Run Rabbit Redemption

Long Lake, mile 24

Preamble

(TLDR: skip to “The Race” section)

I hate running.  I also love it, and sometimes feel like I need it, just to survive.  My reasons for doing it have slowly changed over the years.  My first attempt to start running regularly was age 30, and I was desperately trying to stay sober.  I ran and trained obsessively… and got good at it - then I ran to compete.  I loved the feeling of winning races, and getting admiration from other runners.  Although I didn’t know, or acknowledge it at the time, running was almost a completely ego-driven pursuit for me.

Then I started focusing on bigger races and had bigger goals.  For years, it felt like I was close to a big breakthrough, but I couldn’t quite put it all together on race day - my expectations of myself were always very high, and hard to live up to.  I started DNF’ing… a lot.

Then, in the summer of 2022, about a month after DNF’ing Tahoe 200 (while in 2nd place), I finally caught the covid virus.  It was short-lived and mild, but my running never came back.  The first 6 months, I couldn’t even run 8-10 miles without walking.  I improved enough to do some long runs, but at much slower paces - my heart rate would just skyrocket if I tried to run as fast as before, and I was forced to slow down significantly.

Now what?  I’d lost the primary, ego-driven reason that I did this.  What’s the point of training for a race just to finish somewhere in the middle, with a slower time?  My long-term competitive goals were also clearly off the table.  I tried to just quit running altogether.  Several times.  Each time, I got so mopey and depressed that I’d eventually lace them up again and go plod around before work, just for the endorphins.

Amateur Psychoanalysis

It was around this time that I started reading Carl Jung.  I was struggling mentally, and a lot of what he wrote just grabbed me.  We all have unconscious, unwanted inherited traits that we try to bury and hide.  Jung believed you must explore / acknowledge and reconcile those traits with your conscious by mid-life, or you’ll experience personal crisis and angst - this felt like exactly what was happening inside me (not just running-wise), and it was enough for me to start working on truly exploring the nasty, shadowy parts of myself that I’d consciously suppressed for so long.

I could probably write a book about the mess I uncovered (and am still working on discovering), but one of my many learnings was that I needed to run for myself, and challenge myself with hard things.  With that in mind, I made my running goal - the only non-competitive goal I had previously - to finish Hardrock 100.  To do that I needed another qualifier, so I signed up for Run Rabbit Run 100 (I’ll still only have 8 tickets for the HR lottery, so it’ll be awhile before I get in!).

Signing up for a mountain hundo with a cardiovascular handicap doesn’t sound smart, but they give you 36 hours to finish.  Even if I couldn’t move fast, I had a different mindset - take it easy, run as if I was alone, but finish at all costs.  I spent a lot of time trying to imagine what it would feel like if I DNF’d this race.  I knew exactly how I’d feel, and I couldn’t let myself down again - I needed to suffer AND overcome, for many more reasons besides running.

Ready to get back on the horse

The Race

Starting line!

The race had about 400 people in the 8am Tortoise start.  The Hares, competing for a big prize purse, started at noon (my ‘Hare’ days are likely over!), so this was a nice, calm, slow start - exactly what I needed.  I put myself maybe 10% of the way back at the start, so there were 30-40 folks ahead of me going up the mountain singletrack.

The first 5 miles climb a net 3400’ (up to 10k+ elevation) so those were tough, slow miles. The course then descends back down to Fish Creek, which is gnarly/technical and not great for running.  We got to the bottom around mile 17, and I was already hot.  Going back up, the two-way traffic was tough to manage, and I was not moving well.  Lots of reminding myself that I was fine, and not giving up on myself.  Julie also sacrificed a lot for me to be here - this thought also helped me keep going in the climb back up to 10k.

Going up the ski resort

The first 30 miles was a lot of yo-yo-ing back and forth with the same folks.  But after the aid station at mile 30, you slowly descend 4k’ over the next 20 miles.  This is where I came alive, and it was a turning point - yeah, my fitness was gone, but apparently I still had my all-day ultra legs.  I ran steadily, passing at least a dozen runners and arriving back in town at the halfway-point aid station right at 11 hours.

Sunset, a bit past halfway

Around that point, my stomach started to turn a bit.  I’d been diligently eating the same sugary gels and waffle fuel all day, and while I avoided any carb-bonks, it was getting harder and harder to drink and eat.  After a nasty 12-mile loop that brought me back into town (now at mile 63), I took my first extended break - probably 10+ minutes to make sure I drank 32oz, ate a cup of noodles, and half a banana before heading back up to 10k in the dark.  This is something the old Joe might not have done - just sit there on a bench during a race, slowly sipping liquids to make sure I didn’t puke them up.

It helped a bit, but I definitely felt pace-limited by my stomach - the easier I took it, the better it held up.  The 13 miles back up were brutal.  I did notice at the mile 76 aid station that I’d lost my 1-hour buffer against 24-hour pace.  But sub-24 was not my goal, and I didn’t want to go charging out of there to make it up.  My goal was to finish, and that meant still being methodical and careful.

Even in my struggles, I was passing a lot of people.  The night was nice and cold and I kept my stops pretty short.  There were a few rolling segments up at elevation, where I passed a few more folks.  Finally, with a couple miles until the last aid station at the top of the ski mountain, I started moving faster - I’d been struggling just to get my HR up to 130 because of tired leg muscles and queasy stomach, but it was becoming light outside.  That seemed to have a rejuvenating effect on me and I could push harder.  

With 6+ miles to go at the mile 95 aid station, I saw I had 23:09 on my watch - about 51 minutes to break under 24 hours, which I hadn’t concerned myself with… until just then.  I grabbed my water bottle from the nice volunteer that filled it for me, and absolutely tore off down the mountain.  I probably hadn’t logged a single mile under 10 minutes yet, but figured let’s just see if I can do a single 8-min mile.  My watch beeped 8:36, but that included some standing around at the aid station.  Ok, keep going.  

It hurt, a lot.  I had my watch set to show heart rate, not pace, so I cringed as it spiked, still with 5 miles to go.  The next mile beeped in at 7:07!  I could really do this!?!  My beat-up quads could barely support my legs landing.  I was making loud grunts, and struggling to breathe.  The 50-miler had just started and they were all coming up the mountain - thankfully it was a wide path.  I got so much encouragement from them (and a few weird stares)!  The next mile came in at 7:41 and I knew I would make it as long as my legs didn’t collapse.  From there I pretty much held pace and the finish area came into view.

The drone video caught my finish

As I rounded the corner to the chute, I checked the clock - 23:55.  I couldn’t believe it.  I barely stayed upright crossing the line, and promptly crumpled to the ground a step later.  I managed to slide up to a chair as the volunteer doc came over to check on me (I was ok, just red-lined).  After about a minute, when the adrenaline and frenetic intensity started waning, the emotion arrived.  Sat there and cried for a minute.  I couldn’t believe I just did that.  All the lows, all the issues out there, all the temptations, all the painful body parts, all the frustrating training runs… I fought through all of it.

Final Thoughts

“We cannot slay our incapacity and rise above it. But that is precisely what we wanted. Incapacity will overcome us and demand its share of life. Our ability will desert us, and we will believe, in the sense of the spirit of this time, that it is a loss. Yet it is no loss but a gain, not for outer trappings, however, but for inner capability.”

-Carl Jung

If I’d never gotten long Covid, I wonder if I’d have ever taken the time to really start listening to more than my conscious ego.  If I’d attempted this race with my old pre-Covid fitness levels, I probably would’ve had some lofty goal that I had a 90% chance of failing at, then the head games would come back once it was out of reach, and I’d mentally throw in the towel before the race was over.  I might never have truly understood why I was really running, nor been able to make the changes I needed in my approach to racing, not to mention the rest of life.

I have to laugh at the irony a little - when I was fit, I struggled to execute in races.  I only figured out the mental game (Coach Liza also helped me with that tremendously when I was working with her), and executed well, after my fitness declined.  I haven’t lost hope that one day I’ll have both (fitness and execution) on a race day, but I am finally accepting that it might not happen.

Not sure what races are next for me, but I do know it’ll be for fun.  If I ever stand on another podium, it’s going to be by accident.