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When I was a kid, my English teacher called me to the front of the class after some province-wide standardized testing to tell me that my writing skills had scored at a grade 12 level.
I was in seventh grade at the time.
That was the day I realized I was good at writing. I always knew that I liked it, but I didn’t know I was better at it than others. It was more than just practice or paying attention in class. I had a natural talent. I could see and express things in unique ways. I could inspire change.
That realization transformed my future. It defined my profession, the way I express myself, and who I am.
At Noble Canyon on Saturday I experienced a similar awakening.
THE ROUTE
Noble Canyon can basically be broken down into three parts:
- Starting at 5500 elevation and running down the side of a canyon to 3500 feet.
- Turning around and running back up the canyon.
- Climbing another long hill reaching 6000 feet of elevation, then looping back for the finish.
To put this into perspective, you are basically spending 5+ hours running uphill. Sometimes much longer. The terrain is: Rocks. Everywhere. When people say a trail is “technical,” it is usually about 95% LESS rocky than Noble Canyon. It’s almost impossible to even walk it barefoot because there is no space for a clean footprint.
Early into the race I watched the guy in front of me take two full out face plants within 20 minutes of each other. The second place finisher crossed with huge gashes on his knees from possibly several falls. I stumbled about five times, but was lucky enough to fall only once. A classic gravel slide. Footing is no joke here.
Both Shacky and I ran this race on a Sport Kilt sponsorship, a company we both love. I wanted to show that Sport Kilts weren’t just costumes for short, fun runs. They could be serious, functional gear for ultra running. And cute as hell.
RUNNING DOWN THE SIDE OF THE CANYON
No matter what distance I run, the hardest part is always the first 3 miles. It’s also the only point where I significantly feel the elevation. I’m breathing hard and my legs feel heavy, like they’re hard to lift. Sometimes I stumble. On this route I even felt sleepy-tired. Like I could have just closed my eyes and passed out.
Combine this with the fact that it was freezing cold at the race start. My legs and hands and fingers were numb. I was literally shaking and my stride was stiff. I couldn’t get warmed up.
It was demoralizing to think about distance at this point. I had just started and already felt shitty. So I focused all my attention on just getting through the first 3 miles and warming up.
I have never raced a single track trail before, so it was a little weird. I’m used to big road race mobs. I’m good at weaving through crowds and pushing ahead, but with single track you can’t do that. There’s really no place to go at all. It was making me feel restrained.
I hated the feeling of someone right behind me, breathing down my neck. I felt like a hunted rabbit and I wanted my space. I also assumed that everyone was faster than me and should therefore pass. So I ended up stepping to the side a lot and letting people go through, hoping I could get some running room. But it didn’t work out that way – there were people everywhere. When I finally stopped letting others pass, I got stuck behind them all the way down the canyon.
At the beginning I was shy about asking people to let me by. But finally I had to. On my training runs I was able to work up a good momentum and fly down the side of the canyon. It was my favorite part of the route. My leg-jitterbugging skills have really developed, and I can bounce down that canyon fairly easily. But I couldn’t pull that off on race day. There were too many runners taking it slow on the downhill, watching their footing carefully. I just couldn’t slip by.
AID STATION #1 – THE BIG TREE
The first aid station arrived before I needed anything. I still walked through and eyed the food, wondering whether I should eat something anyway. The guy I had been following collapsed on a chair, but Jeff was in front of him and didn’t even stop. I had been trading places with Jeff all the way down the canyon, and I didn’t really want to lose sight of him this early.
“What can I get you?” Some guy startled me by asking. I didn’t know anything about trail race aid stations at the time, so I thought he was weird for asking.
“Um.. no. I think I’m ok.”
I took off after Jeff.
BOTTOM OF THE CANYON AND AID STATION #2
By the time I got to the bottom of the hill (just a bit ahead of Jeff), I felt like I hadn’t even started running yet. Getting stuck behind so many people coming down had me anxious to shake them off and run at my own steady, uninterrupted pace.
There was an aid station at the bottom of the canyon. It didn’t feel like I had been running long and I still didn’t need anything, but I figured I should stop and refill my hydration pack before heading back up.
I’ve never been to an aid station that wasn’t at a Toronto road race, so I’m not aid station expert. But this is what I’m used to: stations run by high school students who play and flirt with each other until you beg them to refill your bottle with something.
But walking into this aid station, I was immediately cornered.
“Can I get you anything?” some smiley dude asked.
“Uh…. no thanks.” What was he asking that for? Was he trying to flirt with me? What a weirdo.
I walked to the food table to look around. A few seconds later, a girl was clawing at my hydration pack trying to make me tell her how to fill it.
“Water? Gatorade? Ice??”
I finally surrendered my pack and thanked her. I walked to the sponges and started soaking the back of my neck with ice water.
All of a sudden, the sponge was no longer in my hand. But the water was still coming down. The smiley dude had snatched it away and was soaking me. Then he asked me if I wanted my head or back soaked. WTF was going on??
So this is how trail aid stations work: You’re not allowed to do anything. People will follow you around and stop you if you try. It’s service you’ve never seen before. They’ll hand you food. They’ll refill your bottles. They’ll soak your head. They’ll tell you you’re awesome and send you on your way.
BACK UP THE CANYON
While I was trying to figure out why everyone was being so nice, Jeff took off ahead of me back up the canyon. When I was ready I ran out quickly, still hoping for some uninhibited running. I wasn’t surrounded by people this time. I had some breathing room and I was happy.
At all my training runs, the hike back up the canyon has always killed me out. But today I felt great. I was running uphill.
The cool part about coming back up is that you get to see the people behind you. I saw Julius and Ngoc, which was a shock because I assumed they were way in front of me. I also saw Regina and said hi, but she didn’t reply. She looked like she was ready to strangle someone with her bare hands. (At the finish line, she would later have the worst case of Runner’s High I’ve ever seen – chatting and laughing and snapping pictures.)
Sarah, another strong runner, had left the aid station after me and soon caught up. She had kicked my ass at every training run, so I knew she was awesome. I let her pass. After a while I caught up to her again but stayed behind. I figured it would be pointless to pass her since she would surely smoke me. But my legs were itching and I finally passed her, almost apologetically.
I felt weird passing people. Almost like I had no right to. Who did I think I was? These guys were strong. They had lived and trained here longer than I had. I was just a silly Canadian girl in pigtails who knew nothing about running up a canyon. But I never saw Sarah again.
I also slipped past Jeff, and tried to build some distance between us. I imagined that both him and Sarah were right on my ass, and that kept me moving for the next 3 miles or so.
After that I started to pull out some mantras. I felt like walking, but I knew I didn’t really need to. I remembered something my dad had told me a really long time ago:
“It’s not how you start, it’s how you finish.”
I repeated this to myself a few times. I had started strong, and I wanted to finish strong.
Sometimes the terrain got so bad that I had to walk, but I made a point to walk fast. And never for any longer than I absolutely had to. I was still feeling good.
I was mostly running on my own on the way up, and I embraced the solitude. It felt like it was just me on the canyon. It felt right. Every once in a while I’d catch up to someone and run behind them for a bit. Then when my restlessness had build up enough, I’d shyly pass.
AID STATION #3 – THE BIG TREE AGAIN
Rachel was the one who attacked me with happy service at this aid station. I had never met her, but knew who she was of course. So I introduced myself and chatted with her a bit while snacking on a sandwich.
Rachel Spatz completed an Ironman when she was something like 17, and ran a 100 miler when she was around 19. She’s like a walking goddess. Just being around her is inspiring. I took off from her aid station in great spirits.
Rachel had told me that Shacky wasn’t far ahead, and he was walking. So I had a new goal: catching up to Shacky. I ran until I caught sight of a cheering section up ahead. It was Theresa and team holding Carlos’ signs, which were hilarious. They told me Shacky was JUST up ahead!
Here’s the sign Carlos made for Shacky:
AID STATION #4 – PENNY PINES
Shortly after the signs and the cheering, there was another aid stations. I did another ice water sponge soak and grabbed a potato. I didn’t hang out at this station much – I had to run Shacky down. Coming up out the station, a few more people were cheering near the parking lot. One lady looked at me and let out a loud gasp. Then she exclaimed to the lady next to her, “OMG! She looks like she just started!”
That made my day.
THE LAST UPHILL
I ran strong for the next couple of miles, and then I hit my wall. The climb wasn’t steep, but it was a gradual incline that felt like it would never end. The trail was open and fully exposed to the sun. It was really rocky. I started to walk.
I’m not a fast walker, so every once in a while I would try to run again. But it was like my body refused to respond to me. My quads were tight, and I was starting to cramp up. Frustrated, I thought of something my friend Ngoc reminded me of before the race – Caballo Blanco’s wise words from Born to Run:
“Think Easy, Light, Smooth, and Fast. You start with easy, because if that’s all you get, that’s not so bad. Then work on light. Make it effortless, like you don’t give a shit how high the hill is or how far you’ve got to go. When you’ve practiced that so long that you forget you’re practicing, you work on making it smooooooth. You won’t have to worry about the last one—you get those three, and you’ll be fast.”
I definitely couldn’t handle fast, so I decided to just focus on Easy. At the same time, I remembered Daniel Howell’s mantra, which he talked about on his interview with Caity on Run Barefoot Girl. He said, “I run today so that I can run tomorrow.”
To me, this means not killing yourself after every race. It means doing what Caballo said – running easy. So I stopped to stretch and sit down. I hoped that would loosen me up so I could run again. A couple of people passed me during my stretching, but I figured that time would be made up if I could actually start running again.
And it worked. After a couple minutes, I was moving. And I ended up passing the people that had slipped by.
Finally, I hit 6000 feet of elevation and it was downhill from there. It felt like a deep sigh of relief for my legs and all of a sudden I could pick up the pace. I got my second wind. The world felt right and the day was beautiful. I was in my element.
AID STATION #5 – THE RAT HOLE
“Vanessa Runs! Vanessa Runs!”
Someone was calling from the last aid station. I ran in, refilled my bladder, and ate a bunch of random things. They told me that Shacky had JUST left and he had spent a long time at this station. I was only there for what felt like 2 minutes before they were kicking me out. “You’ve been here too long!” So off I went.
I knew I had to step it up if I was ever going to catch Shacky, so I ran. And it felt good. Then I realized that I had been doing two things for most of the race:
When I caught up to people on the trail, I would size them up. If they looked fitter than me in any way (ie. Everyone), I wouldn’t pass them. I’d tag behind and assume they were better runners than me.
I had been walking some inclines, not because I felt I really needed to, but because the people in front of me were walking them. And I didn’t feel I was good enough to pass them.
Then it dawned on me: OMG. I have low Runner’s Esteem.
I thought about one runner I saw hunched over on the side of the road earlier. Then I thought about a lady I saw crying after a fall. I thought about all the falls and the wipe-outs I had seen and all the people running behind me.
Then it hit me: I think I’m better at this than I realize.
It was more than just having a good day or good running weather. I think this comes easier for me. And I love doing it. It just fits. Like writing.
When I’m running on a trail, nothing feels foreign. I feel like I belong there. Like my body was built to move this way. I can’t help smiling and I can’t help feeling at home. Different people have different talents, so I don’t think I’m particularly special. But I think that ultra distance trail running just might be my “thing”. Something I could potentially develop. Something a little bit bigger than me.
Nobody else passed me after that. I ran strong and I sped up when I saw the finish line. I crossed it with a big grin. I never caught Shacky, but someday I will. With enough time and distance, I think I can run anything down.
CONCLUDING THOUGHTS
Back in May I ran a 60k mileage at my first timed race and raced a marathon the next day. After that I felt like I could do anything. It gave me the courage to pursue a life I really wanted.
But this race did something else. This race made me FEEL like an ultra distance trail runner. It gave me the courage to pass people. It gave me a place on these trails. At the finish line, I could stand in the company of some amazing athletes and not feel like that silly little Canadian girl. This was my world now. And I am an ultra runner.
Official finish time: 7:07
Like this:
This Saturday I’ll be running Noble Canyon!
I’ve only done a timed ultra, so this will be my first real ultra distance trail race. I’m super excited because this is my favorite type of race – long, challenging trails. I’m going into it without any expectations. I’m just going to enjoy the day, have fun, and take in the experience.
I hope I make the cut-off, but I sincerely have no idea if I will. The last couple of training runs I’ve basically had to walk the entire way up the mountain. So I’d love to at least get a little more running in.
I think it’s cool that this is the first race where I know so many of the people running or crewing or volunteering. In Toronto I always experienced races alone – starting and finishing alone, no one I knew cheering, and no one I knew running. Racing was fun THEN, so I can only imagine how much better it will be now. The ultra running community is completely different than road racing, and I’m enjoying the shift.
I had a little mishap on my run at Torrey Pines yesterday. I got a little overconfident running down the side of the canyon and I was going much faster than usual. I stepped on a rock with what I thought was a steady step, but my foot shifted off of it and slid down to the ground. I didn’t fall or miss a step – I didn’t actually feel any pain at all. I just kept running. But Shacky said it sounded bad, and about 40 strides later it started to sting. So I took a look.
I had sliced off a bit of my sole, so my skin was flapping and the wound was filling with sand. It wasn’t a big cut, but it was deep. I ran to the beach and soaked in salt water to clean it out. Then I borrowed Shacky’s shoes and finished up the run. I was hobbling a little, but it was much easier to run than to walk. I actually ran faster because it was getting dark and the faster I ran, the less time I would spend putting pressure on my wound.
When I got home I washed it up again, put on some socks, and went to bed. In the morning my skin had started to re-attach. I used some Neosporin, and it looks like it’s going to be ok. I’ll probably still bandage my foot for Noble, just in case.
I’m trying to come up with things to think about to stay motivated during this run. I feel like it’s going to be a mind game much more so than a physical feat. I know I have the strength in me to finish strong, but it’s just soooo easy to walk!
I’ve been inspired lately by Shelly, who just finished a 50-miler, and we’ll be running our first 100 miler together soon! So I’m sure I’ll think about her.
I’ve read on a couple of blogs about how people decide to dedicate a mile of their long races to people who have inspired or helped them, and I thought about doing that. If I do, here are some people I admire that I would definitely include:
- Shacky – cause he’s always there for everything
- my birth mom – cause I miss her
- Eli – cause she’s the bravest lady I know
- Emma – cause I love her and miss her
- Angie – cause she’s a supermama and strong lady
- Shelly – cause she kicked ass at her last race
- Jason – cause he writes the stuff that needs to be said and finished Western States in under 24 hrs
- Pat – cause he’s my cool record-breaking uncle
- Kate – cause she’s a cute little runner and climber who never gives up
- Cat – cause everything about her inspires me
- Caity – cause her podcast is the awesomest podcast in the universe
- Krista – cause she’s got ninja moves
- Christian – cause he taught me how to get everything for free
- Michael – cause he suggested a long time ago that I try running barefoot…
- Robin – cause she’s my fellow badass Canadian ultra runner
- Carlos – cause he makes me laugh and he pushes some impressive speed/mileage
- Jeff – cause he always gets back up when he falls
- Theresa – cause she’s insanely supportive
- Christine B – cause she’s a super strong lady and great runner
- Nadia – cause she’s always trying new things to stay active
- Nate – cause he’s not afraid to be himself
I don’t really have any other ideas as far as motivation, so I think I’m just going to go into it and see what happens.
Wish me luck!
I only just now read Born to Run.
I have known for a long time that this was the runner’s Bible, particularly barefoot runners. I knew what a big deal it was. I knew how many people it had inspired. And I knew that all my friends had read it. Yet I still hung back.
I got Born to Run when it first came out and everyone was reading it. I watched the hype and all the book tours. But I let it sit on my shelf. For weeks. Months. Until the hype was mostly over. Until people stopped talking about it. And everyone assumed that I had read it.
I have an interesting relationship with books. Books were my best friends all through childhood and adolescence. They’re what got me through life.
My dad used to always refer to his books as real people, and it was always clear to me that he loved his books more than he loved me. I wasn’t to ever harm any of his books. If a spine was bent, or if a cover was creased, I would have to face his consequences.
My dad’s approach to reading was extreme, but it did engrave in me a profound respect for books. I approach a book now with near-reverence.
I can read fast, but at the same time I read slow because I stop a lot. I read until I get a thought and then I stop to really think about it. Then I act on it. And I don’t come back to continue reading until I’ve done what I need to do. Until I’ve applied what I’ve learned.
I knew that Born to Run would take me a long time to read. I knew, deep inside, that it would somehow change my life. And I wasn’t ready for change when I bought it. So I let it sit.
I knew that I would love this book, because I love running. But I wanted to love running on my own terms. I wanted to tackle my first ultra before cracking the cover. I wanted to explore barefoot and minimalist running before turning any pages.
So much of my knowledge is book knowledge. But running is one of the few things that I can truly experience. I didn’t want to read about it. I just wanted to run.
I also didn’t want to be carried away by a fad. A quick barefoot run, and then back to normal life. I didn’t want anyone to say that I came to love ultras because of Born to Run. Or that I tried barefoot running because of this book. I wanted to love ultras on my own terms. And run barefoot for the sheer joy of it.
So I did.
I ran my first ultra and fell in love with the 50k+ distance all on my own. I took off my shoes and never put them on again, all by myself. I didn’t want to know the stats or the proof or the studies. I just wanted to know that it was right for me because it FELT right. I wanted to know, based on feel, that I could never run any other way.
Last month I finally picked up Born to Run. The time was right. And last night I finally finished it.
It was like watching the first movie of a series, when that movie was the last to come out. You already knew the ending. But you didn’t know the beginning. And suddenly everything makes sense.
Born to Run was exactly like that for me. I already knew that I loved ultras and I always would. I knew that running barefoot would always work for me. But I didn’t know why.
I’m not a better runner because of Born to Run. It’s not going to make me any faster or make me push any further. But I do feel wiser. I feel like I’m on the right track. And I feel that just because people don’t get what I do, doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.
I think this book strengthened my resolve to fully embrace who I am and what I love. I recently confided to a friend: “I can’t shake the feeling that my whole life is supposed to be about running. It’s the only thing that consumes me.”
I used to try to explain myself to others. I felt that I had to justify my passions. Why do I run barefoot? Why do I run so much? Why do I make running a priority?
But I’m done with that.
This book showed me the why behind a lot of these questions, but it also showed me something more important: That I don’t need to explain it. I can just know it. And I can just run.
To me, Born to Run will always conjure up the image of Caballo Blanco cutting through dips and turns and crevices too dangerous to speak of. A mere shadow slipping through spaces so narrow with drops so steep that it’s senseless. Life and death all hanging on a long run. And I want that. I have for a long time.
These aren’t risks that anyone can explain. According to the voices of reason, this is not what I’m supposed to want. Who wants to get lost? Who wants to get exhausted? Who wants to fall down?
I’m supposed to want to stay where it’s safe. To compromise my dreams of wilderness and wanderings, and while I’m at it – to put on some god damn shoes.
Except that I can’t. And I fear that the day I loosen the grip on my passions is the day someone pries them from my cold dead fingers.
They should look for me at the bottom of a canyon.
Like this:
I’m running a guest post today by freelance writer Maria Rainier about the 3,100 Mile Self-Trascendance run. That’s right, folks: 3, 100 miles.
I love reading about races like this because it’s a testament to the reslience of the human body. It makes me excited to own such a remarkable dwelling, potentially capable of some incredible things.
I’ll let Maria tell you the rest.
SRI CHINMOY AND 3100 MILES OF SELF-TRANSCENDENCE
by Maria Rainier
Ask your average Jane and Joe if they can run 3,100 miles in the steaming heat of summer and they might go to the trouble of walking across the room to slap that innocent look off your face. They haven’t even heard that they would be given only 51 days to complete the 3,100 miles—approximately 60.78 miles (or 97.82 km) a day.
Nevertheless, since spiritual teacher Sri Chinmoy created the Self-Transcendence 3100-Mile Race in the mid-1990s, a small group of runners have gathered annually to smash their self-imposed limitations beneath their heels. In his mind, sports supplied the body and mind with fitness and joy but also expressed his philosophy of self-transcendence, or expanding the consciousness to conquer perceived limitations.
SRI CHINMOY: ATHLETE AND TEACHER
Accusations of misconduct aside, Sri Chinmoy walked the walk in the athletic community. Once a formidable competitor himself, he completed 22 marathons, 5 ultramarathons, and participated in track-and-field events in Masters Games. These include the 1983 World Masters Games in Puerto Rico and the 1993 World Veterans Games in Miyazaki, Japan.
When an injury put a stop to his running career, Sri Chinmoy turned to weights, purportedly lifting 800 lbs with only his right arm less than two months prior to his death in October 2007.
ATHLETICISM AND THE SPIRIT
Runners turn up for the Self-Transcendence 3100-Mile Race in his memory every year, although the list of participants is, as one might imagine, quite short. Ladies’ record-holder Suprabha Beckjord—who completed the 5,649 laps of an extended city block in Jamaica-Queens in 49 days, 14:30:54—is the only participant to have completed every edition of the race. The course record belongs to Wolfgang Schwerk in 41 days, 8:16:29. Asprihanal Aalto has won the most of these races (six out of his nine starts). These athletes and those unnamed tap into the body and mind’s inner reserves of energy and power, doing what even they might on some days believe impossible.
One of his students, Ashrita Furman, today holds 100 Guinness world records and attributes them his Guru’s philosophy. “I am not a natural athlete, but Sri Chinmoy has shown me that if one can be in touch with one’s inner spirit, anything is possible.”
Maria Rainier is a freelance writer and blog junkie. She is currently a resident blogger at First in Education where she’s been writing about online physical education programs along with computer hardware engineering jobs. In her spare time, she enjoys yoga, playing piano, and working with origami.
“When you finish your first ultra you are transformed from a weak person to a powerful one. There is nothing in life that feels insurmountable any longer, not once you’ve willingly wrestled with demons that big. When you know what you are capable of, you can take charge of your life. That’s what running ultras did for me, and this is how I choose to repay my debt.”
- Shelley Viggiano, MTD Race Director
There is one book from my high school reading list that has stuck with me all these years. It is Fay Weldon’s The Life and Loves of a She-Devil. It’s an easy fictional read about an unhappy, oppressed housewife who embarks on a mission of revenge against her cheating husband, his mistress, and society in general.
This character’s meticulous and obsessive plans transform her from a large, strong, dark woman into a petite, delicate blonde. She essentially turns herself into her husband’s mistress, becomes the object of his affection, and thus extracts her shocking revenge.
It was an unlikely book for me to attach myself to. I was an obsessive reader in high school, but was never much into fiction. This was the only fiction book I kept around and read over and over again.
I identified closely with the main character. I also felt ugly, fat, and powerless. My father was extremely protective, so I felt oppressed. I wasn’t allowed friends or sleepovers or dances. I missed my prom and wasn’t allowed to wear shorts or skirts that cut above my knees. I was nice and smart, but awkward and friendless.
The transformation of Weldon’s character caught my attention. And I wondered if someday I might also live a different life. If I would ever be glamorous or pretty or happy.
Every time I read this book, I have a different perspective of it. At first I started by sympathizing with the main character, cheering her on and identifying with her frustrations. Then I became angrier in my youth and enjoyed it more as a story of revenge. I wished that the people in my life could also be punished, and wondered what I might do to them.
Now I’m reading it again as an ultra runner, and it seems silly. Like a lot of drama over nothing. Whereas before I never questioned why this character would want to physically transform into something more petite, I now cringe at the thought.
Her legs, once strong and long and muscular, withered into bony white sticks. I feel that she could have been a runner instead. Her darker skin would have allowed her more natural protection for longer runs in the sun. But she wanted to be fair. In the book, she shortens her height, thus killing what would have been an impressive stride. Her body was powerful and then she was helpless. She was strong and in the end she was weak.
I like Shelley’s quote at the top of this post because it explains that ultra running changes the way you think about yourself. In other words, it tweaks your self-esteem.
I suspect that the ultra experience is different for women. We are always so down on ourselves because of our bodies. We’re never happy. But ultra training challenges our concept of self.
I was told once that I’d never be a runner because I’d never have a runner’s body. It was the opinion of someone I respected, so I really believed them. Today, I still don’t have a runner’s body. Yet I know I’m a runner.
My thighs are thick and my hips are larger than most distance runners. My bum is rounder, and the more miles I run, the rounder it gets. It’s not going anywhere. I’m more short than tall. More packed than lean.
My training has made my lower body more muscular and defined, but not smaller. My calves and quads are hard, but not skinny. My boobs won’t shrink much either.
I don’t know what it’s like to run with less weight, but I know that I ran 102km last weekend with a big fat smile on my face and no injuries. So whatever my body is doing, it’s something efficient.
The truth is, if you are a woman and you have completed an ultra marathon, or even a marathon, you are in a very small, elite percentage of the general population. Your body has accomplished something athletic. It has done something extraordinary. So to turn around and criticize it for every dimple or pocket of fat is almost like being saved from a burning plane by a superhero only to tell him his cape doesn’t match his socks. Really… nobody cares about that.
Running has taught me to love my body. It does what I want it to, so in return I must lavish it with love and appreciation. Maybe I don’t always take the best race photos. But every angle and curve and dimension – I suspect they serve a purpose.
After all, I just ran an ultra. So all the moving parts must work well together.
And I feel beautiful.
On Saturday I ran 60k in 8hrs at Mind the Ducks in Rochester. On Sunday I ran a marathon in 4:40 in Toronto. My total mileage for the weekend was 102km.
MTDs was a 12-hour race made up of a half mile loop that I ran over and over and over. The Toronto Marathon was a road race through the city.
This was probably the best weekend of my life. Here are some general notes, observations, and highlights.
1. MTDs was all about meeting my heroes and making new ones. There were so many strong runners and great people there; I was truly humbled and felt so lucky to be able to share this experience with them.
2. I thought the half-mile loops at MTDs would be incredibly hard psychologically. They were not. They were a psychological comfort, and I missed them during my marathon. I always knew I had it in me to go one more loop, so it was easier to continue. It also didn’t hurt to share the loop with so many of my running idols. I was never bored.
3. After a certain point, it feels more comfortable to run instead of walk. And at MTDs Angie Bee gave me another amazing tip – after a certain point, it’s easier to run fast than to run slow. And she was right.
4. Neither of the races felt worse than my first marathon, so I know I’m in much better shape. Most people imagine that the longer you run, the worst you feel. I found it doesn’t work that way at all. For me, the longer I run, the better I feel. And feeling great comes in waves. I get second, third, fourth, and fifth winds. I felt much better running at 8 hours than I did running at 6.
5. I didn’t stop to walk at any point during my marathon. This wasn’t so much a sign of strength, I just knew that if I stopped it would be a thousand times harder to start running again. I kept my legs and feet relaxed and just shuffled along. My stats weren’t great. I was near the end of my age group. But then again, I’m pretty sure I was the only one in my age group that ran for 8 hours the day before…
6. I strongly believe that it’s not how you begin a race that matters; it’s how you finish it. At my marathon, I passed 112 runners in the final 12k. I was passed by no one.
7. For the first time in my life, I teared up (as in crying tears) during a run. I was doing great and going strong, then in the last marathon stretch one of the volunteers yelled that I only had 5k left until the final loop. I suddenly knew that I had it in me to finish strong and sprint to the finish; I instantly teared. Not because I was hurting, but because I was so freaking proud of myself. And I knew I was gonna own the rest of that race.
8. This was an emotional weekend for me. Although I’m a strong runner, I don’t always feel that other people believe in me. It’s bittersweet because that also makes me push harder. And doing the ultra/marathon combo made me feel vindicated. Like a real runner who actually knows what they’re doing.
9. On Monday morning I woke up and realized – I’m an ultra marathoner. Sweet.
10. I didn’t take a lot of pictures. At first I thought I would, but in the moment it didn’t really feel right. I felt like this was my weekend, these were my races, and this was my time. And most of it I didn’t really want to share. I wanted to experience everything and remember it all and keep it to myself. In my heart and in my head.
11. I learned that hydration and nutrition are key to fuel any activity. And for me, what I was eating wasn’t as important as when. I think I nailed my nutrition this weekend. The key for me was to basically eat constantly in small quantities. I was really able to listen to my body, fuel it when it needed to be fueled, and in return it never let me crash.
12. I am so unbelievable grateful for my legs and feet. I have the most awesome feet ever.
THE BEST PARTS
1. The first few loops around at MTDs when I realized that all my running heroes actually knew my name. Meeting Angie Bee, Jesse, Jason, Shelley and Shelly, and many others.
2. Running MTDs in a tutu. Awesomeness.
3. After the marathon when Shacky peeled the Ink n Burn off his back and gave it to me, and said I deserved it.
4. I wore a shirt during my marathon that said “RUN BABY RUN” – so I was hearing people scream that at me the whole way. Kept me moving and smiling.
5. I was literally beaming the entire marathon. My heart was full. I couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky I was to be out running like this, and when it got rough I asked myself if there was anywhere else I’d rather be. There wasn’t.
6. Lou and I had the same mantra for the marathon: “The honey badger don’t give a shit.” Lou passed me early on, but for the first bit we made sure to keep reminding each other of this important fact from nature.
7. I love the Cheesecake Factory. And Starbucks Calm tea. Two great sources of comfort this weekend! Food makes me happy.
8. The day after the marathon we did a cool down barefoot trail run with Shacky, my sister, Lou, and Kat. Shacky filmed it with his GoPro and sprinted the last bit with me. Super fun!
Stopping over at Niagara Falls on the way to Rochester.
Rocking the tutu. I ran 60k in this.
My favourite fellow tutu’d ultra runners.
Still running!
I don’t have any marathon pictures yet, so I’ll post those when they come.
WHAT’S NEXT?
I was built to run ultras. This is my strength and it’s what I love most. Over the next few months I will start transitioning to more trail runs, more hills, more barefoot, and longer training distances.
[The following is a guest post by Toronto-resident Dave Reid. Dave is a former marathon runner who decided to get off the roads and run trail ultras instead. Here, he shares his best tips for us budding ultra marathoners.
Dave started out as a 10k road runner until he was rescued by a misfit trail running group, The Fat Ass Pylons. He lost more than 25lbs and is now running faster with less injury. He has no idea how many marathons and ultras he’s run, but he has loved every one of them. Dave will be turning 53 this year.]
By Dave Reid
Ah, your first ultra. People already think you’re crazy for running marathons, and now you tell them you’re going to do an ultra. Competing in a regular marathon is just not that big of a deal to you anymore.
That statement might sound a bit facetious, but think about it. Have you seen some of the people who finish a marathon? I think it’s fantastic that with the proper run/walk training, your Uncle Bert, who is 60 years old and 240 lbs, can run 26.2 miles in 6 hours. So like Shania would sing: “So you did a marathon. That don’t impress me much.” Besides, you will likely run a marathon or two a few times in training for your ultra, especially if it’s a 50 miler.
Geez, I’m off to a flying start with my first guest post ever. Anyone I haven’t offended, keep reading. I promise things will get better.
THE ULTRA
So this brings us to The Ultra. An ultra is defined as anything longer than a marathon, although most ultra runners would say the distance starts at 50K.
I would define a successful first ultra as being one that you:
- Finish
- Don’t get hurt
- Have fun.
So how do we go about doing that?
STEP #1 – PREPARATION
First, enter and pay for your ultra. Give yourself at least three months to prepare. I find if you’ve actually signed up for a race, it’s a great motivator.
The next, and maybe the most important thing you can do, is LOSE WEIGHT. (If you are skinny, please skip to the next step.) I have read that for every one lb. you lose, you can gain two minutes in an ultra. Based on my experience, I would say that’s true. Imagine running 50K or 50 miles while carrying a 10-20lb. weight in a backpack. You can train harder and have less chance of stress type injuries if you lose those extra pounds.
Also, do back-to-back long runs once a week in training. Estimate your time for finishing the ultra, and build up to running that total over 2 days. You want to run the full distance (combining back to back days) at least 3-4 times before your ultra. For example, if you think you will finish in 6 hours, run 3 hours on Saturday and 3 hours on Sunday. Or 4 hours on Saturday and 2 hours on Sunday. Or 5 hours and 1 hour. Mix it up. You get the idea. Sunday will be painful, but after you get warmed up, you’ll be OK. I use the Santa Clarita Ultra Training program. Very easy. Very cool.
Practice your nutrition during training and find out what works best for you. I typically use one gel every half-hour, and drink eload (which is like Gatorade) depending on how hot out it is. Quick tip: Start drinking before you get thirsty. I never eat solid food, but I know most people do.
Practice running efficiently, with as little wasted motion as possible. I try to keep my head as still as possible, and raise my feet as little as necessary. Run quietly.
Next, find socks, clothes and shoes that you love for training and racing. You want to be comfortable. Buy multiple pairs, because you can be sure they will be discontinued.
Train on the terrain you’ll be running. If it’s a hilly technical trail ultra, train on hilly technical trails. If it’s a flat ultra on pavement (ughh), train on that at least some of the time. A flat non-technical trail would probably be better for most of your training runs, as it is easier on the joints and less chance of injury.
Do a 10k tempo run once a week at a faster pace than you plan to run
your ultra. Run hills once a week to get strong.
If you are older, like me, take recovery days. A typical week could be:
Mon: Off
Tuesday: 10k tempo Run
Wednesday: Off
Thursday: 1 hour hill workout
Friday: Off
Saturday: 3 hour long run
Sunday: 3 hour long run (or you could do a 4 hour and 2 hour, or 5 hour and 1 hour)
Let’s say your ultra is at the end of June. You want to be able to run your distance, over 2 days, by the end of April. Give yourself time to work up to that. Then in May, you can run the distance 3 times and take it easy on the last weekend. In June, you can run it the first 2 weekends, taper the 3rd weekend and run your ultra the 4th weekend.
So that’s it for training.
STEP #2 – THE LAST MINUTE STUFF
- Get lots of sleep two nights before your ultra. You will not likely sleep well the night before, and it won’t matter if you got lots the night before that.
- Get everything organized the night before. You will sleep better.
- Carbo load.
- Get there early. You will need to use the bathroom once or twice.
- Hydrate before the run.
- Keep calm and relaxed at the starting line. You’re not going to win the race, you just want to finish. Enjoy the moment.
STEP #3 – THE RACE
- Start slowly, it’s a long run. Even more slowly than a marathon.
- Walk steep hills, especially in the first half. It’s not worth it to run. Power walk instead. You won’t lose much time, and you will conserve valuable energy for later.
- Breathe! You should be using long, relaxed, deep breaths. If you are huffing and puffing, like during a tempo run, you are going too fast. Slow down, relax and breathe deeply.
- If somebody passes you, let them go. Don’t race them! Odds are you may see them later.
- Remember to eat and drink like you did in training.
- Have a mantra. Mine is “Chug-a-Lug, Chug-a-Lug”. At some point just start up the mantra and keep going.
- Don’t think about the whole distance. Run aid station to aid station. Walk through the aid stations. Chat with the volunteers. It will pick you up!
- At some point, it’s going to start to hurt. Suck it up, Princess. Is there anything you would rather be doing on a great day like this?
So that’s about all I’ve got for you. I should also mention: I run with a group, and that keeps me motivated. If you slack off, they will kick your ass and laugh about it for the rest of the year. Not good.
At some point during the ultra, I’ll remember my favourite quote from Lance Armstrong: “Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.”
Good luck! I hope this helps.
