How COVID Made me a Better Runner and a More Content Person

As I sit at the keyboard, I realize that it has been about six years since the COVID-19  hit our nation and I was stricken with COVID. Where I live in northern New Jersey it hit early and hard. Yet now it almost seems like a distant memory—as if it was just a bad dream. As a nation we have moved on.  Much has been written on how it affected our society. Nearly all those COVID memories and associations are rightfully negative. Mine are too. Yet if I am completely honest with myself it did change me in some positive ways. I am slightly embarrassed to admit that. Yet it is true that I am more content as a person and a much better runner. Let me explain.

In April 2020, I wouldn’t have believed that I would ever say anything remotely positive about my experience with COVID. I should note that during the pandemic I lost family and friends to the disease. So, I am not saying I would ever want to go through anything so deadly and tragic and scary again. But sometimes we can learn from tragedies.

My COVID story is that when the pandemic hit in mid-March my work immediately became remote. I ran before COVID but now that I did not have my 90-minute daily commute to work, I used that time to run. I naively thought that my running would stave off COVID.  

One day in April I came back from my morning run and noticed on my watch that my heart rate had jumped up to 200 beats per minute. I didn’t feel anything unusual, but I was wary because it was not a hard run and my heart rate was never even close to that before. The next morning, I tried running but at the end had to walk back to my house exhausted. I was an avid runner who had run a 50-mile race and a 50k. Now I couldn’t finish a five-mile run.

I collapsed at my house and then had no energy and a cough brewing. I suspected I had COVID so I went to get a test. Now this was not at a doctor’s office or a hospital, this was when they weren’t doing that. I drove to the parking lot of a local community college and waited in line with other cars while people in hazmat gear checked us in and put a swab up our nose all without us getting out of our car.

I got a call the next day that, I was positive. For the next two plus weeks I was restricted to the den away from my family with a high fever of 102, a persistent bad cough and complete fatigue. My wife would put meals for me at the door. I never thought my life was threatened. I was positive that I would win this fight but very unsure if I would ever run again. Many people never fully recovered from COVID.

Despite my inability to walk or even stay awake for most of the day, something began to rise in me that has made me a much better and more appreciative runner. It was because my mindset changed on running. Suddenly running was not just a fun hobby. It was not just a way to stay fit. It became much more. All of a sudden, I realized that running was part of my identity.  Sometimes you do not realize how important something is to you until it is taken away from you.

I realized that running even at the age of 60 is a gift. Maybe even more so as we age. It was at my weakest moment that my goal was to run again. Not only just run again but to run an ultra-marathon. Admittedly I was motivated by fear. Fear that this gift might be taken from me.

It took about two weeks for my fever to break and a week or so more, for my cough to begin to subside. I felt the urge to move and walk even though I knew that I could not run.  I was motivated by my goal to push myself to run an ultra-marathon. Ironically the day I came down with COVID was the day I was supposed to do a 50k out near Zion National Park. I think this also sparked my goal to do an ultra-marathon. My mind was more focused than ever on being a runner. Yet while my mind was there, my body most definitely was not.

It was unseasonably cold when I went on my first few walks which were only a couple of miles. Before COVID I loved running in cold weather but even though I was bundled up when I breathed in the chilly air the cold seemed to infiltrate my entire body. My training to become a runner began with these short slow walks. Then after a couple of weeks, I began to stretch them out.  Yet I somehow knew I was not ready to run.  I was actually afraid to try to run. What if I couldn’t do it? I needed something to get me to take the next step.

Sometimes on my walks I would go to a local park and hike in the forest. It was here that the “Running Gods” sent me a sign that it was time to run. It was a beautiful day in May and I was hiking in one of my favorite parks when I saw a trail runner approaching me. She stopped when she saw me because I was wearing a T-shirt from an ultra-trail race that I had done.  She had done the same race and was supposed to do it again that very day, but it had been cancelled because of COVID. The pandemic was still raging so we chatted eight or nine feet apart about various races. We ran in the same races. We eventually went our separate ways, but that brief conversation reminded me that I was a runner and needed to run.

The next day I went to our town park which is completely flat and decided I would try and run. I was so nervous. Worse than any pre-race jitters. What if I can’t run? I used to be very confident when I ran but now, I was not. 

As I took my first few strides, I was nervous but then everything began to feel familiar. The comfort of settling into a nice pace. The feel of the wind as you run. Even the sweat that began to drip from my hair. After three and half miles I had my answer, I was a runner again!

After that run I never looked back. I signed up for virtual running challenges. Since my work was still remote, I started to use my commuting time to run.  I had a goal of doing an ultra-marathon and pushed myself more than I had previously to see what I could accomplish.

COVID had taught me one thing and that was that time was precious, very precious. Time is also limited and is not guaranteed. It is a person’s most precious commodity along with good health. I now had both and was not going to squander them. I also told people that I eliminated the word “later” from my dictionary. If I wanted to do something I would not wait to do it later. Later is not guaranteed.

There were almost no in-person races going on that summer as the pandemic was in full swing, I signed up for several virtual challenges and began my daily runs with a new urgency. I was crushing my virtual challenges, but I needed a real race. Yet they were not there. After all, my goal was to run an ultra-marathon.

Finally, a 50k opened up and I immediately signed up. I needed to test myself completely. It was not an easy course and was comprised mostly of single-track trails with plenty of rocks. It was my first test since my battle with COVID. It was not easy but I finished.

That accomplishment completed the change.  From that day forward I pushed myself harder than before and sought out races that would challenge me. After all there was no longer a “later” only the now. Since that moment I have done so many ultra-marathons and crazy runs. I went to Zion to do the 50k that was cancelled, ran a hundred miles seven times, ran the length of my home state of New Jersey (196) miles and even did the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to rim run.

I run with more joy because I realize being able to run is a gift. I am also more content not just as a runner but a person because I no longer wait for “later.”

Winter Running Means Embracing the Cold

I was trudging up a narrow road and finishing my early morning run when I saw a middle-aged couple getting out of their car. Even though I did not know them I said “Hi” as I approached them. The woman had a befuddled look on her face like she was seeing something she could not understand. She said, “You really enjoy running in this weather?” New Jersey had been in the grasp of an extreme cold spell and most of my runs were in the single digits, though on this day it was a balmy 15 degrees. I replied “Yes!” She replied with an incredulous “Really?” She looked at me like I was the bearded lady in a circus exhibit. I did not have the heart to say that I like it a lot better than heat. I struggle when it gets into the high 80’s or 90’s.

I knew she didn’t live in that house because I run this route almost daily and know the faces of the homeowners. I pictured her entering the house and telling her friends that she saw a man running outside in this cold weather, and what a strange neighborhood this is.

I find it fascinating that people are so shocked that I run in the cold. Besides that woman, others have been shocked when, on an extremely frigid day, I note that I did my morning run outside. People have asked “Doesn’t it hurt to breath in that weather?” My reply is “No”. It is as if running is a warm weather sport only. I must admit that there are runners I know who, when the temperatures dip below the freezing mark, head to a treadmill or a fitness center. When I first took up running, I was a heavy treadmill user even joining an online system so that I could pretend that I was running in all parts of the world. Now I search for races that take place in all parts of the world. I believe the last time I was on my treadmill was about ten months ago and that was when I was training for running the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim and my second run of the day would be put on the steepest incline so I could extra incline in my workout. Simulating a long steep climb out of the canyon.

What happened you might ask? Well, my racing now is almost exclusively ultra-marathons and trail races. While treadmills give you great workouts, I find that running is more than just the miles covered. All miles are not created equal. The type of races I run challenge you with the terrain and elements. Conquering miles is relatively easy conquering bad weather and difficult terrain is another. Therefore, I decided to run outside no matter what.

I soon found many benefits to running in all types of weather. First you learn how to dress for the elements. There is an old saying which I believe is Norwegian and it is “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.” I have found this to be almost completely true. I now look at the weather forecast on my phone and adjust my gear to the temperatures I will be facing.

Second, and maybe most surprisingly, cold runs are almost more peaceful. After a snowfall it is eerily quiet and beautiful. There are always fewer people out and there are not as many birds and animals. They will all return in the spring. It is more meditative to run when the only thing you can hear are your own footsteps and breathing.

Third, it helps build resilience. Obstacles are placed in front of us daily. Despite my bravado about running in the cold, it is always a chore to get out from under a nice warm blanket in bed and bundle on the layers to brave the cold. We humans – as most creatures –instinctively like a warm and comfortable setting as opposed to one that is cold, frigid, and sometimes even wet.

My morning routine actually starts the night before. I check the hourly weather on my phone to see what it will be like around 7 a.m. I brace myself for hot weather in the summer, and rain and wind particularly in spring and fall. In the winter however you need to really get your mind around running in tough weather. Especially frigid temperatures in the single digits like we have experienced this year. 

In order to ease my run on those mornings I get my running gear out the night before. On those days when it is single digits it is a pile of layers of clothing. Heavy winter gloves with an extra glove liner. Long pants with a base layer. Not just a winter cap but a head mask. After years of running outside in almost all weathers I have a routine and outfit for all occasions.

As you can see, it takes some effort to get out the front door. Yet once out that front door and I start running it seems the cold is not that much an issue if I am dressed correctly. I usually make that assessment at mile two. The one weather element that can affect me the most is wind. Especially a strong gust. It can instantly make you cold when just a second before you were fine.

While there are some nerves about going out the front door there is great feeling when coming back in the front door. On weekends my wife or son may be there to greet me and not really congratulate me but question my sanity.

When I arrive home, I begin to shed the many layers I am wearing. This is not as easy as it sounds because my glasses fog up instantly as I get inside. I begin to leave a pile of clothes and gear in the foyer. The only thing that dampens my enthusiasm is knowing that all those layers will need to be washed.

There is always a great feeling finishing a run that is hard to explain to others. It means no matter what happens the rest of the day you have accomplished something. That feeling of accomplishment is stronger on a cold frigid day. You not only finished your run but you conquered the elements. You overcame an obstacle. Other people may be deterred but you were not. I am not crazy but determined.

A couple of days later it was the coldest day of the year, at one degree with wind chills at seventeen below zero.  I am once again finishing up my run of seven miles, when I see my friend Joe coming out the front door of his house as I run by his house. He looks at me and says “Ray, you know you are crazy.” As if there is no debate on the issue. I replied “Just a little.” That is the thing that one has to accept when you run in the frigid cold. You think you are determined but your family, friends and even strangers think you are crazy. Maybe I am, but as I told Joe, only a little.

Moving Forward in a Race and in Life When the Wheels Fall Off

We all have times in our lives when, despite all our preparations and effort, things fall apart. You come face-to-face with your own limitations. We confront the fact that the goal we set for ourselves may not be met.

This recently happened to me at a 12-hour race. It is almost always inevitable that in an ultra-marathon, something will go wrong. It is guaranteed that it will happen in your life. It is how we move on from those moments that define us. Here is a look at what happened.

It was an extremely hot and humid day at the SquatchySurprise 12-Hour Trail Race. I am not great running in heat. This was a hot humid day in the mid to upper eighties.  The sweat had soaked my shorts and t-shirt. I was dripping sweat, but I was not the only one. As other runners passed me, they glistened. They too had sweat-soaked shorts and tops. I thought I was doing okay.  I ran at a slightly slower pace to conserve my energy in the heat and I was careful to consume water and electrolytes. Yet as I came back from my loop after completing 30 miles, I was feeling a bit hungry but also queasy at the same time.

I plopped down in the chair that I had set up at my own personal aid station. I had a cooler full of various drinks, and a bin for additional gear to help me through the race.  On the lawn there were canopies and many other chairs and coolers, plus friends and family members of runners who would greet the runners and be their crew. Young kids were also running around playing games. It was basically a picnic with sweaty and dirty runners popping in and out.

I quickly went for a protein drink and some electrolytes. I then had some fresh fruit and some soda. I didn’t take too much of anything but I knew that I needed to stay hydrated and get some calories. I still had almost six hours left. Plenty of time to reach my goal of more than 40 miles. Then all of a suddenly my stomach revolted. I shot out of my chair and threw up a couple of times.  It shook me to my core. I berated myself for immediately drinking and eating when I felt a bit queasy coming in. I just sat there in my chair trying to regain my composure.  I looked around to see if anyone among the crowd had witnessed my low point. I didn’t see anyone staring. Then just a couple of minutes later my stomach revolted again, and I threw up a couple of times. I felt awful.

I sat in my chair contemplating my future in this run, Should I just stop now? No, I thought to myself. I haven’t even done a 50K. I glanced up across the clearing and saw a woman with a distraught look on her face. It gave me some validation that this was a rough day. I took solace that I was not the only one suffering. It wasn’t my proudest moment to be happy someone else was suffering.

I wanted to quit the race, but I would have felt like a failure. I was about ten or eleven miles from my goal of at least 40 miles. I still had plenty of time, but I was also suffering from the heat. As I sat there suffering, I knew that I had to change my approach. I took off my shirt and only wore my hydration vest. I also took my bandana and filled it with ice and wrapped it around my neck. I would take this next loop slowly and then reexamine my condition at that time. Hey, I thought to myself I have been miserable before and overcome it. Heck, I climbed out of the Grand Canyon just a few months prior and I was in bad shape then.

The first ¾ of a mile was a steep climb so I walked that part but once over that climb I began to run slowly. With no shirt and the ice around my neck I felt much better. The ice had completely melted by the time I finished my loop. I now had only six miles left to get to forty miles so I decided to go for it. I really ate very little but figured once again that I had climbed out of the Grand Canyon on an empty stomach. That was a more difficult climb. I could do it again.

On my last loop I knew that I had plenty of time to get over 40 miles. I was really beat and  somewhat surprised that I would finish 41 miles. I was so close to quitting and doubting my ability. Yet the decision to change my strategy really paid off.  Yet while I was happy with the results my body still was not happy at all.

When I got home, I was planning on eating some food and drinking a celebratory beer. However, I had no desire for food or beer. I kept drinking ginger ale with plenty of ice. My body needed to recover from the heat and my exertion. It needed rest.

It is funny. I always think that ultra races have so many life lessons about overcoming obstacles, planning, and determination. And they do. Yet in my recent race experience I hit a major obstacle, had self-doubt, and needed to figure a way to move ahead.

Well before I was an ultra-runner, I was a young man with a young family.  The position I had at work was eliminated. My reaction was pretty much the same as on the run. I sat down and felt sorry for myself for a short time then worked on a plan to move ahead professionally. Maybe all those down moments in life made me a natural born ultra-runner.

There are striking parallels between life and ultrarunning, yet there is a difference. At least for me. In life I always seemed a bit surprised and shaken when things go wrong, whether it is at work or my personal life. I am not prepared. In ultra-running I am usually not surprised when things go wrong. In fact, I try to anticipate what can go wrong and even prepare for it.

While expecting things to go wrong does not always make it easier to finish a run to its completion it does make it possible. There is one trick I have honed to get me through tough ultra marathons. I used it in this past race when I remembered my toughness in the Grand Canyon run. That is drawing strength from past successes and believing in yourself. Knowing that you had overcome a major obstacle before gives you confidence that you can do it again. That is why I like difficult challenges even at work. Once you have even a little success at a difficult chore it builds your confidence. The key word here is that the challenge needs to be difficult. You do not build confidence by doing easy things.

Not everyone is an ultra-runner. Yet when things go wrong in life, it helps to have the mindset of an ultra-runner. It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself and even berate yourself. But only for a short time. The next step is to figure out how to move forward. Think of past achievements and have confidence in yourself. We are all capable of more than we think.

Channeling Your Inner Mae West When Choosing a Run

 Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.

—Mae West

Most people do not associate Mae West with running, especially ultra running.  The famous vaudeville sex symbol and queen of the double entendre was before my time and I doubt she ever ran a mile in her entire life.  Yet I and many other ultra runners live by her well known quote above. We just replace the word “evils” with “runs” and we have our mantra.

Ultra runners by nature are restless souls. They start off by just running road races or short trail races. Then they finish a marathon and wonder what else there is? Yes, I have races that I do on a regular basis but there is something attractive about a race in a different location or a unique challenge.

So, when I look at my year of running I know that there will always be a few races I bookmark but all of a sudden, I have this urge for a tough and unique challenge. I know that I am not the only crazy runner out there which I will get to in a minute. First let me explain this year’s runs. I have two races I was determined to do. They are two totally different kinds of runs, but they fulfilled my Mae West urge.

The first was running the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim.  That came about because my wife and I were planning on seeing friends in Arizona sometime in April. I knew that Arizona has great trail races, so I began to search races in which to include in my trip. Somehow, I stumbled upon people who run the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim. Before long I was obsessed with the idea and started watching YouTube videos and reading as many articles as I could on the endeavor. 

Yet I knew that high from the Grand Canyon run would not last and I would need something else to fixate on.  So, at the same time as I was scheduling the Grand Canyon run I registered for A Race for the Ages (ARFTA[JB1] ). They couldn’t be two more different races. The Grand Canyon was a self-supported run. It had extreme climbs and descents with widely vary temperatures. (Sadly, after I had written this blog a major forest fire raged through the North Rim and this run is not possible now.)  It was completely on trails. ARFTA is a short mile loop on pavement, and you get as many hours to run it as you are old so I will have 66 hours. Most of the runners will be in their 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. There is food provided and really no elevation to speak of. I was so excited for both adventures. They would each test me in different ways. They also met the Mae West test – something different.

Now I don’t want you to think that I am the only crazy runner who does this. My friend Dave flew to England to do a race in which he ran up and down a mountain for 24 hours. More recently he entered a 48-hour race in Poland because he thought it sounded great. My friend Anthony became obsessed with running the Cocodona 250, which is a grueling 250 mile trek throughout Arizona.

Those runs make mine seem rather tame in comparison. I am limited by work obligations to certain times of the year to take time off for a run, although including them in a vacation has helped. My wife thinks it is the opposite, that I pick a run and then convince her we should go on a vacation there. Which is absolutely true.

It is really not our fault. Yes, we are attracted to these running adventures. But we are also victims of social media algorithms. The social media sites know we are the Mae Wests of running. We are helplessly lured into trying a new run on a regular basis. They show up on our feeds. YouTube videos of races we heard about vaguely but now come to life as someone else describes their running adventure.

Yet I can’t completely blame social media. We each feed each other’s addiction. I met my friend Miriam at an ultra-marathon and realized that she had authored a book about her life and running called Come What May: I Want to Run. I read it and it led me to entering A Race for the Ages.

While I am really looking forward to ARFTA and a couple of races after that there is something that is gnawing at me. I have no new races or runs planned for 2026. I am doing research on various races and thinking up interesting challenges on my own but have not settled on anything. There is an empty feeling without a new challenge out there.  I know that it is out there. I just have to find it.

It is hard to describe this restlessness about ultra running to nonrunners. Even close friends and family members do not understand our need to find a different race or run and a challenge. They think it is a crazy obsession. It is tough that the only person who I know would understand our obsession is Mae West.

 

 

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 [JB1]Ray- I don’t think you need to put this race title in boldface- you haven’t bold-faced the other titles---  I am going to “unbold” it in subsequent mentions-- you might want to do the same here.

Eight Life Lessons Learned Running the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim

Ten days after I completed running the Grand Canyon rim2rim2rim I was back home in New Jersey and at the starting line for a 50k trail run. It was probably not the smartest decision I ever made but it was good to be back on forest trails. I overheard two runners talking about previous trail races and one said “I learned a lesson on that race.” The other one responded, “there are lessons on every race.” I wholeheartedly agree with that statement.

My rim2rim2rim run in the Grand Canyon was not a race but a run. The lessons, however, are ingrained more deeply in my soul than the Colorado River is in the canyon. Some of these lessons are ones I have learned before but this run reinforced them. Others are completely new. Here they are in no particular order.

1.       Do Hard Things – We live in a society that spends its time trying to find the easiest way to do something. Drive-up windows for a cup of coffee. Remote controls for our TVs. I mean now we don’t even have to get up to turn on the lights or put on music. “Siri or Alexa” will do it for us. Yet I never felt more alive than when I was dead tired after finishing the rim2rim2rim. The next day I relived some of the difficult and beautiful parts of the run in my mind. This experience was what they call Type 2 Fun. Something that seems almost miserable at the time but when you look back on it, the memory is a positive and happy one. Hard things are Type 2 fun. The accomplishment was not a virtual one but a personal one. When you accomplish something that pushed you to your limits it makes other difficult challenges seem possible. It will also change your mindset and make you believe in yourself more.

2.       It’s Okay to Feel Insignificant – As I was running down, across, and up the canyon, there were throngs of tourists at the top of the south rim taking selfies and photos with the Grand Canyon as a spectacular backdrop. It isn’t one of the Seven Wonders of the World for nothing. While they were up there frolicking, they were completely unaware that there were people like me who were struggling on the canyon trails. They couldn’t even see us or even most of the bottom. As for me, those people were not of my concern. I could not even see them.  Whether we were at the top or the bottom of the canyon we seemed insignificant. However, I would stop often in take in the spectacle of the sun rising and setting on the canyon walls. It is hard not to be in awe of Mother Nature wherever you are in the canyon. If you ever wanted proof of a higher being, I cannot think of a more convincing piece of evidence than the Grand Canyon.

3.       Do Your Homework – Yes, I said do hard things, but it is best to be prepared to do them. That means not only training but knowing what you are asking yourself to do. For this run, I read numerous articles and watched more YouTube videos than I can count to see what the experience would entail. I even watched or read accounts of people who failed because they made a mistake. That way I could learn from their mistake. There was a Facebook group just for this challenge which I found very useful.  However, I was shocked at some of the questions that were posted. If the poster had done even a modicum of research, they would have known the answer. You need to be prepared for when things go wrong and not just depend on your guts to get you through. I may be daring but I am not reckless. It’s a good life lesson.

4.      All Miles are not Created Equal – No matter how you measure it, a mile is 5,280 feet. It is the same all over the world. Yet they are not all the same, not even close. Just about a month before undertaking the Grand Canyon run, I ran the same distance with a good amount of elevation over 8,200 feet (compared to the 11,600 of the canyon) in about 11 ½ hours.  So, I estimated that with the extra elevation and stops for picture-taking it should be 14 maybe 15 hours. But it was almost 17 ½ hours—a six-hour time difference from my earlier run.  I still really don’t know how to completely account for the difference, but my past experience was not a good indicator of future performance. While I was running slower than usual, in my head I kept thinking I would get back to my normal pace, which was a fallacy. I should have known better. A mile is not a mile. The terrain, climate, and environment determine the difficulty just as much, if not more, than the distance. This is a lesson not just for runners but for everyone. We judge things by one factor or definition when things are not nearly as black and white as they seem.

5.       Confidence Built on Reality not Fantasy, is Powerful – A sincere belief in yourself is so powerful. I have found that I can do some things that I would have thought may be beyond my capacity because of my confidence. Yet that confidence is built on a strong sense of self awareness. You must be honest with yourself about your abilities and know what is possible and what is not. On this run there were times when my confidence was tested but I fell back on past successes to fuel me. I had been through hard times before and succeeded and would do it again.

 

People often say you can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it. While I have accomplished many long distances in my running career, I did not just do it by will alone. I needed to prepare myself for these things. There are things that are possible and things that are impossible for all individuals. Yet there is a gap between the two where you are not sure if they are possible or not unless you try. That is the sweet spot where if you push yourself and prepare correctly you can accomplish more than you think. That preparation and past successes build confidence to expand your limits. I have watched many people who challenged themselves on runs but did not have confidence in their ability and failed. I have also had people who mistake bravado for real confidence and failed because that is all they thought they needed.

6.       Great Solo Achievements are a Team Effort – I am very proud of my rim2rim2rim accomplishment and know that many people cannot even think of attempting such a feat especially at the age of 65. Yet I know that while all the steps I took were under my own power, others helped me finish this successfully. Most notably my wife and our friends Ed and Sue. They got up at 3:30 a.m. and drove me to the trailhead which saved me a mile of running. It also made it easier to just focus on my run and not how to find the trail from the hotel. Most importantly, at the end of my run, they saved me even more. They met me after 9 p.m. and had refreshments for me and drove me to our hotel room, which really hastened my recovery. Yet there were others who also helped me. Just reading and watching videos of total strangers’ experiences helped me prepare for this journey. I know that the American ethos is that of rugged individualism, but we all need others whether we like to admit it or not. My journey was solo but on the second half of the journey when I interacted with other runners, it lifted my spirit. It was uplifting to talk to others and motivated me. I had spent almost eight hours in silence during the first leg of the run and was struggling, yet those interactions with other people helped me push myself.

7.       Be in the Moment – When my wife would ask about the rim2rim2rim she often referred to it as a race. I would admonish her and say it was a “run” not a “race”. A race is a competition; this was not a competition. This was not just about running, this was about taking in the Grand Canyon and experiencing all it had to offer. I would stop often to take in the views.  This was a magnificent run not because of the distance but because of the location and grandeur of the Grand Canyon. Yes, I wanted to get this done as quickly as I could, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so it was important to notice the colors of the canyon walls changing. Despite this, when I was heading back my run felt more like a race because time was running out. I had to force myself to stop pushing and take in the views of the sunsetting over the canyon. Later when it was dark I turned off my headlamp and took in the stars of a dark sky. I was in complete darkness with the exception of the stars. I was not scared of the dark but enjoying being in the moment.

8.       There is More in the Tank When You Have No Other Option – After all my grueling races I know my body very well. So, as I sat at the bottom of the canyon by the banks of the Colorado River, I knew I had nothing left in the tank. I was not only done, but what lay before me was the toughest climb of the day. I wanted to stop and if this was a race I would have. This wasn’t a race, this was a journey. I was at my journey’s end. Except that it couldn’t end there. Not unless I wanted to curl up and sleep on the ground. My only option was to hike the six miles straight up and out. As I started up, I was a bit nervous because I felt I may not be capable of what lay before me. Yet even I was surprised by how the mind can take over and make you do more than you think. It wasn’t easy but I made it out. I even ran (albeit very slowly) the last half mile on the road. I had read and know it to be true they say the mind quits before the body.  My mind didn’t let my body quit.

This run was a journey that challenged and changed me. As those two runners noted there are lessons to learn on every trail run.

The Last Grueling Leg of my Grand Canyon Challenge

I was at the last water station, the Phantom Boat Beach, just a short walk from the Black Bridge which led to the South Kaibab Trail. The last but also hardest leg of my rim to rim to rim, Grand Canyon run. I had already run 37 miles. I was exhausted and if this was an ultra-marathon race like a 12-hour race I would have ended my run happy with my effort. Yet I had no choice but to hike out. Running this climb was impossible for me. I was out of options.

I needed to refill my water bladders. Then I was going to eat some snacks to get some calories before the six miles of steep climb some of which would be in the dark. After drinking some water, I took out some gels to get me some energy and electrolytes. I then planned to take out some energy bars. A great plan that my stomach was not in on. I barely got some of the gel in when I immediately threw up. I immediately knew I could not eat and would need to really push myself maybe harder than I ever had before to finish. I am sure that I looked as bad as I felt.

As I was putting on my running vest, I heard a man’s voice “Excuse me excuse” in a German accent. I looked over and saw a family of four. “Hi” I replied.  With a surprised tone in his voice, he asked “Are you just starting your hike to the rim?” I looked over at his family and could tell that I was an object of intrigue to them. Who would be starting a climb like that so late? (It was after 5 p.m.) “Yes” He responded “How long will it take you?” I then said “I am doing the Grand Canyon from the South Rim to the North and back up the south in one day. It will take me over 16 hours.” We then chatted a bit they were from Germany and were just as in awe of the canyon as was I. Not sure why but that friendly conversation motivated me, and I knew I had to go into “badass” mode.

I crossed the Black Bridge and took a long look at the Colorado River, knowing it may be the last time that I will be this close to it. The six mile hike out of the canyon is extremely steep. I just kept moving slowly but steadily. I did, however, have to stop and get my breath back. While I had plenty of water, I knew that I would be going through it fast on this climb.

At this point, I was not a joyous runner like before, snapping pictures and taking videos.  I was more in survival mode now. Despite that survival mode I did often stop and take in the views as it kept changing with the setting sun. The canyon has a way of making you stop and take in Mother Nature. I also messaged my wife through my Garmin InReach that it would take a while to get out.

A couple of miles into my climb I passed a young couple with heavy backpacks resting along the trail. I was surprised that I would see someone else. I thought I was the only one who would be on the trail this late. We exchanged greetings. I was hoping that they were on their way down because with those packs and the look of exhaustion on their faces it would be near impossible to get out. A little later I passed a father and a son hiking up the trail. The son seemed to be college age and was walking ahead of his father than waiting for him. We exchanged admiration of the views as the sun was setting. The father asked me “Are  you going to the rim?” which to me was a stupid question. There was no other option on this trail unless you were going to curl up and sleep on it. I almost gave a wiseass remark but reframed and said yes. I was worried about them because they were dressed for a short hike and seemed in over their head.

The wind began to really pick up for the last three miles which were in the dark. I had to take off my hat because it was about to blow off several times and I grabbed it just in time. I thought of putting on a long sleeve shirt or jacket, but I really was not cold because I was working so hard. With darkness and only guided by my headlamp it was a slog up the canyon. The wind was still howling, and it even blew the tips of my trekking poles. This sometimes meant that they did not land where I wanted them to.  I had never been in such strong winds on a run or hike before. I thought of that father and son and hoped that they had headlamps. I followed the trail up and up. Occasionally seeing a spider or other bug. I was startled when a rat scurried two feet in front of me.

I stopped often to rest and when I did, I would turn off my headlamp and look at the stars. I also glanced down the trail to see if I could see the lights of that father and son. Yet it was just total blackness.

I tried to message my wife that I was a short distance from the trailhead, but my phone had died. I would call her when I got to the trailhead. Less than a mile from the top I met two women who were just starting their rim2rim2rim. A strange time I thought since it was after 9PM. They would spend most of their time in the canyon in the dark. Then again maybe their return would be easier. Though you will miss a great amount of the grandeur of the canyon.

When I got to the South Kaibab Trailhead, I took a wrong turn and headed to where the mules are kept. I eventually found the parking lot and took out my phone to call my wife when the phone rang, and it was her. I told her I was at the top and would meet them where she and our friend Ed had dropped me off about a half mile from the trailhead. (Private cars could not drive to this trailhead.) I started walking the road but then broke into a jog.

I got to the end of the road before them and just waited. I was out of water and was craving a Gatorade. I messaged them that I wanted that. Luckily when they arrived they had a Gatorade for me. I looked like hell and felt even worse. I was tired. When we got back to our hotel room they tried to take care of me. I am sure that my friends Ed and Sue were stunned to see how awful I looked. My wife has seen me come home a mess many times after  grueling ultra-marathons but this was a new sight for them. My wife presented me with a finisher medal for the run. She knows how much I love my run bling.

Even though my stomach was empty, I could not eat. All I did was down liquids—Gatorade, lemonade, orange juice and a beer.  Then I took a shower and went to bed.

I have run 100 miles, 50 miles, ultras in snow, rain, and in the mud. Yet this run may have been the hardest run I ever did. That last climb tested me because I had nothing left in the tank but still went on. It is amazing how much you can accomplish when you have no other option.

Experiencing the Grand Canyon

When I took up running shortly after turning 50, one of my goals was to get in shape for when I was 75. I used to say that I did not want to drive to a scenic spot on the top of a mountain but hike to it. Take it from me, the view from the mountain top is better if you get there by using your own two feet rather than a car.

As I was walking around the south rim of the Grand Canyon there were throngs of people taking in the awesome views. It was spectacular. They were taking photos of each other using the Grand Canyon as a backdrop to make their photos even more impressive.

I, however, wanted more. I wanted to experience the canyon, not just look at it from the top. So, at the age of 65 I decided to run the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim (Also referred to as rim2rim2rim) a distance of over 43 miles. I had trained for this run and felt confident but knew that it would not be easy at all. Yet the anticipation and anxiety that I described in a previous blog was gone when I got out of my friend Ed’s car at 3:55 a.m. and ran down the road about half a mile to the South Kaibab trailhead. It was a cold night, but I knew I could remove my jacket and go in a t-shirt once I reached the bottom. I have never been on this trail and had only read about it. Yet I was excited to head into the dark with only my headlamp showing me where to go. Even though I was going downhill my pace was slower than usual. It was dark and that made me slow down to make sure I did not fall. Plus, it was a difficult path to run. I found that the downhill steps on the trail were at unusual distances apart, so my gait was slower than normal. I usually am very good at the downhills but this time I found my pace slower.

Even when the sun began to rise, I did not quicken the pace. Part of that was because I was taking pictures and videos with my cell phone. For some reason the GoPro camera was not working. I was annoyed because I had counted on that for most of my videos. Even without taking pictures I would stop and take in the views. The coloring of the canyon walls kept changing as the sun rose.

After crossing the famed Black Bridge over the Colorado River, I headed towards Phantom Ranch. I had read so much about Phantom Ranch that somehow in my head I pictured it to be a rather modern facility. But I found they were comfortable cabins but rather rustic. It was not to be confused with the celebrated and elegant El Tovar hotel at the top of the south rim. I filled my one water flask that I had used on the way down, took off my jacket and ate a snack. I was disappointed in my time; I was running about 30 minutes behind what I anticipated.  I hoped I could pick up the pace on the rather flat stretch ahead of me along Bright Angel Creek.

I loved this section of the run. The roar of rushing water from the creek accompanied me for the next six miles or so. I also ran through what they call the “box” which is a section where the canyon narrows and it is basically the Bright Angel Creek, the North Kaibab Trail, and the canyon walls. While I was warned about the heat in the “box,” I found it shady, cool and very pleasant. Even though it was enjoyable my pace was still lagging behind my normal trail pace. I was not sure why. I had been very sick the week before so maybe I was not at 100%.  I also had lingering symptoms of the cold, including a stuffy head that required me to stop and blow my nose several times.

I really liked the North Kaibab Trail. The “box” was pleasant and hearing the creek flow was lovely. Then the trail opened up and the walls of the canyon were farther apart and it was a different run. But I still was running slower than usual. I arrived at Cottonwood campground before 9 a.m. and was hoping that I could refill my water flask, but the water was off. I had read that it was off but hoped that by some miracle they had turned it on and forgot to post it. It was a nice campground although the lack of water made it very rustic. The signs said “be quiet” which I obeyed. Then again there was no one to talk to. I headed to Manzanita where I knew that there would be water. While I had plenty of water at the moment, I was going through it fast.

It was a steady but not steep climb to Manzanita. Again after reading about it I expected something larger because of its importance to runners and hikers. It is a vital stop because it has water and port-a-potties. It also had a picnic table. I had passed a few hikers along the way but no runners. I was beginning to suspect I was the last rim2rim2rim runner that day.  This would be my last water stop until I returned on my way back so it was about six miles of a steep climb to the North Kaibab Trailhead at the north rim of the Grand Canyon. The north rim was closed for the season and the water was turned off at the top so I would have to make my water last. I had more than two liters of water, so I thought I would be okay.

The climb up to the top of the north rim was difficult. Not only was it steep but there were sections in which the trail was only about four or five feet wide and there was a cliff drop on one side that kept me from looking out across the canyon walls. The top of the North Rim is over 8,000 feet of elevation so my climb was about 6,000 feet. I was definitely struggling. I was also going through my water at an alarming rate. I was contemplating turning back about a mile from the rim to save time because I could see that it was going to take me 8 hours to get to the rim, which meant probably at least a nine-hour timeframe to return.

I, however, did make it to the north rim and rested a bit. There was some snow on the north rim which was why it is not open until May 15^th. As I was sitting two runners appeared also doing the rim2rim2rim. They were from Texas and Virginia. We talked a bit and I found that they had left at 5:30 a.m. so they were moving faster than I. I had limited water but enough to get back to Manzanita if I was smart. I did have the option of running a mile to a ranger station and then returning. But adding the mileage and time was not appealing to me. Plus going downhill, I probably would not be exerting as much energy as going uphill.

I said goodbye to my fellow rim2rim2rim runners and headed back down the North Kaibab trail. As I headed down the trail, I quickly came upon two runners a short distance from the rim and a little while later two more runners. So there were seven of us rim2rim2rim runners. I was the only solo. It was obvious to me that very few do this journey solo.

I enjoyed the run down to Manzanita. I felt fairly strong and took in the views and took some videos. I also encountered a man who I passed on the way up who was hiking the Arizona Trail from Mexico to Utah. We encouraged each other on our own separate journeys. I was also passed as I suspected by four of the rim2rim2rim runners. The other two runners never passed me.

When I came into Manzanita all four were there taking a break. I quickly used the bathroom facilities and filled my water bladders. I had another long leg without access to water and it would be sunnier and hotter on my way to Phantom Ranch. As we chatted, we all realized that this run was taking us longer than we anticipated. I had anticipated 14-15 hours but would end up over 17 hours.

I was the first to leave Manzanita because I knew that it would take me a lot longer than the four younger runners. As I left I said “I will see you later when you pass me.”  Both sets of runners did pass me a few miles down the trail. I also was hoping that I could get to Phantom Ranch before 4 p.m. so that I could grab their world-famous lemonade and a snack before my last big push up the South Kaibab Trail. It would be a long shot, but it gave me a goal to push myself harder. It ended up being a mistake. I was starving and should have eaten more at Manzanita instead of pushing myself.

I soon realized that Phantom Ranch before 4 p.m. was a dream. I was now both physically and emotionally spent. Despite my fatigue and being a bit despondent about my time I enjoyed the moments of shade in the “box.” As I entered Phantom Ranch, I was very tired. That big push to get there had drained me. I tried to see if I could find a snack but to no avail.

I was contemplating my options. I had my credit card with me. Maybe I could see if there was a cabin available and get a good meal and sleep and head out early in the morning. No, I thought I needed to finish this. So, what if it takes me until the wee hours of the night. I headed to the water station for the last but most difficult leg of the journey.

I was fully experiencing the Grand Canyon –not only its beauty and awe but its difficulties and harshness. Sometimes those qualities of beauty, awe, harshness and difficulty all coexist in one place.

Next Blog The Last Grueling Leg Out of the Canyon

A Runner’s Grand Canyon Resfeber

Resfeber Definition: The restless race of the traveler’s heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together. (Swedish term)

I came across the word resfeber at a 24 hour race I was entered in. It was on the back of the race shirt we got at the race. I loved the term. There is no word in the English language that quite captures one’s mood just before a journey as this one does. While the word is focused on traveling and literally translates to “travel fever” I think it also applies to difficult ultra marathons. They may not involve traveling like when one is on a vacation, but they definitely constitute a journey.

I had set my sights on running the Grand Canyon from the south rim to the north rim and back to the south rim. It would not be the longest run I had ever attempted but it would be a very difficult challenge because of the steepness of the climbs and descents. In addition, the weather could change dramatically from the top of the canyon to the bottom. There would be swings of temperature of more than thirty degrees. In addition, I would need to be self-sufficient, carrying my own food and gear. It would also be a solo journey.

I was at a family Easter party and every so often someone would ask me about the run. People are naturally intrigued by the distance, terrain and the location. While I usually like to regale others with running stories, I was done discussing this story. I had done my research and training and just wanted to do it. I was also a bit nervous as I usually am in anticipation of any difficult run.  I feel very ready but still have to wait.

As I write this paragraph, I am on a jet heading to Phoenix. I will land and spend a night with friends in Scottsdale, then a day later head to the Grand Canyon. The resfeber is building. I feel that mix of anticipation and excitement, but it is mixed with anxiety because I know of the difficulties that lie ahead.

I am wondering what it will feel like to peer out over the Grand Canyon the day before my run knowing that I will be heading down in the dark the next morning. I will have a mini entourage to the Grand Canyon. My wife and our friends Ed and Sue will also go. It will be a long drive to the Grand Canyon. I feel a bit guilty because they are all traveling to the canyon to help me fulfill my adventurous journey.  I know that what I am doing is a bit unique and sometimes it is hard to explain to others, especially people in my age group. Most are thinking of slowing down and I am feeling like speeding up.

I did a short six mile run in the desert setting outside of Sue and Ed’s home in Scottsdale. It felt good after spending all day on a plane and sitting around. It was cool, probably the low fifties or high forties. My running felt a little off. I was not running smoothly. I had been sick the week before but felt I had recovered. However, my routine had been affected. I was not in the moment. My anxiety and anticipation was distracting me.

As we got off the shuttle bus and headed to the ranger station at the top of the south rim, we realized that they were closing. My friends thought it was important to get as much information as I could about the weather. I knew that park rangers were not very enamored with rim2rim2rim runners so I was hesitant to really discuss anything with them that might give me away. So, I saw a friendly ranger and asked her where was the best place to park for the South Kaibab trailhead? I don’t remember who asked but they asked about the weather at the bottom because I was running the rim to rim to rim. Her demeanor immediately changed. “We don’t recommend that anyone do that. It is extremely hot at the bottom. We expect it to be 95 degrees tomorrow.” Now that did not jive with all the reports, I had read but we just walked away.

If her idea was to plant a seed of doubt and maybe change my mind she failed. Though my wife was now hesitant. She said to me “Now Ray don’t do overdo it. Please if it gets to be beyond your ability, it is okay to cut it short.” She knew better than I, that I would push myself as hard as I could. Though as she said loud enough for Ed and Sue to hear “I just wanted to have witnesses that if you don’t make it, I had warned you!” Ed and Sue astutely mentioned that they thought the ranger was trying to scare me by exaggerating the temperature.

As I peered out over the canyon at Mather Point. I have to admit I was in awe because from that vantage point it looked impossible to get down the canyon let alone traverse it. Yet there was only one way that I could eliminate the resfeber. That was to start down the trail. After that it would be like many other difficult runs managing the issues that arise and pushing and motivating myself to keep going.

Yet I hadn’t started the run, and my heart was racing with nervousness. The side effect of this is that sleeping the night before a major run is always difficult. I closed my eyes and dreamt about my upcoming journey.

The next morning, I had no resfeber. It was go time.

Being Miserable Makes for a Perfect Training Race

I had already run over 21 miles and my stomach had almost revolted when I tried eating a short while ago. Yet I continued on. I did not have time to sit and rest until I felt better.

I had to figure out a way to keep moving despite it being difficult keeping the food down. I also had a major climb ahead of me that would sap some of my energy. I was feeling like crap. However, I was thinking that this was a perfect run for me precisely because I was miserable. That is because I needed to be challenged and pushed if I wanted to complete my upcoming challenge in a few weeks.

When I run a trail race the one thing I always try and focus on is being present in the moment. Enjoying the trail, maybe snapping a few photos to document the beauty of the course. Trail running has taken me to parks that I would never have visited without entering a race. It is a belief I have in life as well: Be present in the moment. Sometimes we dwell on the past and fret about the future, and do not enjoy the present.

Try as I might, I couldn’t quite keep that “present” feel on a recent trail ultra marathon. It was the Spring on the Trail 12 Hour Race. The race is located in the Hudson Valley region New York State. It is a beautiful course and I did snap a few pictures, but at times my mind was more than 2,300 miles away on the South or North Kaibab Trails of the Grand Canyon. These are trails my feet have never transversed—yet.  In a few weeks I will be doing the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, a distance of between 43-47 miles depending on your route.

I signed up for the race in the Hudson Valley to get in almost the same amount of miles as the Grand Canyon, but I got more than I bargained for. It was more difficult than I anticipated partly because I didn’t study the course enough and partly because things just go wrong in ultra races.

What surprised me about the course was how much elevation it had. (Of course, had I studied it, it would have been apparent.)

There was an elevation rise of almost 600 feet per loop and I would end up doing fourteen loops. That’s more than 8,000 feet of climbing. Those 600 feet of elevation were packed into about a mile and a half climb. This long climb, while much shorter than the two long climbs I would do at the Grand Canyon, was about as good as it gets in my area to train for long vertical climbs. Since this was a loop run I did not really need to take in the views every time. I could pretty much put my head down and pretend I was at the Grand Canyon doing those two long steep ascents. I was pretty good on these climbs, moving rather steadily even after forty miles.

Yet that mistake on my part was a blessing because it was great training for the Grand Canyon run. Even my digestive issues around halfway through were a blessing. I had to figure out how to keep moving when eating was nearly impossible. While on this race I had an aid station plus my own food at my car, at the Grand Canyon the only fuel I will have is what I can carry with me on the run. I had been eating something small every six miles or so but then made a mistake by skipping a meal and trying to eat more to make up for it.

It was also warm day, and then I ate a warm, almost hot pickle at the aid station. Normally pickles can provide a runner with much-needed sodium but this one made me feel queasy. I just walked a bit and ran slowly till my stomach settled down. Lesson learned: Don’t eat a pickle that that has been sitting in the sun after running over 20 miles.

I finished my thirteenth lap and had time for the fourteenth. While I was running this lap, I met a woman who was on the same lap as me. She decided not to do another lap because she had a long ride home. I thought about my Grand Canyon run and realized that there was no option to cut a run short. As I came to this last lap the weather had changed dramatically. It was much colder and began to rain, plus it was getting dark. I was almost gleeful that I had to put on my rain gear and a head lamp. I knew on my Grand Canyon Run I would need to run with my headlamp, so I was happy to take it out. While I don’t anticipate a cold rain at the canyon, it is possible, plus running in miserable weather is always a good training practice.

My legs were tired. My body was wet from the rain and sweat. My stomach was still a little off. It was dark and I needed my headlamp to pack up. I had a long ride home—almost two hours in heavy rain. However, I was very happy with my performance and felt ready for the Grand Canyon. I covered about the same amount of ground as that run in eleven and a half hours.

My putting my head down and plowing ahead made me faster. There was one other lesson on this run. At one point at a beautiful overlook after about ten loops I decided to walk out away from the trail to take a picture. Previously it had been crowded with day hikers. After I took a couple of photos and as I headed back I saw this man-made mini altar. It had a Buddha in the middle, a golf ball, painted rocks, a rainbow heart, and other interesting trinkets.  I laughed and took a picture. Lesson learned. Yes, it is important to plow ahead on a physical quest, but one should take the time and be present in the moment or you might miss something.  I vowed that when I am in the Grand Canyon, I will not blindly push on but take moments to stop and take it all in.

Racing Not to Win

I was doing my normal morning run when I saw another runner I know, and we stopped running and began chatting. He is about my age, but I got to know him because I knew his son, Gray. I said, “I will be running a race with your son.” He said, “How long?” I said “50k” He replied “Wow”.  I later said he could join us, but he said that was too long. Even though when I talked about doing a shorter distance, he was still a definite no.  Eventually he said I am not very competitive. I don’t race. I have been running for fifty years and maybe did two or three races.”  I was stunned but I respect his philosophy. He just likes running and believe me if I had to choose to only do races or just daily runs I would definitely choose just the daily runs. I did mention to him that “I don’t race to win but I like races to see new places and meet people.”

While I like to race, I have seen people who are the opposite of my friend who are so dialed in to place in the top three or some other time goal, that it borders on being obsessive. Marathoners are often that way, rating each other by the time whether it is three or four hours. I am definitely not that way. I don’t remember what my times are for any of my races.

Don’t get me wrong, I am competitive, but my competition is with myself not others. You see I have the luxury of being in my mid-sixties so I know I can’t win against the much younger runners. So, while I push myself to my limits, I have no anxiety over where I finish.

Now don’t get me wrong I am not laissez faire about the races. If I hear footsteps behind me, I instinctively pick up my pace. If I see a runner in front of me that I think I can pass I make that a goal. Yet I know that I will get passed by other runners and that I will pass others. I am however running faster than on my normal morning runs. The other runners motivate me to go faster and be my best.

The other thing I like about races is to add to what I said to my friend. I love running in new places, especially trail races. I have explored so many parks in New Jersey that I would not have visited without entering the race. I now have entered trail races in other states and have thoroughly enjoyed those runs as well. Sometimes I know that the terrain will be difficult which only makes it more attractive as a race because it will push me even more. In those races even though I am well behind the leaders I feel like I share in the accomplishment of just finishing.

The other reason I race is just the vibe of a race.  Almost all races, whether they are a road race, or a trail race are a festive scene. Runners a very supportive of each other. For most of us it really is not about winning but doing our best.  On a couple of occasions, I have slowed down my pace to help another runner get to the finish line. I finished much further back than I normally would have but I made a friend instead. A great trade off.

A short while later I was at that race with Gray and another friend Dan. Both are young enough to be my sons. It was my first race in a couple of months, and I was returning to that race scene vibe. It would be a very difficult 50k. It was the Febapple Frozen Fifty by the NJ Trail Series. The trails were almost completely ice.  I strapped on my Yaktrax and put my brand-new trekking poles in my backpack in case I needed them. I have never used them before, but the icy conditions made me think they may help.

As if Gray’s dad had somehow put a spell on this race to turn it into a run, the race director announced that his timing system was not working and that he could not give us times. He followed that up by saying the trail conditions were bad and that if anyone wanted to, they could drop down to a shorter distance. For us that meant a twenty miler or even a ten miler.

It was a good thing that I was not racing to win because that first ten-mile loop went as bad as any I had ever had. Not even a mile into the run I took a spill, and my trekking poles flew out of my pack, and it took quite a bit of time to take off my pack and readjust everything. Then in a series of mishaps both of my shoelaces came loose and needed to be retied. My one Yaktrax broke. I missed a turn and wasted time. I again fell hard. This time, setting off an alarm in my Garmin sending for help. Who it was sending a message to I had no idea because I didn’t even know I had that feature. I realized a little later that the alarm had also stopped my GPS so I had no idea how far I had gone.

It was at this point I said to myself “This is not my day maybe I will drop down.” Yet I decided to continue on. I had a long run at the Grand Canyon coming up and I needed to persevere. As I came to the aid station to start my last five miles there was my friend Dan. It was a welcome sight. A friendly face when you are struggling always helps. Gray, who is much faster than either one of us, was six miles ahead and had finished already.  Dan and I would do the last five miles together. I think he was just as happy as I was to have someone alongside him to help get through this difficult race.

It wasn’t pretty but we finished. Our time was at least an hour and a half slower than it would have been under normal conditions. The icy terrain had really tested us. I had overcome all my gear issues and falls. I had almost decided to quit. In reality, I was not really running but slogging up and down icy trails. I know I said that I don’t race to win but somehow this finish made me feel like a winner. I had persevered. That is another reason I like racing, you can feel like a winner even when you don’t win. Maybe I do race to win.

  

Finding the Right Pace in Life Via Running

My wife came home from work the other day and when she saw me, she said “What a day at work. I can’t do anything right now. Let me decompress for a few minutes.” I understood and continued preparing dinner. I know the feeling, because I too have come home after a long ride home and done the exact same thing. While it is not perfect, I have found that I am less stressed out since I became an avid runner. Because in running I have learned the importance of “pacing”.

Finding the right pace for a trail or road race takes a little preparation and experience it is usually something most experienced runners do attain. In fact, finding the right pace may be the most important factor in a good race.  While preparing for a race I study the course and look at the weather and plan everything accordingly.  I can usually find my pace despite the obstacles and the environment and at the end of a race I feel great because everything went as my father used to say went “According to Hoyle.” For some reason he never told me who “Hoyle” was and why he was the authority on how things should go.

I must admit, however, finding the right pace in life has been much more difficult.  Like running races, life has obstacles and an environment that will challenge you and suck your energy.  Unlike running races, however, you can’t study a map or check your sports watch to make sure your pace is correct.

For much of my life, like many people, my life has vacillated between my personal/family life and my work/professional life, and usually not very smoothly.  Both have challenges and obstacles that test you and often they seem to work against each other.  For example, you may have a major work assignment and event that occurs at the same time as your daughter’s concert. Even now that my kids are older there are always obligations we must face, like an aging parent.

I have said to my work colleagues “that I can be a great employee and a great father.  I am just not sure I can do both at the same time.”

My wife and I are not unusual in that there are days that we come home from work and just plop down in a chair, mentally exhausted.  I am even more fatigued than after a race.  A race is usually more a physical exhaustion not a mental or emotional one. The problem with mental exhaustion is that even though you are sitting down your brain is still racing.

My dilemma was that my pace was wrong.  I was sprinting in both spheres of my life leaving me exhausted at times. 

So, what made me think that by adding one more thing like running and seriously getting in shape, would help my pace in life? Afterall if you feel like you have no time, why add one more thing to do in the day? I still don’t know why, but I did try it. I also do know that it has helped. Not only that but I have taken a few lessons I learned running with me in everyday life.

The first way it helped me find my pace in life was that being a runner I found I had more energy.  I noticed it at home when I had to do yard work and had home chores like raking leaves or shoveling snow. I could do it without any aches or pains.  At work my job has some long hours and I usually need to be high energy to be effective, so the additional energy helped.

Secondly, running centered me and made me feel better about myself.  You really can’t help others if you are not in a good frame of mind yourself and for me running did that.  We all need some type of mindfulness for some it is yoga or meditation, for me it is running. Find what centers you.

Thirdly, it forced me to organize my time and commitments. If I was going to commit to 45 minutes, one hour, or even two hours of running every day how would I spend the rest of my time whether at work or home?  I mentally organized my day making sure I accomplished everything I needed to do.

While I said earlier, unlike running a race, in life you don’t have a sports watch that you can check to see your pace and distance, you do however have an internal body clock that you can check.  This is something I have learned to hone via running.  It is being mindful and attuned to your body’s workings.  I can tell by my breathing and the feel of my legs how I am doing on the trail.  I now take this same mindfulness to work and home.  There are days I put in long hours at work, and I can feel it in my mind that I am racing too fast and need to slow down.

The other lesson I have learned that really helps both on the trail but even more in life is a sense of humor.  Taking life too seriously is stressful.  People don’t want to be around others who view life so seriously, it is mentally draining.  Sometimes at work you have no choice but to work with people who are negative, and I find a sense of humor helps negate that person.  In trail races when we get to an extremely rugged section whether it is rocky or muddy and another runner is nearby, I always crack a joke.  It is very difficult to finish a long race, especially ultra marathons if you are mentally down for long periods of time you almost must laugh at the pain. I would even say that having the right mental framework is just as essential in an ultra as being physically ready. In life that right mental framework is even more essential.

Finally, I have learned on the trails that I can only run at my pace, not someone else’s.  The runners vary in age and ability, so it is better to be in sync with your own pace and not get too excited when you pass someone or to down when they pass you.  You must learn to sometimes to shut out those other runners and not compare yourself to them. At work and in life sometimes, you must do the same thing and not get pulled into other people’s drama. Don’t compare your car, home, or career to someone else’s. For some reason there always seems to be someone whose life seems better than yours.

Live your own life and if you find the right pace it will be a good one.

Pain is Evidence of Living a Full Life

I owned every second that this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

One Republic

As I sit at the keyboard, I am having a hard time because my upper arm is in pain and when I move it, I can’t help but wince in pain. The Ibuprofen I took, having very little effect in minimizing my pain.  I look down at my feet and my one toe is all black and blue and another is missing a toenail. On the plus side the scabs from a recent fall on a trail run are almost gone and the blackeye from taking a header on another trail race is just a post on Facebook now. These injuries are the courtesy of an above average active lifestyle of running and, in the summer playing volleyball.

While I do my best to avoid injuries, I am not always very successful. They happen fairly often though they are usually just small things that just slow me down and do not stop me. It happens often enough that on my way out of the house for trail race or volleyball game my wife’s loving words of encouragement are not “Good luck. I know you will crush it!” oh no. It is the words “Don’t come home hurt.” Which she says in the same tone as when she would lecture our kids when they were five years old about negative behavior.

So obviously the hardest part about these injuries is telling my wife. Because I know she will not be sympathetic. No because as she says “No sympathy for stupidity!” It is her time to be a bit smug and without saying the words but letting me know “I told you so.”

I am sure you are wondering why a man now in his sixties would still do activities that have a high probability of causing injury or some type of pain? While also to make matters worse, will get no sympathy from his family.

Sometimes I ask myself the same question but in a different way. What I will ask myself is “Are you still up to this challenge? and “Are you too old for the challenge?” Finally, “Is it worth the risk?” Obviously, the answer so far is to keep pushing myself.

When you are pushing yourself as much as you can injuries and pain are inevitable. They are small obstacles put in your path to challenge you. They can also make you smarter because they are learning opportunities, the more I run the more I try and avoid injuries learning from past mistakes. I obviously am a slow learner as my missing toenails, swollen feet, and black eyes attest to.

Yet I don’t believe that you can live life fully unless you are fully engaged. Often that means a rugged trail race or ultra marathon. Yet it does not have to be an athletic or physical activity. It could be professional or personal. Think about a promotion that you did not get that you tried for. Think about when you were younger (Actually any age.) and you said “I love you.” And it was not reciprocated. I have experienced those bruises too. Frankly they hurt more than a missing toenail or blackeye.

When I was in the last few miles of running almost two-hundred miles from the top of New Jersey to the bottom, my friend Kevin who was running alongside me and was playing music to keep us motivated and inspired asked what song would I like? I asked for an usual song that was not “Eye of the Tiger” or “We are the Champions!” or any other traditional hard driving song. No, I asked for “I Lived” by One Republic. This is not their biggest hit, but it speaks to me. The lines “Yeah, with every broken bone -I Swear I Lived.” Is how I look at not just attacking my running, but attacking life itself. You go all out. You push yourself.

That is because you do not know what you are capable of unless you try. Inevitably you will fall or get hurt either physically or emotionally. It is not pleasant but at least it is a sign that you are giving it your all.

On my most recent trail race I took five falls. A personal high. On the last one it was a complete header. I face-planted and my glasses were hanging on one ear the water bladders flew from my vest. I slowly got up and tried to regain my composure. Another runner came up behind me and she had witnessed my ungraceful display of agility. She helps me gather my stuff up and offered me some sympathy. Obviously, the runner was not my wife.

I continued on, slightly in pain and with the beginning of a blackeye. Several miles from the finish I passed another runner who was now walking. I asked how he was doing. He said “I fell three times and decided to walk it in because it was not worth an injury.” I remained quiet and did not tell him my haphazard running experience. I know that if my wife heard that two struggling runners met and one played it safe and walked it in and one disregarded the obstacles and pain and pushed on quickly. She would know which one was her husband. The stupid one.

Yet when I crossed the finish line, I was exhausted and almost immediately my body stiffened up. All the adrenaline was gone and walking to the car I looked like an eighty-year-old man. My muscles cramped slightly as I slowly eased my way into my car. I was exhausted and in pain. A common occurrence after a race like this. Yet despite all that I felt so alive. The song started playing in my head “Yeah, with every broken bone -I Swear I Lived.” I have the scars to prove it.