like the race shirt, I had earned them.