Volunteer: "Kiss the rat."
Me: "huh?"
Volunteer: "You need to kiss the rat."
I turn back toward the finish line I just crossed to see a Halloween style plastic rat dangling from a rope. The race mascot, apparently? I pull it toward me and kiss it square on the mouth.
Done. I am finished. I want to sit down and never get back up.
My day started 7 hours and 34 minutes earlier. Or at least the run did. My day actually started about 3 hours before that when the alarm woke me from my slumber, cozy in my bed-n-breakfast just off of the village in Carlsbad, CA.
I signed up for this race knowing nothing about it. And, well, I probably should have done a bit of research. Not that I wouldn't have signed up anyway. (I would have.) But at least I would have know what I was getting into. Though maybe that's the point. Maybe it was meant to be unknown.
The first mile was asphalt. A nice gentle grade, very runnable. A little bit downhill even. And then we turned onto the trail and almost immediately I was in trail-runner hell. I felt as though someone had taken gathered up every rock in the state of California... and littered them onto the course. Huge boulders to clamber over, and leap off of. Grapefruit sized ankle biters with sharp edges-- whole mountains full of these. For an endless 31.96 miles (according to my garmin) this went on. And I didn't enjoy a single second of it.
That's not to say there weren't amazing views (there were!). But this was more of a study in mind games than anything else. Today I got to study my ego (aka: small self). It went on and on and on... filling my head with unworthiness and various other lies.
What makes you think you should run trails? You kinda suck at this.
Maybe you should go back to triathlon. You were halfway decent there.
You shouldn't do the 100k because you suck at trail running.
You shouldn't throw your name into the lottery for the 100 miler of choice because there's no way you'll ever finish.
Hey, you weren't even a terrible swimmer. Maybe you should bag Tahoe, and go for another marathon swim next year.
Why are you even in sport?? Quit while you're ahead.
Do you really want to make a fool of yourself??
For 21.5 miles, this went on. And because I have trained my mind, I didn't indulge in the thoughts. I didn't follow the negativity and spiral into a shitty attitude. I just noticed them. And the other side of my ego even tried to defend me a few times. To no avail. But man, when you are the observer of negative thought after negative thought after negative thought for HOURS on end... it's fucking exhausting. It was like being in battle. I had every intention of dropping out at mile 23 (the next aid station). I don't believe in excuses, so I didn't have any. I just didn't want to be out there any more. I wasn't having any fun, and I was done.
And then the universe stepped in. Jess, whom I had signed up for this race (and my next race!) with, approached from behind me and hollered my name. I stepped off the trail and turned around to high five her as she went by. The moment our hands connected, there was an instantaneous transfer of energy. It was as if my higher self (aka: Self) recognized her vibration, and (finally) stepped in and took over. My body didn't magically feel great, but my ego (self) vanished and I was free. I hopped in behind her and matched her pace for the next several miles into the aid station. We were in and out quickly and back on the trail I kept up as long as I could.
After she dropped me, and I was alone again, I remained free from the commentary in my head. I still didn't love the trails. I still wasn't having fun. But I wasn't engaged in a mental battle along with the physical anymore. And that freedom was priceless.
I finished the 50k. It wasn't fast. It wasn't pretty. It hurt like hell. But I won. For 21.5 miles my mind tried to get the better of me. And for 10 miles, I retaliated. So here's the truth:
1. I don't have to LOVE every single thing. About trail running. About life. Period. Just because I meditate does NOT make life perfect. Far from it. I have stepped up to the plate, and the universe will continue to challenge me. What's the phrase? Forged in the fire? Yeah. That's me. Setting this life ablaze.
2. Just because I didn't enjoy this trail system, doesn't mean I don't love trail running. It's ok if I want to be in the forest on a pine-needle covered single track. That's ok. It doesn't make me less of a person. I just know what I like.
3. Just because I sucked at this race, does not mean I can't finish the 100k or the 100 miler. I mean, in reality, isn't this why I picked Tahoe in the first place? Because it speaks to me? Because when the going gets tough (which it WILL), the fact that I WANT to be there is one less thing I have to think about? One less obstacle? I've had more than one person suggest that perhaps I should choose an "easier" 100 miler for my first. You wanna know why I haven't?? Because I know that I need something else to get me to the finish line. I need that view that brings tears to my eyes. I need to be able to close my eyes every night between now and July and see myself on the top of Snow Valley Peak. I need to be on the course that tugs at my soul. And from the moment I stepped foot on that course years ago... I *knew* it would be the one.
4. I've been running trails for 4 months. Yes-- I was an ultrarunner before I was a super-serious Ironman racer. But I haven't run trails consistently, or for any length of time in many years. Jeez, give yourself a fucking break. Maybe run a little longer than 4 months and before you decide you suck at it.
5. Yes. To answer the question, I do want to make a fool of myself. I want to get outside my comfort zone. I want to get messy. I want to be broken down and have to drag myself out of the mire. Because isn't this where growth occurs? Isn't this where we find out who we really are? Isn't that why we're here, after all?
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