(I feel like this story will never be told unless I tell it in pieces, so, here…)
Today is the 9th of August, in the year of our common era, 2018. In 38 days I’ll be heading down to one of my favorite places on earth, to run the hardest race of my life, to prove to myself that I can exceed my perceived limits. It’s the culmination of two events.
- 4 years ago, after a promising 10 mile road race in May, I decided to throw myself at a 14-16 mile trail race in August, on Savoy Mountain, and I imploded. Poof. Gone.
- Roughly 2 years before that, I imploded on a summer hike up Algonquin in the Adirondack High Peaks. The heat and the humidity eventually made it impossible for me to take another step upward, and I turned around, despite having plenty of daylight left.
The Algonquin implosion prompted me to seek out some form of aerobic exercise. I eventually settled on trail running, which became running, with a preference for trails.
The Savoy implosion simply crushed my spirit.
This year, finally, I’m able to run consistently on trails in the heat and humidity, and when it becomes too much, I’m still able to hike without hating myself. In fact, I’m grateful. I reflect on the Algonquin mishap and remind myself how far I’ve come in 6 years, and how much further I can still go, if only I give myself the space to grow.
It’s working.
This year, finally, I’m able to push myself back up to my old, 2014 paces on the road. I’m 20 lbs heavier than I was then, and 4 years older, and yet I’m running at speeds I honestly never thought I’d see again with any consistency.
It’s working.
Despite that, I’m scared going in to this next race. I’m not where I wanted to be, in terms of weekly mileage or elevation, and I feel like I’m underprepared. To overcome this feeling, I remind myself on every long run, that if my legs refuse to run again, I can still walk it in and meet the cut-offs. I can still walk it in, and face myself the following morning, because I did it.
It’s working.
This was originally posted on my Wordpress blog.
