There I was, at 5:30 a.m. on an unusually cool and damp May
morning at the starting gate waiting for my first ultra-marathon -- a 50 mile
run called, Rock the Ridge 50 Mile
Challenge. My journey to this gate did not begin with
this moment in mind. It was not as if I
had set as a goal to get in good enough shape to complete 50 miles. Far from it.
I didn’t even know that this race existed or that there were such things
called ultra-marathons. I distinctly
remember my journey starting seven years prior when I had turned 50. I had no goal other than staying fit. I could sense that my athletic ability (which
was pretty good when I was younger) was diminishing. I also admit that I didn’t like it when my
kids called me “fat dad” because while I was not overweight I had put on few
pounds.
While retirement was not near, it was something that could
be contemplated. I thought that when I
retire, I still want to be very active, and be able to hike trails and climb
mountains in our National Parks, not just look at them from a roadside.
I remember when I was 51, my two younger brothers had
completed a Tough Mudder, and the way they talked about it made me want to
complete it too. I wanted the challenge,
but realized that I first needed to get in shape. With others in my family, I signed up for a
Warrior Dash that was scheduled to take place in the summer. To train, l began to trail run. I was already an avid day hiker and really
enjoyed my quiet time in the woods, so trail running was like hiking, only
faster.
It's amazing how a couple of small decisions for a
short-term goal would have such a long-term impact. The decision to involve myself in an obstacle
race and to use trail running as my primary training method would prove
pivotal. Little did I know that the day
I made those decisions would take me down a new path, which leads to other
paths that I never knew existed. It
would soon lead to a regular routine of trail runs, as well as obstacle and
trail races.
As I started my trail running, I realized I had a long way
to go. The hills on the trail run took a
lot out of me and I even had to walk them in the beginning even though I was
only going three miles or so. Fairly
quickly, however, I was able to complete four miles even with hills. Two weeks before the Warrior Dash, I pulled a
muscle playing volleyball. I was
devastated, but rested it thinking that I might be able to do the Dash at
three-quarters speed. Just minutes before the race, I decided to give it a
try. While I could not run at full
speed, I did finish the Dash. (Warrior Dash photo below)
A few months later was the Tough Mudder. I kept up on my trail running and pretty soon
I was easily completing five miles.
While these runs were becoming easier, the Tough Mudder was on another
level. The Mudder contained numerous
obstacles that required upper body strength.
I was with my brother on a day that started at 37 degrees, reaching the
high 40’s. I was not just running, but also swimming in icy cold water. Again, I pulled a muscle (halfway through the
race), but I was not going to quit. I
finished the race with my brother running slowly. It took me 10 days to recover.
While I was basking in the glow of achievement, I also
realized that now I had no goals to train.
Would I become a one and done or would I continue on? I decided that I wanted to complete the Tough
Mudder again, and this time in a better fashion since I had a year to
prepare. I found a variety of trail
races that would take place in the winter and spring. (put on by NJ Trail Series,
which I highly recommend. They are very
unpretentious races and they put them on throughout the year and go from 5ks to
100 milers.) I was soon participating in a race almost every month in order to
train, First was a 10k, then a Spartan,
then trail half marathons, more Tough Mudders, and then sprint
triathlons.
While some of the races took a lot out of me, I realized
that despite the aging process, I was getting stronger, had more endurance and
recovered quicker from the various races.
My confidence also grew as did my desire to exercise. Before the Tough
Mudder started, I remember something that the motivational speaker said
that resonated with me. “When was the last time you did something
for the first time?” That became my racing motto and I began pushing myself
to more difficult races and challenges.
I couldn’t believe how these races have changed me. My identity has changed. People began to see me as an athlete even
though I was in my fifties. Even more profound
-- I began to see myself as an athlete (an old athlete) but an athlete
none-the-less. My identity was always
derived from my work and family, which still exists. I am proud of this identity as a family man,
and as a trainer and speaker at my place of employment, but it is nice to have
a unique characteristic.
I remember talking to a friend who followed my exploits on
Facebook and he asked me, “How long do you think you can keep doing this?” I
did not have an answer and still don’t.
When I began these races, I said that I would continue until I turned 60. But, now as I write this, I am sixty-one and
I do not see an end in sight.
When most of us go on a journey it is with the destination
in mind. My journey began with no
destination in mind, yet it continues with so many fun stops along the way,
with new paths available that I take.
There are no destinations on this journey because destinations indicate
and end -- it's more interesting getting on the new path.
Completing that 50 mile trek on that cold wet day in May was
interesting, to say the least, and it was a separate, crazy story (which you will
be able to read about as well) in itself, but it was the unplanned journey to
get to the starting gate that continues.
