Failing Goals, Unintentional Education, and Too Much Damned Humidity.

 I know, I know, this is far past due. Too many times I tried to make time to write this, too many times I laid awake in bed thinking of things to say (and not write down), but mostly too many times I just put it off for another day. But I promised myself that I would get it out before taking off for my next adventure, the DalMac. A 5-day cycling event riding anywhere from 50-100 miles per day (depending on the route). Unfortunately I only got on the 5 Day East route because someone else had cancelled and I managed to squeak in that spot. I hadn’t really planned on riding this, this year but got the hair-brained idea months ago and decided to go for it. So I'll be on the route taking us between 50 and 70 miles a day straight up through the gut of Michigan, except for the last day we are given the option to head west over and ride through the “Tunnel of Trees” and of course I'll be doing that. So not completely up the gut, but damn well close enough. Perhaps next year I’ll have the gumption (and the planning) to go for the 5 Day West Route, Quint Century. But really, this was just a small deviation to help break things up between 100 mile/ 24 hour foot races. So all-in-all it should be a blast.

Which brings me to things that weren’t quite as much of a blast: having to DNF on my first 100 mile attempt. Suppose I could have an entire post written up for a post-race breakdown, but nah, I'm just gonna do it here. I feel very comfortable saying for most of the race my legs felt great. I never felt too sapped of energy, sapped of will from the sun beating down in hill country once we left the lakeside, yes, but sapped of energy, no. Even with the new wrench thrown in the gears of sweating more than I really ever have, my electrolytes were on point, calories were going down fairly easy. But at about mile 42 something went wrong: I started getting a bit of twingy-ness in my left ankle. By mile 50 I decided I would change shoes to something a bit squishier to help break up the run. I’m not sure if this is what put my ankle over the edge or what, but exponentially after that my ankle got worse and worse to a point at mile 60 that I barely had the strength left in it to point/flex my toes. With a new crew (and me not being a physio and really, new to the sport) we just didn't know what to do as far as taping goes. So after a couple of unsuccessful taping attempts. At mile 62 I screamed taking off my shoes, slipped on my trusty ‘ol Crocs and shuffled the last .2 miles so that I could at least get to the 100K mark, a new distance PR for me. Not quite the 100 I was looking for. But given my ankle in its current state I knew another 40 miles wasn’t in the books. Even knowing that, to this day I still question: could we have taped it better? Could I just have run the rest in my Crocs? Should I just have continued and “hoped” it got better with walking? Even though walking had devolved into about a 30 minute/ mile pace. All I’m left with are questions about what I could have done better or different. A humbling experience nonetheless. One I would be perfectly fine not having again.

But I did, about a month or so later. I decided I’d give another whack at it and do a route that I had created, no medals, no crowds, no other runners, just me and my crew of one. Unfortunately you can’t choose the weather. This day turned out to be in the 90’s with little to no wind and a humidity of between 80-90%. I feared this run was doomed nearly as soon as I stepped off. I got out later than I would have hoped (basically at the latest that I wanted to get out). After only about 5 miles I was already losing my shit, so to speak, because of the deer flies. I was constantly getting eaten up. Thankfully a quick switch to my sun hat, the fancy kind with the little panels around the side and the back, saved the day and ,me, a possible concussion from slapping myself in the back of the head for 24 hours. And so, I pressed on. I knew with the amount of sweat that I was losing that electrolytes would need to be replenished hard, so kept that in mind, but still moved at a decent enough clip. When I reached south haven at about the 30 mile mark, I nearly stayed there and just ran a mile up and a mile down for the rest of it. Praise almighty! It was windy! And there was a cool breeze coming off the lake. In hindsight, as boring as that would become, that's exactly what I should have done, but instead I decided to continue with the planned route and trudge my way to Kalamazoo on the Kal-Haven path. A path that I have ridden (and run) a handful of times already. So it would be familiar territory. Unfortunately what I didn't plan for was the trees stopping what little bit of wind was there. So earlier than any of my other runs I had to implement a walk/run strategy. And at each “checkpoint” my crew started to grow more and more worried about my health as they saw me deteriorate. Having been asked to stop a few times before, when I finally hit the halfway point I decided to carry-on to the double marathon mark and call it. Comfort just sounded too great.

Another black mark on the record. While there were still some nasty storms potentially rolling in, they weren’t there yet. Which brings me to an important point. Choose your crew wisely. This was someone new to ultras, new to the idea of “you’re going to suffer” because no ultra is “easy.” It's not for lack of caring that they suggested I quit, I know what they were seeing. My speech was getting increasingly slow, my brain power was slipping, I was just getting slower. But that's ultras. For some of us, that's why we do this. We want to push the potential of what the body is capable of doing, to push the limits on what we thought  we were capable of. I don’t blame them completely for my quitting the second (or first attempt). When it comes down to it, I am the one that rang that bell. But in that state. It's easy to accept the idea that comfort is just around the corner. A good crew will know when to push and when to ease off. This was definitely a time I should have been pushed, or at the least have not been allowed to carry-on with my thoughts of quitting. Sure a little self-pity is due every now and again in an ultra, but only for so long and as long as it doesn't get in the way of the ultimate goal of finishing. You just gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other.

So I didn't quite get this out before the DalMac, but I did get it written. Things just got busy, and I didn’t want to risk posting this using the App and only have guess work as to how the browser based version would work. But alas, Todays the day. DalMac Thoughts and Ponderings coming soon…I promise.