Best Laid Plans...

The best laid plans often go awry, to loosely paraphrase the quote.  As I lay in bed on a Sunday night, my mind wonders aimlessly recounting, in complete randomness, each mile of a race I did not finish.  The Bear was supposed to be the exclamation point for the year with a predetermined reward, including no running, of rest for the entire month of October.  Instead, the goal of crossing the finish line was not met.  It is a bitter pill to swallow after experiencing the absolute best training cycle for a race.  And, do I forego the October reward?

When I reached the mile 85 aid station at precisely 6am on a Saturday morning and 24 hours after the race start, I had made the decision during the previous few miles to end my race. I could no longer run--not on a flat and, definitely, not on a downhill.  My quadriceps would not allow it. And, it was my first time I had experienced what it is like to have "shot quads".  My only strength, which I have always considered my weakness, was the ability to climb.  I had purposefully chosen to walk almost every climb, which had never been a "choice" in the past.  But that doesn't really matter. Every descent on the race course was taken conservatively to ensure my legs would have the strength to finish the race strong, even if it meant getting passed on a downhill early in the race, which happened. Even the best laid plans go awry...

The overriding thought between mile 76 and 85 was that I would not accept the conclusion to walk the last 15 miles of the race.  As I approached closer to the mile 85 aid station, that thought became stronger than ever with a continuous reminder during the downhill sections that anything more than a conservative walking descent was not realistic.  A frustrating, but somber, fact, considering how careful I was in self preservation during all the previous descents.

I knew there would be people back home watching the live updates, but that didn't motivate me to finish the last 15 miles.  Less than a year ago, however, it would have mattered greatly to me and would have been a motivator to finish in order to avoid all the "what happened?", "are you ok?", "I'm sorry you didn't finish" questions and comments. Even at the mile 85 aid station, the main theme by those present, as I stood next to the fire ring, was that I only had "...15 miles to go.", "you've come so far", "you can't quit now", "you have plenty of time". All of those statements were legitimate, but did not provide a convincing reason to continue.

We all have our reasons for running 100 milers. For some, it is to just finish, be able to wear the race shirt proudly in public, receive the buckle, have bragging rights, finish because someone told them they couldn't, finish out of respect for the sacrifces made by the family during a heavy training cycle.  And, I have used all of those reasons to finish many races.  But, I have come to a point where those things no longer motivate me.  It's evolved over time and become much more personal and on my own terms.  I didn't train my ass off to go run Bear and walk the last 15 miles and, maybe, that is a selfish reason, but it is my reason, nonetheless.  The most prevalent thought was trying to get to a location after I quit, so I could let Olga know I was "ok", but 4 hours would elapse before I could get a cell phone signal.  I was afraid of her negatively judging my decision, but that wouldn't be the case, and I knew that deep down inside based on previous experience.  She has always said that I have to make the decision to stop and no one else can do that for me. That takes a certain level of courage, because trying to get someone else make that type of decision for you, while seemingly the easier path, avoids taking personal responsibility.  And that wouldn't be fair to her and would be dishonest with myself.

I met a lot great people before, during, and after the race. Some old friends and acquaintences and a lot of new ones.  That is something which draws me towards these races.  You get to experience the best of individuals, whether it's other runners, crew, pacers, or volunteers.  Hanging out at the finish line for 8+ hours watching so many runners finish was a great experience, especially when it was someone I had shared time with on the course or personally knew.  In the past, I would have experienced a lot of jealousy, but that feeling didn't occur.  Yes, it was difficult, at times, to watch people finish because it was a reminder I didn't choose to complete those remaining 15 miles.  Each time I would congratulate someone on their finish, I felt bad when they asked me about my finish time because they would, inevitably, say "I'm sorry" when I told them I didn't finish. But, there was nothing to be sorry about. Things happen and I learned a great deal from the experience that probably would have been dismissed had I had finished.

I'm not certain what my plans will be for the next several months, since I had not considered an alternative plan if I DNF'd at Bear.  I have gotten to the point where I need to assess my motivation for running ultra distances and ensure I'm doing it for the right personal reasons. This sport can lead to many selfish choices, at times, and I would like to find a good balance in this stage of my life and minimize being selfish whenever possible.  Whether we want to admit it, or not, running 100 milers is not normal and amazingly hard on the body. It doesn't necessarily mean I won't continue to run them, but the admission is meant to raise the awareness that it is healthy to take an honest look at ourselves, on occassion, and assess our motivation to put our bodies and minds through the rigor necessary to complete the distance.