Red Rover, Red Rover . . . . . Wait, why won't anyone ask me to come over?

Most of my life I have been picked on and picked last, which is a surprising revelation to some.  I did not really have the right athletic skills, the right friends, the right body type, the right clothes, the right look, or the right anything that would have made me a social and athletic success while I was still in school.  This made me extremely self conscious and drew me in to myself; I was not a social pariah by any means or the lone island at the lunch table, but when it came to athletic/social endeavors I was often left for the last pick and when things were uneven, people were arguing over which team to pawn me off on.  I would not go so far to say that I was bullied, I just spent most of my Friday nights at home studying or watching television, not at the football games.  When I finally did play sports, swimming, soccer, and track, I was not the kid whose name coaches remembered, but rather I was a "slow lane" standout who never really placed or qualified for anything significant, I just attended practice and smiled, although I so badly wanted to make a state meet team.  I had more conversations with teachers rather than other students while I was in high school, and enjoyed their company better than the company of people my own age, because I knew I would not be made fun of in the midst of the discussion.  When I wanted to run college cross country and I was emailing teams, no one even bothered to reply to the inquiries I sent them.  I would not say that I had haters, just that not many people believed in me, and I do not think that I even believed in myself.  I guess it is just as well that I was never asked to "come over" during any games of red rover during school, I probably would not have made it through anyways.  

Up until I hit 21, I spent life operating more from a place of fear than anything else.  Fear of being too fat, fear of no one liking me, fear of being made fun of, fear of rejection, and the fear of not being good at something before I even let myself try it.  That is the worst place that you can operate from because if you fear everything, you will never let yourself try anything, and the excitement and potential that is found in life will never be fully realized.  I fell into running because it gave me a chance to be alone, make it a solo effort, try my best, and it gave me a chance to be good at something without having to worry about anyone else.  No one could tell me that I could not do it because I was doing it, and no one had to pick me for a team, because I was my own team.  Through the racing experience, I learned to talk to people, because even though we were all there by ourselves, competing against our own worst fears and doubts, as a whole we were a community.  

About three or four years ago, I got a Groupon for an obstacle course race, Spartan Race, and I went and ran in the open field of contestants, and while I was not a podium finisher, my time earned my interest in racing as an elite.  I had a little bit of a confidence bump from feeling that I could run and have upper body strength and have both work to my advantage.  Obstacle course racing is very different from just running, although having the running ability certainly helps, most obstacles would be very difficult without significant upper body strength.  When it comes to eight foot walls, burpees, rope climbs, and rope traverses, just to name a few, the running helps you get there, and the upper body strength is what helps you complete the obstacle.  Operating from a place of gumption keeps you moving so that you complete the course and move from obstacle to obstacle with swiftness and strength.  I have experienced some highs and some lows, I have been happy with my race and I have been utterly disappointed in my performance.  No matter what, I always keep moving forward, and building on my success because resting on my laurels would not help me progress and continue to become better each day than I was the day before.  

About a week ago I ran the Merrell Down and Dirty Obstacle Course Race in my hometown of Atlanta, Georgia.  I have never raced with this particular brand of obstacle course race before so I was a little apprehensive as to what I should expect.  It is hard for some of the races to stand out at the Georgia International Horse Park because they all seem to run the same course in the same direction and it is all done the same way.  Everyone parked in the upper parking lots and no one paid for parking, at least in general parking.  The main festival area was in a completely different field than it normally was in and walking in from up on a hill you could see everything in front of you, the festival area, the start/finish line, the kids races, and festival viewable obstacles.  It was clear who the sponsors were and the charities were by where they were placed in the festival and there was even room to bring a tent of your own if you wanted to.  At the start line, there were mini waves built into the waves that started for each race distance.  The military wave started first, followed by the brick wave, followed by the faster people, and then so on till you got to the people who might want to take their time and have fun, who were placed a little further back.  The race starts and we head up a hill, run along a shoulder on an inner park road, and then head down a gravel road towards our first obstacle (and I cannot remember all the obstacles) the sand bag carry.  This obstacle was a hot mess.  People were stepping on top of each other to grab sand bags and put the sandbags down and the carry was too short.  I felt that this part of the race could have been organized better so that racers were not on top of each other when maneuvering in and out of that obstacle.

We ran again, for quite a while, went over a wall or two, until we reached the next major obstacle which was the climb up an inflatable slide and back down the other side.  I liked this but felt like it should have ended with a splash of some kind like muddy water or an ice bath.  We then headed into the woods and not too long after that the courses for the 5k and the 10k separated.  This is where the course was most hilly.  At this point in fact, with the combination of the heat and the hills my body got a little worked up, which was unusual for me, and halfway up a hill my breakfast decided to make a climb of its own and came right back out of my mouth.  This was simply annoying because it cost me at least a minute in time.  As we exited the woods and began looping through open fields runners faced some more obstacles, uneven balance beams, military walls, marine obstacles (like solid high jumps you throw your body over), a watery pool covered with a net, and the monster climb.  The monster climb, a huge tress of high obstacle cargo netting was one of the most exciting obstacles of the day.  Also, keep in mind that I may missed the description of an obstacle or two in that I may not have remembered where they were or even what I did so I am describing what I remember.  We crossed the road again and at this point were on the Olympic mountain biking course, the rocky portion.  This is always interesting because if shoes are already wet, it can make this portion of the course a virtual slip n' slide.  No one I saw went down, but everyone was really charging hard down this hill.  We went through some pop up tunnels and then went under the road in the creek tunnels and came out the other side to the main parking area for the majority of the trails at the Georgia International Horse Park.  There was a high ladder cargo net climb, and this was another area where the 10k and 5k split, the 10k took off into the woods and the 5k turned around and headed immediately for a mud pit.  In this area we encountered the monkey cross, which was interesting, and another obstacle without a name.  It involved climbing up metal pipe fittings on one side and then climbing down a ladder the other side.  Both obstacles were interesting and different, yet doable and not impossible.  Eventually the 10k course circled back around to where the 5k had split from us and we crawled through the same mud pit and continued on towards the finish.  Everyone, 5k and 10k alike, emerged from the woods to get to the rock wall.  I liked this obstacle because I felt like it provided multiple avenues for people to go up the same wall at once, not like some walls where only one person can go up at once.  If only I had kept my footing on the way down and not suffered a major face plant on the other side, resulting in a week of major bruising on my legs and many odd looks.

We entered the river for a water crossing, then came up a steep hill on the other side.  This put us out at the slippery mountain, which volunteers were handily soaping down for us.  This was a great obstacle with a vantage point for friends and family who had come to watch.  It did not seem incredibly difficult, I thought it could have at least been taller, but I liked it.  After getting all dirty, crawling up an obstacle covered in soap felt clean and refreshing.

After that we entered the final obstacle/finish line the mud pits.  The finish was completely surrounded in cheering people and it was really crowded and was a great way to end the race.  Overall, I felt like it was a runner's course that was beginner friendly.

The course itself, running wise, was one of the best I have run at the Georgia International Horse Park.  It was well marked and no one had to guess where they were going and while the obstacles were not incredibly difficult I felt like a niche was filled in obstacle course racing.  Most courses are difficult and the obstacles are very hard and everyone is friendly yet competitive, and I thought that the Merrell Down and Dirty Obstacle Course Race provided people with a confident option to wet their feet in this world of obstacle course racing.  The post race finish festival area was fantastic.  It was absolutely clear where the kids needed to be for their race.  There was an area for hosing off with high pressure hoses! Included was shampoo from Paul Mitchell that smelled fantastic and got a lot of the mud out of our wet strands.  In the changing tent, where the opening was blocked with a changing wall, there were tables and chairs so no one had to set their gear on the ground.  Once you went into the festival there were tons of cool sponsor tents and giveaways.  Subaru had the best freebies by far.  Eye black, USB plug ins for your car, hair ties, and water bottles were there for the taking.  There were pull up contests and an inflatable incline race contest to see who could rack up the most pullups and the fastest times.  My favorite part of the festival, besides the awards ceremony, was the Paul Mitchell tent.  There were $15 haircuts and a $5 braid bar and the money was donated to charity.

I thought this was genius because my messy post race hair was put in a cute revers french side braid that I wore for the rest of the day.  The medal ceremony was fun and went quickly, it did not drag on and take forever like most do.  Overall I was happy with my experience at the Merrell Down and Dirty Obstacle Course Race.  Even though I threw up and face planted off an obstacle, I still managed to place second in my age group.  I would recommend this race and I will be back next year to run again.

I do not even recognize that kid who was picked on and picked last anymore.  That kid with low self esteem and no confidence in herself who had trouble just finishing a 300 m hurdle race in high school.  I had trouble fitting in and I always operated from the place of fear that told me that I would never be good enough for anything.  Today I have had four podium finishes in separate obstacle course races and even though I am not the best out there, I have people who believe in me and more importantly I believe in myself, and I will keep building on that. I enjoy putting myself out there and trying new things and eventually who knows where I will be or how good I can be if I try?  I know that I am no longer lining up at the back of the pack because I have the confidence to line up in the front; I like it better because I have a lot of friends and family cheering me on.  Even though I stay hungry for success, I am satisfied with who I am and I have the gumption to keep trying harder each and every day, with each and every race, because I can be stronger each day than I was the day before.  I also do not think that I will ever be picked last again.

Please check out the Merrell Down and Dirty Obstacle Race at this website: http://www.downanddirtyobstaclerace.com/

Regular Person, Real Life Runner

Why do I run? It is a simple yet perfunctorily profound question that most likely could lead to my breaking through and ultimately dominating my own imaginable limits, hitting PRs and BQs, and making the lottery of Western States (my dream race).  The question still goes unanswered though, why do I run?

If you think about it, look at who you are as a person, and really think about it, there is not one answer that is classically defined as right or wrong, there may even be more than one, but once you hear it echoing in your head, you want to keep on asking it, "Why do I run?"

I draw upon inspiration from the story based on real life war hero Louis Zamperini.  I first heard of his great efforts of survival and strength in my monthly issue of Runner's World.  I look forward to seeing these glossy pages grace the inside of my mailbox every month so when I opened up the door and saw it sitting there I was excited.  I flipped through to a cover story I found particularly interesting that was about inspiring individuals that had made a difference in the world through their love of the sport; thereby, impacting the lives of others.  Mr. Zamperini's story caught my attention because at the time of the story's publication he, to me at least, did not seem to look like a runner.

 Once I read his insert and began doing some research about his experience I was wholly in shock and awe!  He went from a trouble making teen who could not speak English, to an Olympic athlete poised to break American barriers, to a soldier, to a prisoner of war, and finally he became a survivor and a living testament to will of the human soul.  I do not know of anyone who could not look at this story of epic resilience and not want to go out there and run with all your heart like he did.  This is a man who could have broken the four minute mark in the mile well before it was done, he had the talent, he had the drive, and he had the skill.  Which leads me to ask a question I would have loved to ask him in person, "Mr. Zamperini, why did you run?"  I feel like reading the biography based on his life could shed some light on the answer (though nothing could do quite as much justice as asking the man himself).  He ran to escape a past that was unbecoming of him, he ran because he was very good at it, he ran for the recognition, and he ran because he knew that he could push himself to be better each day than the previous day.  He was a man who knew that when he won, and when he put American milers on the map at the Berlin Olympics of 1936, it was because he put in the hard work, he gave it everything he had in him, and he achieved goals greater than he ever imagined when he started his running career.  How good does it feel at the end of the day to say to yourself that you gave it everything you had, your best effort? How good does it feel when all that endeavoring culminates in one gloriously epic showdown between you and your mind and your body and the devil on your shoulder telling you that it does not matter, this is just a game?

So, why do you run?  I was inspired to ask myself this question by a short speech famed Academy Award winning actor Matthew McConaughey made to the Texas Longhorns on the practice field one day.  Some of you may not like him or what he stands for, but you cannot argue with the words he is saying and that they are inspiring in helping you get down to the root question, "Why do I run?" You may run for a lot of reasons, but at the end of the day, the only person that it matters you run for is you.  Every year begins a new running season for me, simple as that, January rolls around and it is the start of another running season, a year's worth of races.  This year did not start off as successfully as I had hoped it would and I did not like that I did not do as well as I wanted to.  So as the year went and my results got better and I was more hopeful, things changed and the burnout came, right around the time the seasons change, it happens every year, and I hate it.  I have to drag myself to put on my running shoes and drag myself out the door.  To say that it is deflating is an understatement.  I have two races, two big races, the Marine Corps Marathon and Pinhoti 100, coming up and my dedication is seriously waning and making me question why I run and get out there everyday.  There are some days when it is inevitably terrible,horrible,no good, and very bad.  That for me was two weeks ago, in pursuit of a BQ (Boston Qualifier) and aiming to run 16 miles, I fell and nearly broke my ankle; that ankle still is not feeling right.  I wanted to give up my pursuit of the year's goals.  To me, that is heartbreaking, it hurts to think I cannot do what I want to do, because I have always believed that I could do anything.

I can endure that little bit of pain for a lifetime of greatness, but I did not know why I was still running.  I chalked it up to one bad day and kept going.  I have had a couple of good weeks now and even though I faltered, I know why I run.  Ultimately, I run for me, I run to stay sane, I run to stay healthy, I run because it helps me do my job, I run because it makes me smile, I run because it makes me feel fulfilled, I run to make myself proud (and to make my family proud), but ultimately, it matters most that I run for me.  Everyday I get out there and bust my butt, in the heat and the cold, sleep deprived and well rested, not only because I know I can, but because in each workout I see myself being better that day than the day before.  I am a regular person with irregular goals that I will achieve, I am a real life runner who is here to achieve her athletic dreams.  I can continue to get better everyday till I reach my goals.  I run for me, but I want to hear, why do you run?  Why do you like to do what you do?

"The only easy day was yesterday." - navy seals

"If I can take it, I can make it." -  Louis Zamperini

The Madness of the Long, Long March #runwiththemarines

They did not know if it would work, they only knew it had to work. The men huddled together in the vessel, they were first of their kind, potentially paving the way for a long, rich history, but first this operation had to work. They were ready for an unprecedented amphibious assault to take control Fort Montague and Fort Nassau. No one wanted to disappoint the commander, but any and all doubts were instantly pushed aside as they made landfall, and as quick as it took the Continental Congress to vote to assemble this special branch of the military, they quietly hustled to do their patriotic duty.

200 years later the legendary Colonel Fowler, through his job at HQMC post Vietnam War, was looking for a way to foster positive community relations with the public.  The rise of popularity in running, the big boom of untold proportions that started the masses' love and fascination with distances that would make and break legends, gave Fowler an epic idea. What would happen if there was a marathon to do the duty of showcasing the excellence of one of the most prominent American military branches, while also serving the purpose of recruiting, fostering positive American community goodwill throughout the country, and giving local Marines the chance to qualify for the legendary, and somewhat mythical, Boston Marathon?  He would soon find out, because the idea spread like wildfire, going all the way to the Secretary of the Navy. Year one came and went with unprecedented success for such a long distance race, and with no end in sight, with the future for the race's popularity at the winged fleet feet of the masses. The famous Marine Corps Marathon had begun to set roots in Washington, D.C. and with a parade permit for Year two, along with a beautiful new course, the People's Marathon was going to stay in the city for the unparalleled future.  In years to come, Colonel Fowler's idea exploded in status, grasping the minds of international fame, and drawing attention as the fourth largest marathon in the United States and the ninth largest marathon in the world. Just one note, one memo if you will, got the ball rolling for a marathon of such untold, unprecedented, epic proportions that it would require a lottery for entry, and so, for runners, "March Madess," would begin.

For runners, Christmas comes early, or late, depending on the way you look at it.  The real madness of March does not happen on the court; it happens in their email inboxes as with frenzied anxiety they greet a special March day with an instant email glimpse.  They then continue to hit the refresh button until they could burn a hole through their computers, tablets, and mobile devices looking for that one email.  The one email that opens with a "Congratulations!', and relief washes over them as they relax because they have an "in" to the Marine Corps Marathon.  

The 19th of March dawned like any other, it was a Wednesday and I had a 4:00a wake up call.  My dog needed a walk before I headed to the first client of the day for a training session and I could go ahead and start checking my inbox for my acceptance email from the Marine Corps Marathon. In typical, "I'm a great runner," arrogance  (in my mind I'm a great runner, in reality, haha, believe me there are shortcomings) I thought my marathon experience would get me in no problem and at 4am BAM, my acceptance email would be there and I'd just celebrate the day away.  However, at 4a my acceptance email wasn't there, no bother though, surely by lunch time I would have one, right?  Usually with clients I have a strict no cell phone policy, but I could not help sneaking a peek at my email every few minutes, just in case, because hope was alive and the belief that I would get in was still there. The day wore on though, and no email came, and my hope turned to hopelessness and the bright, sunny belief turned to rain in my soul. 4p rolled around and I scrolled through all the excited "I Got in" Facebook posts, and with my self assurance of recent running failures that had doomed me to a life of race rejections, I lumbered out of the car and onto the Suwanee Creek Greenway for a detox run, only to get very, very lost. Frustrated and not wanting to look stupid I just kept running and eventually turned around at halfway to the distance I wanted to complete that day. Feeling dejected and mulling over the day day, I got lost, I wasn't accepted to my first big city race, I had (what I considered) a recent race failure, I resigned the day to be one of those I would soon forget. Finally finding my way back to my car, I grabbed my water bottle and downed half while cooling down and walking around, kicking up gravel and pretending the tiny rocks were the simple frustrations that were going as far across the parking lot as they could. It was time to put in some volunteer hours and I was late, mainly because I was lost, and I hated being late. If people depend on me to be somewhere on time, I do not want to form the impression that I am "that person" who is constantly wasting others' time by taking her own sweet time.  I buckled my seat belt, and turned the key in the ignition and something in me said, "Just check your credit card statement one more time, what do you have to lose?" For the fifteenth time that day I checked my credit card statement and again, no change, but I curiously checked the temporary authorizations. From zero to sixty my eyed just about bugged out of my head and everyone in the parking lot stared at the screamer.  I bust into my happy imitation of the carlton dance as I leapt out of the car. Not meaning to call attention to myself, but wanting to let the world know, I took to Facebook (& every other social media site I was a member of) to tell friends and family that I WAS IN!!!  I WAS FINALLY IN!!!  I was in, and I was not fast enough to run to win, as much as I wished I was, but I was fast enough to give it everything I have for a shot at qualifying for the Boston Marathon and bringing honor to the ones who fight for our freedoms. The feeling of probable rejection had turned around, as I set my sights on a peak performance for the People's Marathon.

I have run marathons before, but big city marathons are somewhat different in the sense that they draw an adventurous, stimulating, electrifying fanfare to the people that parade down the streets past monuments of glory, creating their own glory in the process. It is an honor to run with the Marines and carry on Colonel Fowler's tradition of helping to foster community goodwill, promoting physical fitness, and showcasing (or watching rather) the expertly executed organizational skills of the United States Marine Corps.  Even though physically I run the Marine Corps marathon alone, mentally and spiritually I will be surrounded by the brave men and women who gave something and everything in the spirit of service and duty to country.

The madness of the long, long march to the Marine Corps Marathon in October has only just begun, and come October I am going to run, run for me, and run for them, but run because I am proud to be an American.
 #runwiththemarines

http://www.marinemarathon.com/

http://www.marinemarathon.com/Register/MCM_Charity_Partners.htm

http://www.marinemarathon.com/MCM_Vault/MCM_History.htm

I got all of the information and did a little bit of research through the Marine Corps Marathon website, please take time to visit it and learn what the race is all about.  

I was picked on, and picked last, #TRUSTYOURPOWER

It was a hot end of the summer day, a grueling one.  As I hobbled into the car and slammed the door shut, the sound of total emotional defeat washed over me and I slammed my fist against the window.  A brief wave of mildly salt less tears began to brim over my eyes and I threw my Camelbak into the floorboard.  Propping my elbow up on the open window I covered my face so no one could see.  I was so ticked off that today of all days, when i had just the right momentum, was the day that feeling like a failure became the way that people knew me.  The day of my first fifty miler and I had gone off course and missed the time cutoff.  It was just infuriating! I was resolutely disgusted with myself and moved to tears all at once.  The kind of frustrated that a football coach gets after losing an important game, and then his wife knows it is going to be a long ride of silence home, a bad run and a tough day all rolled into one.

It was almost time for the last pick of the NFL draft in 2012 and Derrick Coleman was watching with his mother from the comfort of their living room.  Every fiber of his being wanted to be that final name called because after every single obstacle he had ever overcome and every single challenge he had met and destroyed, he very well deserved it.  When the name was announced on the television, what was hope became crestfallen doubt and frustration.  He had put in all the effort in the world, on top of his undeniable talent, and will to rise above, and he belonged in the game of football.  Still, his name was not called in the NFL draft and he was disappointed.  Maybe coaches had a misconception about what he could do, but he was used to it, his hearing disability tended to create questions in the minds of those who did not know what he could do, but he knew, he knew what he could do.

The day had started off much like any other, you know.  An early as hell wake up call to do final gear check and get dressed and then on to the start line.  Of three waves I was in the third one to start, but still ready to give it a good go until we reached the point of sunrise.  I was running my first fifty miler, but second ultramarathon, and after some early success in ultra distances I was hopeful for a good finish here; however, that was not in the cards for that particular day.  The course itself was much more difficult than I expected and it was hot, too hot for my taste anyways.  I have always been able to deal with the heat, but it absolutely cripples my abilities to add any sort of speed to my run, making me feel weak and powerless.  Somewhere in between the 30 or so mile aid station and the 35 or so mile aid station, otherwise known as Tower Aid Station to those who have run the North Face Endurance Challenge Gore Tex 50 Mile in Georgia, I got so very, very lost.  Not just me, about ten other people and myself, just cruising along, happened to follow the wrong orange sign.  At one point we were on wide, easily managed trails and slowly the wheels turned, and we realized that something was just not right.  By the time I finally burst into the clearing, time was up and I had not made it.

That dejected feeling was horrible!  I had not finished where I always expected to finish.  I always expect to finish, I always see that in myself, but it does not always happen.  I hate to admit it, but as my own harshest critic, things definitely do not always go my way, and I fall short of where I know I can be.  Maybe it is fear, maybe it is physical unpreparedness, maybe it is mental unpreparedness, maybe it is just a little bit of everything, but there is always a lesson to be learned in defeat.  The weakness that you feel in that dark moment can propel some of the greatest successes in your career.  You may not win all the time, and every mile may not be your most brilliant; however, all the work that you put in, all the sweat, all the time, all the effort leads to something great.  As the Nike ad says, "There is no finish line."  All the practice leads to a race, the race gives you an experience, that experience leads you somewhere great, and that somewhere great keeps going and going and going, taking you to races and experiences far in the future.

Derrick Coleman was not going to let the called names in the draft keep him from his dream of getting into the NFL, no matter how it eventually happened.  One failure was not enough to keep him from a team, this roadblock was not the first he had encountered, nor would it be his last, and he stared it down like the enemy within and broke the barrier like no other.  In the words o Derrick himself, "You can always make something work if you really put your mind to it."  He had his mind set on NFL sights, and after dedicating more time and hard work to his mission, he made it onto the Seahawks practice squad.  His mother said, "You know this will not be easy for you," to which he responded, "Mom, when has it ever been easy?"  Eventually he worked his way to the starting lineup as full back, the first deaf full back in NFL offensive history, and his success is proof and inspiration that if at first you do not succeed, try again.  If you do not succeed that time, then just put your mind to it and keep trying, because you are never out of the fight.  There is no finish line that defines you because if you are constantly trying to challenge yourself and grow, there will always be new horizons to reach for.  

That race I failed to complete, the 2011 North Face Endurance Challenge Gore Tex 50 Mile Georgia, did not stop me from coming back in 2013.  I came back more determined than ever and I came back for a personal victory.  I was prepared to run with my heart, I had trained through the blood, sweat, tears, doubt, and fears, and I returned in 2013 for a second go of it.  The day started slow, but I was determined to show the trail who was boss.  Belief can change your world, and it changed mine that day.  I left it all out on the course and finished a long, hot humid day with a finish in 13:32:44 (chip time).  Every champion has a past, and every loser has a future, and in that day, in that moment, I was a champion.  One defeat could not stop me, no one race was going to define me and it would not tell me what I could and could not be.  Thomas Edison said, "If I find 10,000 ways something won't work, I haven't failed.  I am not discouraged, because every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward."  It worked for me, it worked for Edison, and it worked for Derrick Coleman, and I encourage everyone to try it, KEEP MOVING FORWARD.

http://results.bazumedia.com/athlete/index/e/5470214

http://www.seahawks.com/

http://www.seahawks.com/team/roster/Derrick-Coleman/0d83f6ed-6b5c-4647-8a6c-8653bec2a21f

I do not own the videos or the pictures or anything, just got them off the internet.

Read, share, love, and comment, and as always, thank you for reading!

I can't tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start. . . . New Year 2014

I am somewhat sure that I might not be good at a lot of things . . . . .
No, screw that, I KNOW that I am not good at a lot of things.  While I have a high level of personal fitness, and have since my days at Berry College, and an almost ethereal connection to running, this "revelation" of sorts makes me recall the time that I was tasked with playing an intramural game of basketball.  One girl had called out sick last minute and the student coach was a friend of mine.  His reasoning and logic were, due to my fitness level, that I must have a natural basketball talent hidden somewhere.  While running is my forte, his assumption was severely erroneous as I lack serious skills in the fast paced manual dexterity department, on top of having absolutely no idea how to play the game.  I walked into the gym and had to laugh at the site of the coach, in a non serious game of intramural basketball, in which he had mistakenly picked the wrong ringer, he was dressed in a plaid suit, complete with a tie.  It was good to know that he took this job seriously.  From the time of the ball tip, it was clear to every spectator in the stands, and there were a lot, with their eyes closed and turned around backwards, that I was one of the worst players there.  That was when, neither the crowd nor I could believe, that I got a breakaway with the ball.  I was dribbling down the court and no one could stop me!  They could not even keep up, my running skills were coming in handy!  I was moving down the court, planning my WNBA future on that breakaway high . . . . . only to hear a whistle blow.  I was being penalized for going the wrong way with the ball.  I was as embarrassed as the time that my future husband met my mother on our first date at 3 a.m. in the driveway in her pajamas, we are talking cheeks so bright red that you might have thought I was sun burnt.  It was only a couple of seconds later that my time on the court was over and I took to my new position, warming up the left bench.  Since those days, I have become a better basketball player; however, the point of the story is that everyone starts somewhere.  While natural talent may be more clear in some than others, fundamentals are the building blocks of fun, and it often takes starting with the fundamentals, and building upon them to create something great.  Running is a sport where everyone starts somewhere, competing against themselves.  Some start at a young age with a great talent, like Meb Keflizighi.  Some start walking and push themselves through intervals to reach a goal race.  It makes every single person who gets out there and gives it a brave effort good at what they try.  You are competing against your fears and doubts that you have, your previous times and performances, to make something better of yourself.  It is 2014 now, and in a new year of new beginnings, it is hard to go further if you do not know where you have come from and where you have been.

Running started for me as a way to transport myself to Chick Fil A for some glorious sweet tea when I was too poor to afford the gas to drive there.  I honestly had no idea how far it was from the house, it was a simple take off and run sort of thing.  Sweet tea and Chick Fil A is worth the run for the soreness I would feel later, right?  I was also doing it to keep up with another little sister.  I mean, I have always done running to accomplish something for myself, but seeing her on the road, just kicking butt and plugging away, making friends and honing her skill, I wanted that for myself.  She had talent, speed, grace, and agility, and believe me I have spent a lifetime trying to catch up to my three ambitious and talented little sisters so I would know.  She was doing the Atlanta Half Marathon and, with the promised of a medal, and lets face it, who doesn't like getting a medal?, I signed up for the Georgia Half Marathon the following spring.  I spent my days on the road traversing up and down the hills near my house, in and out of the trails at the parks, and come race day, with shoes too small, I was ready.  My little sister was there for the full marathon, her first, and I was determined, with my heart undaunted, to finish my first half marathon.  I swear it was longer and harder than the 13.1 I had envisioned in my head, but hey, aren't they all?  Nothing in racing ever seems to go exactly according to plan, but in the end, when we cross the finish, we are grateful for having done so.

After that race, I spent a year doing half marathons, circling back to the Atlanta Half Marathon towards the end of the year, and to this day, it remains one of my favorite races.  It does not matter whether the weather is bad or its cold and freezing, some 6,000 people will still show up for that race on Thanksgiving morning and triumph over the extra long turkey trot.  It took a few races, but eventually I had one good race effort that lead to me barely squeaking by my little sister's half marathon PR.  

Since one goal was accomplished, a new goal had to be set.  Completing a marathon, which I assumed would only be twice as hard, was where I set my sights.  In the process, I barely finished one twenty mile run on the roads around my home, but still remained optimistic in terms of what I could achieve in the long distance race.  I made friends with one of the best running buddies I have and together we went to the race.  She finished in fantastic fashion, qualifying for Boston yet again, and I limped in blister, bruises, and all barely on my own two feet.  

People sometimes ask me, after my various marathoning experiences, what I would change or if there is any advice that I could give them.  After the magnitudinal pain of the first one, I always say, "Do not, under any circumstances, forget the body glide!"  I will never forget that first marathon, the bad weather, and the horrendous chafing on my thighs.  I will never forget that first experience, but I am grateful for it, because I will now and forevermore never forget that important tool that helps me to stay chafe and blister free throughout most races.  I still have not caught up to my little sister's marathon PR, like I said, she's both talented and fast, but, I am on my way there.  

Around the time that I started running marathons, my little sister was eyeing ultra marathons.  People always tell me, "Never say never," and they would be right because doing it once usually leads to doing it once more, and once more, till you have a whole wall full of accomplishments to display and be proud of.  When I began to run, I never saw myself running ultras, I never even saw myself running marathons.  To me, it was too much, too much time, too much training, too specialized, just plain too much of everything to make it worth my while.  Still, something got into me and I thought, "Just one 50k, just to say I have done an ultra."  The Georgia Jewel, in its first year, was both easy to access and easy to run and train for.  I enjoyed it, aghast that the human body, especially my human body, could have traveled so far.  It may seem unnatural to some, but my heart is in what I do and while a lot of things can be explained away, the desires and determinations of the heart cannot be explained away.  Something about being able to endure and last has me ensconced and makes me feel so alive.  Sure they are hard, and challenging, but in challenging what is hard we tend to find out more about ourselves than we previously thought we knew.

So the story goes, and the legend is still being written.  When I started running, I thought that there was nothing more to my tale than half marathons in too small shoes and marathons in cotton socks with bloody thighs.  I was an ordinary person, just trying something new, never knowing where it would take me or what it would do for me.  I never thought it would take me any further than local races around my hometown.  Today, I am still an ordinary person who mostly races around her hometown and runs with friends and enjoys herself; however, because I wanted to challenge myself and try something different, I have done more than I ever thought possible.  I am not super fast, and I will probably never win, but in going about doing what I love, and adhering to the "No Weakness, No Limits" rule, I have achieved so much, with so much left to do.

This is a new year, 2014, and with it come new resolutions and standards that I hold myself to: 

1) Qualify for Western States 100 (my dream)

2) Run an Ironman (I have never done one before, and just want the chance to prove myself)

3) Finish top 3 at the Tough Mudder and Spartan Races in Georgia (finished top 10 at Spartan last year and running my first Tough Mudder this year)

4) Stay organized and keep the house clean (I admit I am not a neat freak and cleaning is not "fun" for me)

5) Reduce body fat to an already specified number (helps in some of my other New Year's resolutions)

6) Be able to do a pull up and a muscle up (while I have upper body strength, I have never been able to do either one of these) 

7) Finally climb that rope at Spartan Race (my hardest obstacle at every Spartan Race, stupid rope I will defeat you this year)      

8) Finish my personal trainer certification and either get a job with it or start my own business helping people reach their goals (I have put a lot of work into this and hopefully will be successful in my pursuits)  

The point of my resolutions are to take me further than I have gone before, and because I know where I started and place the no limits standard upon myself, I know that I will achieve every last one of these goals and more.  I intend to challenge myself and go places, just like everyone who reads this, because I know I can (and I bet you can too)!  Go out and make 2014 your best yet!

"The price of success is hard work, dedication to the job at hand, and the determination that whether we win or lose, we have applied the best of ourselves to the task at hand." - Vince Lombardi

Chasing Western States

Nervous as hell at the start, I leaned down to adjust my calf sleeves one more time.  I did not know anyone here, but I knew of the big names that I had only heard of.  They were titans to me, and today I would be running in their tracks.  I asked Allen to check my pack one more time, I always question if I left a zipper undone!  The litany of questions began to race through my mind: How much snow would I encounter this year?  How hot would it get?  How would I deal with the altitude adjustments?  How would I even perform today?  I had no chance of winning, but this was my dream to be here, and I was not going home without a finish.  Today is the day that I would give it everything I had.  Every once in a while a human becomes so imbued with a dream that they feel they must attain; it becomes a life mission to go about chasing that dream.  For a few years now, I have been chasing Western States, my castle in the air.

Back in the day, a young Gordon Ainsleigh, unknowingly started a movement of such epic proportions that it would become one of the most sought after ultramarathons due to its historically enduring qualities as well as its notoriety.  Existing since that first historic run, in 1974, proving that humans could indeed traverse 100 miles within a strenuous 24 hour time limit, born out of the Tevis Cup 100 Mile Ride, this has been a race that has made runners and broken runners, built dreams and broken dreams, and made men/women out of boys/girls.  It has become legend and will forever live on in immortal words.

Back in 1974, Gordon Ainsleigh, who had finished the 1971 and 1972 Tevis Cup Rides, was planning on competing once again.  However, in a moment of concise weakness, he gave his top ride, Rebel, away to a girlfriend.  His backup horse went lame in the 1973 Ride so, at a loss as to what he should do, and encouraged by a fellow Tevis Ride competitor, he decided to make the journey on foot.  He did not take this duty lightly, wanting to prove himself and accomplish the goal in epic fashion, he trained relentlessly, running the final forty miles of the trail, four times, in merciless 100 degree heat, in the six weeks preceding the race, much like the way he trained his horses to take on the challenge.  Come race day, "Gordy," toed the line with his four legged and two legged competitors with a goal in mind, to reach Auburn, California in less than twenty four hours, the same task the horses and riders were aiming to accomplish.

The people at the end were looking for him, watching and waiting, and as the clock ticked down to the cutoff, the doubts of many were so gullibly confirmed.  There was not much time left, yet there were still a few spectators lingering, searching the horizon, praying for his safe arrival, when all of the sudden, he burst from the trail, arriving in Auburn. . . . . just eighteen minutes under the twenty four hour time requirement.  To the amazement of everyone, he did it!  Gordon "Gordy" Ainsleigh, had chased down the impossible and become a legend in his own right, starting the movement that people would carry on for years to come.

 There is never the "right time" to do a great thing; Gordon Ainsleigh created the perfect time and the perfect opportunity and situation, and suffered through that first run, so that others could follow in his phenomenal footsteps, wanting to do the same.  Greatness is a lot of small things done well, and mile after mile, blister after blister, and doubt after doubt, embracing pain and running with heart, facing the possibility of failure, the Western States Endurance Run is the dream of many, started by only one man.  Three years later, in 1977, the first official Western States Endurance Run began in conjunction with the Tevis Cup Ride.  Runners were monitored by a doctor who set up stations at the veterinary stops for horses, and runners were responsible for everything except water.  In the following year, interest in such mythical feats of endurance increased, and with the help of the newly created board for the Western States Endurance Run, Western States began an event, and a life, of its own.  1978 also saw the magnificent finish of the first female in under thirty hours!  Back then, Western States was the only run of its kind.  It piqued the interest of daredevils and endurance athletes alike and was the start of something much greater than one race, it was the start of a movement and the beginning of an epic legend so great, it could only best be told through experience of the race itself.

Huffing and puffing, along a mostly flat, nine mile route, I was headed to Chick Fil A, my turn around/bathroom break.  I had started reading the book, "Ultramarathon Man," by Dean Karnazes, and had become ultra inspired. . . . . to run my first half marathon.  No way in heaven could I ever run an ultramarathon, but I could do 13.1, right?  My little sister was running the Atlanta Half Marathon in the upcoming weeks, and in typical Golden family fashion, it became a lethal competition of, "Anything you can do, I can do better."  I was just the older sister, trying to keep up with a younger sister's speed, grace, and agility.  She made running look so easy!  Little did I know, what began with a simple wish and effort to run, and try to be better than someone else (keep in mind I said try there), would balloon into much greater desires to get into one of the greatest ultra races in history, embarking upon a journey of self discovery and breaking through every barrier that exists.  I was running to discover that I have no limits, they simply do not exist and I will not allow them.  To go any further than a half marathon seemed crazy, though I secretly relished the idea of pushing limits, tromping through the woods at night, and suffering through spastic up and down hills all day, only to reach a finish line that was not really a finish line, just the early start of something much more.  Today, however, I was simply running to Chick Fil A for sweet tea and a halfway bathroom break, 4.5 miles out, and 4.5 miles back.
Flash forward two and a half years, and I was toeing the start line of an all too uncertain first year of the Georgia Jewel.  That first long run of 9 miles to Chick Fil A and back seemed like a whole lifetime ago.  I was at my first ultramarathon, but I was already looking to days of future finish lines ahead, and I was not just chasing my first ultramarathon, I was chasing the legendary Western States.  In my mind, I was not just running 35 miles on the Georgia section of the Pinhoti, I was running my heart out so that one day I could be at the starting line in Squaw Valley.  I had to make it happen.  That day resulted in tripping, falling, pulling myself back up, getting to the finish, and learning that I had the ability to grow and be better tomorrow than I was today.  Greatness, getting to Western States, is a lot of small things done well, race after race.  I may not be able to qualify for the right to enter the lottery with that race, but it was a simple building block that would lead me to a race that would get me there.  There is no finish line in my book, I am just crossing a physical line, that will lead me to another line, that will eventually get me there.

That year, I was signed up for two races, two fifty milers, that could have made me one of the youngest Western States Lottery Entries ever, but ended in heartbreaking failure.  I never thought I would ever not finish, I never thought the three ominous letters, DNF would find themselves next to my name, but they did.  Part of learning to be good at something is also learning how you can fail at something.  I failed to finish those races and it was painful, it hurt, it made me feel like a loser.  Those races did not count on one thing, I have drive and determination, and while it takes zero drive and determination to stay down and accept defeat, I was coming back and defeating both of them.  Part of me being able to do ultras is that I can face the possibility of failure, but I cannot accept it.  Two years later, under tough conditions of both heat and humidity and freezing and rain, I came back to the North Face Endurance Challenge Gore Tex 50 Miler Georgia, and the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler.  I came back and battled everything I had to doubt and the possibility of failure, only to come out on top with finishes.  I did not qualify in these two races, but my confidence in the future of qualifying for Western States was ultimately bolstered by finishing where I did not know I could.  The thought of qualifying for Western States, my dream, was the reason that I had to come back to these races.  My qualifying finish is out there somewhere, all I need to do is act upon it.

Day after day I run, and I hold on to the fact that being able to embrace the pain will be a part of my pride in the achievement of getting to Western States.  There are 86,400 seconds in a day and I do not spend all of them running, but I must spend all of them defeating the enemy within, fighting for it, working day and night for it, getting out there so I can get to Western States one day.  Throughout this post I have quoted Ray Lewis by saying, "Greatness is a lot of small things done well," and I know that everyday of work I put in, everyday of effort, excellence, and action in what I do, will build up to an eventual Western States berth.  I am not there yet, but I will be, because day after day I work towards my goal.  There is never a perfect moment or timing, but that is why I work towards it everyday, so i can created the perfect moment, opportunity, and situation.  I am so far out of my comfort zone, and no one can do this but me.  It will take me being something phenomenal, and getting there has everything to do with me; I will make it a reality.  What are you going to let drive you, what are you going to do with your time?  I am chasing Western States.

   (as a disclaimer, i do not own the video, the pictures, or the historic story of western states.  The pictures were pulled off the internet and western states website while the historic story was pulled off Western States website and as told by Gordon Ainsleigh himself).

The Run of a Lifetime at the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler

As the truck rolled up to the start line, I shivered with excitement at the thought of what lay ahead.  A terrifying 50 Mile run on Lookout Mountain that had defeated me once before.  The weather was brutal as mother nature had dealt us a great hand that day, and she posed a serious threat to what many hope would be a brilliant athletic feat that day.  The torrential rain kept washing down on us and it was not relenting, the wind kept beating us against the mountain, but there was one thing that mother nature did not count on.  Undaunted and unphased by many "normal" obstacles, ultra runners do not go home or give up without a fight, and as far as I was concerned, the fight was on!  As we parked and I started rummaging around for my gear, my mind flashed back to my other lengthy battle of the mental kind that had recently come to an exhilarating end.
I had never been much for academia, God knows I hated to sit down and spend hours listening to one more professor lecture for eternity on endless topics.  I did not want to be here, my motivation had waned since I was an eighteen year old college freshman, and when twenty five hits, well still being in college felt a little old.  I felt defeated that I was still here, weak and vulnerable, and I quite frankly did not want to attend college anymore.  I was no good at "learning stuff".  There were three people who pushed me to continue, as they did in all my races, motivating and working with me to receive my degree, my mom, my dad, and my husband.  I think it was fitting that I started running ultramarathons when I began the end of my college journey at Georgia Gwinnett College, and it was fitting that I was celebrating my long awaited graduation with yet another run at personal glory.  As I sat back and tried to bring my mind to focus on the task that lay before me, I was also breathing a sigh of relief at graduating college with my degree, and thanking my lucky stars that I had made it all this way.  After weathering the ultramarathon that is college, it was appropriate that I end my experience with a race that had defeated me before, and return to finish it.
I sidled up to the mud puddle of a start line to get the shoes that I was borrowing from the Salomon rep, the Fell Raisers.  It goes against everything in my being to try new shoes out in a race, but this day was making the mountain slush and I figured it could not hurt to try something new.  I ran back to the car to avoid getting soaked by waiting out in the rain.  I kept fretting about the start our day had gotten off to, flat tire, dog getting loose.  Sharpening my mind to laser focus on getting through this race on my own two feet seemed like an impossible task.  I could not help but wonder how this would all go down.  My husband offered reassuring words, but I silently brushed them off.  Before I knew it, it was go time, and my family, my husband, and I reluctantly shuffled to the soggy start that was the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler of 2013.

Randy Whorton, the ultra fabulous RD, of the Rock/Creek Race Series gave us final instructions while final pre race pics were being snapped, and everyone gathered in a nervous, electrifying bunch at the start.  You could feel the excitement in the air, race day was finally here!  In just mere seconds, the hammer would drop and the runners would be off, hoping to finish out this nasty day with a personal win.  Just like that, the herd disappeared into the woods, crossed the road, and headed off behind Covenant College for our journey down the mountain.
It all starts with a winding road behind Covenant College that disappears onto technical single track, which leads out to the bluffs trail.  At this point in the race, everyone is still bunched together and passing is difficult, it is easier to settle into a pace and wait for things to thin out.  The trail was made more technical by practically being underwater.  Never mind the rocks, roots, and steep creeks, the dirt was so wet it was slippery and we had to watch our step.  This is the first year that they had rerouted the course around a rock slide on the mountain that blocked the old course, preventing us from going that way.  It is at this point where it could be extremely scenic, but there was so much fog, that we could not see off the mountain and into the valley below.  This helped since we all needed to focus on our running and where we were placing our feet.  Small conversations were struck up while making our way to Craven's House, but people were quiet for the most part.  Upon arriving at Aid Station 1, Craven's House, there was loud, raucous, welcoming cheer.  We were all soaking, freezing wet and the cheer was much welcomed.  This was the hardest aid station to navigate because of the jumble of bodies that were scrambling for food and water.  I, not having any food, grabbed some Fig Newtons and got out of there.  So far so good, aid 1 down, but many more to go.
This race provides lots of opportunity to run with someone, and much of it is runnable, but I was by myself for most of it.  I offered encouragement to passing runners, and the runners I passed, but I was flying solo on the trails today, in my own zone.
At Aid 2, I ran into Kris Whorton, the wife of RD Randy Whorton, whose exuberance was uplifting.  She was talking and filling cups with M&M peanuts.  I am pretty sure my unintelligible speech, made so by a mouth full of Peanut M&M's, meant next to nothing but she still nodded, smiled, laughed, and encouraged us to press on.  Aid Station 2 had an entrance and exit on asphalt road, but the exit was brief, leading us straight back to the single track, which began to get grueling.  We just spent 14 miles running down the mountain, and it was only going to take 8 to get back to the top and the start/finish line at Covenant College.  While not extremely difficult in terms of incline and terrain, it is a good thing this is tackled early on in the race.  I felt like this was the first real place where I needed to walk, but I kept in mind that I had to maintain a good pace so that I could arrive at the top in plenty of time to change to dry clothes and forge on to the other side of Lookout.  This is another point where the view could be incredible, but again, the weather was unfortunately against us with thick blankets of fog and the heart dampening rain that ensued upon us.  Once the initial climb was over, we were constantly conquering switchbacks and every time it seemed that we were going up, we started going down again.  There was no general concept of where we were on the mountain and how far up we had gone.  I would not have minded so much if my bottle belt was not rubbing holes in my sides the size of Lake Lanier.  I was simultaneously battling the cold, the wet, and a rubbing bottle belt and it was enough to drive my mind crazy, until the stairs appeared out of the fog that led us back to Covenant.

I was so happy to be back on top of Lookout because I had my first real opportunity to see my husband, Allen, and my dog, Samson, and be lavished with new, dry gear.  I half expected Allen not to be there because I came into the slightly halfway point well under my predicted time in roughly 4:37.  As I rounded the corner, the black coat of my rescue mix dog, Samson, was unmistakable and as I called his name, both their heads turned.  Allen congratulated my current race success, changed my bottle belt for my camelbak, got me fresh socks, fresh clothes, fresh water, fresh food (okay, m&m's don't count as fresh food, but it was good to me).  I braced myself for what lay ahead, and took off once again, looking forward to the next point when I would see them both, at Long Branch. 
The following miles, leading down to the Lula Lake Land Trust were the first in which we encountered serious mud.  Right off the start/finish we had a mud laced field, and about a mile away from that, under the power lines, we had another section that many racers were calling the "mud fields."  These sections were practically calf to knee deep in slippery, sliding, gooey mud.  Even in good shoes people could barely gain enough traction to get them up and over some of the hills.  Those who had unfortunately chosen to wear road shoes were clearly having a rough go of it.  At this point, coming down the mountain, before hitting Lula Lake, I had a nice, easy, settled pace going that moved me right along.  I was humming the "Indiana Jones" theme song and just keeping to myself, even passing a few people, when I all of the sudden tripped and fell...hard.  It was here that I felt the first twinges of pain in my left knee.  Never before had I experienced knee issues, but I was beginning to feel my body rebelling against me.  Running uphill became a lot more difficult, and running downhill was manageable at best.  Gritting my teeth and bracing myself  was the best way of coping because I had a lot further to go.  I was over the halfway hump, but I was not down to the single digit miles, and I needed to keep moving.  When arriving at Lula Lake, you hear the noise of running water, and you all of the sudden see these beautiful waterfalls.  When I say beautiful, I mean the best part of our whole day!  Absolutely breathtaking to watch the water cascade over the rocks and fill the pools below.  This was one of the best picture spots of our entire day.  At this aid station, we encountered a sweet little four legged cheer dog name Charger.  He was so excited, running back and forth, here and there, greeting us and telling us goodbye when all of the sudden, there was no Charger.  His owner, not knowing where he went, ran off looking for him but to no avail.  He was gone, and so were we. 
We took off for the most vertical part of the race, and fortunately the runners had spread out here.  Once you turn off the dirt road of lula lake land trust, you encounter a steep climb through which you pull yourself up by ropes tied between trees.  During the day, no problem, even fun; however, at night, it is down right scary looking straight down and not wanting to fall.  On top of Lula Lake I was really beginning to suffer with that knee problem, but I followed Ultra Runner logic in thinking, "I've run more than halfway, there's no way I'm going home now."  On top of Lula Lake, there are beautiful views, once again clouded by the terrible weather, but there was an even better view that we did not expect, it was the lost dog Charger!  Not wanting to turn back, and not knowing what else to do, we told him to come with us, and he did!  He ran all four miles to Long Branch, even staying in the shoulder of the road when we got there so as to avoid cars.  When arriving at Long Branch, we delivered Charger to a very excited/worried Kris Whorton who scooped him up into her car to deliver him to a worried sick owner.  Poor boy got lost and needed his momma, and luckily he went home safe.  It was nice having Charger run along with us, his exuberant, "Do you know where my momma is face?," helped to keep me going, and knowing he was going home safe set my mind at ease as well. 
Long Branch version one, was an opportunity to see Allen and Samson again!  I was finally starting to tire, my knee hurt, shoes and socks were very wet, and I was just beginning to become physically and mentally depleted.  I used my MuscleTrack to rejuvenate my worn muscles, sipped on some Ramen noodles, ate some trail mix, gave Samson a hug and Allen a kiss, and headed up the trail, well under the time cutoff.  This next four miles would be a strain, but was some of the most runnable of the entire course.  It was a small four mile loop that encircled private property and allowed to see the beautiful homes of the Long Branch loop.  These gorgeous homes took my mind off how bad I was starting to feel, seeing the architecture and craftsmanship.  I slightly went off course when I followed the road to the trail, instead of the trail, missing the guide flags on the ground.  I dared to hope that I would finish this race, and when the end of the loop was in sight, I knew that the finish was in my grasp and I was going home.  As the people in the camping chairs were cheering, so it ran through my mind, "12 more miles!," on and on.   
Just like in my academic career, after failing three finance classes, before finally passing a fourth, and being cleared to take capstone, I was on my way to the end.  I cannot explain how frustrating my battle with numbers and math is, but we just do not mix, and that volatility spilled over into my problems with finance class.  While I have great experience in reaching people, developing a sheet of numbers was so far from my forte, it was like trying to see the top of Everest on a cloudy day.  Finally passing that fourth finance class, and moving on to my final two classes, Capstone and Promotion, made me see that the end was finally in sight.  I knew I had two more classes to go and I knew I was going to graduate college.  Finishing this race was something I could do because I was determined to finish and it was within me to finish, just like graduating college.  I was hurting, but as an ultra runner I have learned to have a little bit of gumption, which means the character to commit and complete.  Ultra Runners never give up, not on anything, I had the character to commit to the race, but the evidence that I committed to this race would be found when I crossed the finish line and completed this race.  It was time to dig, dig deep within, and find the gumption to complete.

Many runners had dropped or already gone on to the finish, and I was by myself so I finally picked up my ipod to keep me company and began jamming out to anything that would keep my spirits high.  Most people would be surprised that I have just about everything from "Ode to Joy," by Beethoven, to "Amazing Grace," by Chris Tomlin, to "Timber," by Pitbull.  Keeping a steady flow of random music keeps me calm and keeps me excited.  Night was beginning to fall and I was rushing to get to the top of Lula Lake Land Trust by nightfall, and optimistically to the section of ropes by full darkness.  I was now racing against time to finish, and avoid as much of the night as possible.  I reached the top of Lula Lake by the time it started to get really dark, but then I began to have more problems.  My headlamp was dim and I did not know why.  I was certain I had checked it before leaving the hotel.  My knee hurt even worse and was progressively sliding downhill, and with the eminent fall of night, the mind games began to play rampantly.  I heard noises that were not there and saw things move that did not exist.  I was in the woods, at night, alone, and I was rushing to get back to Lula Lake, and the safety and comfort of the aid station.  Reaching the ropes faster than I expected, right as the sun was eking out its last stretches of comforting light, I slowly lowered myself down to the dirt road.  Coming into the aid station was a welcome relief.  There was food, drink, hot soup, and the last bit of encouragement before we were to reach the finish.  I was beginning to chat with others as we took off for the promised land of the finish line.  I was in a nice four person group just about until we reached the footbridge crossing the creek of Lula Lake.  It was a sight for sore eyes because it was a clue that runners were getting close to Lookout Mountain again.  It was also the start of a very long climb back up the side of Lookout Mountain.  In the day, it is easy to see and hear everything around you, but at night, the trail is hard to find and the woods are cunningly deceptive.  My headlamp was causing me to stumble and fall again and I was most frustrated here.  I was so close and so far all at once in trying to reach the end.  I wanted to finish, but how could I finish if I could not even see where I was going? 
This felt a lot like being in Capstone and playing the business simulation game.  It is hard to see the end, when everything is so confusing in the now.  I wanted to graduate but I had to depend on the help of my team to get me there.  Even though working in teams can be difficult, it is nice to have different people that have different strengths, because putting them together can make the team strong.  Just like being on course at the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler, there were other people who had stronger headlamps that I caught up to that I had to rely on to help get me to the finish. 
My headlamp was virtually no use, and I needed the help of those other runners to get me home, finally emerging from the woods to the power line mud fields, I was so grateful, because we were no more than two miles from the finish.  I was panicked because we barely had the time to get there within the allotted 13 hours to finish.  Luckily the last few miles, once the mud fields were passed, were really runnable, but I had to take stock in the value of time management and hurry my rear end on into the finish.  I was exasperated, was I going to make it or not? 

After a full day of fighting, dragging myself through mud, and mentally giving myself pep talks to carry on I saw something beautiful!  The second set of mud fields!  We were less than half a mile!  I ran/slipped/sloshed through those second sets of muddied fields and was relieved to see Christmas lights.  Christmas lights mean only one thing, the end is near!  I could hear Randy Whorton on the loudspeaker announcing finishers, and I burst into a limping hop a long.  I nearly started to cry!  I emerged from the woods and crossed the finish line in 12:46:22.  Not only had I finished a race that had defeated me before, but I also PR'd in my 50 mile time by nearly an hour!  I felt like I had really accomplished something that day and I was happy to finish!  I leaned over to have a medal hung around my neck, and received my hoodie and pint glass with honor.  In a race that had defeated me soundly before, one I never knew I would finish, I came back and gave it all I had to finish the run of a lifetime at the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler.

       
Nobody should underestimate the impact of finishing a race.  Whether it is five miles or fifty miles, the need to finish is great, and I see no reason to fail when success is offered everyday.  I toughed out a rough and tumble day on course at the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler, and when I thought defeat was eminent, I crossed the finish line.  I also toughed out nearly eight years in college, failing and passing classes, frustrating and enthusiastic, and just when I thought the end would never come, I finished.  When the day seemed darkest, the horizon was just beyond, and the finish was right there.  I see no reason to fail when success is offered everyday.  The races that I have been the most proud of are not the ones that I easily finish, feeling as if I have simply destroyed them.  No, the races I am most proud of are the ones that feel like I have barely eked out because they asked everything of me.  It took all of my being to finish, but regardless of my fears and my doubts and my shortcomings, all lined up like a firing squad to shoot me out of the sky, I finished.  It was within me to finish, I needed to finish but it was purely the determination that lay within that allowed to reach the finish both in college and at the Lookout Mountain 50 Miler. 

Bottom Line: The day was wet and no one can control the weather.  Many people who had finished before said that these were the worst conditions they had seen this race receive in years.  The trails were soggy and difficult to navigate and the mud confounded most runners.  Randy and Kris Whorton and all the sponsors put on an excellent race and they do the best they can to make runners comfortable despite the weather.  The mileage was pretty accurate and the support crew was beyond fantastic.  The food and drink provided were exemplary.  It was well organized, well run, and beautifully executed despite the damper of a weather foul day.  I have nothing but good things to say about these races because they some of the best to run in the SouthEastern United States, bolstered by a strong outdoor running community.  I always recommend running any race in the Rock/Creek Race Series because these trail races are some of the best!  Thank You Wild Trails, Rock/Creek, all the sponsors for 2013, and Randy and Kris Whorton for yet another wonderful season of Rock/Creek race series!