My Why. It Began in January.

 5.21.23

…how it began and why…

The trail to the Superior Hiking Trail began in January 2023, the day I registered for the New River Gorge 55k Trail Marathon. I wanted to do a hard and occasionally scary thing. This race would be that and a springboard for preparing for a really long coddliwompling walk with a heavy pack on my back along Lake Superior’s North Shore. 

So for this springboard of a race, I ran 724.17 miles in the 5 months leading up to it.  When the morning of May 21, showed up and I stood at the start line by the railroad tracks in the nearly abandoned town of Thurmond, in a hidden away holler of WV, I was a lot more ready than I knew, and I no longer noticed if I was scared.

At the start, and all through training actually, my goal for this race was to get an official finish time (a finish time under 11:45, anything over would be considered a DNF). But as I ran and through a few ~events~ that occurred, my goal became dynamic. 

The first ~event~ was, along with the pack of women I was running with, missing a flag and running a couple of miles off course up a steep hill in the blaring morning sun. The next was falling far back in the pack (like nearly dead last) to stay with and to help a struggling runner. From those two ~events~ the goal started to morph.

With them taken care of and behind me, I became determined to just run, to catch and to bury all of the runners who’d passed and gapped me. I did that by mile 17.

For 29 miles of the race I ran and I found the “flow in the zone”. What a welcomed companion it was! In running, as in all areas of life, being “in the zone” requires a few things: a challenge, deep preparation and a connection that makes your heart skip a beat. All three were on board for those 29 miles. I had the challenge, was up to it because of my preparation, and I had the secret sauce connection in David. He’d be waiting for me at mile 23.8 and I couldn’t wait to see him even for those couple of minutes. 

When I rolled into that aid station I could have burst into flames with love, joy and excitement. As I’d been running just knowing I was going to see him, and then seeing him there kept a smile on my face and my legs turning over during those miles. It was more of a highlight than I can explain. He was ready for me and knew just what to do. What a gift he is.

 (A note about flow. What I know and have experienced is this: when in the flow state your mind pretty much disconnects from your body, researches call it autotelic, which allows your body to be totally absorbed in the task at hand, like running a really long way without your mind and thought processes getting in the way, you can become euphoric, which is very cool, because of the total emergence of self in the thing you’re doing).

I’d found flow and ran “in the zone” only twice before in my running life, the NYC 1/2 Marathon (my fastest 1/2) and the last 6 miles of my 2nd Worlds End 50k (not my fastest ultra, but my fastest and most grueling Worlds End) so I recognized it right away and was able to stay in it until about mile 29. That’s when a quad on my left leg dropped out of the race. Even though I chose not to dwell on it, the fact it wasn’t cooperating or participating like every other body part, slowed me down to a steady power hike/jog for the next 5 miles.

(A note about that quad, the Vastus Lateralis - I'm pretty sure that's the correct name for this culprit, but don't quote me. Later I learned  that particular muscle receives 3-4 times of pressure from a person’s body weight with each running foot strike. It confirmed how vital strength training is in running).

This situation changed that “11:45 finish” goal again. It put a new log on the fire of my determination to finish strong no matter what. I had no doubt in my mind I could do that. 

Then to flame that fire, during these last 5 miles, 50 milers (who’d started hours before me in a place called Highball) started running past, this was a big plus! Just seeing people and talking spiked my endorphins. Plus-plus knowing the last aid station was coming up with its cowbell-ringing-volunteer cheering me on pumped me up. Plus-plus-plus knowing I’d be crossing the line over 2 hours faster than I ever dreamed I could have choked me up and made me cry a little there alone on the trail and it kept me keep moving. 

So at the end of it all, there was a big round medal fashioned after a locomotive headlight, cool awards, lots of pancakes, lots of cheering  strangers, eventually David ♥️, and a vessel full of satisfaction at the finish line by the railroad tracks in an old railroad town in a West Virginia holler.

So I did that really hard and rather scary thing to show myself that it was possible and to finish strong. And as importantly, to lay down the prep work for what is sure to be a definitely long, at times hard and occasionally scary coddliwomple along the North Shore of Lake Superior by myself, with a pack on my back at the end of July.

My goal for this solo trek is to simply finish. Let’s see how dynamic this goal becomes.