A Runner Feeling Lost Staying in Place with no Destination

I am looking lovingly at my gnarly toenail on my big toe. It is about to come off with a yellowish-purple hue and dried blood underneath. Most people would be repulsed and cringe at the sight of such an ugly toe but at this time I am admiring it. It is a symbol of who I was and who I want to be again. It is a souvenir of my last trail race, an ultra-marathon. A tough course that I was proud that I finished under the cutoff time. There are few things more exhilarating than finishing an ultra-marathon, marathon or a long trail race.

Yet I can’t plan any more races. I look down on the floor next to the recliner and gaze with frustration at my crutches. They will be my constant companions for the next month as I begin the long process of becoming a runner again. I am so longing to lose another toenail again.

You see I am lost. I am a runner who can’t run. In fact I can’t even walk at the moment. I remember the visit to the doctor’s office, to discuss my MRI. Going in I knew what to expect, a torn meniscus, with surgery to follow. I had researched the issues and was confident that while I would be sidelined for a while it would not be very long before I could start an active lifestyle again. Yes maybe I wouldn’t run an ultra-marathon soon but I would be able to run and walk fairly quickly. My orthopedist walked in and handed me the printout that described the MRI results. I was a little perplexed as to why he gave it me because my understanding of medical terminology is very limited. Basically when I am seeing a doctor my vocabulary is “Yes that hurts” and “Yes I feel awful”. Despite my limited knowledge I started scanning through the results and what I quickly spied was a separate paragraph that stated “shows no articulating meniscal tear” I was shocked! If it’s not my meniscus what is it I thought?

He soon answered my question “You have a bone issue”. It was a stress fracture of my knee bone. The only way for this to heal, is to not put weight on my knee. That meant crutches for a while and even when I was feeling better one crutch or a cane. I had to keep weight off of my right leg. No Running or even walking for a long time. He said I wouldn’t be running again until the summer and this was mid-March and so it was not even spring yet. I was scared because I knew that this was going to be hard for me. I am constantly in motion and now I had to slow down considerably.  Despite my trepidation I was still determined and told him “When I run my next 100 mile run or the state of New Jersey again. I will let you know, so that other patients know what is possible.”

My bravados of that statement however was confronted immediately as he handed me the crutches. He saw how I was looking at office exit and ready to depart his office quickly. His parting words of advice to me was “Think slow”. I quickly said I would and then hobbled out of his office rather quickly on my crutches. Lesson not learned.

Over the next few days however I learned that I would have to not only “think slow” but move slow. This slow action would be the quickest way to heal. That was easier said than done. When it is in your nature to be in motion it is hard to sit still. Even at work when I am at a meeting, I would buzz around a room talking to as many attendees as possible. Yet now I stayed in one place.

I was always able to persevere through a race despite pain and fatigue simply by focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other and to keep moving. This is different. Very different. To push through, I actually have to not move. I am worried about the side effects of this healing process. Basically weight gain and becoming permanently lazy.

I now have a new appreciation for the difficulty that people with physical handicaps have to go through. Actions that people who are healthy do not even think about, now become obstacles. When one has to stop and think about “How am I going to get my cup of coffee from the counter to the dining room table?” you realize that this is some people’s everyday life. I come to a heavy door at a retail store and have to pause to contemplate how I am going to get in. My handicap is temporary and I am grateful.

While I cannot use some of my most basic strategies that I used in ultra-marathons to heal this time. There is one strategy I can and will use. That is to break the challenge up into smaller more attainable challenges. For example when I was running almost two hundred miles from the top of New Jersey to the bottom. I rarely thought of the entire feat. That would seem to daunting especially if you are exhausted. Even if I had completed over seventy-five percent of the run at a hundred and fifty miles and there was only forty-six miles left. That last forty-six miles seemed daunting. No I broke it up to just getting to the next aid station and that was usually around eight miles or so. It kept me fresher and focused on what was immediately in front of me. Everything was attainable.

I am doing that with this challenge. Yes I hate just sitting around. Yes I am itching to just get up and walk. Yes this is hard for me. Yet I just say every day I can get through this day. Unlike a race in which I may push through some of the aches and pains. Now I am in tune with my body to see if my pain is diminishing. Every time I sense it is getting better it gives me incentive to continue the process.

I won’t lie. This is killing me. Whenever you watch a video of an athlete’s comeback, it is a video of them working out hard, sweat pouring from their body an inspirational music like from the movie Rocky playing in the background. My video would be of a man sitting in a recliner reading a book or scrolling through his cellphone with the sound of a clock ticking in the background. Hardly inspirational.

There is one other thing that I have to overcome and that is doubt. I know at my age (63) this may take time to heal and that even when I run again I may have to alter my training. Yet I hear the doubt in others when they hear about my injury. A common retort is “You are getting old” or “age is finally catching up.” It really stings because they may be right.  I feel that some are thinking “Ray, you gave it a great run but Father Time is undefeated.” Yet this may be my biggest motivator. I like the challenges of aging. I like the challenge of doing the difficult. I don’t need to win a race… just finish it.

I know that most people will not understand this desire to push my body to its limits but it is who I am. Then again they probably don’t understand my desire to one day to lose another toenail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The World’s Toughest Marathon (Or at Least Mine)

Robvr Corporis Fortivdo Mentis

There comes a time on all ultra-marathons and difficult trail races when I question not only whether I will finish the race but why did I sign up for it? I was about halfway through a trail “marathon” and I was beat. I use the word “marathon” loosely because like many trail races mileage numbers are really approximations. It was three loops and the first loop according to my Garmin was well over nine miles. It was now my time to do the math. I had to calculate if I would be able to finish before the ten hour cutoff time.

A ten hour cutoff for a marathon seems long but this was no ordinary marathon. Oh wait as I wrote before it is already going to be longer than a marathon (Just under 29 miles.) and secondly it had two long steep climbs on each loop. (I recorded each loop at 2,200 feet.) Thirdly I had tweaked my knee a few weeks before the race so I was not in peak condition. Lastly, I should also note that this race was originally a snowshoe race but there was no snow just a lot of icy patches on the trail. We also had to carry our snowshoes which added another obstacle.

While I was calculating my chances of finishing I realized that I had already made two mistakes that were costing me. While I had actually done very well on the first lap doing it in about 2 hours and 20 minutes well ahead of the pace needed. I had not really refueled my calorie intake at the aid station and was feeling light headed. In fact I probably should have packed in more calories before the race. I quickly took out a granola bar and some nuts to get me through to the end of the second lap.

It was at this point in which I was deciding whether I should be satisfied with just two laps and almost twenty miles or push myself to my limits with a third loop. This is when I thought of the motto of the Endurance Society which was hosting the race “Robvr Corporis Fortivdo Mentis” which I believe translates to “physical strength, mental fortitude”. I had enough time but I had to keep moving forward and be smart about it.

My plan for the first loop was to be steady on the uphill’s and attack the downhills and have a steady run on the flats. It had worked on the first loop. While not extremely fast on the climbs I kept moving. On the downhills I flew. The first one was a long almost mile of a steep descent. I was with two other runners when I took off and I heard one say “Ray is flying!” and I was. I never saw them again.

Yet when I hit the second loop, the first ascent was not steady and while I was pushing through it I was struggling. Even on that fun descent I was not as agile as I was on the first descent so I was going at three quarters the pace I did the first time. I was also feeling a pain in my left toe and knew that this race would cost me a toenail. For me it was the flats in which I really had to push myself both physically and mentally. Every fiber in my body wanted to just walk but I knew that would slow me down and prevent me from finishing. Funny thing is when I started to run slowly my body and mind started to shift gears and adjust. Running was not just okay but preferable and even lifted my spirits.

It was “Robvr Corporis Fortivdo Mentis” getting me through this second lap. Yet I would need more than “Robvr Corporis Fortivdo Mentis” to get me through the third loop. I needed fuel. I kept saying to myself push yourself for the food and water. When I got to the aid station the race director asked how I was doing. I said I need calories. He said “We have pulled pork.” My eyes and stomach lit up. Yes, I had a bowl of pulled pork with some rice. I savored every morsel. Then I went to my car and downed a lot of water and electrolytes. Ate a pickle, granola bar, nuts and dried fruit. I have had some exquisite meals in five star restaurants but if you really want to understand the value of food as fuel, run an ultra-marathon.

The race director who was very attentive asked how I was doing. He said if I can keep this pace up I should finish with plenty of time. I said I would not be able to keep this pace up and brought my headlamp just in case. My “Robvr Corporis Fortivdo Mentis” was waning. I had arrived at 1:40PM and had until 6PM to finish but I spent a lot of time eating and drinking but four hours should be enough time to finish. Though it meant I had to keep pushing. I also discarded my Yaktrax because they had fallen apart probably from the quick descents.

My knee was holding up but that may have been because I was pumping Ibuprofen into my body. While I am an older runner I usually do not have too many issues with my leg muscles but my quads, hamstrings and calves were all barking.

Completely hydrated and with a full stomach I set out. It is amazing how refueling really helps the mindset. Yet that positive mindset was confronted by a steep climb. Steep ascents have a way of taxing the body and the mind. I kept telling myself when I started this I had two difficult climbs. I did them before, and I can do them one more time, though slower. Without my cleats however I fell a few times on the ice.

When I got to the second climb I realized that time was waning. There may not be anyone left on the course because of the cut off times. I did come across a solo hiker and we chatted a bit at the top. He said here comes your competition. There in the distance came another runner or should I say power walker. This motivated me to push on. I did not feel like getting passed in the homestretch. So when I came to the next descent I sped up.

Yet every once and a while I heard the pounding of his trekking poles echoing through the forest behind me. They were urging me on. I am a bit competitive and my fragile ego did not want to be passed even though it really did not matter. Darkness was setting in but I would not need my headlamp.

I came into the aid station with 20 minutes to spare. I even got fifth place and the power walker with the loud trekking poles behind me, got sixth place. I thanked him for pushing me. To say that I was in fifth place shocked me. Apparently the brutal course and lack of snow had kept half the runners from either finishing or even starting the race.  Most entrants were also much smarter than me and opted to run just one loop.

The questions that I asked myself about halfway “Will I finish the race? Why did I sign up for it?” Were answered. Yes I would finish the race I had the mental and physical strength to finish. Why did I sign up? That is easy because I wanted to test my physical strength and mental fortitude. I will obviously sign up for another race for the same reason. There is nothing like it. Robvr Corporis Fortivdo Mentis.

 

 

 

 

The Front Door 3,000 Miler

As I came upon a familiar spot on my daily run I stopped and took a selfie with the lake in the background and another picture of the view I was taking in.  It was December 30^th and it was beautiful morning with temperatures in the high thirties and the sun shining strongly meaning that the temperatures would rise up near sixty degrees that day. While this run was one of my more routine runs it was important to me. As was the spot where I stopped, it meant that I had passed 3,000 miles of running (There were a few walks and hikes sprinkled in as well.) this calendar year.  The vast majority of those miles I had amassed stepping out my front door on routine runs. Even some of the others were a short five minute drive from my house to do trail runs in a park near my house.

That is not to say there were not some amazing and even epic runs this past year away from home. I had completed two marathons one in Atlantic City and one in New York State.  I had done a 100 miles in a Connecticut race. I had run a 100k in central New Jersey. Finally my most epic run was running the length of my home state of New Jersey from High Point to the Cape May Lighthouse. A journey of 196 miles. There were also other half marathons sprinkled in as well. Yet all those achievements were made possible, by stepping out my front door for those routine runs.

The foundation for successful running is the routine. If you stop running or become erratic in your routine the races become harder. When I first took up running I would train for a race maybe a half marathon and then sign up for another race so I would not be tempted to slow down. Now I am in a perpetual state of training ready to take on most any distance under fifty miles the upcoming weekend.

I used the term “successful running” as if we all have the same definition. We obviously do not. For me however it is enjoying every run and when you are in a race happy with where you place because you did your best. I am an older runner so I am never part of the lead pack. At the end of a “successful” run you may be breathing heavy with your hands on your knees with a little exhaustion but a lot of euphoria.

A key for me in logging so many miles is that I have to run outdoors. I love doing long runs and my “short” run is often seven miles. While I have a treadmill I use it when I need to only get in a few miles as a second run on a lunch break or when my schedule prevents me to have the time for a longer run.

Living in a distinct four season area in the state of New Jersey that means running in all types of weather and temperatures. That means running in rain and snow. Temperatures ranging from single digits to 90 degrees. Sometimes you experience the temperature ranges in the same week. For example on the same week that I went over 3,000 miles I was bundled up for a five degree run with layers of clothes hats and gloves and a week later I was in shorts and a t-shirt as temperatures were in the mid-fifties. I know many runners who are fair weather runners who will not run outside once the thermometer hits freezing. I believe that there is a huge benefit to a runner to be able to run in all conditions. Especially if you want to eventually conquer long distance like marathons or ultra-marathons. You cannot be guaranteed great weather on race day.

Yet despite my bravados about conquering the weather that does not mean I just easily go out my front door every morning. No I can readily state that the hardest step on all those runs, is the first step out the front door. A nice cup of coffee is so appealing scrolling through social media or reading a book. Sometimes even though I have run in ice cold weather before, a rest day is more appealing than bundling up. Sometimes the hardest step is just the one getting out of bed. I can’t just get up and run. I need at least thirty to forty minutes to truly wake up before running. It seems so easy to just walk out your front door doesn’t it? Yet many a New Year Resolutions are broken because of the inability to open the front door.

In any case all those mental battles and gyrations that I have to overcome before my run are similar to what other runner’s experience. It is as if I can hear my front door laughing at me. I hear it saying “Not so dedicated today are you? Better luck tomorrow.” I am not sure about others but when I miss a run because I gave into all those obstacles I beat myself up. Luckily I win those battles a lot more than I lose.

As I finished my run that put me over 3,000 miles for the year I stopped my Garmin and the last step felt great. Another great run.  As I walked to my house there was my front door greeting me. It was no longer an obstacle but the finishing line congratulating me on my accomplishment. The man entering the house is always a happier man than the one who goes out.

A new year has begun and I would like to reach that same milestone again. My front door is always there every morning challenging and congratulating me. I love this battle.

The view at 3,000 miles.

 

 

 

Real Men Love Cats – I Loved Mine

My eighteen year old cat Midnight came to me on the couch in the wee hours of the night. I was sleeping on the couch because her health was very bad and I wanted to be around if something happened. With my assistance she got up on the couch and laid on my chest. I gently wrapped my arms around her and we dozed together. This was the first time in her eighteen years that she had done this. She was never a lap cat nor did she like being held. She showed her affection in other ways. She would climb next to you and lie down as you stroked her. She loved to butt her head against you. As she laid on my chest I was hoping she would die. I know that sounds horrible but she was in a bad way and I was struggling watching her waste away.  I had an appointment with the vet the next day and I knew the vet would recommend putting her to sleep.

As she laid there I felt her love and I know she felt my love for her. My heart was breaking because over the last two weeks I had watched her decline so quickly. Especially the last few days. I would find her just laying the floor in strange spots because she did not have the energy or strength to go up any stairs or climb on a couch. While she meowed loudly to be fed she barely ate anything and sometimes her back legs gave out and she could not even stand. Her body was unable to perform any functions. It was so sad and heartbreaking.

Yet she was able to do one last thing strongly and that was to show us her love and affection like she had never done before. That last night she also went to my wife and laid on her chest. She made one last climb upstairs to my son’s room and to demand affection from him. The previous week she followed me in rooms and demanded affection which I gladly gave her sometimes with tears welling up in my eyes. It was as if she knew that her time was limited and was going to give us all the love she had and not leave any love on earth.

As we laid on the couch my mind drifted back to the first time I spotted her and decided she would be our family’s first pet. I was working at an office condo when I spotted this tiny black kitten outside. I tried to get her but she was too skittish and got away. At the same time a woman in the complex had spotted me and said she was also trying to capture the kitten and that basically she does cat rescues in her spare time. We had no luck for a couple of days and then the next night the temperature dropped below freezing and I was worried about my new feline friend. I hoped that she survived. As I drove into a parking spot, there at the end of my parking spot was my black kitten. I took it as a sign that she was mine. The next day the woman contacted me to say she caught the kitten and it was at her vet’s office.

I called my wife and told her that we have a pet. This threw her off for two reasons. First when we had discussed getting a pet I was leaning towards a dog because that is what I had always had as kid. Second she was concerned that a feral cat may be a bit too wild. I was adamant that I wanted this cat and that she was a sweet kitten. My kids were thrilled with dad’s adventure and named the kitten Midnight.

Looking back on it now I have a hard time remembering our house without Midnight and then Sterling and Angel to follow. It is as if we had always had cats. Yet Midnight was the first and she has been with my kids from elementary school, middle school, high school, college and beyond.

Our household revolved in many ways around the cats. They each had their own personalities and when there were three of them the house felt so alive. In many ways they helped my wife and I raise my daughter Lisa and son Evan. While a parent’s love can seem conditional as to whether you finished your homework or finished a chore, the cats love was truly unconditional. When we would come home from vacation the first thing we all wanted to do, was see our cats. There was a ritual with this that we all noticed. While Angel and Sterling were there to greet us, Midnight gave us the cold shoulder. She forced us to beg for her love.

Feline love is very subtle.  While people who have dogs parade their dogs on walks and vacations the affection is open and obvious. With cats it is a little different. People may even come over to your house and visit and not see your cats. In our house Angel is the exception she would greet everyone. Midnight and Sterling though would go into hiding. So when Sterling died young many people had only caught glimpses of him. Midnight was the same way until in her later years when she became deaf. Then she never ran away but decided to go where she wanted and soon our friends and family got to know her better.

Yet even with visible cats the affection is more private and personal than it is with a dog. Cats show their affection in ways that only the owners know.

When I had taken Midnight to the vet in April of 2022 we discovered a growth in her stomach. It was probably a tumor since she was losing weight but at eighteen there is no viable options except to keep her comfortable and stress free. I knew then that our time with her was short. I kept telling my daughter who lives in Connecticut to visit for every holiday because it might be the last time she saw Midnight.

Midnight however persevered. Though I noticed her world shrinking. At first she stayed on our bed almost all day except to come down to eat and use the litter box. She always slept on my side of the bed and gave me a hard time as if to say “this is my spot” when I was sleeping. Then she seemed to have difficulty going to the basement for the litter box and we were forced to purchase pee pads for her on the first floor. Soon she was regulating herself to just one floor.

I was not the only one to notice her decline. Angel, our other cat who is four years younger also noticed. The two of them never seemed to be friendly to each other, they just tolerated each other. Angel used to be like the annoying younger sibling who would pester their older brother or sister. In a change that filled my heart with joy she showed friendship to Midnight. She stopped pestering her and even started to sleep next to her. This is something she never did. We were all shocked.

One ritual I had with them both was the feeding ritual. Both cats would meow loudly and swarm around my feet in a meal time dance. I would be telling them to be patient. Towards the end when Midnight was  very sick, She could not eat a lot at once and this ritual began to increase from twice a day to several times. Though often she would only sniff the food.

Yet despite the extra meals Midnight who was once pleasantly plump was just skin and bones. She also became louder because we could hear her breathe and drink her water. Her meows were also louder.

When we got to the vet’s office my wife was not ready for the news. Dr. Rao who is wonderful said it was not fair to Midnight to be like this. I went to text my son and daughter but I couldn’t because the tears in my eyes prevented me from reading the contacts in my phone. We took Midnight home for one last time so that we could FaceTime our daughter so she could say goodbye and have my son say goodbye as well. My son at first disagreed with the decision but my daughter said “This is not about us. This is about what is best for Midnight.” We then all cried and held Midnight in our arms one last time. I am sure Midnight felt our love and I know we felt hers. She certainly was not human but she was also most certainly family.

In many ways the euthanatizing of pets is more humane than the death of humans. It is peaceful and painless. You are surrounded by the ones you love. It was the last act of love that we could show Midnight.

The next morning when I went to feed Angel I noticed something immediately. Angel did not make a sound nor did she swarm around me. I just fed her in perfect silence. I then realized that the meal time ritual was Midnight’s. She was the lead vocalist and dancer. Angel was the backup vocalist. Maybe that increased desire for food was really an increased desire for attention. 

When Midnight had fallen asleep on my chest I realized that the t-shirt I was inadvertently wearing said “Real Men Love Cats” It was a shirt my daughter had given me. The male role models when I was growing up were very stoic. A real man did not cry or show much emotion with the notable exception of watching sports. While many of my friends learned that lesson well, I never did. Tears flow from my eyes easily not just in sad moments but almost all emotional moments. When my wife said to my daughter do you want to talk to your dad? She replied “we will just cry together” and we did. She knows me too well.

A few days after Midnight’s passing the tears still well up. As the shirt said “Real Men Love Cats” and while I may not be a “real man” I did love Midnight. 

Yes, there is Suffering and Disappointment in Eden (The Hainesport Endurance Run)

As I sat down to rest and hydrate about nine hours into my 24 hour endurance run. I put aside my own battle with the heat and sun, and took in the scene of the Hainesport Endurance Run.  There was peppy rock music playing in the background, race volunteers just fifty feet from my camp cheering on the runners as they were completing another mile loop. They were also providing food, Gatorade, and water. Runners passed by me, some very fast as they were competing in a 48 hour world championship and some just walking. Most runners were not competing for a championship but like me, were competing against themselves.

Most of the runners had a crew consisting of either a spouse, friends, or family that offered them physical and emotional support, both of which is greatly appreciated by the runners. I looked across the path at another runner’s camp and he was just sitting in a chair wrapped in a blanket staring at nothing. He was in a battle between his mind and his body. I had watched him over the hours and his body had broken down. At first he was laying down, with his wife using a roller on his leg muscles.  Then just laying prone on the ground. At one point he got up and while talking to other runners and crew looking like was going rise from the dead and start running or at least walking. Now though he was a zombie and his wife who had been so attentive was now in her own chair letting him contemplate his next move. I knew, and his wife knew, that his race was over, but for a runner to say it to themselves is painful. He had probably trained hard and had high hopes of a great race. However things do not always go according to plan and it is not pleasant when everything comes crashing down.

Then there was me. I was not suffering but I was disappointed. I didn’t know if it was my training, the heat, lack of crew, poor strategy, or a poor night’s sleep the days before but the miles were not accumulating as much as they should have. I had done over eighty miles in a 24 hour run on trails before so a 24 hour run on flat paved surfaces should be easier but it was not. What really was the problem was that all those things occurred because of a lack of focus on the event. Usually when an ultra-marathon race comes around, I circle it on my calendar and begin to focus not just my training but my mind. This race however I registered late and was distracted by my work. Sometimes if I am not careful I let my professional career get in the way of my running.

Yet despite my deep disappointment and weariness, I couldn’t think of a better place to be. I find that the ultra-marathon scene especially a looped run is my Garden of Eden. I know that when most people picture a place with Eden-like qualities they are thinking of sitting in a beach chair with an umbrella drink by their side, or floating in a pool or lagoon on a raft doing nothing. Not me! Let me have a place in which I am beating myself up and even the top elite runners suffer.

The atmosphere at an ultra is filled with determination, energy, enthusiasm, inspiration and much more. Yes there is also pain, suffering, and disappointment but they only make you appreciate the positives even more. Not only that you are in a large group of runners, crew, and volunteers who are at their best cheering each other on. There is a sense of community as well. It is impossible in my mind not to get caught up in the enthusiasm when you are surrounded by people all pushing themselves to their limits.

Let me give you some short examples.

There was a woman who was blind who was doing the 24 hour course. She had a team of volunteers alongside her the whole time guiding her. I know that her presence alone made me go extra loops.

There was a woman walking the course just trying to go the longest distance in her life. This is something that I can almost guarantee you happens at every race someone pushing themselves to a personal record. I was also impressed that she did much of this while reading a book.

There was the Canadian woman Viktoria who won the woman’s 48 Hour Race who was running with a mask because of her asthma.

I mentioned the community feel at these events. While stopping for refreshments and talking to volunteer we talked about other race venues like NJ Trail Series run by Rick and Jennifer as well as the Roosevelt Forest series put on by Lou. We ultra-runners gravitate to the same races and you begin to see many familiar faces. I said to one volunteer that we are a “small community” and he respond “maybe a little crazy community”. I said but a “happy and nice community.”

That brings me to the race directors. They are like a host of a party who make sure all their guests enjoy themselves. While the race director tries to take care of all the racers needs with food, water, trails that are well marked, and plenty of volunteers they also have a side that wants their guests to go all out. At this race Venessa, the race director did an outstanding job. I thanked her as I would thank someone for hosting a party. Though, in this “party” I was running for over 21 hours. Yet she had done a great job because I began to scouring her website to find other races that she put on and I could fit into my schedule.

Late into the night I notice the runner across the path had packed up and left. Yet I believe that even though his race had been miserable and painful, that he did not regret entering the event. That is because at events like this besides the great supportive and positive community, and positive energy surrounding you find one more thing. You find out more about yourself. Like I said I believe that all the runners are really competing against themselves. You find out how much determination you have. You may also find out what you are capable of. Even on bad days when you are hurting physically and maybe even mentally, you find out more about yourself. Then on those days when you accomplish your goal on a run the high is unbelievable. You do not find any of these things out however unless you try.

Take it from me while sitting by a pool side with an umbrella drink is relaxing you can’t get those other feelings of satisfaction about yourself that you get from an ultra-run.

Sometimes Your Mental Grit Needs a Little Help

I think it was about mile 60 or 65 of my 30 Hour, 100 Mile Race called the Forbidden Forest when the idea for this blog came to me. Except at that moment, the title was going to be something along the lines of Showing Mental Grit in Failure. I had a major setback in the wee hours of the night after my crew had left for a well-earned rest. At first in the evening things were going well and I was completing my loops and was on pace to finish with time to spare and get to test my theory on the power of the mind.

At last year’s race I had finished with time to spare and could have finished another lap.  Yet when I went into my last loop, the energy from my body seemed to drain and I “settled” for the 100 mile finish.  I had been strong up to that point but knowing that I had my “100 Mile Buckle” my mind gave out before the body. For this race I wanted to see if I added one more lap to my goal if would my mind stay strong doing an extra lap.

After midnight, I had other mental grit issues to worry about. Like “Could mental grit defeat digestive issues in an ultra-marathon?”  My early opinion was that it was no match. When you are throwing up it is not “mind over matter”, especially when the matter is coming out of your mouth.

It had been an extremely hot and muggy day and I could see that many of the runners were struggling. I know it was getting to me. It was most definitely getting to my stomach. While I could easily hold down my fluids and fresh fruit (consisting of grapes, watermelon, and strawberries), I was having a harder time with the proteins.  They did not taste right but somehow in small portions I could take them. My crew, which consisted of my daughter Lisa, my wife Patty, my niece Anna and my friend Anthony, were constantly trying to get me to take in calories. (I should add that it was by far the best crew at the race! They helped not only me, but Dave, who was another friend running the race, in addition to several other runners. (Which means that I should have listened better to them)

I could feel my energy ebb after midnight and knew I had to consume more calories. I decided to take my time and try to eat slowly and stop more often. This was time consuming, but I believed in the long run (pun intended) that it would help. My plan was falling apart, as was my race. With each stop I could barely get down any solid food down except fresh fruit. As I was eating a small thin slice of chicken, my stomach revolted completely and I hurled! I was completely out of sorts. I decided to take a nap which lasted about 40 minutes to ease my body.

My mental grit was being tested. I was completely alone! Even Dave and Anthony were gone. Dave had pulled out of the race after a bad fall and Anthony was taking care of him.

Somehow, at 4AM I started running again but I had lost a lot of time. My legs felt strong but I had limited energy because I had not eaten. I would try and hold on until my crew arrived. I started eating fruit just to keep me going. I sent a desperate text to my wife and niece that I was not in great shape and if they could bring chicken soup. In my poor state of mind however, I forgot to hit send.

I was doing the math in my head about how many miles I had left and how much time I had to get to 100 miles. While my math skills diminished precipitously with each mile I ran, I soon realized that while it was possible to finish my goal, I had a lot of work to do. I needed to get miles in before my crew started to arrive at around 7:30AM.  I was hoping to get to 70 miles by 7:00AM. That would leave me seven and a half hours to do a 50k.  Which I normally could do easily, but this would be my third 50k in a row so I was not sure how it would go.

I decided that no matter what, I would keep going. If I didn’t get the 100 miles so be it. It just wasn’t my day.  I was listing my excuses as I ran: the heat affected me, I had digestive issues, other runners were dropping out. In fact, I saw many runners packing up. I thought I would just ease up and get between 80-90 miles. I was not only fighting the heat and terrain, but I was fighting myself. I had always prided myself on my grit and determination and even other runners would complement me on my determination. I liked to think of myself as somewhat of a badass. Yet the fire was not blazing now. It was more like hot embers with no flame.

I needed my crew but was a little nervous to see them because before they had left I was going strong but I had lost my confidence. A badass is always confident. The first to arrive were Anthony and Dave. Anthony  as usual, was beaming with positivity but I was trying to be realistic. It was good however to have his positive energy.

Next came my daughter Lisa and her boyfriend PJ, Patty, and my niece Anna. Anna was going to pace me. I was a little worried about that because she was just recovering from a severe leg injury and she was not used to running on trails. I had twenty-five miles to cover and plenty of time, if I was fresh. I was not fresh. I kept saying it is going to be close and that I may not do it. Anna was positive and said let’s not think about that let’s just run and see what happens. I had seen how she had talked to her own kids about issues and her tone and calmness with me was pretty much how she would address a pouty nine-year old.

My pace with her was slightly faster and to make up time I said I would run two loops and then stop. She was very attentive to my pace and discussed what I would need at the next stop. As I mentioned, Anna was recovering from a serious leg injury and had never run more than seven miles so I only expected her to do one or two of the 2.23 mile loops. My wife and I kept asking her if she wanted to go again and she said yes. She ended up running 19 miles with me!

We were having great conversations ranging from why we run, to my children, to her social life as a single parent. The more we ran together the stronger and better I felt. She would communicate with the crew when we came in. Anthony would pop in as well joining us with his never-ending energy. It seemed like he was the unofficial pacer for half the runners. I know that he personally got several runners to the finish line.

Then along our run while I was passing people we came upon Kate who was a few laps ahead of me and she was walking. She had it the bag though. She said she thought she only had to do 43 laps but found out it really 44 and was a bit bummed.  “What! I thought I had to do 45 loops!” I said to myself, now there was a glimmer of hope. I picked my pace. If I was not going to get to 44 loops I would get as close as possible.

I was the only one running hard. Most of the runners had either finished the run or were taking victory laps, and some knew the 100 miles was not possible. Their fates were sealed. Mine was not. I had to do my fastest pace since the beginning of the race. After 90 miles in the humid weather this was not easy physically or mentally.  Yet the attitude of the crew kept my dream alive despite my tamping of their enthusiasm. My time with Anna also brought back my mental grit and I was not going to miss the 100 miles without giving an all-out effort.

When I finished loop 41, the timer* yelled out to me that “I had to average 33 minutes a loop to do it.” At that point I decided to go for broke. I left Anna behind.   When I completed the 43^rd lap the timer in a state of shock yelled “That was 26 minutes! Wow!” I looked up and saw that I had a little over an hour left to finish the last loop.  Plenty of time.

I could feel that my body was near its limits with the heat, the mileage, and the high speed. Anthony was with me for most of the last lap but then we came upon a limping runner on her last lap. I went on alone because I wanted to finish strong and she needed his help more than me. I did not need someone to motivate me at this point I was so determined to finish. About a third of a mile from the finish Anna was on the trail.  I was flying (flying is a relative term at this point) on this part of the trail and she tried to get ahead of me to warn the crew that I was coming. I slowed down a bit so they could all get to the finish line but they had little time.

When I crossed the finish line, I collapsed. I had never run so hard before after so many miles. I even stated to my crew “That it may have been the hardest thing I had ever done.” I had never had to run my hardest at the end of an ultra to beat a time clock.

Mike, who was a fellow runner from Massachusetts who we had all befriended said to me “Man you had fire in your eyes. I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley!” Yes, I had a fire in my eyes but it was through the help of Anna, Anthony and the whole crew that took those smoldering embers of determination and grit and turned it into a blaze.

I learned some valuable lessons on this run about mental grit.

First, I had always thought that mental grit meant persevering and moving forward and fighting through the obstacles such as the weather and the terrain. It was a fixed amount, but I found out on this race it fluctuates.  It rises and sinks depending on the conditions and sometimes certain conditions start to drain your determination.

Second, having the right supportive people around you makes a difference and can help restore your determination. My crew and especially Anna really refocused me to the task at hand.

Anna was with me during my down period, when I had some doubt as to whether I was going to be able to do this. She observed my transformation. She remarked: “Isn’t it amazing what you can achieve when you go all out?” Yes it is!!  It is even more amazing when you have people like her, my wife, Lisa, PJ, Anthony, Dave and our new friend Mike believing in you. It is funny, my first thought about this blog was about going all out and failing. Even if I had not made it I still realize how lucky I am. I am surrounded by people who truly believe in me and who nurture my determination and grit.

Third and maybe most important. The test of your grit is when you are at your lowest. For me it was at 4AM when I was alone and knew that I my body was in trouble and I probably was not going to make it. My fire was not burning but I still had some smoldering embers so it was not out and I decide to keep moving. That decision helped set up the strong finish.

As Anna said Isn’t it amazing what you can achieve when you go all out?” sometimes you may even surprise yourself.

*The timer came up to me after I finished and said “I lied to you. You didn’t need to average 33 minutes to make it, but closer to 38-39 minutes. I wanted to push you. He also said “at your pace you have time for another lap!” He was right but just like last year my mind had given out so I was done. I guess I proved my point.

World's best crew.

Running with Guilt and Butterflies

It was a couple of days after I had finished running the length of New Jersey from the top, the High Point Monument in the Northwest corner of the state, to the Cape May Lighthouse in the Southeast an almost two hundred mile journey. I was pretty proud of myself. After all not too many people could accomplish that feat especially at the age of 62. Yet it was not lost on me that my crew team was lead by Ian Hockley. Ian had become a good friend and I loved him like a brother but I wish I had never met him and that I didn’t know him. Ian’s son Dylan was one of the twenty students lost in the Sandy Hook school shooting. I met him through work when he was a keynote speaker at our convention. This uneasy feeling rose up again after the school shooting in Uvalde, Texas. School shootings are senseless acts of violence.

Yet I can’t shake the pangs of guilt I have about enjoying my run and sharing laughs and even a drink with Ian knowing the relationship is all built on a senseless death. Even my running partner for the New Jersey run, Anthony, was built on school shootings. I did not know Anthony but a mutual friend Tom introduced us. Tom and I had collaborated numerous times on school security programs for school districts to prepare them for a school shooting.

My achievement and joy was in many ways built on senseless deaths of students. I know if I had the power I would trade my achievement away to bring back the lives of any students or teachers who were victims in a school shooting.

Robb Armstrong, Ian Hockley, myself, and Anthony Certa before starting our New Jersey Run.

In a conversation with a reporter before the run it was brought up that I was attempting something that few people could do. I acknowledged that fact, but added “That is true but Ian is doing something that I don’t think I could do. He is taking his pain and anger and focusing his energy on building something positive for kids.” I am not sure I could do that if it was my son or daughter that was killed so tragically. I like to think that I would but I am not sure. I could easily direct my energy on issues that anger me. What he is doing is more amazing.

Like a lot of runners I will regularly run for a charity. This run was also a fundraiser for Ian’s charity Dylan’s Wings of Change. They do social emotional learning programs in schools trying to improve a schools climate and culture.

As I ponder my conflicting feelings I thought of the mantra that governs Dylan’s Wings of Change. It is the Butterfly Effect. Which is how just small changes can accumulate with massive effect. Like a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a hurricane winds across the world.  It was inspired by Dylan’s mom seeing him flapping his arms when he was young and asking him what he was doing. He said that he was a butterfly.

While Dylan’s Wings of Change focuses on kids, the Butterfly Effect goes beyond kids. It effected me there is no way I could have finished or even attempted the run without Ian and Anthony not to mention Robb who is also affiliated with Dylan’s Wings of Change. So that small boy flapping his wings many years ago led to a 62 year old man pushing himself to his limits and running 196 miles.

Even during the run I felt the Butterfly Effect.  Friends, family, and even strangers came out to cheer Anthony and I on. They also donated to Dylan’s Wings of Change. They liked the idea that an individual was pushing himself to his limits for a good and positive cause. One woman even said that to me at a crowd that was gathered to greet us. “It was so good to see something so positive and uplifting.” I think that she was also alluding to the negative news that seems to all around us these days.

It was a bit overwhelming emotionally when you are feeling the power of the Butterfly Effect. The last few miles of the journey, I was very ineffectively trying to hold back tears.

It is also very overwhelming emotionally to observe another school shooting on the news. It also saddens me that our government seems incapable and some might even say unwilling to do anything about it. What can an individual do in this situation especially when the government is inept?

We can start small.  The Butterfly Effect does not demand large acts but small acts of kindness and positive energy. In our own community, we can start something that improves the climate and culture of our local schools. Obviously making all our kids having a safe space is important and maybe if we can prevent one troubled youth to seek help that will make a huge difference.

I also find that when a group of people start practicing acts of kindness it tends to build on itself and multiply to others. So, I do not see any downside to spreading kindness. Ian has modeled this by enriching students and adults lives, including mine with his relentless positive actions.

I know that for some reason mentioning anything to do with gun reform is a nonstarter for some people, but I am sure everyone would want a system that keeps guns out of the hands of people with mental and emotional problems.

If we all do a little, maybe we can prevent even unknowingly a senseless act of violence. In a strange way, it might be the only time preventing future friendships is a good thing.