Coaching

Open Water Swim

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

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I did an event this past weekend that combined a 500 M open water swim (lake) and 12 mile bike ride. With my knee not 100% healed for running just yet, I opted for the very elegant sounding aquabike event.

This recent swimming episode started six months ago as ‘I am a supremely pissed-off, injured runner who HAS to be in the damn pool because I can’t run.‘ It’s morphed into ‘I really like swimming, a whole lot.’

I’m as surprised as anyone.

Trust me.

I am afraid of the water and have been my whole life. My friend Kerri reminded me that once upon a time I told her I would never visit Hawaii because it meant flying over water.

While a pool is a contained environment, the idea of an open water swim (OWS) in a lake or ocean takes fear to a new level. I have never been a swimmer and yet knew I wanted to do a triathlon at some point. I have been reminded a bunch of times that swimming is a skill that can be learned. And I have also been reminded that I don’t usually let fear stop me…  So I began over the past few years, with coaches, trying to learn how to swim and manage anxiety around water. I was not gaining endurance or building skill or learning forward momentum in the water; I was simply learning that I have a wicked strong dog paddle and can ‘safety stroke’ through a panic attack while staying in the water.

Plus there’s the whole body image thing that just hangs around like an annoying little sibling shadowing my every move… Right on my butt at all times…. Being seen in a bathing suit is something that once upon a time (for about 20+ years) kept me out of the pool. I’d been made fun of in a bathing suit in high school and the taunt/words/mortification are still easily remembered. I have gotten a WHOLE lot better about being in a bathing suit in public through practice and being around supportive people of all shapes and sizes who are comfy in their own skin. My body works hard and I love her. Yet I would be lying if I denied that those first few moments on the pool deck, in a bathing suit, always increase my heart rate just a touch.

So, all of that background is to say; there has been a whole LOT of focused practice in the water these past six months. Learning endurance, getting over the bathing suit hurdle and learning to like and respect water.

I signed up for the event at the last minute, after thinking about it for 3 months. The tipping point was realizing that once I did the event — I’d have my own opinion and experience to base things off of, instead of a creative cache of ‘worst case scenarios’ playing out like Netflix in my brain.

Got tired of being afraid of a bunch of unproven, unknowns…

Signed up.

Showed up.

Swam.

Loved it.

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When I was wading into the water to start my assigned wave, I acknowledged that the chances of panicking and fleeing for the shore at any moment were fairly decent. I wasn’t being defeatist or negative about it at all. I didn’t start this whole thing with the idea that I would bail. Quite the contrary. I designed a race plan to give myself a little breathing room and grace in a new and scary situation. My fear of water was big. So I made a big, safe plan to help my brain accept and manage the fear.

I mean one of my friends, trying to explain the OWS to me said ‘It is kind of like swimming in a washing machine with maybe one or two pissed off cats thrown into the mix to keep it from being boring’.   That kind of requires a plan. 🙂

Here’s what I was going to do…

  • I would give it my all. ANY stroke that worked to move me forward was fine!
  • At any point and time, ONCE things started, if I panicked or felt unsafe I would flip on my back for a count of ten and breathe.
  • If that didn’t work THEN I could simply swim for shore or swim to a lifeguard and ask to be done.

My only self-imposed rule was that I had to START this thing. No quitting before the gun went off.

Having that safety plan actually made me feel a whole lot braver.

I think I swam some variation/interpretation of every possible legal type of stroke and about 15 made-up strokes. It was a chaotic, messy, funny, rolling shitshow of a swim!  NOTHING perfect about it from a technique standpoint. Not a single thing. I simply swam to keep moving forward no matter what it looked like. All those hours of practicing in the pool and watching videos and being coached on the perfect stroke suddenly seemed HILARIOUS!  This felt like a freaking street fight of a swim where anything was legal and allowed. ‘I’ll see you one free style stroke, with a subtle left hook to get your foot out of my face’ HA! AGAIN – nothing intentional or mean. Just a bunch of forward moving bodies, in close proximity, trying to get back to shore. I was laughing in my head the entire swim.

It was awesome.

I thrived in that chaotic environment in the water. I knew I could roll on my back to breathe – so I never panicked. Not for one moment. It was this glorious, bubbly, mess and we were all trying to get to the buoys and get to the shore.

I came out of the water, almost dead last, smiling and happy and wondering how I would ever go back to the boredom of the pool again.

Back to the pool is exactly where I’m headed. Today. I have so much work I can do to get stronger and build endurance in the water.

I will also acknowledge that the very next time I hit the open water I could in fact panic and wind up swimming for shore or a course lifeguard. I’m keeping my safety plan intact. It worked perfectly.

Every experience in the water is to be respected and I understand that every event experience will be different.

I feel so, so lucky to hit the shore after my first OWS and have loved the experience of being in a competitive, lake environment exceeded ALL my expectations!

Kudos to Best In the West Events (Blair and Staci) for putting on a safe, well-run race that welcomes ALL levels and abilities into the sport.  

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Sierra giving me the ‘you can do this and you’re going to love it!’ pep talk.  I adore this women who crushed her own event this past weekend!

Just START!

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 8 Comments

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Spencer and I started this business, Novo Veritas, over 2 years ago.

I love it.  All of the work and hours and challenges and success.  More and more every day. It’s a hell of a ride, an intense privilege to work with our clients and we’re currently taking this business in directions neither of us ever dreamed possible…

My personal favorite part of the whole business adventure?  The privilege and honor of being invited into someone’s life at a time where their hearts and minds are more than likely vulnerable, ashamed, determined, brave, scared, fierce, focused and much more.  They invite us in.  Trust us with their stories, their history, their fears and deepest hopes.

And then sometimes, if it all works out just right, they even allow us to join their team.

Most of the people we get to work with approach us for one of two basic reasons…

  1. Tell me how to get started.
  2. Be on my team.
  3. (A close 3rd place would be….)  Hold me accountable.

In the past few weeks a handful of people have reached out to me asking how to get started – and how to build their own teams.  The following is a list I created about a year ago and pulled from one of my previous blogs.  And it’s still the advice I give, still what I believe in my heart.

AND it also happens to be the advice I wish I could have listened to when I got started on this journey to change my life.

 

Here’s what I wish I had been told.  And in the cases where I was told; I wish I could have embraced and BELIEVED it…

1. Your weight fluctuates.  Daily. It will go up or down during training.  If you have your period.  If you eat too much salt.  You smelled a cake being baked. The rotation of the earth. 🙂 Sometimes it’s really legit gain because you simply ate too many calories over a period of time. But you have to understand that your weight isn’t stable in the day to day. Not gonna happen. Quit even thinking it’s possible. And you know what?  It isn’t meant to be. You thought you got to a number and stayed there with just a little effort?  That this whole bodyweight thing was simple math and cut and dried?  Uh…  HELL NO.

2. Take measurements.  I really WISH I had known how big my hips or belly or thighs were at my largest.  I didn’t take measurements because — hell — who really wants to know that they have a 90” waist?  You will wish you had those body measurements for reference and reassurance in the process. At any point when you’re feeling ‘fat’, stalled, discouraged or just wondering how far your journey has taken you — you can pull out a tape measure and be assured, well beyond the confines of a stupid scale, that you were NOT gaining anything but muscle or fitness.

3.  Worry is wasted energy.  Spend time looking for solutions and opportunities.

4. And for the love of ALL THAT IS HOLY quit beating yourself up. YOU, who you are at the very CORE of your being, has nothing to do with the number on a scale or the packaging of your body. NOTHING.  Please, oh please, just believe me on this one.  I’m in tears writing this.  I am crying for you and for myself too. Because I know you won’t believe me, you can’t fathom what I’m trying to tell you… This is the last thing you can possibly wrap your mind around when you’ve battled your weight your entire life and a number is staring you in the face — a number you hate.  A number so large you didn’t know the scale went that high. I know that feeling of panicked desperation and hopelessness as well as I know the sound of my own heart beating. Text me, call me, reach out to me and I will spend the rest of my life relentlessly reminding you of your value to our world. And if you can’t believe yourself, then trust that I’m a way better judge of YOUR value than a stupid mechanical piece of crap you bought at Costco.

5. Don’t pick a number for a goal.  (See 1.) Don’t pick a clothing size either. That’s really just another number. Pick a feeling, activity, ability, destination.  You want to climb stairs and not be gulping for air?  You want to feel solidly OK with how you feel in your birthday or bathing suit? 🙂  You want to be able to hike, run, walk, move better….  PICK something that isn’t a transient, essentially meaningless, number.

6. Know that the BIG picture is worth all the little steps, mis-steps, concerns, questions, sacrifices. It’s hard work. It’s worth it.  They’re points of feedback and learning.  And this whole ‘get healthy’ thing is in NO WAY linear.  No way.  There is nothing direct, logical or straight about this path you are on.  And you’re going to be making shit up as you go.

7. Do NOT let that scale dictate your mood to the world.  So you can’t not weigh…  I get that, but we should keep working on that. 🙂   So you step on the scale and it’s up a bit?  DO SOMETHING about it.  Don’t be a bitch. Or walk around like someone ran over your dog. Or have a short fuse with loved ones.  Or start restricting food because you don’t ‘deserve’ to eat. Or start secluding yourself from the people you love because you feel you don’t ‘deserve’ their love or you’re deeply embarrassed. Stop allowing that stupid, effing, scale to affect your mood.  Reach out. You may not have great control over how you feel, but you can ALWAYS choose how you act and react.

8. Please, please, please love on yourself.  And believe in yourself.  Hang tightly to HOPE. Hope is powerful stuff. YOU will do this.  And you can’t see the day, but it’s coming; you will be healthy and happy. Your weight should not be allowed to dictate ANY of that.  You have so much to offer the world.  You’re an aunt.  A sister.  A friend.  A daughter.  A momma. A lot of really, really remarkable things that no one else in the whole entire world can possibly be! We were only given ONE of you. One. Do what you can each day to help yourself get healthy so you can be around and enjoy the life in front of you.

9.  This isn’t a short-term investment.  Trust the process. Life-time commitment. You will look at something daily and judge it as not moving, plateaued, failing.  HANG ON and look at this from the 3,000 foot view, look at this from a 365-day investment. You will see growth.  YOU WILL.  Really!  Keep at it.  You didn’t gain the weight over night.  You will not lose it overnight. Trite and irritating – but TRUE.

10. One of my favorite songs is ‘Live Like You Were Dying’ by Tim McGraw.  If you are like me you’re living this weight loss journey with a lot of fear.  Fear of going backwards.  Fear of judgement.  Fear of FAILURE…  The ‘what if’s’ can paralyze you…  Holy smokes.  The fear you have embraced and live with could choke an elephant. What if you could just enjoy the journey for what it was and live each day like you are trying to be your very best? Living like you’re dying doesn’t mean you live with no consequences for your choices.  It means you accept each day, each moment for what it is and keep moving toward the goal you want to reach…  (And for back-up… See this video by Brene Brown.)

Trust the process.

Keep moving forward.

Love on yourself.

Happy trails. 🙂

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Zion 100 miler and chasing a finish line…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments

17523124_10154763997078423_2477238029137083914_n.jpgI trained for the Zion 100 miler. This past Friday/Saturday I ran 75ish miles of the race.

On their official race list I am what they call a ‘DNF’.  Did Not Finish.  It means that I toed the start line and never crossed the official finish line.

But life isn’t really about finish lines right..?  

It’s about the journey.

It’s about living the dash.

It’s about learning and growing and moving and loving — not just about arriving.

This was a vivid and forceful reminder that I need to spend more time and effort just enjoying the journey.

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Hannah, Matt, Spence. So many sappy, heart-felt emotions when thinking about these 3 souls.  

I have no idea who the quote or idea is truly attributed to – but it’s common advice given to those embarking on these monster events that you run the first 1/3 with your legs, the second 1/3 with your brain and the third 1/3 with your heart.

I think I used a lot more heart this time.

While you can run these buggers unassisted, I live for the moments when I can see my crew and meet new friends.  This sport, for me, is the ultimate team effort.

I am proud of what I did, how I raced, problem-solved and stayed calm.  I am also proud of how I accepted the results when it became painfully obvious halfway down Gooseberry Mesa that we couldn’t make the cutoff to the next aid station.

I didn’t cross the finish line, but I won big in some very important ways.

The terrain was tough and there were some challenges. It’s an ultra and if you aren’t ready for tough or challenges or fear or pain or being humbled — um… You have likely picked the wrong sport.

Examples?

I reached an aid station that had run out of water, as I had, during the heat of the day.  I got lost navigating around on some of the endless slick rock in the daylight.  Got lost again with my trail sister/pacer Hannah on the rim of another mesa about 1 AM along with about 5 other people; and Hannah saved us all with her quick legs and sharp mind.  I started getting hot spots on my feet — that would turn to blisters — around mile 3 of the race.  There were fierce gusting winds that almost blew me over and I weighed close to 190 pounds on race day.

I want to share, in random order, some of the things this ultra schooled me on…

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Mile 53.  So excited to see crew.  I got to pick up my pacer Hannah, I would no longer be running alone in the dark.

76 miles is still a long freaking way to run.

Running a race in smaller segments, mentally, is the ticket for me.  Thank you Andrew and Spencer for that racing trick. I raced 13 mini-races, within one single race.  My strategy was to get from aid station to aid station and then focus on the best strategy to get to the next aid station.

Cactus are assholes of the plant world. 

Coke is amazing, soul-saving liquid when you’re racing. Followed closely by watermelon with salt, pickles, cheese quesadillas.  BUT not all together.  Especially the pickles and coke. That was a mistake.

If you are pooping in the middle of the desert and following trail etiquette by being off course 100 feet or more, facing your bum away from your fellow approaching runners….  It does NOT mean that an entire pack of mountain bikers won’t come right up behind you.  Literally.   They, nor I, will ever be the same for the experience.

My brain is my biggest enemy.  I have to stay alert to her shenanigans.  She can be cranky, sneaky, mean.  They only person ever doubting my ability to do this race, was me.  Not Spencer, Hannah or Matt.  Or any of my beloved running friends.  Or any of the bazillion kind souls who sent texts, called, emailed, FB’ed me…  Just my brain.  And I am getting better and better at shutting that crap down, ignoring it or re-directing my thinking.  So much better.

*Sap alert*.  We are better people when we have strong, smart, caring, loving friends in our life.  We just are.  We might have one or two or fifty.  Number doesn’t matter, quality does.   Friends.  That’s what this is all about for me.   17861839_10155965230531258_4199045014150158133_n.jpg

I trained hard, raced well, fought hard, dug deep, did all the right things that I knew to do.  Our crew was spectacular. And I can honestly say the results were better than the belt buckle I thought I was chasing…  This course taught me some crazy cool lessons about what I’m doing right and where I can get stronger if I choose to commit to the work. I didn’t get injured.  I live to train and race another day. This race was a win on so many levels.  

I fought my head hard for the first 35 miles. Around mile three we had hit a narrow segment on the steep single track that required about a 20 minute slow down. Ok.  Actually it was a total stop; stood in line on the face of a mesa and chatted with my new friends.  (We had a rope assist up a chunk of the trail that all 250(?) of us were waiting to use… One at a time.) And we had the same traffic jam on the way back off the Flying Monkey Mesa.  For those who race — you’re doing the math… Yeah.  When you are up against time cut offs from the start line, like I am…  That bottle-neck took AWAY any of the margin I was planning and working to build. By mile 3 I was already in head games about cutoffs and not having any breathing space in my race plan.  It hit me HARD.  By mile 3 of this race I was seriously thinking I needed to just quit and was already fighting off tears.  GOOD LORD. My head had a list of reasons why I should just quit and stop for just about every step of the first 35 miles of the course.  I KNOW that when you get in a ‘low’ (moment of fear or doubt or apathy)  you KEEP MOVING.  So I kept moving according to plan while I fought with my pissed off brain. Getting that far behind that early in the race was a serious mental road block that I battled for 12+ hours.  But I didn’t quit… I did NOT QUIT and this right here is probably my biggest win of the race…  Because all I wanted to do was quit.  And I didn’t.

When a near-by runner tells you they feel like they’re going to throw-up, trust their judgement and get out of the way.

When something starts to nag at you — take care of it the best you can because it’s only going to be magnified with miles.  Take the moment and fix it.  So…  I was getting blisters by mile 3.  In the past I would have kept going figuring I didn’t have the time to spare and I could manage the pain.  Spencer and I actually talked about this pre-race; he reminded me that as crew they would make the call and I was to go along with their call if they were working in my best interest.  The example he actually used was about shoes and correcting whatever was wrong with them at the first point I noticed them.  I’m notorious for trying to ignore the nagging — when it’s something FIXABLE and have created some bad situations for myself and my feet.  THIS TIME I think I shocked Spencer when I cruised into mile 15 and asked to stop, change socks and shoes.  While blisters were kind of my downfall at the end of the day, I KNOW FOR CERTAIN I bought a hell of a lot more mileage by trying to take care of things early — when they presented themselves.  BIG lesson for this mop-top trail runner in patience and paying attention to what my body is telling me can be fixed.

You can sunburn the back of your knees.

Putting on lip balm in a dust storm is just a dumb idea.

Ice in your water pack/bladder, when it’s warm out is a straight up gift from the heavens.

Peeing when the wind is gusting and swirling is just… interesting…  And I’m not the only one who struggled with this little practical joke from Mother Nature. (Same goes for snot rockets.)  It was actually funny to watch the guys dancing around and trying to outsmart the wind.  We girls…  Uh…  We’re not quite so flexible or lucky. I had some serious penis-envy going during the wind storm.

‘Fear is what you’re feeling.  Brave is what you’re doing.’

Barreling into an aid station and hearing your friends yelling for you is the sweetest of all sounds in my world…  (Sappy again…)

Barreling into an aid station and seeing the faces of two other runners you know and love and who you did NOT expect to see jumping in to hug your smelly ass and help you without any fanfare or hesitation…  One of several mental snapshots I will have the rest of my life. (Thank you Rebecca and Ben!)

Mental snapshots?  Climbing Gooseberry Mesa.  Wicked steep climb.  (1.5 miles and 1,500 foot of vertical gain…)  I was struggling up that biotch of a climb and bombing down is our friend Ty Atwater. He yells my name and must have seen the tears, dirt  – and possibly vomit at this point – on my face.  He was on his way back down and headed for the finish line and would be top 25 for the 100K…  He stops, hugs me and reminds me to breathe and tells me quickly to climb, stop, breathe, repeat and keep repeating until I get to the top.  Deep gratitude for this young, talented runner taking the time to stop and comfort me.  Another mental snapshot I’ll keep close to my heart for years to come.

I managed my pre-race nerves and taper craziness WAY better.  I think it was meditation, better nutrition, focusing on time with friends and simply knowing that you can’t know everything about what’s in front of you.  And that’s the beauty and magic and secret of these events.  I was afraid and nervous no doubt and apologies to anyone caught in the taper cross-hairs!  But not terrified like I was heading into Mountain Lakes.  I wanted this finish line as badly as I wanted Mountain Lakes, understand that my hearts desire to do well was exactly the same.  But the fear was more a deep and wide level of respect for this distance and the challenge instead of stark terror of the unknown.

Spare headlamp.  ALWAYS pack the spare headlamp.

Double shot espresso at 4 am is like liquid gold.

Brushing your teeth after the race feels the best.

Showering after the race is where you discover all the chafe and sunburn you didn’t know you had.

Speaking of showering… There is NO SMELL on earth like that of an ultra runner.  We should bottle it up.  It would sell.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  Ok… Forget that whole idea.  Who are we kidding?  Spencer and Matt wrapped me in a blanket and rolled the windows down on the car on the ride back to our house.  And then I was ordered straight into the shower – clothes and all.  And handed a garbage bag to put my clothes in. HA!

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Walking off the course. (Spencer, Hannah.  Picture Credit goes to Matt.)

I walked off the course, instead of across the finish line.  This was a long road to walk, but I walked it with friends by my side.  Hannah was with me when I broke down and understood meeting the cutoff was not going to happen despite every single thing she and Spencer and Matt had done to get me there.  Spencer and Matt walked up the road to meet us not knowing what they would find…  I cried. A lot. I was crushed by the idea that I was disappointing my crew and hadn’t done what I set out to do.  They hugged me a lot.  And then we walked, as a tribe, back to the car.

This picture means the world to me because of the people in it and the friend who is out of the frame capturing the moment for all of us to remember…

A picture is worth a 1,000 words.

And this one captures my entire heart.

 

 

 

Ditching the b*&ch. (Finding joy.)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments

We’ve been home from Transrockies (TRR) for 3 weeks. I’m still thinking about the incredible experience, missing my new friends and wishing I could just live in a tent and run all day, every day.  I told Kevin Houda, the event organizer, he ruined reality for me. 🙂

This is what I put in my journal as if I was writing it all down for my friend Wendie.  She was hiking in Yosemite at the same time I was in Colorado and I wanted to share all of this with her. So you’re really reading my note to one of my dearest friends.

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This would be the day that I found joy.  Right after finding a Yeti.  A cheerleading Yeti named Fitzy.

If we’re being honest, I know I have been a grumpy bitch when it comes to running for the past year and a half.  NOT overt, at least most of the time.  And not usually aimed at anyone but MYSELF. But I would so easily and quickly go to the negative if something went wrong, or less than perfect, instead of going to my normal optimistic/positive frame of mind.  I really hope no one on the outside noticed this personality shift, but I am afraid they did.

Well, I ditched that nasty bitch on the trails today on stage 3 of Transrockies.

I have just had, for the 3rd day in a row, the best day running.  Ever.  This just keeps getting BETTER.  I have enjoyed each and every step of each and every run so far.

I’ll set this up for you a bit, in the same way all seemed to click into place for me…

You know I have been working for two+ years to get to the point that I could endure and enjoy six days of running.

This event is 120 miles, 20,000 foot of vertical climb. At significant altitude. (Which, for inquiring minds, does make it kind of hard to breathe when you train at sea level.)

I’m in a tent village of 550 trail runners from around the world, by a perfect/picturesque lake, at Novo Guides/Camp Hale Colorado. Every single person here, from runner to volunteer is 100% supportive of, engaged with and part of the trail and ultra world.  So — I’m surrounded by people who get me and my desire to run really long distances for fun and they want to do the same.

I.  Am.  In.  Heaven. 

Back track a few weeks.  I had that training week from hell.  By design.  I had to do a big volume week to get ready for the 100 miler.  So it was close to 100 mile week – which I have never done. I know that I allowed the fatigue and negative energy from that week of hard physical and mental work to cascade down about six weeks…  To where I finally had a full-on meltdown and told Spencer I never wanted to run again.  I think I also said things like I was selling all of my shoes, never wearing a running shirt again and un-friending anyone who posts about running on Facebook.  It was pretty epic. Totally ridiculous NOW of course, but in that moment – I FELT IT.  Joyless, exhausting and scary as hell.  I felt apathetic.

And apathy, as you know, scares me more than ANYTHING.

So here’s where I have to be really honest with myself.  If I back track a year or so, I have been caught in a low-grade, persistent comparison trap.  ‘She’s thinner’, ‘they’re faster’, ‘he climbs better than I do’, I didn’t hit my pace, I barely finished that run, they logged more miles than I did this week and we’re doing the same race. Oh how I wish I could grab that time back from that grumpy-comparing-bitch that I was. I drove myself crazy.  I drove Spencer crazy. I probably drove you crazy. I’m pretty sure there are some people who I have met in the past 18 months or so who think that this comparing, self-denigrating, self-loathing is my permanent disposition.  It’s not…  REALLY! I’m a pretty happy, optimistic person at my core.

However, when it comes to running this past year/year and a half, I have to admit that I got caught by the throat in this horrible cycle of comparing and beating myself up.

So today… Today I willingly, forcefully, ditched that grumpy, nasty piece of work in a creek as I ran. She made a big splash when she landed. I totally took her by surprise. 🙂

I was running and just sorta started piecing it all together and realized what I had allowed to happen. Realized that this was my chance, my choice, to grab my happy, joyful self BACK.

The creek was cold and swift and beautiful and was the ideal place to let that ugliness quickly and quietly wash away without contaminating anyone else in the process.

I am so happy with that choice and that moment. Goose-bumps, ear-to-ear grin and profound relief. 🙂  I felt free and light and happy and could only think over and over and over again…

‘I FOUND MY JOY AGAIN!  Man.  I missed her! I missed her so, so much!’

I started running for the joy of it all four(ish) years ago to lose weight, gain health and to be part of a community that embraced the lifestyle I was chasing.

I started trail running specifically because…

  • There’s no judgement in trail running.  If you have feet, shoes and desire to learn; SOMEONE is going to be eager to convert you to our dirty side of the world. 🙂
  • You do what works for you.  Period.  I mean, you have to figure it out  – but no one cares what or how you go about it.  It takes ALL kinds. 🙂
  • And you can NOT tell a trail runner by looking at them. There’s a ‘type’ that the elites MIGHT look like, but usually a trail runner is identified solely by their HEART.  It’s what is INSIDE their chest and brain that sets them apart and makes them who they are.

Trail running and the ultra world seem to be full of people working to heal themselves, find themselves, grow, change — those are JUST the kind of people I want to be around.

I ran 24ish miles on Tuesday. Then climbed Hope Pass Wednesday.  Stage 3, Thursday, my legs felt good when I woke up; no aches and pains.  None! And even better?  My MIND was excited to see what the trail was going to be like,  who I would meet on the trails and what I would learn. Today was about legging out another 25 miles in the best fashion I could with some hills and rolling terrain.  No time requirement, no judgement and no real plan other than I would give my best and practice what I have spent the past few years learning. I met GREAT people. I took a pictures.  I just ran, with no Garmin beeping at me, no real plan, no expectations…

I just ran.

And I ran straight toward the joy I used to have in my early days of running.

She welcomed me back like a grateful, forgiving and long-lost friend.

The night before we started to run TRR, Spencer gave me his coaching brief. It usually goes something like this…

‘DO not stop and pick up rocks. No selfies. Limit the conversation – if you can talk while you’re running/hiking, you aren’t working hard enough. Eat often and plenty. Stick to the plan.’

So when he said…

‘Bets, I want you to just breathe, listen and do not respond to what I’m going to say…  This week is going to change your life if you let it.’

And then he proceeded to tell me to meet people (ALL the people!), pick up heart rocks, take pictures, talk to volunteers, and just work to enjoy each and every step of the journey…

I listened.

With my whole heart, I listened.

Stage 3 felt life-changing, healing, like a reunion of the happiest kind.

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THESE women know joy.  Michelle and Andi.  Happy, strong, brave, trail sisters. 🙂

Mac 50K and Laziness

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 1 Comment
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Josh, Alan (ran his first ultra!) and me.  Running from Ridge, toward Horse.

Mac 50K this year was fantastic!  Cool, rainy, muddy, friends, laughter, perfection…

Mac is my favorite race, in one of my favorite places in the world.

I approached the race as a long and supported run to practice for the event I have in September. I was testing gear, making sure of my shoe choice, practicing my new-found downhill skills and I HAD TO WORK on fueling. This was my chance to put it all together and watch it work.

In the back of my head I knew I had run this race in 8:04 in 2015. So I’ll go ahead and admit that yes, I had a trying-to-ignore-it-but-it-was-out-there goal, to try to break 8 hours. I was trying not to think about that. It was NOT the point of the day.

Ultimately, I nailed everything I set out to do.

SOME MAJOR WINS!

Fueling was better than it has ever been.

Gut stayed intact.

Loved my Altras. (I still have all my remaining toe nails!)

Comfy with my hydration pack and know where to stash everything.

FINALLY got to run an entire 50K with my friend/running partner Josh.

Spencer placed 8th overall.  He had a fantastic run and wrote a great blog about it. Read it here.

Wendie paced Josh and I the last 5 miles, after cheering and crewing for us the entire day.

It was a perfect day.

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Patrick! An important part of our Novo Veritas team. He was at the start line this year to cheer us on.

From ‘The Saddle’ (last aid station) to the finish line is about 5 miles or so.

Everyone was muddy and tired. The finish line was really looking good at this point. I’d slipped and gone down in the mud at least 3 times. I was an unharmed, total mud ball head to toe. 🙂

Josh knew my not-talking-about-it-goal. I could see him assessing the situation. He knew we were in a race against the clock to break 8 hours.  We were appropriately tired, but totally healthy.  We COULD pull it off, if we picked up the pace.

I knew it.

I was just pretending to ignore it.

A portion of my brain was totally fine with not finding that goal.

To hit that goal would mean that we would have to run consistently and fairly hard for the remainder of the course.

That’s a lot of hard work at the end of a whole lot of hard work.

It had been a day of huge wins ALREADY. I didn’t even have to cross the finish line to have felt like the day was a smashing success.

But as I was starting to push the edges, with Josh speeding up, my brain was busy trying to convince me that we just didn’t need to put in the extra effort to hit that goal…

‘Bets. Just walk.

You’re going to finish close to last year’s time anyway. Close is good.

It’s fine to ease back now, Spencer and Josh and Wendie are still going to be proud of you no matter what.

This was a tough course. Take it easy. You’ve earned easy.

Just being out here is enough.’

I recognized that my head and her subtly negative voices were trying to shut things down.

‘Head’ management is very much part of the training for ultras. You literally have to practice making sure your head doesn’t talk you out of completing what needs to be done.

This is always scary and fascinating to me. Sometimes my brain drags out ‘the big guns’ and I really have to fight to just keep breathing and moving.  This time – since this race was essentially a practice run and I was surrounded by friends I trusted deeply – I decided I would just watch and see what demon/trick/weapon my head was going to try to drag out into the light…

My brain went straight for it’s old friend laziness.

‘Take it easy, you’ve earned easy. There’s no harm in just walking at this point…’

I have had years of practice being lazy. Honestly, it’s the natural go to for me.  And at this point in the race – 26ish miles in – my legs and back were screaming for me to just. stop. running.  My belly wasn’t thrilled.  My feet hurt.  I had these OBNOXIOUS and painful adductor cramps violently grabbing hold of my upper, inner thigh – and stopping me dead in my tracks a few times.

My body was doing it’s part to try to stop me.

My brain just joined in on the chorus.

I’ve done a few races at this distance, so I can now say that I have been here before in some form or fashion. This is the point where I simply have to buckle down and keep moving forward as best I can. And I have all kinds of tricks stashed away to IGNORE or quiet the chatter in my head that isn’t productive or healthy or nice. I usually just kind of blank out without fully defining whatever weapon my brain has chosen, count steps, breathe, and try my best to ignore whatever tricks my head is playing.

But this time I instantly recognized laziness.

And it was really pretty cool to define it, understand it and then just accept it for what it is.

I didn’t bother trying to evict or ignore the thoughts.

I sure as hell didn’t give into it.

I just decided to run with it – and tire it out.

Here’s where my thinking went…  When I’m on a training run – and my coach has given me parameters – I always go straight for the middle or low end of whatever it is that I’m being told to work on. Unless specifically told to do so, I rarely push to the outer, upper  edges or beyond in training on my own.

It’s a subtle, persistent form of laziness.

I mean training to run ultras is hard work in and of itself.  I’ve done a lot of hard work to get to this point and lose weight and reverse T2 diabetes. So does it really matter that I’m just a tad bit lazy about some aspects of training?

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Camera covered in mud and rain. Josh pushed me to give my all in the last 5 miles. I mighta, sorta threatened to throat punch him at one point.  Re-enactment at the finish line. 🙂

To be clear – I’m not being hard on myself or beating myself up.

I ran a freaking great run.

And this ‘work’ going on in my head around battling and understanding laziness was fantastic and constructive.

I ultimately kept on Josh and Wendie’s heels and PUSHED hard to the finish. I put down faster miles at the end than I had most of the day.

I’m just acknowledging that I recognized the voice screaming in my head as my long-lost, best-forgotten, crappy ex-best friend named laziness.

And I decided that I don’t want to be friends anymore.

So I just ran away. 🙂

I ignored the normal long-run pains and tiredness and just PUSHED hard to the finish. My training allows for that. My body was working her butt off. And this really was a training run – so why not PUSH hard and see what happened?

As I ran, in the back of my head the idea was clanging around that I am SO FREAKING CAPABLE of being and doing so much more.

If I’m given the chance to push hard, do I always give it my all? Or do I get lazy?

It’s an idea that I just can’t let go of…

What exactly would I be capable of, if I refused to let laziness win?

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I got home and Spencer and I were debriefing the race.  I walked through the pieces that went great; fuel, shoes, handling the wicked leg cramps.  Spencer and I both agreed that we could clearly see the core and strength work we’re doing with Jordan paying off as I was able to manage the slides and the muddy, steep terrain really well.  And then I ran faster miles at the end…

I was really proud of the effort I gave at Mac.  I’d had a good day.

I also told him that I recognize I get lazy in some of the targeted training runs during a training cycle. I cheat myself and aim for good enough/middle of the road. By doing what I’m told – instead of really testing the limits. I told Spencer I was going to work on learning to push myself harder when given the choice. I confessed that I know that I  sometimes let myself off the hook when I really should be capitalizing on the opportunity to push to another level.

The last few miles of the Mac I kept thinking…

I’ve come so far and I’m more in love with trail running and my body is doing things I never, ever thought she was capable of. And I know without a doubt that I am capable of still more strength and more growth and more change and well… just more good stuff.

Laziness isn’t going to win this race. Not this time. I’m going to keep training to out run it.

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My friend and pacer Wendie.

 

 

It is NOT the whole story…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments
Betsy in sun
Running into the sun, on trails, with friends…

I was just telling Spencer and one of our mentors, Shawna, recently that I wish I could re-write an article about me that was in Runner’s World Magazine. It talks about my weight loss/type 2 diabetes transformation.  It is answering the question ‘How running changed my life’. (Here is the Runners World Article)

I wasn’t even aware they were doing the profile. The first time it appeared I freaked out. Just a little. More than a year later and the story keeps popping up. It is AWESOME!  I get a total thrill/shock every single time I am scrolling through a feed on Facebook or Instagram and see my picture. 🙂

But I also cringe a little every single time it re-appears. Cringe?  WHY?!  Well… It misses the stories about the people that are very much a part of this whole adventure and the moments that make my heart sing and some of the things no one really wants to talk about.

 

Given the chance, I really would like to add/edit/re-write that story to make it a little more complete. Here’s what I would add, here are some of the key additions I would want people to know…

There are people who walked every single step of this journey with me. They believed in me when I embarked on this crazy, huge, scary lifestyle overhaul. I had proved to all of them that I was really, really good at failing at diets. I have a life-time worth of experience at failing at diets.  They stuck with me anyway.

My running coach, Spencer, is the one person who has put up with untold amounts of sass and tears and freaking-ridiculous-questions as I continue to learn to run. Spencer has watched each mile build into more miles and bigger goals and even bigger dreams.

My running and training partners. The ones who meet me at o’dark thirty.  In the rain.  With smiles and headlamps and laughter and patience.  The ones who encourage shenanigans.  The ones who helped me learn how to pee in the woods – and not get caught or get poison oak. 🙂  The ones who encourage me to sign up for crazy-ass distances for the fun/adventure/epicness of it – just to help me test my boundaries.  The ones who spend their vacation time traveling to a race to run some of the late-stage miles with you to make sure your butt crosses that finish line.

Kyle at Gallagher’s in Salem.  Kyle fit me into my first ‘real’ walking shoes when I was finally down to 280 pounds, registering for a walking marathon and had finally scrounged up every last ounce of courage I had to walk into a ‘real running’ store. Kyle was kind and helpful and never once acted like I didn’t belong in their store. Never. I still buy my shoes at Gallagher’s.  I went in to see him today as a matter of fact.

They didn’t talk about how much I hated.  hated.  hated.  those first few tentative steps that were trying to learn to run.  How embarrassed I was and mortified at the thought one of my neighbors would see my 250 pounds bouncing along with my face a charming shade of ‘heart-attack red’.  Or how I was breathing so hard I genuinely felt like I was going to throw up. And yet even as hard as it was, I oddly and intuitively knew I could not give up. I had to keep trying to put one foot in front of the other no matter what anyone thought. This was the make-it-or-break-it point.

They didn’t talk about how hard I worked for and how much I cherished some of the first days I ran without those extra 10 pounds of skin hanging around my belly.  Or how months later when I was all healed Josh and Wendie went for a run with me in Bend (3+ hours from home), on isolated trails, so I would feel comfortable stripping down to just shorts and my sports bra to go for a run.  That ‘shorts and sports bra’ dream was hatched the very first time I ever went to a race and saw women running comfortably and carefree in next to nothing. I on the other hand was carefully and strategically covered in head-to-toe compression gear just to keep my extra skin on my belly from gaining unstoppable momentum and beating me to death.  I ran that day with josh and wendie in just shorts and sports bra.  I felt the sun on my belly.  And the sun on my mid-back.  And I was running on world-class trails. With cherished and trusted friends who knew what this meant to me.  I felt free, brave, happy – and comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a long time.

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Just a sports bra.  Oh.  And shorts.  I have on shorts. I promise.

They didn’t talk about how when I finally ran one full mile without stopping I bawled like a baby out of pure joy and quickly called my friend Wade to tell him… I HAD DONE IT!!  (Bets!  QUIT YELLING IN THE PHONE!)  I was hooked at that moment on asking my body to try to do more… I knew in that moment that my body was strong and my mind could be my biggest weapon if I wanted to work on them both…  🙂  Could I do a mile and half?  Could I possibly run a 5K at some point?  What else could I do?  What else in life had I missed out on because I had been obese and immobile?  Oh my heavens…  I felt like the doors to the whole-wide-world were finally opening and I was getting to run though them…

They really didn’t tell the whole story.

They didn’t tell my favorite parts of my story. 🙂

And maybe that’s good.

I mean, my story isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

I’m still really busy writing it.

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Signing up for the 100 miler.  Happy and excited and realizing I get to live my dreams…

Breakthrough.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments

IMG_6855-webI ran downhill Thursday night.

Not my normal, guarded, stiff-legged bounce that I have used for the last three years when running downhill.

I flew.

And no, it was NOT a dream.

I ran an entire mile at a 7:32 pace. For me — that’s fast!

HOLY SMOKES was it an amazing, unreal feeling to be flying down the hill on my own two legs!

I felt strong, solid, happy.  And well… I’ve never quite felt like that in all the running I have done up to this point.

I felt capable and confident. Those two words don’t get used a lot when I’m thinking about/talking about my own running.

Thursday night?  I nailed the downhill portion that I was working on.

All the pieces came together.  And something really important just finally clicked into place…

Back up for just one moment…  When I first started running it was simply about getting one foot in front of the other more than a few times in a row.  Like — very literally — the width of a driveway.  That was how I started my running career.  I was a walker, not a runner.  I was just dabbling with the idea of running and not sure I was even going to like it.  So I didn’t tell anyone I was trying to learn to run just in case I tried it and hated it.  Then I wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone. 🙂

Some days putting one foot in front of the other is still very much the goal.

But I am to a point with running where I want to work on some specific techniques, and learn some new skills. I am working on the parts/pieces/things that are going to help me keep running for years to come. The things that will help me avoid injury, run faster, run longer.

This is the really FUN stuff to be learning.

This is the hard work that I don’t mind doing.

Spencer and I were running off of McCullough Peak Thursday night. Spencer was running with me and he said we should work on some downhill running.

I have a short, choppy, guarded gait.  Especially on the downhill.  I’m kinda/sorta afraid/terrified of falling on my face. My gait shows that I’m guarding with every single footfall.

I tend to hit the ground and use my legs as shock absorbers — NOT springs.

I should be using them as springs.

‘Running downhill is not really running, it’s more of a controlled fall.’ — Spencer

Spencer and I have been working on my downhill technique/skills/abilities for close to year. Last year in May at the Western States Training camp in California we realized that I really didn’t know how to run downhill very well.  We’ve been working on it ever since.

Spencer has tried all kinds of things to help me learn to run more smoothly, efficiently and comfortably downhill.  We have talked about cadence, gait, stride – we have worked on core strength and building all the right muscles. All the things that I should be focused on to help make my downhill running (running in general) better.

So why was this run different?

I don’t really know how to explain it except that the words Spencer said clicked and something FINALLY made sense.

For a split second my legs understood what my brain seemed to refuse to comprehend.

And then you know that moment when your brain gives a big sigh of relief because you finally, finally understand something with perfect clarity?

This was one of those moments.

We were running downhill.  Me short/choppy, jabbing kinds of strides and Spencer says ‘open up your hips’.

I asked him what exactly that meant.

Spencer says try running from your hips, not just from your legs.

I did.

Those words made sense to me…

I took a few more steps that were short, stiff. Then I tried striding out with my hips ‘open’. My glutes were engaged in the whole process (hello butt!).  It was very suddenly NO LONGER just about my legs and knees…

All of the sudden I was really moving comfortably down the hill.  Faster, efficiently, with my legs more springy.

It. Was. Amazing.

I felt really strong and confident and fluid.

I was mostly keeping up with Spencer on the downhill, which NEVER, ever happens. 🙂

I ran for about .75 of a mile with keen attention to keeping my hips open and running from my hips.  And that .75 of a mile was fast!

I can only imagine some of Spencer’s frustration/elation/satisfaction given that THIS is what he has been trying to get me to do for about, oh… 8 months now.

That night, for some reason, the words and directions he gave me while we were running downhill FINALLY made sense to me.

Everything clicked.

And I ran.

And I felt like a freaking powerful runner for the first time in a long time.

Actually, maybe, I finally felt like a powerful runner for the very first time.

It just felt so damn good to fly down the hill with confidence.

*Coach’s note from Spencer:

The most impressive part to this .75 mile stretch was the fact that Betsy finished the last .25 mile at a 6:15 pace. The fastest I have ever seen her run, ever, is right around an 8 minute pace on downhill. 

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I just want to be normal.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments

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I went on a group trail run this past week.

I had a meltdown.

This trail running group is welcoming and they encourage anyone to join them.  I know the individuals who go to this run are fast and strong and experienced.  I went into this run — which I had honestly been artfully, purposefully dodging for over a year — with trepidation.

‘Can I keep up?’

‘Was I fit enough?’ 

The answer turned out to be no.

I couldn’t really keep up.

I got dropped on the first set of hills.

I spent the next 90 minutes or so wishing I had not gotten momentarily, stupidly brave and decided that I would give this a try. I spent the time listening to some shitty voices in my head about being slow and worthless and a burden.  I was questioning my fitness and training.

I spent the entire run DREADING the moment I would be the last one to arrive to the top of the trail, last to the top of the hill, last one back to the parking lot where everyone was waiting for me.

Emotional shitstorm is the best phrase I can think of to explain what happened.

I felt like I was in over my head.  I was embarrassed at being the last up the hill. I was beating the crap out of myself instead of enjoying the company, the scenery and the privilege of spending some time running on a glorious early Spring Oregon night in the Mac Forest.

Spencer reminded me multiple times on the car ride home that all of the other runners are only worried about their run. They were NOT thinking about me at all.  Let alone were they thinking I was worthless, or a burden or that having to wait for me meant anything other than we follow a code of trail running that makes sure everyone who goes out on a run comes back in.

No judgement, only safety.

Intellectually I get that.

This whole meltdown is about my self confidence in the world of running.

This is about trusting the process that I am working through in establishing this still-new-to-me lifestyle of plant based eating, running and maintaining my weight loss. I run with some baggage.

This group had to wait for me in three places.

There is nothing that embarrasses me quicker, or more completely these days than having a group of runners wait for me.

Within about 15 minutes of a 90+ minute run I was flustered, negative and quiet. I thought seriously about asking Spencer to give me the keys to the car and I would just wait in the car.  BUT having to explain to Spencer, let alone the rest of the people standing around waiting for me at the trailhead  that I was quitting because I felt like I was in over my head seemed like a far worse option than just gutting out the run.

We got done with the run.  Everyone was waiting in the parking lot for me to work my way off the hill.  I made quick good byes.  Spencer and I jumped in the car to head home.  I wasn’t going to tell Spencer anything. I was embarrassed. I didn’t really have the words to tell him what was going on.

But we know each other pretty well at this point.

And I suck at poker.

I lost it and attempted to tell him what I had been feeling the entire run.  What I said among some other personal and strongly worded, emotionally laden, harshly worded self-judgmental  crappola was ‘I HATE BEING LAST! I’m so %^$&ing SLOW…’

I was attempting to process it all, through the debilitating fog of shame and embarrassment.

Why were the voices zinging around in my head so freaking nasty…?

 

I went for a run today and I got some really good thinking time in.

I kept thinking about how disproportionate my reaction was to the reality of the situation.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?  And why is having a group of fellow-runners, friends waiting for me such a trigger?

By the time I got home from running today I had narrowed down part of what I was sure was really eating at me…

I needed to talk to Spencer about it.

‘Spencer. I think all of this stems from me just wanting to be normal. And not be in a spotlight for at least once in my life.’ 

 

I lost 220 pounds,  I reversed Type 2 Diabetes. BIG things — I get that.  Visibly shocking even and most people reply with disbelief.  I can’t hide my weight loss and changed body.

But what I have FINALLY figured out about ME…?  I reclaimed my health and lost weight  in large part to try to become ‘normal‘…  I’ve never really been ‘normal’ at any point in my life that I can remember.

I just want to be NORMAL.

I want to be able to fit in an airplane seat.  Buy clothes anywhere, anytime.  I don’t want to need medicine. I really don’t want people to notice me personally for any reason unless I wanted to speak up, wear funky clothes or do something that warranted attention.

I really, really just want to be normal for the first time in my life.

Honest.

Running is a big part of that normal equation for me. Even though I pick really long distances which most people don’t understand — it’s all a critical part of helping me reach a ‘normal’, healthy, sustainable life.

I was telling Spencer that when you are the LAST person in on a run; you have everyone’s attention. Casually, fleetingly, non-judgementally.  BUT for that split second you are the focus of attention.  And in my mind — since I’m last it’s hinging on my body, my weight, my ability, my fitness — and I feel incredibly vulnerable.  If I were thinner, faster, a better runner – they wouldn’t be waiting for me.

It’s a fierce, instant trigger for me. 

And now I think I’m beginning to understand why.

Running has become my most beloved tool, my safe haven in this lifestyle process that is constantly changing.  It’s the place where I get to be me.  ALL of me. No one else but me.  Where I get to build me into the person I want to be. No one else can do the work, take the credit or see the rewards.

Running is about a whole lot more than just the physical act of running.

 

I have told Spencer, as a coach and now as my friend and business partner, that I want to get faster, be a stronger runner.  He was asking me – in light of all of this – if that goal has changed.

No… The goal has not changed, but I was finally able to but some words around WHY I want to run faster.

I don’t want to be faster to beat anyone. I don’t care about getting on a podium.  It isn’t to shorten a race or spend less time running.  It isn’t to be seen as a better athlete/person/runner.

I want to run faster so I can beat the race cutoffs and finish a race when everyone else in the middle of the pack finishes.  I want to be faster so I’m not the last person across the finish line. So I’m not the last person to the top of the hill.  So I’m running so ‘normally’ no one is noticing me.

Regardless of my motivation — the goal remains the same.  The work I have to do to get there — well… That remains the same too.

It took some serious mental gymnastics to come to the conclusion that what I really want in ALL of this is just to be NORMAL…

As Spencer reminds me all the time…  THIS is all part of the process.

I just want to be normal.

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Remember the moment…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments

 

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Wendie snapped this pic about two seconds after I clicked ‘YES, I really, really, REALLY want to register for the Mountain Lakes 100 miler!’  This captures the moment, the feelings perfectly.

‘Write a note to yourself while you are so excited. In those rare, fleeting or dark moments when you aren’t excited, you’re exhausted or you feel scared or unsure about what you have just signed up to do, you can look back and read the words, your very own words, and remember this moment…  

Remember the ‘why’.’ – Peg Herring 

Peg is my mentor and friend who at the same time also said…

‘I do not understand what you have chosen to do. Not at all. But you need to know that I support you 100%.  You can do anything you set out to do.’

So, here’s the note I wrote to myself. 🙂

 

Bets,

You just signed up for the Mountain Lakes 100 mile race.

Now you get to spend the next eight months training for it! Then on September 24th you get to freaking toe the line!

You are wholeheartedly, bone-deep, excited!  Giddy even. You spent the week walking around grinning ear-to-ear. You have gone to bed each night happy and very much at peace with the decision to embark on this wild adventure.

Josh Gum planted the idea in your head to run a 100 miler about three years ago. He introduced you to the idea of ultras and endurance sports. (‘You don’t have to go fast, you just can’t give up…’) The idea that you might be able to run 100 miles, you, Bets, – the former morbidly obese girl, Type 2 Diabetic, the girl who swore she hated running – this idea, has become an obsession, a deep-seated desire.

Since the day the seed was planted, you have been wondering, dreaming, becoming focused on the idea that maybe, just maybe, you might have it in your heart and soul (and legs) to actually run something obnoxiously, audaciously, fantastically long; like a 100 miler.

The last three years you have been dedicated to learning the art and sport of running. And while you’re just barely getting started, that hasn’t stopped you from totally falling in love with trail running in the process.  Falling in love with all of it.  The people, the sport, the experiences, the miles, the challenge.

Every single thing about trail running appeals to you, speaks to you, heals and nourishes and strengthens your soul.

You have also learned that this life adventure with trail running is not just about running.

This whole process of getting ready for and tackling a 100 miler is really about wondering if you have the fortitude and ability to take a really big, scary goal and then TACKLE it, own it, beat it…

This is about putting your hard-fought lifestyle changes to the test.

This is about getting stronger.  Brain and body.

This is about really LIVING your life.

You spent your 20’s and into your early 40’s as a 392 pound, morbidly obese, Type 2 diabetic.

You were ALWAYS saying to yourself;  I…

‘… can’t run.’

‘… can’t do that.’

‘… am too fat to do that.’

‘… am pretty sure that would hurt…’

‘…am too old.’

Here’s the kicker…

How can you really hate/deny/be fearful of something you have never done?

Be honest with yourself Bets. You had never gone running.  You weren’t eating healthy. You weren’t being active. You weren’t doing anything long enough to form an actual, honest-to-goodness opinion of your own.

You were just accepting the passive opinions about your abilities and limitations based on ASSumptions. (We all know what word features prominently in ASSumption.)

Well…

You are done assuming.

This effort will require you to give your very best on every, single, possible level. It will test everything you think you are made of. And you have been told/warned/not-so-gently-reminded by people you love, trust and respect that this is going to test things you never knew were going to be tested, never dreamed you would encounter.

This will change you.

‘It’s going to be an experience that will change you in ways that will surprise you.’  — Josh Gum

You are ready for that testing.

Not just on race day, but you are ready for the testing that you know occurs every step of the way during the training process too.

Gaining new distances, building your core/back, learning to fuel, endless practice running down hills, even more endless practice with speed work, running uphills, power hiking.

You want to hit that start line for Mountain Lakes KNOWING that you kept putting in your best effort every single time you put on your running shoes.

If you commit 100% to the training, on race day you can put all of that together and enjoy the magic that happens when hard work and a heartfelt goal start racing in the same direction.

You did not just sign up for this on a whim.

You have been tenacious, intentional and consistent in working up to a fitness level where you feel wholeheartedly ready to train for and do your first 100 miler. You spoke with Spencer at length about what you wanted to do more than two years ago.

With guidance from both Spencer and Josh, you decided you had the perfect race in your sights and you picked Mountain Lakes for your first 100 miler.

You know you can do this.

Spencer says you are ready to train to run 100 miler.

Team Gum (Josh and Wendie) have said they know you are up to the task and will support you 100%.

That’s all the validation you wanted or needed to eagerly hit the ‘sign me up now!’ button.

Now go throw your heart and feet onto the trails and get training for this sucker.

 

So when and if the times get dark or scary or daunting, I will look back on this note and remember what I was thinking and feeling.

I will also be reminded that this is not just about running.

It has never, ever been entirely about running.

This whole, amazing adventure is about something much, much bigger. It’s about owning and chasing down a dream. It’s about believing in myself. It’s about intentionally choosing to push into new, scary territory. It’s about living life to the fullest each and every single day.

 

 

Crossing the finish line…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
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Betsy, TJ, Wade and Spencer.  Bibs in hand.  We’re READY to run!

Crossing the finish line of a race is an exciting and exhilarating moment in time!

You envision savoring the feeling of that experience for a long time to come.

The final – symbolical and literal – step in months or years of planning and dreaming and training.

YOU HAVE DONE IT!

You have succeeded!

Friends at the finish line are cheering and clapping and celebrating with you as they announce your name. They place a medal around your neck.  Strangers are calling out congratulations. Hugs. Happy tears. Pictures.

All the good stuff!!!

You are embracing a deep feeling of accomplishment.  A sense of completeness.  A surge of rightful pride in what you’ve asked your body and mind to do and how fantastically they responded.

It’s that single moment that signifies you can now check something really big off that ol’ life bucket list.

I just finished the North Face Endurance Challenge 50 miler a week ago today.

It’s been a dream of mine for close to 3 years.  I’ve trained for the race for the last few months very specifically, strategically.  BUT the bigger picture of this story is that I’ve really spent the last 30 months or so working to build toward this specific race distance.

This one, single day was the result of a whole lot of work.

Years of work.

I felt good about finishing, beating the cutoffs, racing that sucker EXACTLY to the plan Spencer and I had worked out and practiced.

I had a GREAT race and an incredible day.

I remain overwhelmed with gratitude and love for the friends who were by my side.  Literally.  Josh, TJ, Wade and Spencer were waiting on the course about 1/2 mile from the finish line for Wendie (my friend and pacer!) and I to appear.  They hooted and hollered when they saw us and then served as rowdy guardians, running with me right up to the finish area and cheering each and every step I was taking.

Then they were yelling and cheering for me at the finish. Theirs were the only voices I wanted to hear.

I felt a swirl of emotions about it all in that last tenth of a mile.

Very powerful, mixed emotions.

One of the strongest feelings?

Sadness.

WHAT THE HELL?!!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

SAD?

I’ve just run 50 miles.  I trained for years.  I beat the dreaded %$#@ing cut offs!  I did better than I thought I could.  I had – for me – a nearly flawless race.  I am staring at the smiling faces of five people I adore.  I can now really, finally, legitimately call myself an ultra runner…

How the hell am I feeling sad?

Yep…

It caught me TOTALLY and utterly off guard.

It felt like a gut punch.

I spent the next three days cocooned in a great vacation house in Sausalito,  sightseeing and being taken care of, building great memories with close and caring friends. We were all aware that I was feeling pretty emotionally raw and fragile.

I felt like I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t sleep. I was indecisive. I was listless.  I felt I was disappointing my friends by not being happy.

I just felt sad and ‘not normal’.

I wasn’t happy or euphoric or elated or energized.  None of the things I was expecting or hoping to feel were present.

I was bewildered and confused by this unexpected emotional fragility.

I KNEW I was tired. I tried to chalk some of this odd and not-normal behavior up to being physically and mentally tired and sleep deprived and out of my carefully cultivated routine. I was very aware that I had just put my body and mind through a test they had never been through before.

The problem was I didn’t really understand what was going on in my mind until right before we were getting ready to leave for home.  I finally was able to semi-articulate what was consuming my brain and heart and had a long, honest talk with my friend Josh.

He assured me that this was all a fairly normal reaction given what I’d just done.

 

I sit here a week later and FINALLY, finally I am starting to appreciate what I just accomplished.

It’s starting to sink in. 

Josh and Spencer have both told me that there is a sort of commonly accepted catch-phrase for what I’ve been experiencing…

Post-event let down.

It will go away.  I will one moment, shortly down the road, feel the full weight of what I’ve accomplished.  And whole-heartedly enjoy those feelings.

It’s just a little delayed while my body and mind sort out what I’ve put them through.

You put a BIG goal out there. You focus on it 100% for years. You hit the event start line.  You take off.  After a few moments/miles you feel the hours of training kick in and take over and you settle in to do the work you’ve learned to do.  You’re flying and soaring and enjoying the event, life, the people around you!

Your mind, body, heart and soul are all working together to get you to the goal.

It’s an amazing feeling!

And then it’s done.

One last step.

You cross the finish line.

It’s suddenly all over…

So how am I taking care of myself and recovering fully from ALL of this?

I’m writing things down.

Savoring time with close friends.

I am focused on healing my body with good foods and long walks and lots of water.  And sleep.  Lots of sleep. 🙂

I’ll keep talking with my coach and close friends as I make discoveries or have concerns.

I am intent on heeding the caution that I take the time and simply enjoy, fully absorb, what I’ve just done.  That’s something I’m not very good at.  Now’s the perfect time to practice it. 🙂

And I’ll also heed the caution to be looking for that next big goal to embrace and get excited about – but to make NO decisions until I’m rested and recovered.

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Mile 47 (?).  Wendie was with me and I was craving ORANGES!  The finish line was just ahead…