Starting in April, I decided to try to do something that at the time sounded like something that I would not be able to do. I was going to try to run an ultra marathon at some point during the summer. As luck would have it, one of my good friends had been targeting a race in August. Specifically the Silverton Ultramarathon, they were planning on doing the 105k, and as someone with a shred of sanity (I hope) I figured there is no way that I could run 105k. The 55k looked much more manageable, which was pretty naive of me. Turns out the ‘easy’ setting on ultrarunning is still really fucking hard.
Running an ultra isn’t just the last 37 miles, but it’s the 500 miles you have to run to get to the starting line. So I put on some shoes, and went running; to the library because, I have exactly zero clue on how to train for a race this long. The plan boiled down to this, run a lot, run often, and pray your body doesn’t blow up before race day. And when I say a lot I mean a lot, I ran 4-5 times a week since April, starting around 20 miles a week. And working all the way up to 50 miles per week. I ran through snow, sleet, rain, and hail. I ran when it was the middle of the night, I ran through 100 degree heat, I ran up and down mountains, I ended up trapped in lightning storms, and almost fell down a large avalanche that still hadn’t melted in July.
Snow filled trail in July
I’m not sure if you are aware of how boring running actually can be, when you run the same route over, and over and over. But let me tell you, it is quite dull. After the first mile, the novelty of being running again wears off, then you’re left with well yourself. And at least for me, this is where things get interesting, I either start thinking about random shit that doesn’t matter, or I analyze my motivations for why I am running up Mount Sanitas for the 30th time. And turns out my motivations weren’t great. That may end up being it’s own post, basically I struggle to reconcile who I am with who I think I should be, and for now I’ll leave it at that.
Running in the snow
Emergency waffles to get through the back half
Well on August 2nd I packed up and drove down to Silverton. The day before the race I pegged my ability to finish around 50/50. Well anyway race day rolls around, and it was a day of opposites. I felt great for the first 25 miles, the scenery was beautiful, my legs were feeling great. And I only had to eat one emergency waffle.
Having fun on the trail
Well mile 25 and aid 5 came around, and my friend who was supposed to be doing the 105k was there. Their IT band injury had come back with a vengeance, so they dropped to not destroy their knee and run another day. They were basically the whole reason why I was at this specific race, so it really sucked to see them not succeed here. It felt a bit like I was taking something that wasn’t mine, what right did I have to go finish something that one of the toughest dudes I know couldn’t? Well that thought would have to wait because following aid 5 was one of the most god forsaken climbs of the whole course. It was on this climb where I really went into the hole. Everything hurt, and the damn hill would not end. I was ecstatic to hit the summit of the climb, but my happiness was short lived, as I looked hopefully to the descent, I saw a wall of a mountain looming in front of me, with little pink trail markers going straight up the middle of it. Surely that can’t be the course, there’s no way I can make it up that. I’m not going to lie, it was awful, I was reduced to a crawl. But like everything, it did eventually end. I found myself on a ridge line, high above the valley, with a thunderstorm brewing behind me, occasionally lighting up the sky, and rumbling, maybe a bit close for comfort. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I was so full of contentment that I started to cry. I had spent all summer looking for this one moment, this one spot, 30 miles into a race when I knew the rest was all downhill. On that ridge, I knew that I was going to be able to finish this, and maybe, just maybe that meant I could get the rest of my life in order too. I hardly remember the rest of the race, I was just cruising down this beautiful valley, heading towards a shower, a beer and a chair.
Kissing the rock at the finish line
So yeah I did it, I finished what is probably one of the hardest things I’ll ever try. Almost nine hours of moving is how long it took me. I’m proud of it, I really am. Now I just need to put the rest of my life in order. Hopefully that won’t be as hard as this race, but who knows.
See ya next time,