when what you get is not what you want

Last weekend, I toed the start line at the Run Rabbit Run 100 miler in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I’ve talked about training for this race in several past blog articles. And I’m not ashamed to admit, Run Rabbit was a goal that I poured pretty much everything into over the last 10 months. I’m about 10 days out from the experience now, and I will report that I did NOT finish the 100 miles as I hoped I would. I pulled the plug about 18 hours into the race at 53 miles.

I want to tell my story, not because the gory details are important, but because I’m swimming in all kinds of feelings after this experience. Many of my feelings contradict each other. And yet, that’s life, right? Some experiences you can’t easily tie up in a perfect package.

A bit of back story. Run Rabbit Run is considered a very difficult mountain race. I learned that back in 2019 when I attempted it for the first time. That year, I started the race with a sinus infection…admittedly not a great idea. I rode the struggle bus, had stomach issues, could barely eat, watched the wheels fall off, death marched into the mile 48 aid station in the middle of the night, and called it quits. That was my first DNF (‘did not finish’), and it really hurt. Getting sick before the race felt so unfair. Once I’d recovered a bit, I found a 100 miler in the midwest that still had openings. I finished that race.

Last November, I decided to give Run Rabbit another try. Failing to finish the first time was a heavy, unpleasant memory. I was, however, genuinely excited to try again. We had just moved to 8500 feet and we are surrounded by great trails. It’s a perfect place to train for a challenging mountain race.

I trained hard for 10 months. When the roads and trails were dry, I ran. When snow covered everything, I skied and snowshoed. I built my weekly running mileage higher than it’s been ever before…60-70 miles a week at the peak of my training.

From November to race day I logged 2030 miles of running, skiing and snowshoeing, and nearly 335,000 feet of elevation gain…for me, the most of any training cycle ever. I was totally committed to this race. I don’t think there was a day that I didn’t think about it, and I shaped my training and my life around it.

Because the race was in Steamboat Springs, my husband and I visited in July and August to log long runs on the course. By race day, I’d run every part of the course at least once and knew it pretty well.

That said, doing separate parts of the course is quite a bit different than stringing them all together in one shot. That sobering fact made me extremely anxious.

Did I mention anxiety?

To be honest, my nerves leading up to race day were through the roof. I’m not quite sure why. I’ve completed 100 miles before, so I knew I could technically cover the distance. But I wasn’t at all sure that I would hold up to the demands of this race. All kinds of fears surfaced. The few days leading into race day were particularly challenging. I wasn’t sleeping well, sometimes only getting a few hours a night, and that left me mentally and physically exhausted. I had more than one tearful meltdown and was comforted and reassured by my partner Brian, my sister Jenn, and good friend Amy who had come to help me in the race.

On race morning, I got up after a few hours of fitful sleep and I felt nauseous…not a normal pre-race symptom for me. I chalked it up to anxiety, figured  out how to choke down a few bites of food, got myself ready and got out the door.

The first few miles of the race, which go straight up a ski mountain, actually felt OK. The air was cool, and I was part of the early start given to older runners (women over 50, men over 60), so it wasn’t crowded. I was moving by myself, which I enjoy. The nausea returned a few miles into the race. I’d actually been preparing for the possibility of stomach issues in training. In long distance running, especially at altitude, nausea is a fairly common symptom. You digest less well at altitude and the longer you run. Feeling sick to my stomach wasn’t a good sign so early into the race, but I hoped that I could turn it around. And I did manage to feel a little better going downhill from about miles 14-18. At the mile 18 aid station I refilled bottles, taped a blister on my right foot, changed my socks, ate a few potato chips, and got moving again. The climb up from 18 was long, steep and hot. I felt OK for a few miles but the nausea eventually returned and didn’t leave again.

So here’s the thing. I am NO expert in running 100 miles. I’ve tried 3 times and only succeeded once. But in my opinion, the most challenging thing about running 100 isn’t the running part. The challenge is managing your body and mind and how they function together. I had trained my body AND my mind in countless long runs. Where I lacked experience was managing how body and mind function when faced with the diminishing ability to take in calories.

It’s not rocket science to understand that if you want to keep moving, you have to eat or drink something with enough calories to keep you going. As I kept trying to move well and take in food…whether that was a few Fritos at time, or half a gel here and there, my ability to eat enough to move well began to decline. And here’s the kicker…as my fueling and moving declined, so did the quality of my thinking and problem-solving. In retrospect, it would have made sense to take more time at one of the early aid stations to get my tummy under control. And while I took time to refill bottles, take food to go, put on warmer clothes, and change socks, I didn’t really take the time to manage the biggest problem I was having: my stomach.

So I kept moving and trying to eat, and I kept feeling nauseous. I ate several items at the mile 37 aid station ( a valiant effort!) but nothing sat well. Darkness came, and I kept moving, but it was slow and it was getting cold and dark.

My incredible husband (thank you honey!), who was to meet me at the next aid station, saw from the tracking that I’d been slowing down, and instead of waiting for me to come in, he reverse-hiked the course until he found me. It was a huge relief to see him (at that point, I’d been struggling by myself for about 16 hours). He assured me that I’d be OK and that we just needed to keep moving. We reached that aid station later than I’d planned . At this point, I was feeling weak, dizzy, and still nauseous. He got me to eat a little ramen, and then some plain broth. Soup can often taste good after hours of moving, but even that made the nausea worse.

Spoiler alert…this next part is gross. After the broth, I walked away from where we were and threw up six or seven times. Believe it or not, that was my first ultra puke, and while it was unpleasant, it did help reset my tummy a little. I had a couple of peppermints with me, and they actually tasted great. I wish we’d had more.

We left that aid station and made our way over the next 7 miles to the next aid station, which was in town. I’d taken a small baggie with some M&Ms in it, and I tried to eat a few every 10 or 15 minutes. They didn’t taste good, and they didn’t sit well…but I was trying. At this point, we were hiking, even though the trail was downhill. I was feeling light-headed and having a hard time focusing on the trail. We eventually reached the next aid station, where I was just ahead of the cutoff to start the next section…a difficult 13 mile loop that included a 2500 foot climb right off the bat.

I felt like I had no more gas in the tank. I understood that I needed to get back out and climb, but my body was out of juice. I also didn’t have enough time before the cutoff for a total reset. I’m not sure if it was a cop out, or a kindness to my body…but at this point I chose to drop. I didn’t know how I was going to cover the next section being so depleted.

So I called it at mile 53. I did get one more section of the course than I did in 2019, and 5 more miles. I moved for 18 hours. I got in over 8K feet of climbing and descending. But I was far, FAR short of my goal, which was to finish the 100.

Since the race I’ve felt a range of emotions. Initially I felt disappointed but OK with my decision. The other day I felt a HUGE wave of grief pass through me. I let it pass. The grief wasn’t so much around not finishing as it was over all of the time and energy and planning and excitement that I’d put into this goal. It was something I cared about. And it wasn’t the experience i’d hoped for. And whenever that happens, it’s hard.

I’d hoped for a strong, victorious fight to the finish. I’d hoped to surprise myself and come over the finish feeling good, in the late afternoon on Saturday with my people around me. 

The experience I got was a trip into the pain cave…earlier than I’d wanted. I got the chance to manage a problem that is really, really tricky. Could I have managed it better or differently and been able to finish? I think so. But I would have needed to handle the nausea much earlier on. And by the wee hours on Saturday I needed to decide, after so much trying and fighting, whether pushing forward with a shaky and depleted body was the right thing. Could I have gotten out there and turned it around? I’m not sure I could have turned it around without a complete reset, but I guess anything is possible.

This experience has me wondering what’s next as a runner. The notion of running long, gnarly distances admittedly has a sexy kind of appeal. In fact, it may be a kind of addiction. My time out there left me feeling that while I greatly admire those who figure it out and manage to do it…I’m not sure that I want to keep pushing myself down that road. I love running…I love trail running…I love being in the mountains and moving my body. What’s the ideal distance for me? 100 miles? 50 miles? 50K? A marathon? Do I have to run 100 to consider myself tough? Or could a good rugged trail marathon or 50K, where I’m out for 8 or 9 hours be enough?

I loved every minute of training for this race. But if I’m being honest, it took a toll on my life. On my energy. On my work. On my relationship with my husband and family members. I’m not sure I can sustain that over and over…nor do I think I want to. If I’m running to enjoy my life, enjoy fitness, enjoy the adventures, could training for something shorter that I know I can finish…and perhaps set time or performance goals instead…can that be enough?

I’m asking myself all of these questions right now as my body recovers…as I catch up on sleep, as I enjoy getting back out there to run and hike without any particular objective other than just to enjoy the spectacular autumn days.

And what I really want to say is that all of the different emotions I’m experiencing right now…they all belong.

I’m disappointed, AND I’m proud of myself.

I wish I’d been able to pull it off, AND I’m OK with the choice I made.

I think running 100 miles is badass and tough, AND I may never choose to do it again.

I really admire the people who battled with their demons and made it to the finish line, AND I am not sure I need to be one of those people.

I think the goal of 100 miles is a worthy one AND I may be ready to retire that goal for myself.

The memory of the race contains some pain AND it contains joy, too.

It would have been amazing to finish AND I wouldn’t trade my summer of long runs and hikes with my husband for anything…that feels like the real prize to me.

All of these complex, conflicting emotions - they’re all OK. I don’t have to negate any of them. Let them be messy. I can sit with the complexity.

I’m sharing my story because life is this way, too.

Sometimes what you want is not what you actually get.

You may start out loving your job and get to where you want more.

You may be grateful for what is but also long for what might have been.

You may be ready for a change, but haven’t gotten the download yet on what that is.

I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to be certain in every moment.

You can notice everything that’s coming up, and let it be messy.

When it’s time for you to know, you will.

When it’s time for you to make a move, you will.

Being able to sit with the complexity of your own life…when what you’ve got isn’t completely what you want…well, that’s being able to be right in the eye of the hurricane. It’s a powerful place to be.

Have the courage to be right there, right in the thick of it. Because you never know what’s coming next…and that could be exactly what you need.

Be ready for it.

Are you sitting with some complexity in your own life? Let’s talk! Click here to schedule a free connection call with me.