Killing It

Hugging a giant snag last week

I’ve been struggling with my running pace now for more than half a year. I’m not nearly as “fast” as I was the summer of 2010 when I was getting PRs and even won 1st place in my age group in a local trail marathon. The blue ribbon is still proudly pinned to the bulletin board next to my computer. Though I feel like I “should” be faster, I’m not right now. So instead of dwelling on it and beating myself up over it, I’m learning to focus on where this particular journey is taking me.

For my 43rd birthday in March of this year, a good friend gave me a necklace that says “Find your Pace.” Tears filled my eyes at first sight of it. The message couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. So now, on every run, I wear that necklace along with a Western States 100 necklace that I bought myself as a souvenir after pacing a runner for 38 miles at the race last year. The necklace is a good reminder for me to settle into the pace that my body gives me that day and to not judge myself because of how my ego feels about my pace

Not judging yourself, quieting the ego: that’s the tough part. We all want to run just as fast as last time, feel just as good, as fluid. But truth is, life is just not like that. So be nice to yourself psychologically, and just go with the flow most days. Some days the run just flows from you and you feel on top of the world. Other days you struggle just to keep going. If you’re struggling mentally, physically, here are two things I like to do.
 

The trail to Gray Butte

1) Notice everything around you. Look up, look around. Become absorbed in nature. Make the run about experiencing nature. Notice every tree, rock, flower, blade of grass; the birds, butterflies, scurrying squirrels and lizards; ants and spiders on the trail. Hear the wind in the trees, feel it in your hair and flowing between your fingers. Savor the sound of singing birds, croaking frogs, chirping crickets; running water. Stop to admire a view, take a picture, smell a flower, hug a tree. Don’t bother to pause your Garmin. Better yet, forget about time and occasionally leave the Garmin at home.

The trail west, toward the mountains

2) “Kill” whatever pace it is I’m running (or hiking). The other day I totally killed an average 11:50 pace on the 4.5 mile loop at Shevlin Park. Surprised? You don’t have to be fast to “own” your pace. Totally own it— kill it— whatever pace you’re at that moment. I’ve totally killed 14-, 15-, even 16-minute running paces up long gradual hills and 18- to 22-minute paces snowshoe running. At the end of a 50k or 50-mile race I’m totally owning my 12- or 13-minute “sprint” across the finish line. Don’t be ashamed of your pace. Take ownership of it and be the best at that pace that you can possibly be on that day.

Treasure the great days, and when they don’t feel great, know that they will be again. Embrace where you are right now. You have worked hard to get to where you are, even though it may not be where you originally envisioned.

Chances are you’ve been killing it now for quite a while and just didn’t realize it. 

Shadows play on the hills

It All Makes Perfect Sense.

Snowshoe Run With Laura at a local snowshoe race

It’s been 5 months, and a lot of water has gone under the bridge, so to speak. So many things have happened in my life: good, bad, and indifferent. So many times I have thought about writing. Considered writing about my crappy December/January where I was so “mental,” achy, and exhausted, sleeping poorly, struggling just to exercise two days in a row (and I’m not even talking running). 

I thought about writing about the snowshoe running group, Snowshoe Run With Laura, that I started in December and what a joy it was to introduce others to such a fun, yet tough sport that I dearly love. About seeing the look of joy and wonder on their faces. I considered writing about how, in February, I ran Hagg Lake 50k for the third year in a row, nearly “off the couch” this time, as one friend put it. I was not sure until two weeks prior that I’d even be able to do it. How I decided to forget about all the other racers that day and just run my own pace, as if no one else was around and I was on an adventure all my own. How I happy to meet my goal of just finishing before the cut-off and being proud of that, even though I was the last person to finish.

Elowah Falls on the Gorge Waterfalls course

A month later I considered writing after running the Gorge Waterfalls 50k. It was an amazing course and amazing day, surrounded by equally amazing people. After only a month of smart training after Hagg, I felt like I was on my way back. About how, the morning before Gorge 50k, having participated remotely in the 1^st Annual Gerry Lindren 3-Miler, I ran a fast-for-me three miles. About how I was spurred on by thoughts of Gerry and his mission the entire time. How surprised and thrilled I was that I could still do that. How I never run for 2 days before a race because I want everything to remain a mystery until race morning. About how concerned I was that running hard the day before Gorge would negatively affect my race. It didn’t. In fact, it gave me more confidence.

About how, less than a week after the Gorge 50k, I had a 7+ minute PR on a 13-mile, rocky trail run with plenty of climbing and descending. The run had not started out great, but soon enough I felt great and the run just flowed from me. The really great thing is I wasn’t trying to make a PR happen, it just did.

I could have written about any or all of these things in the last 5 months, but truth be told, I really don’t enjoy writing. It takes something really special for me to write about it. Tonight all it took was a simple dream, which in reality, probably didn’t last much more than the blink of an eye.

With the glorious Deschutes River the day of my dream

I often work things out in my dreams. Earlier this week it was anxiety over my new trail shoes. A couple days later, it was my sore arms after a tough workout. Tonight it was the the trail itself, which finally made sense. It made sense why today’s run, at only 15 miles and <1,000 feet of gain, felt nearly as tough as my last 50k with 6x as much gain. Even the appearance in my dream of a bicycle, lying on its side, seemingly floating in, but also engulfed by, the rushing river made sense. I awoke at 2:20am, finally knowing that it all makes sense, but not necessarily knowing why.

I lay in bed awake, running through my dream in my mind, trying to ingrain it into my memory so I would not forget it when I woke for the day. Alas, I knew that if I went back to sleep, I would forget, so here I am at 2:30am typing at my computer so I will remember, that yes, even though I don’t necessarily know why, somehow it all makes perfect sense.

Thoughts of You

That’s right. I don’t even know you, but I think of you often. It happens almost every day now. At first, it was just when I was doing something physically or mentally tough. Like mile 18 of a marathon. It happened around mile 27 of my recent 48 mile circumnavigation of the Three Sisters mountains in Central Oregon. I wish you knew how truly strong you are. Most people have no idea, and it brings me to tears every time I think about it. Like now. How can I help you see how strong you are? The only limits to what you can accomplish are those you place on yourself.

I know what it’s like ’cause I’ve been there too: depressed, obese, addicted (I refer to them as my “DOA” years). I’m truly sorry if life has beat you down. If you have been abused or neglected. If you don’t love yourself. If the gremlins in your head get the best of you. If you are addicted to alcohol, cigarettes or drugs. If you are obese or sedentary. If you have medical issues. I wish I could make them all be gone for you. But these issues don’t have to define you or limit your dreams.

You can find Strength Through Adversity. All you have to do is get started. Each day do one small thing for yourself toward your goals. Don’t stress about your bigger goal, just take baby steps each day toward it. Remember the Bill Murray movie “What About Bob?” Baby steps! Each day, each step, your ability and your confidence grows and you will begin to get a glimpse of just how strong you are. The important thing here is: Don’t Quit! If you quit, of course it won’t achieve your goal and you’ll probably wind up right back where you were. Conversely, when you keep at it, even though it may seem like a long haul and the going not so good, things will get better and you will be so glad you stuck with it. You will amaze yourself and begin to see how scary-good life really is.

Example baby steps plan:
Couch potato wants to run a marathon on 50th birthday in two years. Week one goal: Get up from office chair every hour, stretch and move around. Tell other people about your plan. Gather supporters around you. Distance yourself from the naysayers. Week two: 10 minute walk on lunch time. Week three: Increase walk time. Week four: Consider getting a gym membership. Week five: Get gym membership. Get dressed for and drive to gym, even if you don’t go in. Week six: Walk on treadmill 30 minutes. Week seven: Pick up the pace a little. Week eight: Try jogging slowly on treadmill for 30 seconds. Not so bad. Subsequent weeks: Keep walking/jogging. Try jogging outside. Find a friend or group to run with. Sign up for run training program. Run your first 5k. Increase run time/distance to 10k, 1/2 marathon and marathon over time. Goal achieved! You feel powerful, unstoppable, like you could do anything, because you can.

While you’re accomplishing your dreams, surround yourself with positive, uplifting people who make you feel good about yourself. Don’t listen to, and distance yourself from, the naysayers, the energy suckers. You know who I’m talking about. That aunt or “well-meaning friend” who says you can’t accomplish that. Build a supportive team around you. My team includes not only my supportive friends, but my doctor, massage therapist, physical therapist, acupuncturist, mental health therapist, local running store owners, my running coach, yoga instructor and many more. Supportive people are all around you and will come out of the woodwork for you if you just look for them.

If you think you don’t have a support team, put me on it! I will be your cheerleader, even though I don’t know you. Sometimes it is hard to cheer for yourself. It was for me. For a long time I imagined someone else alongside me cheering me on, telling me “good job, you’ve got this!” One can never have too many cheerleaders. Over time you will develop your own inner cheerleader to add to your team.

So now it’s time for action. Set a goal. Make a plan. Stick to it. Baby steps each day. If you screw up one day, don’t give up on yourself, don’t quit. The next day is a do-over. Goals can change, plans can change, but just keep going, don’t quit. Allow me to be on your team. And let me know how I can help you on your journey of discovering how strong you really are.

Friend Kathy triumphantly scores a marathon PR on a hilly course.
Photo credit: Kathy Lein

Searching For Balance

This morning I did something I haven’t done in over a year: I stepped on the scale. In June 2010 I weighed 130 pounds and wore a size 4. I liked weighing the same as I did in 10th grade. I admired myself in the mirror. People told me I looked good. But the thing is, I felt like crap, had no energy, napped a lot, wasn’t sleeping good. I was eating all the time, yet still slowly starving myself. I was forcing my body to be a size it didn’t want to be.

Over the last 17 months I have gained a lot of weight. I didn’t need to step on the scale to know it. I have gone from a size 4 to a size 12 (I even have a pair of 14 jeans). I avoided the scale because I knew I wouldn’t like the number I saw. Recently, I decided I want to lose 10 pounds. I needed to know where I’m starting, so today I stepped on the scale.

I cried more in anticipation of the scale than after I saw the number: 174. I have gained 40 pounds since June 2010 (running a lot doesn’t automatically keep you slender). That number doesn’t define who I am though, it’s just one small way to describe the physical me (I’m also 5’5”). So I guess today officially starts the quest to lose 10. After I lose 10, I’ll see how I feel and go from there.

In Winter 2009, I remember being upset with myself for weighing 150 pounds. My coach at the time thought maybe that’s where my body wanted to be. I thought that was total B.S. I wanted to be a skinny runner. So I forced my body to go somewhere it didn’t want to. I was a skinny runner for a few months. I felt fast and I was fast for me. I got PRs. But I barely had enough energy to get through my workouts, and I took a lot of time to recover from workouts and races.

Now that 150 pounds is sounding like a pretty good number, a happy medium. But I’ll take it 10 pounds at a time, see how I feel, and go from there. I think I’ve learned my lesson: don’t let your monkey-mind force your body to be somewhere it doesn’t want to be. At 170 pounds, I am sleeping better, can run for longer (even if it’s not as fast as I’d like), and am recovering from runs MUCH faster. And my Iron, Omega 3, and Vitamin D levels are up to where they should be—all were quite low a year ago.

I’ve gone a little too far in both directions. Now I’m just searching for balance. 

Autumn Leaves 50 - No Regrets

I freely admit it— I didn’t even come close to meeting my pace/time goal for Autumn Leaves 50 mile. In fact, I finished 2nd to last, and last female. Despite this I had a wonderful, fulfilling day and learned a lot about myself. It was a day with absolutely no regrets. How could that be? Please allow me to explain.

My biggest goal this year was to qualify to apply for Western States 100 Endurance Run for 2012. Just to apply you have to run one of a list of qualifying 50 mile races in less than 11 hours. Once you apply, you have about a 10% chance of your name getting drawn in the “lottery.” Yeah, that’s how many people want to run the granddaddy of ultras. My first shot at qualifying for States was Mt. Hood 50 at the end of July. I was ready, felt strong and confident, and knew without a doubt that I would achieve this goal. Alas, I did not. Enter Autumn Leaves, my 2nd and last shot this year to qualify for States. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure I was convinced that I could do it this time, and in the end I think that hurt me. But in return, I gained so much more.

I took the early start at 6am for runners who need more time to complete the course (“regular start” was an hour later at 7am). The course, entirely within Champoeg State Park consists of eight 6.25 mile “loops”: two out-and-back sections (one much longer than the other) connected by a one-way loop. 80% of the course is on lovely asphalt bike paths, and the remaining 20% on single-track trail.

Race course in red. The point on the far left was the start/finish of each loop.
The point on the far right is the turnaround at the end of the longer out & back.

Since I started at 6am, it was dark for about the first 1.5 loops. There was a little fog in the air and moisture dripping from the trees. My headlamp lit up the little droplets of floating moisture in the darkness. Temperatures were perfect for running. I wore shorts and a tank top, didn’t need the arm warmers I’d planned on, and wore gloves only for the first loop. Since aid stations were never more than 3 miles apart, I carried a single water bottle and wore a lightweight race vest to hold my gels and other supplies. After loops 2, 4, and 6, I stopped at my drop box near the start/finish area to restock supplies: gels, supplements, and pick up an extra handheld bottle for Recoverite. After each subsequent loop, I quickly ditched the now-empty Recoverite bottle at the drop box.

I felt great the first three loops (about 19 miles). My pace for each loop was pretty consistent and right where I wanted it to be. Starting on the 4th loop, I really began to feel it. My legs weren’t tired and didn’t hurt, but I could feel it in my core being (somewhere between my head and my torso; it’s kinda hard to describe). My pace slowed considerably during lap 4, and I began to take walk breaks. I worriedly looked at the average pace displayed on my Garmin far too often, and it just kept going up and up.

Coming in to the aid station a little less than 2 miles into loop 5, I was feeling sleepy, light-headed, and a little hungry. I finally recognized this feeling as one I had experienced on a trail run this summer. “Shit! I need sugar and I need it quick,” I thought. At this point I began to drink a couple cups of Coke at nearly every aid station in addition to my gels, and also stuff a handful of grapes into my mouth when they were available.

I knew I had started taking gels a little late. It wasn’t until 40-something minutes into my run and probably another 40-45 minutes after that that I had a gel (I’m used to taking them every 30 minutes or sooner if needed), but I thought I was back on schedule. Perhaps just being off the first couple of hours did me in. My coach had warned me about the longer out & back section being not only distractingly beautiful, but distracting with people both coming and going. I was obviously not above the distractions. The trail gently undulated through a forest of huge trees, large orange fallen leaves covered the path, and leaves occasionally fell as I ran past. Moisture dripped from the trees from the previous day’s rain and the early morning fog. It was a beautiful wonderland, and I so wanted to just walk and gawk at it all. This area made me really happy. I smiled a lot, and even sang along with my iPod quite a bit.

I enjoyed watching people come toward me, seeing their smiling faces or looks of determination. Even the front-runners said “good job” as they passed, though they’d already lapped me, even starting an hour later than I did. One speedy gentleman in a red shirt, glasses, and stocking cap even said to me, “Good job, Laura” twice in passing, though I had no idea who he was, and my name was nowhere on my person. Perplexing. I smiled and exchanged salutations, high fives and hugs with friends Jeannie, Lori, Scott, Jeffrey, Gregg, Sarah, Moises, and many others. They all looked so happy and strong!

By four miles into loop 5, it was apparent that I wasn’t going to make my less-than-11-hour time goal. I didn’t allow myself time to grieve. I told myself, “Oh well, I can decide to run another 100 miler next year. Western States will still be there in 2013. I can still work this winter to get stronger physically and mentally to be the best damn pacer at Western States that I can be in 2012. And I can still do the training runs too.” Then I was over it. I decided not to look at my pace any more. Worrying about it was not doing me any good. The only thing I looked at was the Time of Day. I had to start my 8th and final lap by 4pm. My focus had completely changed within minutes. I would not let failing to meet one goal keep me from succeeding at another. One little victory.

I did however, consider quitting after the 5th loop to finish at the 50k distance instead of 50 miles. Truth be told, I was quite concerned at this point about making the 4pm cutoff to start the 8th and final lap. Bret, the Race Director, had said there was a strict 4pm cutoff, and those not making the cutoff would be disqualified. I considered quitting at the 50k distance because another goal I had for this year was to raise myself to 3-star “Gold Level” Marathon Maniac status (12 or more marathon distance or longer races in a single year). If I was disqualified from this race, it wouldn’t count, and I really needed it to count. I finished lap 5 and kept going. I didn’t hurt, and I’m no quitter when things get mentally tough. Just keep right on moving. Another little victory.

I had about 90 minutes each to complete laps 6 and 7. That sounds like plenty of time to run 6.25 miles, but there are a lot of variables that play in to that equation (aid stations, potty stops, potential walk breaks, battling mental demons, and just the fact that you’re already 31 miles in with nearly 20 miles left to go). About a mile into loop 6, I wondered if Bret really would disqualify me if I were to start loop 7 at 4:02pm. It was a chance I could not take. I began to run more and felt better as I went, though my right ankle and lower back began to ache. I ignored them. Except for the minor aches, I finished lap 6 feeling much better, but that lap had still taken a little too long.

I pulled into the aid station at the end of lap 6. Race Director Bret was there and offered to help with whatever I needed. He’s an ultrarunner too, and understands. I handed him my Recoverite powder and handheld bottle. As he mixed up my bottle of Recoverite, I downed a couple more cups of Coke and took another gel. For my 7th lap (miles 37.5 to 43.75), I knew I would not only need to run every single step, but I’d have to pick up the pace as well. I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it, but I was going to give it my best effort.

Loop 7 followed my 4-page written Race Plan exactly: “Focus more on me. Enjoy the moment. Send loving thoughts to my body. Encourage others who are down or hurting.” I now had to focus on the goal at hand. I still admired the scenery though. How could I be sad running through such a glorious landscape? I found a pace that felt like I was haulin’ ass, but that I could keep up for the entire 6.25 miles. I told myself to relax, that I had this. I enjoyed the smiles of those heading toward me on the out & back, most of them on their final lap. I sang along with the songs playing in my ear. If the song was appropriate, I sang to people as they passed me. I sing not only for my own joy, but to bring joy and inspiration to others, to share breath, inspiration, energy.

I had stashed my water bottle in a vest pocket but began to find holding the other bottle (my now-empty Recoverite bottle) quite annoying. It seemed to be taking away a bit of my focus. So as I approached the next aid station, I tossed the extra bottle 10 feet to a volunteer as I ran by, shouting “I’ll pick this up later if I remember.” I realize it might have seemed rude, but I really didn’t feel I could take the time to stop.

I looked at the Time of Day on my watch only a couple of times on loop 7. Though I thought I had the cutoff time beat, I continued to push myself to the end of the loop. I finished loop 7 with just 5 minutes to spare. I was ecstatic. I could now take as long as I wanted to for my 8th and final lap. All I had to do to earn my finisher’s medal AND my first belt buckle award was finish the last lap. I was so very happy and thankful that I hadn’t quit. I holed myself up in a porta-potty for a minute and just cried happy tears of relief. Then I jogged down to my drop box of supplies and did some nice things for myself that I felt I couldn’t take the time to do earlier: I changed my shirt and used a cold wet towel to wipe the sweat and salt off my face, neck, and hands. It felt so good! Friends that finished the race an hour or earlier were still there and cheering me on, even though I was at the back of the pack.

Loop 8 also fit my Race Plan to a T: “Victory lap!!! Do whatever comes— I know the course now!” Since I met the cutoff, I could take my time now, and I did so by walk/jogging (wogging?) most of the first 3 miles of the loop. About a mile in, I caught up to a fellow wearing orange, who was running his first ultramarathon. He’d jumped from marathon to 50 mile distance, completely skipping 50k. I’d met a couple more people like him today. Man, do those people get my respect! He asked me for my recovery advice and I gave it to him, then I started jogging again. At the last turnaround, I was surprised that he was just seconds behind me. Unless this fellow had a finishing kick better than mine, he would not beat me today! I am competitive with the people I can be competitive with, and he was my competition at this moment. It was a race for “not last.”

As I approached the final aid station, I caught a glimpse of “Mr. Orange” still right behind me. Damn! This was the aid station where I had tossed my empty bottle earlier, but once again, felt I could not take the time to stop, since I had someone hot on my tail. I yelled to the volunteer, “Do you still have my water bottle? I’m sorry, but I can’t stop.” She jogged to her car nearby, produced the bottle, then jogged ahead and met me farther up the trail. I never had to stop. What a sweetheart!

I knew it was time for me to pick up the pace to the finish. Just before mile 5 it was back to trail for most of the last 1.25 miles. I wanted to look back to see if Orange was still right behind me. I didn’t though, but just kept going. The thought of him potentially right behind me made me push harder. The song “More” by Usher started playing as I made the approach to the finish line. It’s uncanny how many times this song happens to play as I approach a finish line. The lyrics are perfect:
“I’m a beast, I’m an animal, I’m that monster in the mirror,  
The headliner, finisher, I’m the closer, winner.  
Best when under pressure, with seconds left I show up.
If you really want more, scream it out louder,  
Get it on the floor, bring out the fire,  
And light it up, take it up higher, Gonna push it to the limit, give it more.”

My first belt buckle award! Usually you have to run a 100 mile race to get one,
but a few 50 mile races also give them out. This is one.

The finish line was just on the other side of the parking lot. As I crossed the lot, I could finally let go and stride quick and strong to the finish line. This turned out to be my fastest pace of the day. A group of people stood chatting just beyond the timing mats. “Get of my way, I’m coming!” I thought. I crossed the finish line. Smiles, laughter and hugs ensued. Bret handed me my belt buckle and I broke into tears. I was so happy that I hadn’t quit when the going got a little tough. I was thrilled to have finished, even though it was nearly 2 hours more than my goal time. Had this happened very long ago, I would have been crushed and disappointed in myself. I think I’m finally starting to understand the bigger picture.



Autumn Leaves is a fabulous course. One might think you’d get bored doing eight 6.25 mile loops. But any boredom is all in your own head. The course is absolutely freaking gorgeous. Race Directors Bret Henry and his wife Gail are both so giving and loving. The volunteers were helpful and gracious, and the aid stations superbly well stocked. There were lots of cheering spectators in the middle of the day. One man in particular who looked more than a bit like Santa Claus was awesome. I looked forward to seeing him and hearing his cheers each time I passed by.



Ultrarunners are such an awesome, loving group of people. Never has one told me that I should be ashamed of myself, that I should have done better, run faster. Instead they give cheers of “good job,” “looking great,” or “keep up the good work” even when I’m obviously not feeling great or doing so well. Ultrarunners are proud of you no matter how long you take to finish (even if it’s 2nd to last) or what you look like doing it. I am so thankful to belong to such a wonderful group of people. Thank you to everyone who was a part of my wonderful day of absolutely no regrets.

A Nice Change of Pace

This spring I spent far too much time watching the pace numbers on my Garmin310XT and berating myself for not running as fast as I thought I should be. I then removed all screens showing pace information from my watch. Then all summer I focused on long slow trail distance for Mt. Hood 50 and a Wonderland Trail running tour around Mt. Rainer, which got canceled two weeks before it was to happen. That really bummed me out because I’d had the Wonderland Trail on my calendar since February and trained for it hard all summer (back-to-back long trail runs with significant elevation gain). So now I was left with a hole in my schedule and felt lost. I felt I had to quickly fill that hole. Within a few days I had signed up for four marathons throughout the fall, and the first, the inaugural Sunriver Marathon for a Cause, was just a few days away. The course was on asphalt bike paths, and I had barely run on asphalt on summer. Still, I was hopeful that since it was basically a “road” marathon I would do well. Boy was I wrong! This damned-near-flat marathon turned out to be my slowest, most difficult marathon yet. I felt so out of shape and my head was not in a good space. I was so tempted to just cross the finish line with the 1/2-marathoners and call it quits. But I didn’t do that. I didn’t want to start giving myself the message that it’s OK to quit when things get tough. Long story short, I finished and got the most beautiful hard-earned medal. I was glad I had persevered.

Turning the corner to the finish line at Bend Marathon 10/1/11. Photo credit: Kathy Lein

One month later, on October 1st I ran the Bend Marathon. By then my whole mental outlook had changed along with my change of pace. The focus of my training had switched from trail to running a slow consistent pace on road which I could keep up literally all day. This is because my biggest goal race for the year, the Autumn Leaves 50-mile is coming up on October 29th. On that day I will run eight 10k mostly-asphalt laps for a total of 50 miles. I will run it in a maximum of 11 hours, but hopefully closer to 10 hours. I will need to keep a steady patient pace. This is what I practiced at the Bend Marathon. It was a hilly marathon, but I just kept a steady pace around a 12-minute mile. That was really hard to do at times. I felt good though, and passed a number of people on the hilliest part of the course after the 20 mile mark. And the last mile was my fastest. It was still one of my two slowest marathons, but I was ecstatic because I had accomplished my pace goal for that day. I shouted and spiked my water bottle as I crossed the finish line. After hanging out for perhaps 30 minutes, I still felt great and jogged back to my car several blocks away. I ran the next day too.

Crossing the finish at Bizz Johnson 10/9/11

The following weekend I ran the Bizz Johnson marathon in Susanville, California. I had always been afraid to run marathons on back-to-back weekends. In the fall of 2009, I ran three marathons in 79 days and at the time felt barely recovered enough to run the next one. But I’ve put in a lot of work and miles in the last two years and as a result am much stronger mentally and physically. Though I had done many long runs on back-to-back weekends, or even on back-to-back days, somehow marathons on back-to-back weekends is a whole ’nother thing. Well, I did it, once again practicing my patient 50 mile pace, and had enough gas in the tank to pass another runner just before the finish line. Another thing accomplished that I never thought I’d be able to do.

The last several weeks, under my coach Scott’s guidance, I’ve continued to practice my 50 mile pace. I am no longer concerned about how fast I’m not going like I was in the spring. My mind has completely flip-flopped. Now I listen to my body and ask myself if I am going slow enough: “Can I do this pace all day?” I’ve really gotten into it, and it’s really taken the pressure off. As a side-benefit, my body no longer screams “What the FUCK are you doing to me?” for several miles into a run until I’m feeling warmed up. Nice and easy does it. I’m also no longer constantly looking at my watch to see if it’s close to my every-30-minutes “gel walk break” time. I don’t feel the need to walk while taking energy gels any more. I’m tending to appreciate my surroundings more and have a more positive outlook because I’m not feeling so damned worked.

One reason I’m running Autumn Leaves 50: My first belt buckle award!

I’ve also been practicing running laps at Pine Nursery Park near my house: 1.3 mile asphalt loops over and over and over and over again at my 50-mile pace. Something about running these laps is very comforting. There’s no need to hurry,  I’m just going “right over there” again. And again. This is great practice for Autumn Leaves next weekend.

It’s a whole different mid-set to be patient, focused, and wait for the reward. To not speed up to try and stay with someone as they pass you early on. “Let them go,” I tell myself. “They’ll see me later.” To not worry about if you’re in last place after 3 miles. Who cares, you’ve got 47 more to go! With patient pacing, you’ll be much fresher and steadier the final miles than many others who will fade.

For the last year, I’ve felt like something big is coming. I don’t know what it is yet or when it will be here, but when it gets here I’m going to be ready. For this big thing, I won’t necessarily need to be fast, but I will need patience and focus. I won’t be the person who excitedly starts out too fast and blows his wad early. I’m going to keep the patient pace and succeed. Nothing will be able to take my focus off the goal.  

I don’t need to beat myself up for my pace being about two minutes slower per mile than it was a year ago. I want to blame some of it on having gained a bunch of weight in the last year (a whole ’nother story), but I haven’t done a focused speed or track workout for over a year either. By focusing on slow distance this year, I have developed patience and endurance. I may not be “fast” at the moment, but I can go and go and go and am so much stronger than I was at this time last year. If and when I want to focus on speed again, it will come back, and so will the PRs.

While we can be in a hurry to get somewhere else and always be better, faster, stronger, also take the time to appreciate the place/space in life you’re at right now and savor the moment.

Let’s See How Far We’ve Come

The other day I hiked up and jogged down Black Butte. This hike is one of a few that I wanted to do before the snow flies (which could literally be any day now). The last time I hiked it was November 9th, 2010. In snow and wind all by myself. Actually I did hike repeats that day. The hike is two miles from trail head to the top with 1,600 feet elevation gain. The trail is relentless “up,” steep at times. My heart was beating out of my chest and lungs gasping for air within a minute. But that’s the way I roll. For some reason, I always like to push myself up to the top of things. I know there are people who are able to run this trail, but I really can’t imagine that. It’s just too far beyond my ability to comprehend. Those people are truly blessed. But then so am I, because I have the ability to hike with gusto and feel my heart beating, lungs and legs aching.

About half way up, the trail exits the trees along the butte’s southern slope. Views abound. I thought back to the first time I hiked this trail in 2006. I was still losing weight, not yet in good shape, and was terribly afraid of heights and open spaces after breaking my ankle slipping off a hiking trail in August 2005. That first hike up Black Butte was quite traumatic: when the trail exited the trees and the butte fell away to my right, I freaked out. I froze in fear, collapsed along the uphill side of the trail and broke in to tears. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d be able to continue. Eventually I calmed down and was able to slowly move on, made it to the top, and back down. Today I power-hiked up, occasionally glancing over my shoulder to the stunning mountain views, and smiled. My, how far I’ve come.

Cupola at the top of Black Butte on 10/14/11

I passed two groups of hikers on the way up. My goal was to make it to the top, not just the top, but the cupola on the far side of the top, in less than 50 minutes. I made it in just under 48. Not bad for sucking wind today while recovering from marathons both of the last two weekends. Not to mention the 800 feet of elevation gain per mile on the way up. And stops for photos. My, how far I’ve come. I tarried at the top for several minutes, took more pictures, soaked in the view, and talked to a scurrying chipmunk who I’m sure hoped I had a treat for him. Then I turned around for the jog down.

The cupola on 11/9/10 - get out while the hiking’s good!

On the way down, I re-passed both groups of hikers, still on their way up. I was happy jogging down the trail with the beautiful views and the sun shining. My heart sang. And then 24 minutes later, it was suddenly over. Driving back to the highway from the trailhead, sadness suddenly hit me: “Oh no, what had I done?” Only 72 minutes of my life, and this wonderful experience was over. Maybe those hikers were on to something. I felt like I had not savored the moment enough. Sure, I was pretty pleased with my hiking performance, but fast time isn’t everything.

Almost everyone I know wants to get faster. Set a new PR (personal record). Pass a few people. Place in their age group. All kinds of runners apologize for or categorize themselves as being “slow.” Why? Isn’t enjoyment what it’s all about? While I too enjoy the occasional PR and passing people near the end of a race, I really don’t enjoy running fast for very far or very long. So why do I beat myself up because I’m not as fast as I’d like to be or once was? If I can’t take the time to slow down to enjoy my surroundings, take pictures so I can look back long after the experience is over and smile, walk and talk for a minute with someone during a race who is hurting or feeling discouraged, then I’m not running for the right reasons. This applies only to me. I won’t judge you if your priorities are different.

Don’t lose sight of how far you’ve come!

On the way home I stopped on the outskirts of the town of Sisters for a short trail run on the first part of the Peterson Ridge Rumble course. My body was pretty worked from my previous effort, and it didn’t really want to go. I slowly jogged down the trail at a 12–13 minute pace and laughed at myself out loud. Another good lesson today. The lessons have been coming fast and furious all summer. I guess they probably always have, but I’m finally opening to receive them. And then I drove into town and had a tasty bowl of meat chili. My, how far I’ve come.

Now I ask you: Think back 6 months, a year, 5 years, and appreciate just how far have you have come.