Trails

DNF / SOB

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments

Betsy in sun

DNF.

If you have entered races to run, ride, Tri — you are probably cringing (in sympathy) right about now.  You know what those little letters mean…

DNF.

Did Not Finish.

The SOB (Siskiyou Out and Back) was this past weekend. My first attempt at running the 50 mile distance. I made it 41 miles and missed a course time cutoff.  My race was over after 10 hours and 17 minutes.

Not by my choice.

8 miles short of the finish line.

I have been working for this distance since the day I met Josh and Wendie Gum three(ish) years ago and Josh uttered the word that would begin to radically change my ideas of running…

‘Ultrarunning’

Ultrarunning is any running distance over a marathon (26.2 miles).  I’ve done several 50K’s (31 miles) and I’m now working on the 50 mile distance.  I have friends working to crush the 100 mile distance this September. Combinations and distances in ultrarunning are endless. Mind-blowing.

I am utterly enthralled and in love with this sport, the people, the community.

I’m trying to get my mind around what a DNF means.

This is my first.  And it won’t likely be my last.

What did I learn?  How do I apply the lessons to my training and my next race?

I’m also trying to soak in the absurdly obvious fact that I have a handful of patient and loving friends who were giving me space and yet keeping me close all at the same time.  Letting me figure this out on my own.

One of the top lessons came from a conversation with a seasoned ultrarunner who was volunteering at the station where I DNF’d.  He sat with me for quite a while.  He said he knew I wouldn’t understand what he was saying immediately – but it would sink in at some point…

Here’s the essence of what he told me:

You trained hard.

Logged countless miles and hours. Learned and practiced. Fell more in love with the sport and your body’s ability to work hard. Saw new trails.  Met new people. Pushed boundaries. Gained strength.

You showed up and toed the line when others were too scared to sign up or show up.

You ran 41 miles.

NO MATTER how today went no one can take any of that away from you.  It’s yours. You earned it.

Today is just one more day in that process.

Here’s what I have learned so far…

Positives?

  • I finished a solid 41 miles.
  • I’m safe, healthy. Not even a blister or lost toenail.
  • I could see two years of work with trying to fix fueling (calories on the run) and gut issues play out perfectly. FINALLY!
  • Descending (running down hills) and my confidence with descending was much improved over my work at Western States Training Camp in May.
  • My mental strength was solid and my strategies for conquering my scared/negative/self-defeating thoughts WORKED.

41 miles of good stuff.

I don’t think I have to tell anyone that it hurts the heart to miss a goal that you have worked hard for.  I felt pretty crushed. Embarrassed. Frustrated.

However, I was NOT defeated.  VERY important distinction.  I never thought about NOT doing this again, all my thinking was scrambling to figure out what I screwed up on, what I needed to get better at and how to fix it.

What have I learned?  What will I work on?

  • Become a faster runner.
  • Run more of each hill.
  • Hike faster/stronger on steep stuff.
  • Don’t be a jackass/rude/dismissive to the volunteers at the aid stations.  I was NOT!  Several of the other DNF’s exhibited poor sportsmanship and crappy attitudes.  Never OK.  Ever.

This is my breakdown of the race. (Here’s the map sob-50-mile-map)

I have several running friends who read this blog and they suggested that my version of a play-by-play would be interesting. Typically race reports are more about strategy, fueling and terrain – things that would help other runners know what to expect and how to prepare to run the course. Uh… Mine aren’t. My ‘race report’ is about what I was feeling and thinking.

I hope that you enjoy my ‘race report’. 🙂

Mile 1-4.  Scared to death. Super upset belly. Breathing wouldn’t settle in. I was gulping air and trying to find a rhythm for my feet and lungs…  I got paired up on the single track with a woman from Gold Beach, OR.  She said she was really struggling with nerves/belly/breathing.  I admitted the same. I thought about it for a bit and then told her that ALL of that could be easily explained away by 1.) too much coffee at the ass crack o’ dawn to make sure we pooped before the race and 2.) the freaking altitude (5,000-7,000) for us sea-level girls.  We laughed and nerves were instantly gone…  For both of us. I ran with my new friend for 22 miles and DNF’d with her as well.

4- 22. I worked on getting comfortable. Welcomed the routine of trying to settle into a long run.  I kept going over the course map and my plan in my head, reviewing the map mentally to see if I could tell what might be coming next terrain/aid station-wise.  Fueling (calories) was perfect to the minute and my gut stayed intact.  I remembered thinking – no matter how the day goes: this segment is a win on a bunch of important levels, training is playing out perfectly and these are things I can keep building on. Looking back – I also have to wonder if this section – where I was feeling the most comfortable – is this where I should have pushed harder? Would more effort here have made the difference?

21 – 22. The women grouped up and running with me at this point started talking about how we were not going to make the time cut-offs. The talk was about races they hadn’t finished.  How HORRIBLE the hill ahead of us at mile 25 really was. How they probably should have trained more. It was negative and soul-draining. I played with positive mantra’s/sayings in my head and tuned those women OUT.

23 – 25. I raced through the aid station forgoing water, purposefully, to leave all the women behind me.  I hiked with what I thought was solid purpose.  Including a fast hike up the rock field to the tippy-top for the ‘token’ to prove I had been at the turn-around point on the course.

25 – 28. Turn around and run back to the aid station. I focused on fast feet.  I ran the entire way.  Every step. If I was going to miss a cutoff, I wanted to at least have done it running downhill in the way I had trained.

28.  Wards Fork aid station volunteers said keep moving and I should make the  cutoff at Jackson Gap. I knew this was the 6-7 mile sustained climb section between aid stations.  Mental anxiety is spiking back up at this point. I kept working to stuff it back down. My strategy ALL along had been to hike this entire segment fast with a little running if I hit flats. More of the trail was runnable than I remembered on the first trip through. If it got flat or I could see a small crest – I ran. I pushed hard.

35.5.  I hit Jackson Gap aid station and they said I was at the cutoff; I had to keep moving.  Those words were just a huge mind f*&k.  I looked at the volunteer who was talking to me and burst into tears.  I just stood there crying and trying to pull my shit back together while they filled my hydration pack with ice, made sure I was physically OK to keep going, handed me some grapes and sent me up the road.  I was already moving at what I thought was going to amount to an all out effort for 50 miles; I wasn’t sure how much more I could push at this point and actually have anything left to finish. Coupled with a mistake rookie-style? I hadn’t written down any of the distances from aid stations. I KNOW BETTER. The volunteer said it was 4 miles; it was over 7.  I was mentally pushing to piece things together as I ran, I felt confused and turned around at what was likely the 4 – 5 mile mark because I knew I should have been at an aid station. I was clueless at this point because my Garmin had died.

Two guys in front of me walking up the hill right out of the Jackson Gap aid station suddenly turned around as I was headed uphill.  They said they were done, they’d done the math and there was no way they could make the cutoff.  “No reason to put in the effort at this point.”  I nodded and kept moving past them.  I remembered thinking ‘F*&^ THAT.  I’m not quitting.  They’ll have to pull me off the course…’ I stopped crying, put my head down and got serious about trying to make the cutoff.

35 – 41. I ran when I could and walked on the steep ups.  I also had to walk on some of the steep downs. I noticed I was getting tired; my toes were dragging and catching everything as soon as I let my attention waiver. This section is partially on a steep North facing slope that I swear was really just a game trail with an immediate and unforgiving drop off. Falling would require search and rescue.  No joke. I was also stuck on the narrow single-track with a PSYCHO running companion. She was hysterical, depressed, loud, opinionated, abrasive.  When I slowed; she slowed. When I ran; she ran. I wanted to push her off the cliff. BUT that’s not nice or allowed.  So I worked HARD on not letting her non-stop chatter get in my head.  I kept thinking about even though I was pushing the cutoffs and my gut was sinking with the idea that this next cutoff might be the last…

  • I was running a race I could be proud of.
  • Spencer (coach) wouldn’t be disappointed in me, my effort or my attitude.
  • I hoped everyone was wrong and that we would beat/slide past the cutoff.

I was trying to stay in the moment with picking-up and purposefully placing my feet, breathing calmly and keeping my mind working by counting groups of foot steps that were taking me closer to the finish line.

41. Siskiyou Gap aid station, done for the day.  Here’s the snapshot in my head:  I crest the hill from some trees, with single-track in front of me.  I see the tent at the aid station in a small clearing.  A woman (not the psycho one, she was finally behind me a bit…) that I had been running behind for several miles is between me and the tent in the open space, sitting on her knees with her head in her hands.  Five volunteer faces look up at me as I come out of the trees and three of them start shaking their heads slightly… You don’t even really need to hear the words…. ‘I’m sorry. Your day is done.’

This is the race that earned me my first DNF.  It really is a SOB. 🙂

It’s also the race where I met new friends, got sage advice and learned that I CAN fuel correctly. By early that evening I was reminded that my family and running friends are pretty damn spectacular.

And at the end of the day(s), with the pity party finally done and my mind settling into accepting the lessons that were handed to me…  This race turned out to be a fantastic training run on stunning trails and one more character building experience in this whole process of embracing and living a healthy lifestyle.

And no one can take any of that away from me.

Faux fears and the next big thing…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
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Happy chance meeting! Finding friends on the trails. Out for various training runs. (L-R, Brandon, Laura (holding Patch), Drew, Spencer, me, Ana Lu and Carlos)

My favorite question?

‘What’s the next big event/race/running thing you have planned?’

First?  I LOVE talking about running and moving and being healthy. Anyone’s running, anyone’s passion for activity, anyone’s healthy. 🙂

Second?  I totally get a kick out of people associating me with running. Totally.  It will never get old.  For the longest time I denied it; I knew runner-runners.  Like, you know — the fast, sleek, athletic people?; it was not me. And that’s ALL I thought running was.  Now?  I realize the world of running accommodates anyone. Anyone.  If you put on shoes with the intent of going for a run; you’re a runner. I LOVE being able to identify with this group of diverse, brave, determined people.

I was at a gala this past week and talking with people I only see periodically.  We were having great conversations about life!  They all eventually asked me what’s up next event-wise.

‘So what crazy run do you have next?’

I answered the questions about a dozen times.

And that repetition of my own answer got me thinking…

The running and training that I do is not entirely for events.

Really.

If I strip it down and examine the whole process and my motivation/desire…  It’s not really for the events at all.  I wanted to tell them about some of the other great things I’m doing that aren’t event related…  Like trying to learn to swim.  Finding new trails. Finally figuring out fueling.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love events.  I’m a people person. OF course I like the event portion of this whole process. The event is really the celebration, the party!  The culmination of months of training and running and miles and learning should be celebrated.

And while I am not doing races to be competitive, I care DEEPLY and totally about doing my best and being as prepared as possible.  I’m doing events and races to meet people, have fun, see new terrain, challenge myself to a new adventure and test my limits/strength.

So then why exactly do I train and spend hours each week running/biking and working out if it isn’t to go to races?

I’ll let you peek at my current goals…

  • To be fit. (Fit feels so, so DAMN good.)
  • Enjoy ALL of the life that I have left to live.
  • Be ready for the next grand adventure.
  • I don’t want my fitness (or lack of…) to stand in the way of life.  At all.  It did.  For too many YEARS.  No more.

That list above, that is why I run and train and work on getting fit.

It really isn’t as simple or straightforward as just being ready for the ‘next big thing’.

Unless that next big thing is LIFE. 🙂

I’ve been picking harder and more robust challenges for the last two years.  I mean, I have been working hard and staying focused and building up to them.  They are challenges that terrify and fascinate me all in the same breath.  50K, learning to swim, 50 miles and beyond…

Part of the reason I keep picking bigger and bigger things to train for is pretty simple and obvious if you think about it…

I’m afraid.

I made a deal with myself almost 4 years ago that I would force myself to give anything that I thought I was afraid of (that wasn’t illegal, immoral or just super-dangerous…) a shot.

I wanted to see if I could teach myself to get over the fear. Feel the fear and do it anyway.  Trite saying; but at the same time a very true operating statement.  Could I face fears and go around/over them?

I wanted to form reality-based opinions of my own, not continue to be bound by the perceived boundaries of the past-me.

The answers to this point have been yes… I can (mostly) get over/around/beat-down the fear and get it done.  It may not be pretty, or well-done or even particularly smart.  In a few cases it left scars. 🙂

AND I am having a HELL of a lot of fun doing it!!!

I need to remind myself of all of that.

I need to remember just how much work I have done to get to this point, how many fears I’ve conquered…

A good friend recently called me out on my ‘fearful’ attitude.  I thought I had pretty much pushed fear to the edges of my life – and I thought it would stay there.  Turns out that fear is tenacious and strong-willed. (Sounds like me. 🙂 )  Trepidation, lack of confidence, self doubt, negativity; call it what you want — seems to be trying to creep back in…

The tell tale warning sign?  (this took me about two weeks to key-in on and discern…) I realized that when I am nervous about something, afraid or embarrassed that I might fail — I start a conversation with one simple word;

‘But…’

I’ve been catching myself using that sentence starter quite a few times these past few months.

‘But’ negates the entire comment.  It tells the listener that they don’t really have to believe anything you’re saying… Because YOU don’t really believe it yourself…

I have to kick the ‘but’s’ back out of my thinking and language.

Tackling fears is NOT linear or simple.  Nor is it ever a completed task. And that’s the lesson I’m working on learning.

There is the legit fear that we have to heed to stay alive and safe.

This isn’t that fear.

This is the fear that we allow to creep in at the edges, create boundaries, limit our work/dreams/goals and cripple our thinking.

I’m calling it my ‘faux fear’.

I am going to keep working, one step at a time, to show my faux fears the door…

What fears are you working to conquer?

Western States Training Camp. Lessons and highlights.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

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Erica, Spencer and I went down to Auburn California to be a part of the Western States Training Camp this past Memorial Day weekend.

We ran long, trail miles for 3 days in a row.

It was fantastic.

Life-changing.  (Not being cheesy. It really was.)

I loved every minute of it.

OK.  Maybe not every single moment.  (Lightening, snake, exhaustion, etc…) But the less than fun moments are some of the best teachers. Looking back less than a week later, I can tell you that I do love those less than happy/perfect moments.  Those hard/un-fun moments in particular are the ones that I plan to draw on, learn from and use to help make me a better person and stronger runner over time.

This was all about experimenting, taking some risks, learning and growing.

This was my first time running this kind of distance. There were some important lessons handed my way.

One category of lessons I would have to call ‘boring running crap’.  The other category is more along the lines of life lessons.

In the ‘boring running crap’ category I either learned or re-confirmed the following:

  • Good socks rock.  Wick moisture, protect your feet. They have a really hard job to do!  Buy good socks.
  • Shoes are your main ‘tool’. No new shoes on race day. (I did not pull that rookie move.) I was entering new territory with terrain and mileage and discovered that not all of my shoes work for the kind of running I like/get/want to do. (This means… SHOE SHOPPING! 🙂 )
  • Fueling. Huge thanks to Erica for her persistent help. We worked for many hours to figure out and practice timing/quality/quantity of fuel during runs.  When we got it mostly figured out/implemented on day three – I could TOTALLY tell the difference of having gotten it right. HUGE SUCCESS!
  • Compressions sleeves are magic and not just for recovery. This big-calfed girl is a new convert to wearing them WHILE running.
  • Chafing.  Boob chafe to be specific.  It is as miserable as it sounds.  I have no idea what got me; the heart rate strap, my bra, my hydration pack… Was WAY more careful day two and three to use body glide. Liberally. Everywhere. On everything. Body glide is cheap insurance.
  • Pooping and coffee. Both are important. BEFORE the race.
  • If there is a photographer on the course they will be a) at the most significant uphill portion where EVERYONE is struggling to even walk upright/uphill… b) when you chose to blow a world-class snot rocket or c) even if you are running and feeling like a million bucks the picture will show both feet planted firmly on the ground. 🙂

In the ‘life lessons on the trails’ category?

  • Study up on poisonous plants in the area you are running in so you don’t accidentally squat in a patch of something that will remind you for DAYS that you should have avoided it…  Just sayin’.
  • When you are offered water — take it.  Top off bottles and packs every chance you get.
  • NO better sight towards the end of a cold, soaking wet, lightening storm filled run than friends waiting at the nearest accessible trailhead to make sure you are OK… And being able to tell them you are OK. 🙂
  • When someone takes a moment to say hello, say hello back. The trails were FULL of cheery greetings and encouragements.  Every single runner I encountered was friendly. Be a positive part of these temporary communities that spring up during events on the public roads and trails.  Everyone wins.
  • Say thank you to ANYONE who spends their time to volunteer. For anything.  They’re giving up their time to help YOU.
  • Laughter calms nerves.
  • Share. If it won’t leave you in a bad spot; share what you have if someone needs it.  The kindness will be returned to you in some way, at some point.
  • Never pass up the chance to use a porta-potty.  Even if it’s on a trailer, hitched to a truck.  And the truck engine is idling. 🙂
  • Stop and take a picture of the things you are enjoying in life.  You aren’t in that big of a hurry.
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Proof that Erica and I ran on these historic and storied trails!
  • You (OK me….)  WILL have moments when you aren’t comfortable or don’t feel great or are scared or aren’t happy or you wonder WHAT you have gotten yourself into. Don’t judge the entire effort by ONE single moment.
  • Everyone (OK… me again…) should know some basic survival skills. Especially if they have a strong desire to spend their life running long distances in the woods. 🙂  (Lightening, snakes, poisonous plants, etc.)
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This little bandit slithered across the top of my foot as I was running (screaming!) past…
  • Watermelon is the best fruit in the world. Period.

Epic adventure.

Great weekend of learning in the safety of friends.

Memories made, miles run and training for some really big things this summer/Fall are now underway.

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Western States Training Camp. Lightening fast.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments
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Stepping onto the trail…  So excited to get running.

I had one of the most epic runs of my life (so far!) this past weekend.

And one of the most terrifying moments of my running life.

All in the same day.

The Western States Training Camp is an annual 3-day bonanza of trail running out of Auburn California.  It’s a practice event designed to help the runners learn the trails for the upcoming Western States Endurance Run.  It’s a historic 100-mile trail race that happens the end of June. http://www.wser.org

This camp is open to non-racing runners as well.  New, veteran, fast, slow — as long as you have a love for the sport and pay the registration fee; you are warmly welcomed. (Endurance run-nerds should really put this well-run, flawlessly supported camp on their bucket list.)

Spencer, Erica and I went down to run.  We’re all planning big events over the next few months and this was a great ‘kick-off’ training weekend. We ran 32 miles on Saturday, 18 miles on Sunday and 22 miles on Monday.  BIG miles.  Training, new terrain, friends.  ALL GOOD!

That’s the epic part. 🙂

Back to the terrifying part of the story.

The first morning we were bused up to Robinson Flat to start the run back to the Foresthill Elementary School. Spencer took off and ran when the buses unloaded. Erica and I took off after waiting in a long – female exclusive – line for the lone enclosed commode. We wanted one last hint of civilization. There would be plenty of time for ‘being one with nature’ the rest of the day. 🙂

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Running selfie, without wrecking. 🙂

So many stories I could tell about squatting in poison oak, missed turns, the beyond-annoying chatty-chick from Maryland that we all wanted to push off the nearest cliff, great micro-chats with fascinating people, snakes, active gold mines, abandoned cemeteries, botched water crossings… Blogs for another day. 🙂

We hit the last aid station at Michigan Bluff.  Mile 26. Close to done. We quickly stocked up on water and food (watermelon for me, PBJ for Erica!) and took off to put a time stamp on this sucker.

We’re around mile 29 and starting to get rained on.  BIG, wet drops of rain.

The weather forecast heading into the weekend had said 80 and clear.  It was 55 and rainy and starting to hail.  We joked about finding the weatherperson and having a ‘friendly’ conversation with them about their forecasting skills.

THUNDER.

Bright flash of light.

HOLY SMOKES.

We were half way between the aid station (which was a tent with METAL poles) and the finish. We’re soaked.  We’re cold. We’re on a semi-exposed, raised dirt road. Trees on either side.  A 3-strand barbed wire fence next to us…

Nowhere to hide.

We heard thunder again and breathed a little sigh of relief. We agreed it was moving away from us… Whew. No more lightening…

We kept moving.

Then about 15 minutes later the storm seemed to double back.

Startlingly bright flash of light and a thunder clap that we both insist was right over our heads. Loud enough you could feel it and it numbed your ear drums.

At this point we’re talking back and forth about what our best survival option is.  And we’re serious. We’re both nervous and not liking our situation and trying to figure out how to a) not freak the other one out and b) seriously get our butts off the exposed hill and down to the school. Alive.

We kept moving toward the school with the agreement that if it happened again we would stop to wait out the storm and make ourselves the smallest of possible targets away from big trees/obvious lightening rods.

We had a plan.  And that’s about the point when the hill crested and we were finally winding down off of the hill…

Slight sidebar in the story; on the descent with rain/thunder/lightening in the distance and moving away, we came upon a fellow trail runner essentially hugging a tree (WRONG THING TO DO!).  She said she was too scared to go on. Erica gently convinced her to get AWAY from the tree. The runner asked to follow us down the trail.  We kept moving. (In a karmic/comedic twist; the runner happens to be the beyond-annoying chatty-chick that we wanted to push off of several earlier cliffs… WHOLE other story.  Longest. Mile. Ever. Thankful my hearing was temporarily impaired from the thunder. Small blessing.)

We finally reached the forest gate and were about to hit paved road to head to the school.  Several cars were there at the trail; checking on runners they knew had to be up on the hill.  One of the cars pulling up was Spencer. He made sure we were OK and said ‘you guys want to get in the car or do you want to finish this thing?’

‘Finish the run.’

This entire sport, the endurance world, is about learning about and testing your limits and strengths and boundaries.  And then finding the mental fortitude to fight beyond all of your tiredness and fears and the other BS your brain creates to try to make you stop.  We aren’t just training to run; we’re training to make our minds tougher.  Pushing through the hard, ugly, imperfect stuff creates confidence and strength.  It help you understand and believe that just about anything is possible if you work hard enough, fight long enough.  It’s what I LOVE about this sport.  You don’t have to be fast or elegant or naturally talented or have a ton of money or have a certain body type.  You just have to be tough and persistent.

As we were briefly checking in with Spencer, I realized I was starting to shake from having been scared.  I KNEW that I didn’t want this to be the ending to this epic running adventure. Come within a mile of the finish line and because something unexpected had happened, I QUIT short of the goal and jump in the warm car?

Hell no.

No way.

I did not want that narrative in my head.  I wanted to know I could keep on going even though I was scared and exhausted and cold.  It was something really important that I just had to finish.  All of that went through my head.

I don’t have a clue what I actually said out loud.

Erica and I started heading toward the school and she simply said ‘This is where our real training begins. Let’s run to the school.’

We ran.

We shuffled, jogged, hiked, ran our way back to that finish area and straight into the nearest porta potties.  (Priorities. 🙂 )

And then right into the warm car. 🙂

We ran 32 miles in 8 hours and 36 minutes.

It was a beautiful, happy, memorable day of running.

Day one of the Western States Training Camp was in the books.

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Erica and I on day 3 at the American River overlook. Over 80 degrees before noon.  TOTALLY different weather. Great day of running in the heat. 🙂

Mac 50K (Yup… That’s not a typo.)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
Ana Lu and I in the finisher's chute. Photo credit to Josh Gum.
Ana Lu and I closing in on the finish line. Photo credit,  Josh Gum.

2015 Mac 50K is in the books. (31 miles, also called an Ultra). Mac is run on scenic, stunning trails in a gorgeous forest.

This was my second 50K. Even factoring in the first 10K I walked with Hannah when I weighed 280 pounds, this race was by far the hardest physical thing I have ever done.

Climbing over hills, jumping over logs/creeks and roots, steep ascents/descents, amazing scenery, great camaraderie with other runners and amazing volunteers.

Here are a few moments from Saturday that made me smile, lifted my heart…

  • Friends I was NOT expecting to see, standing in the middle of the forest cheering all of us on.
  • Taryn and Laura with the mid-run assist of a much needed banana and hugs.
  • Patrick riding beside me as I walked up a lonely stretch of sun-exposed road.  Gently reminding me to get fuel in my belly for the miles ahead.
  • Carlos helping me load salt tabs in my pack at the aid station because my hands weren’t functioning very well.
  • Ana Lu telling me (as I was whimpering with each step up a gentle slope) that she was ‘getting me to the finish line’.
  • The high school volunteer who kindly put ice cubes in my nasty/sweaty/filthy hydration pack while it was still on my back.

Snapshots.

Happy and meaningful snapshots for my heart from a damn fine day.

I love this sport, race day or any day, because it tests the individual. And yet in a strange way it’s almost like a team sport.  We all genuinely want everyone else to win their personal race.  NO matter how they define it.  If they’re fighting their heart and guts out – we’re rooting for them. Period.

When someone was stopped on the side of the trail around mile 17 or so, all you could hear were echoes through the forest of other runners asking ‘you OK?’ as they paused on their way past.  Or you come across someone struggling and you just buddy up with them (or they with you!), distract each other and encourage each other as best you can while you happen to be on the same stretch of trail. We generously share supplies when we have what someone else needs (salt tabs anyone?).

For Mac, I put into motion the training that Spencer and I have been working on for the past 6 months. Actually we’ve really been working on foundation building for Mac for a solid year.  It all came together on Saturday.

I did encounter some serious cramping in my shins, calves and feet. It was possibly from fatigue, heat/electrolyte imbalance, my lack of experience navigating super-steep terrain or even all of the above…  It just made things a bit tougher than planned.

I finished my race in 8:04.

And even with the stupid shin cramping agony; that is a WIN for me!

Racing these long events, my biggest issue is my head.  I start to question what I’m doing and it gets more insistent as my body starts to hurt and push to the edges of my training. My head starts to battle for control.  And the control it wants is clear and absolute; it wants to shut down my body and make everything comfortable and easy and safe.  Immediately.

From about mile 20 to the finish, I was really battling my brain. Even with friends running with me and trying to distract me; my head was going for the mental ‘sore spots’.

Everyone has them.  I am NOT alone.

Spencer and I have had tons of conversations about how part of the training we do for endurance events is specifically FOR the mental battles we face.

So for every negative thought, I would conjure up a positive.

  • Focus on my breathing. I WAS very alive and totally breathing.
  • I was running and moving. There are people, some I know and love, who do not/no longer have that option.
  • Marveling that my body could work so DANGED hard for so long and WILL be able to do even more with training and time.
  • Every single step was taking me closer to the finish line, to other goals, to becoming a stronger woman.
  • Pizza. 🙂 (Not gonna lie. I think about pizza a lot when I run.)

I finished the race and was greeted by friends.

Lots of friends. Old and new. Hugs and congrats and encouragement for everyone.

We were all verbally stepping all over each other trying to inquire about others that we had lost track of during the race. Was everyone back and OK? How was everyone feeling? Loud and happy chatter!

In the interest of full disclosure; I had one mercifully brief breakdown just after crossing the finish line. I realized I had DONE it, I was physically and mentally exhausted and it was the eve of Mother’s day.  My mom has been gone for 5 years and she would be so, totally, insanely proud of me.  She was wheel-chair bound and I just happened to glimpse a wheelchair with someone’s loved one waiting at the finish line.  It was JUST enough of a trigger… I suddenly felt heartbroken and totally lost without my mom for a few moments. MAN would she have loved what my life has become and the people in it… A legitimate feeling of sadness and loss that was perched at the surface bubbled over.  I was emotionally raw and depleted anyway.  Why not just give in to it?  I grabbed a hug from my friend Jeff and maybe, just maybe, cried on him a little bit…

Dried my tear(s).  (I’m not normally a crier. And I was dehydrated anyway. 🙂 )

Grabbed some more water and some orange slices.

Went to search for more friends.

Took pictures. Hugged anyone and everyone who wanted a hug. And some who didn’t. 🙂 Even though we ALL smelled like yeti’s.

Spent some time just reveling in a sport that is as much about a new-found, welcoming family and a team environment as it is about the amazing individuals  and characters who embrace it.

I love this sport more every time I lace up my shoes.

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Close to mile 6. Photo credit goes to Jeff Sherman who sprinted ahead, laid down on the ground and let us ran at/hurdle over him as he snapped the shot. Hannah, Josh, me, Ana Lu and Kristie.

Waterfalls and perspective.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 5 Comments
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Jeff, Wade and Bets. Silver Falls.

Perspective is a good and necessary thing.

Asserting that, knowing that and even reminding our college-aged student leaders of the importance of perspective ALL THE TIME…

It’s still something I fight.

(Note to current OSU students; you are not allowed to throw this little tidbit back in my face the next time I remind you about keeping things in perspective…)

My coaching conversation with Spencer this week wound up being about perspective.  I was expressing frustration and concern that I’d had two really rough runs this past weekend. My legs were tired so I was moving sllloooowwww.

BUT tired legs wasn’t the worst of it; the worst part was fighting with my head.

My brain was DONE running for the week and trying to check out with EACH freaking step.  I mean that quite literally. I had two long runs — so it was HOURS of fighting with my head. Brutal stuff.

I was really frustrated with myself. I was also questioning whether I had genuinely given things 100% effort. I didn’t feel like I had finished the 3-week training cycle strong; which is what I always aim for… Had I wasted an opportunity somehow? Had I screwed things up?

Spencer listened. Then reminded me that the only way the training time would have been ‘wasted/lost’ would have been if I had quit, given up.

I had NOT quit.

With a little time and hindsight, they may have been ugly runs; but I can admit that I really did gut out each run as best I could.

Mental training is very, very much a part of what we’re working on.  I know this.

Spencer reassured me that this weekend I WON the battle with my head. Not quitting was very much a win.

The moment I’m in might be crappy, but on the whole, I am making progress and learning and growing.

Spencer asks ‘Could you have done any of this a year ago?’ I answer ‘No. No way.’

Perspective.

It can be a sort of magic at times if I let it creep in. It can elbow doubt or fear or stress to the side….  Perspective, for me at least, reminds me what the balance of life is all about.  To be clear we are NOT talking about the negative-emotional-sinkhole of COMPARISON.

But perspective. 

A dose of perspective – whether I find it on my own or someone lovingly/gently/bluntly hands it to me – usually brings me some welcomed concoction of balance, a sense of growth and peace of mind.

My friends Wade and Jeff went for a run with me on Sunday.

It was a BIG DEAL for me.

Big.

Why?

Because the three of us have never run together before. I’ve known both of them for about 9 years.  They both were students at OSU.

But more importantly they knew me at my heaviest and know how hard I have worked to get healthy. 

Wade was my student worker. He saw the daily struggles of my life as an obese woman first-hand, well before I ever dreamed of embarking on this journey to reclaim my life.  He has been a constant support and isn’t afraid to be honest with me – even about the tough stuff.  I talk to/text him almost daily.

Jeff is not only my colleague currently, but one of my closest friends and stalwart running companions.  Jeff’s  job is to bail us out when I accidentally lead us headfirst into trouble. He’s had a lot of practice. 🙂

Both of these dudes are very important in my life. And they’re good friends as well.

We finally got organized and left the car and took off down a narrow path to grab the loop around Silver Falls State Park.

We first chatted about Wade’s genuine fear of heights as we were hugging a rock cliff and holding a wobbly fence railing over the ravine to get down to the falls.  It wasn’t so much chatting as Wade loudly reminding me ‘I DO NOT LIKE HEIGHTS BETSY HARTLEY’. 🙂

But then we got to some rolling single-track near the water…

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After some perfunctory and good-natured harassing of each others outfits, habits, and skills…

Wade says…

“I remember when you used to walk into your office from your car in the morning and you would flop down in the bean bag chair and say ‘I’m exhausted already!'”

Wade then asks me if I remember that…

Yes.

I do.

Clearly.

It’s really embarrassing to look back on the habits of the ‘old me’.

The sweaty, hot, lazy, exhausted, sick me… Especially in those days where I knew I had a problem and was unwilling to do anything about it.

I could try to deny it or hide it from most folks, but I can’t really be embarrassed about the ‘old me’ with these two; they’ve seen the entire journey…

From 392 pounds to now.

They’ve trained for events with me. They have both gotten endless calls and texts about food/weight/running/crazy-ass ideas/mental exhaustion/goal setting/setbacks/successes/doctor reports/triumphs.

They’ve both stuck with me through the whole thing.

And here we were…

RUNNING together!

So about 3 miles in on the run I couldn’t seem to settle down and enjoy the run, but I finally decided to wrap my brain around and embrace some positive perspective.

I was in some of the most beautiful country around.

I was running BEHIND incredible waterfalls in green, lush forests.

I was no longer a T2 diabetic.

I was at a healthy weight and holding it steady for over a year.

I have friends willing to get up at crack o’ dawn and go run on dirt/mud with me.

I was with two great friends who know my story and my struggles and LOVE me anyway.

NONE of us ever really thought we might all be able to run together… But we were.

Perspective.

It’s all about perspective.

#Lifeisgood

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Don’t let the picture fool you. At this point I think we were talking about how much coffee each of needed so we could poop before we run… Glamor. Sophistication. Class. That’s us… 🙂

Coach to 50K

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
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Spencer and I after The North Face Endurance Challenge, CA 12/2014.

You’ve heard of couch to 5K, the running/training app?

How about heart-monitor to 50K in 18 months?

No?

You haven’t heard of it?!?

Well, then let me tell you a story…

I met Spencer when I was super focused and quite a ways into my lifestyle re-vamp. I was down to 200 pounds and off insulin. I was working to get off all other meds and wanted to lose 40 more pounds. I was falling in LOVE with being able to MOVE; running specifically had captured my heart.

I was loving the active life I was building! 

We were introduced randomly at work. ‘Hey you both run. You know each other right?’ 

(Me at 200 pounds and teaching myself to begin to run, being introduced to a tall, thin, fit, very obviously a runner-looking dude…)

Spencer said ‘You run!’

I stuttered back something intelligent and confident like ‘UH… I’m NOT THAT kind of runner… Not like you can obviously run. I’m really, really slow. I just wanna be able to run a mile without walking…’

Spencer said “It’s cool you run! Let’s grab coffee and talk about running.’

So we did.

I explained how I had gotten to the point of wanting to become a runner; mega weight loss, getting off insulin. Lifestyle changes, NOT diet.

I confessed I couldn’t run more than a mile or two. But I still told him my heart’s desire; I wanted to run an ultra someday. Did he even know what the heck I was talking about? Spencer, with a grin, said ‘Yeah. I’ve heard of them.’  ‘Do you really think someone like me could run an ultra?’  ‘Absolutely.’

Heard of them? Geez. Turns out he had RUN them!

The ultra world isn’t very big. With DUMB luck I had just stumbled into someone who KNEW about them. More importantly to me? He was only the second or third person to greet my ‘ultra’ goal with a POSITIVE response and not the now-standard ‘YOU are crazy.’

He asked me what I was doing to train. I told him; LOTS. I was running and biking and hiking and weight lifting and doing boot camp classes.  If a little is good, a lot is better. Right?!

Spencer said ‘You’re doing a lot. Be careful and maybe look at some structure to keep from getting hurt’.

My brain shut down at his words of caution… 

I was SO, so, so tired of everyone preaching caution AT ME on this journey. Diabetes was trying to KILL me. Caution seemed stupid. Couldn’t people see I was ACTUALLY going to win this war against diabetes if everyone would just get THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY?!!!

Turns out that I was JUST about to reach a very real breaking point…

June 2013 I literally hit the ground. I passed out in Safeway. An off-duty fireman walking toward me saw the impending train wreck and broke my fall…

I wound up in the ER.

Exhaustion and potassium depletion was what they finally told me. ‘Hang up your running shoes for a few weeks and give your body a break..’

I met Spencer for coffee again a few days after my visit to the ER — wearing a portable EKG/heart monitor. I was defeated, scared to death I was going to lose my foothold on this new lifestyle.

I was ready to LISTEN.

I needed help.

I really wanted to be a runner.

Blacking-out scared the crap out of me. I clearly did NOT know what in the hell I was doing. At all. I asked Spencer about structure. And preventing this from happening again. And coaching.

Spencer was not coaching anyone at that point. He was insistent about it.

After some additional conversations; I flat-out begged him to consider working with me. Some more conversations? He agreed we could give coaching a try for a short period of time.

Fast forward 18 months.

Spencer is still my coach. 🙂

There has been lots of cussing and learning and sassy moments as I struggled to be OK with trusting someone else to help me on this journey.

I had to learn to accept that Spencer really was on my side.

Please understand; that statement is NOT a judgement on Spencer. THIS whole journey of changing your entire lifestyle..?  It can be lonely and hard. You get used to doing a lot of this stuff on your own, without crowd approval or understanding or support from anyone beyond a small handful of trusted friends.

To invite Spencer into this journey and then give him some portion of involvement and control was a very BIG step for me.

I ditched the heart monitor after a TON of tests. I got a totally clean bill of health after a period of serious rest. I had permission to start back to exercising and running – slowly and cautiously.

I started back from my ‘crash’ working with Spencer as my coach. Our goal? He was going to help me re-build in a healthy, sustainable, safe way.

The trial period worked out.

He hasn’t fired me. (Yet.)

And… I ran my first 50K this past weekend.

That is my heart-monitor to 50K program in 18 months story.

Or as I have been calling it this week..?!?

‘Coach to 50K’. 🙂

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Thanks for not firing me Spencer… 🙂