Learning to Accept Failure
Woodstock 100 (100k)
I guess I have to start with a week before this race. The
Friday before, I was looking into Woodstock as I was intending to pace my
amazing friend Kristina Myint, when the thought crossed my mind, "Hey, if I do this race
myself, not only will I earn myself some points for the Trail Runner Magazine
Trophy Series, but I will land my Western States qualifier as well.” In my mind
I thought, “Well that’s a really silly idea”; knowing I have over raced this
year and my body was feeling far from 100%. It all started when I got too hot
at Prairie Spirit 50 miler on March 29th. I threw up for the final
11 miles there, and then stopped sweating all together in spite of feeling
completely cooked from the inside out. My skin was bright red – even what was
covered with clothing. I completed that race and 6 days later ran 31 miles in
California, most of which was in 85+ degree temps and largely on black top.
That started a series of races that were too hot and too close together, which
wore on me throughout the summer. By the time Psycho Psummer came around, one
of my yearly faves, I was really struggling to feel good running any distance
over 5 miles. By mid August my resting heart rate was 70+ bpm, which is
excessively high compared to my usual 44-50 bpm. Still, did I listen? No. So,
one week before Woodstock I registered for the 100 miler.
The day after I registered, I was giving horseback riding lessons when I saw my lesson horse was going to launch over a tiny ditch with her rider, and knew disaster was about to happen if I didn’t step in. So I swung my horse in front of her, only to have my lesson horse slam into my quad with all her weight. The pain was excruciating, but I kept silent about it, grateful no one else was hurt. After the ride I discovered I couldn’t climb stairs leading with my right leg and I couldn’t get off a chair with any weight on my right leg.
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| Rick and I, finishing Heart of America Marathon. |
Come Monday morning, I toed the line at the Heart of America
Marathon. I knew a marathon and a 100 miler in the same week probably wasn’t my
best idea, especially with a bum leg, but it’s a tradition! It’s the only
marathon I do every year with my friends, Aaron Norman and Rick Troeh. By 12
miles in, I felt my quad gaining some tiny tears. I backed off – perhaps the
only thing I did right! Rick caught me by mile 14 and I explained to him I was
worried about my quad and felt the smart choice was to power walk the rest of
the marathon. He graciously offered to stay with me to the end. The company was
greatly appreciated as mentally I was beating myself up through and through.
The days following the marathon, my quad was incredibly sore. Every day I woke
up hoping for less pain, and every day I grew slightly more anxious as it
wasn’t getting any better. I was also very aware of my resting heart rate
holding steady at 70+ bpm.
On Thursday I met Chris Hall and Paul Crisman to start our
long drive to Michigan. We met Rick in Des Moines where he joined us for the
adventure. Chris and Rick were my pacers/crew, and Paul was running the 100 as
well. Paul sent me a text on Wednesday asking if I was running Woodstock, and
if so, could he catch a ride. I thought I was a last minute commit! We made it
to Michigan around 6:30 am. I checked us into our hotel and requested a late
checkout. We all slept till a little before noon, as the race start was at 4:00
pm.
| Arriving at the race. |
On the way to the race I took out a roll of duck tape and wrote the phrase
“Mind over matter. 100 miles is not that far” on it and stuck it to Paul’s drop
bag. When we arrived at the start line, I started worrying about the heat. It
was over 100 with the heat index. Knowing my struggles with heat, I had a bad
feeling about the outcome.
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| Paul and I signing our waivers before the race. |
Once the gun went off and we started running, I
almost immediately felt too hot. I started walking early on. Paul stuck with me
the entire first loop, (it was 16.67 mile loop course you repeated 6 times). By
mile 13 I threw up the first time. It was at the top of the steepest climb on
the course and nausea from the heat took over. After throwing up I felt
immediately better, so Paul and I cruised the next 3.7 miles. During those
miles, the wind picked up to 70 mph straight winds, the temperature dropped
rapidly, and the rain came. I was ecstatic to have the rain. I heard there was
hail also involved, but with the flying debris, I couldn’t tell the difference.
We came through the first loop right on schedule at under 4 hours. I made the
smart choice of changing into my long CWX compression shorts as my quad was
hurting really bad at this point. It
made a huge difference. Looking back, I should’ve started in them, but at the
time I thought I would be too hot.
| At the start of the race. |
During the second loop Paul and I began to separate. My power walk was very strong, but it forced him into either a slow shuffling run, or walking a pace that required him to jog every few steps to keep pace. He finally started pulling away after me telling him over and over to go. I was only running the downs and parts of the flats, and had no intentions of changing this until it cooled down more. I caught Paul at every aid station, and exited before him, as I tend to be the fastest runner I know in and out of aid stations. He commented more than once that he didn’t know how I got through them so fast. When we were leaving the aid station at the halfway point I threw up for the second time. Again, we put down some fast miles for a good period of time after my puking episode. This was the best I felt all night. My power walk was strong. My quad hurt, but it was bearable. It was cooler. I was in good company and running in the dark, which I love. We chatted it up and the miles seemed to just pass by without realizing. We finished the second loop right on schedule again, under 8 hours total.
At the end of the second loop I learned that Kristina had
broken her toe and had to drop. I also learned that Josh Ruckman had a tree
fall on him during the storm and had to drop. I felt really bad for both of
them, but glad they made smart decisions. Rick joined me at this aid station
and we set out power walking up the hill to the start of the trail. I gave Rick
a quick rundown of my status. I told him I wasn’t able to run much without
getting sick and he was likely in for a lot of power walking. He was very
positive and upbeat and took the news in stride. He told me how proud he was to
call me his friend and how impressed he was with the speed of my power walk. I
greatly appreciated him building me up as I was mentally tearing myself down. Within
a couple miles into the third loop I began puking again. This time it wasn’t
followed with a renewed energy, but instead I began feeling the effects of
dehydration. Around three miles into the loop I fell on what appeared to be
absolutely nothing. My calf cramped excruciatingly bad and I began yelling to
Rick to help me. He dropped beside me and worked the cramp out of my calf, then
helped me up. I knew my electrolytes were out of whack for me to cramp that badly.
I told Rick I was walking until the next aid station and focus on taking in
fluids and electrolytes, which I did. When we left the mile 4 aid station, I
began running again and almost immediately threw up. From this point on I have
no idea how many times I threw up. I was so exhausted from heaving so hard – my
eyes hurt, my stomach and back muscles hurt, and I was running out of energy.
We ran into Paul around mile 42 and he was moving at an extremely slow pace. He
had rolled his ankle pretty badly and told us he was dropping at the next aid
station. I felt so bad for him, as I knew he had to be devastated. When we came
out of the mile 12 aid station, I was in a really good power walk rhythm. A guy
behind us stayed there for about a mile before saying “I’ve wanted to pass you
for about the last mile, but I’ve been too mesmerized by your power walk! I’ve
never seen anything like it!” Rick took the compliment for me, as I was not in
the mood to talk, and told the guy he doesn’t know anyone who power walks that
fast either. Even though I wasn’t talking, I really appreciated the compliment,
as it gave me a boost of confidence. Rick got me to the end of the third loop
shortly after 12 hours. It was behind what I’d hoped for, but I was quickly
abandoning any hopes for continuing at any decent pace as my energy level was
plummeting fast.
I picked up Chris for my 4th loop. He tried offering me a saltine cracker as we exited the aid station; I took one look at it and heaved hard. Nothing came out as I hadn’t had any food or beverage in about 3 hours at this point. I explained to him I was throwing up every time I ran and he was in for a lot of power walking. He didn’t complain, just said he was there to help me any way he could. I was keeping steady with power walking ‘til around mile 57. All at once, something changed. We were climbing a hill when I felt dizzy, nauseated, and utterly exhausted. I stopped briefly and tried to continue at my power walk, but was overwhelmed with vertigo. I told Chris there was a bench coming up and I intended to sit on it. He reminded me that I don’t sit during races. I told him I didn’t care; I didn’t know what else to do. It seemed like forever until we found that bench. I sat down and began processing what was happening to me. I hadn’t peed in 15 hours, I hadn’t been able to eat or drink for 5 hours now, I was unable to climb hills without feeling like I was going to faint, and was feeling downright miserable. Then it hit me: I run because it’s fun to me. I run because I genuinely love it. I wasn’t having fun. I wasn’t loving it. I started to accept it wasn’t going to happen for me. I started to accept that my body had been telling me for months it needed a break and I wasn’t listening. I accepted the fact that I was only going to land myself in a hospital with kidney failure if I continued. I accepted that I’m human. Once this reality hit me, I felt a weight was lifted. I took a long gulp of Nuun water from my bottle and stood up to get to the end of the loop. Of course I threw up said water almost immediately after drinking it, but I didn’t care. I just needed to finish the loop. I discussed my plan with Chris, but I don’t really remember what he had to say about it. Maybe he told me I was making the right choice. Maybe he told me he wasn’t going to let me quit. I have no idea. At this point I checked out. As daylight was breaking, we began to see other runners who appeared very fresh. I was rather annoyed with them, until I realized they were running different events. There was a 50 miler, a 50k, a marathon, half marathon, 10k and 5k also going on at this time. I was happy to see Coleen, who stopped in the middle of her race to give me a hug, her face full of sympathy as she could see I wasn’t good. This was the only point I almost cried. I was very frustrated with all the runners flying by saying “on your left”, expecting me to move over for them. My legs didn’t even want to go one in front of the other, let alone sideways. Every time I moved my right leg, pain shot through my quad. I believe this is the point I started making remarks to other runners. I threatened to trip them, push them over, and junk punch them. While I thought I was funny, I also really thought I was being quiet about it, till Chris informed me otherwise.
As I exited the trees on the fourth loop, Rick, Kristina, Coleen, and a few others were cheering for me. Rick and Kristina began telling me I wasn’t going to quit. I told them in no uncertain terms I was done. I was dropping to the 100k. When they realized I was serious, they supported my decision. I told them my leg was not carrying me any further, and I hadn’t been able to eat for over 8 hours. They were wonderfully supportive. Then Rick informed me Paul was still out there. I couldn’t believe it!! I thought there was no way; he was barely even walking when we saw him! I sat on a chair in the aid tent and within minutes Paul came in and sat beside me. I encouraged Rick and Chris to get Paul to the finish. They agreed and Paul was grateful to take on some pacers. Chris doctored Paul’s foot, while Paul explained to me what happened. He said he made it to the aid station where he intended to drop, and contemplated what to do next. He said no one there had anything to help him with his ankle, so he just stood there. He said then he thought of the piece of duct tape I put on his drop bag. He said he thought to himself, “Mind over matter. 100 miles is not that far”. So he took off running. He said he mentally blocked the pain and worked to catch up with Rick and I, as he knew we were not far ahead. Turns out he missed a turn and added an additional 7 miles. I was in complete disbelief that he was going to finish. I admired his strength of mind and knew he would gut it out. He headed out of the aid station with Rick in tow, and I continued to sit and feel sorry for myself for about the next hour. When I finally went to shower, I discovered I had chafed on my back, underarms, and other choice places until they bled. I knew it was going to be a long road to recovery.
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| Paul and Daisy Lou after he finished. |
Several hours later, Paul came running, yes, running out of the woods with Chris to cross the finish line and claim his buckle. He did it, and it made the trip worth it.
| Ultra runner feet. |
| Paul and Daisy Lou on the way home. |
In the days following Woodstock, I had some time to think about
what my body has been telling me. I settled on the plan to take a minimum of 3
weeks off running completely. I don’t know if I will ever be able to run in the
heat again, or if this is now my life with running. If so, I will make the most
of the cold months, and enjoy other things during the hot months. It will all
be ok. While this event did not go as planned, I am so grateful to those who
went out there and supported me. I truly have ultra amazing friends!
