Life and Merrill's Mile RR: having the courage to be as raw and real as possible

July 1st, 1:30 p.m.

For the umpteenth time in my life, when things didn't go as planned, I have turned to running for a bit of therapy. Partially for the ability to feel in control of something, but partially to physically exhaust myself to the point that I am more patient, more kind, and more understanding. Sometimes I need those qualities to treat other humans better, but more likely, I need it to treat myself better.

Losing my job just over a week ago was a direct punch to the face. It was unexpected and certainly left me questioning everything I have done as a professional. I went through all the grief emotions. And though I felt enormously flawed, I also couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilt because of all the things I still was grateful to have. Tremendous people in my life that have lifted me up. A roof over my head and food in my belly. A healthy body. The ability to keep dreaming despite feeling pushed to the ground. But there is no denying that there were dark moments over the last 10 days. 

I told myself I would give myself a calendar week at the very least to consider my options. I updated my resume, made contacts on LinkedIn, reached out to former colleagues, and forced myself into becoming comfortable talking about it. I started with the most appealing positions first and slowly moved into things that I would consider or felt I met the qualifications. 

Radio silence until Wednesday.

In the first few days, I dreamed about the AT as an outlying possibility. It wavered from really possible to really financially irresponsible and I pecked at research. Because I wasn't hearing anything back immediately from any future employer, I allowed myself to fester on this dream. Advice trickled in and I even went so far as to compile a list of gear I would need to begin the journey.

But Wednesday came and I got my first bite of returning to work as a "normal" adult. It made me feel empty inside. I went through the motions of the interview and while I could picture myself in the position, it didn't make me feel any sort of joy. At the end of the day, I knew that if prolonged, I would have to accept whatever was offered to me. I could always look while I worked, but I feared that I would get stuck in something that I ultimately did not want to be doing. And I don't want to live to work. I want to work to live. 

Again, the guilt. I should be grateful for any opportunity. I should take whatever it offered. 

But Wednesday morning, I had found out about a former colleague passing away far too young and wrote a brief manifesto about my crossroads. I went for a run. I started out slowly as it was taper week and I had already used my rage energy to run a 5:57 mile the previous Friday. My mind was wandering and as I made the turn around, I started to get sad and angry again. Sad that the stupid adage of "only the good die young" was so poignant in the situation. And angry that it took someone's death to make me aware of my life.

It seems like a simple decision when put into that context.

But as the week came to an end, I had 5 interviews and the very millennial attitude of I only want something that enjoy. Am I sabotaging my own chances of being a viable employee? What if I turn something down and I don't get any more offers? Am I being too greedy and should I just be gracious with what I am offered?

I'll never know how the other way would turn out. That's the thing about decisions. You don't get a redo. My logical brain is weighing the pros and cons so hard on every situation that I feel like my brain is going to explode. And the few minutes I find in peace every day without the anxiety of the unknown are rare.

But when I run, I am at peace. It is all I have to do in the moment. It is all I have to concentrate on. No matter what else is going on, I cannot change the past and I cannot worry about the future.     

July 1st, 7:30 p.m.

Adam and Megan have traveled an hour to see me off. There is no trade-off for them as spectators and I cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the fact I have such good people in my life. Dan raps on my car window in the rain and tells me that his wife and daughter are also staked out in the car. A short while later, the rain stops and Adam helps me pull out my gear. Jay has come down from Raleigh on a very last minute decision to cross Georgia off his list. Soon after, I see Sam out on the course, plugging away at his 100 miler. And look, Sarah and Sean are here too!

We chat a bit with everyone and bide the time until the 9:00 p.m. runners line up at the starting line. A few of us are called to check our timing chips and suddenly, it's go time.

There is a pack of us that starts out running mid-9's very comfortably. Jay and I are super chatty the first mile and I almost forgot that we had spectators as we came around the first lap. Hi Megan! Hi Adam! It is surprisingly comfortable for an evening in July in Georgia and after a long week of limiting my runtherapy due to the taper, I am ready for some miles.

On the second lap, I high-fived Megan and gave Adam a kiss before they took off for the evening. Our pack continued to go around and around for the first hour with steady conversation and introductions. I had been outed as the overall winner from the prior year which put pressure on me in both good and bad ways.

At the 45 minute mark, I stopped to grab a gel and my handheld. 12 hours is a long time to stay on top of calories and hydration and I was hoping that I could be as successful as last year. The pack thinned a bit in the next hour and then it was just Jay and I. Every time I saw someone on the course, it was a boost and though I didn't run with Hal, he did leave me a bag of popcorn in my camping chair.

I had another gel at about an hour and 30 minutes in and that marked the end of any strategy for nutrition. Jay and I separated at some point and I started just clicking off the miles in the low 9's. At first, I was a little concerned to lose company so early on. However, it did make it much easier to just run by feel and not be as concerned with staying in stride. I continued to reevaluate my effort and backed off when I felt like I was pushing the needle a little too far.

By the end of the 3rd hour, I was feeling good about my overall pace and pretty much on track to repeat the prior year's performance. It rained for about 15 minutes or so and I was happily cooled off. My guts were rebelling a bit and I felt instant relief after a porta-potty jaunt. My miles in the 3rd-4th hour were some of the best, but I was digging myself into a hole by avoiding calories and hydration. I ignorantly clipped off some sub 9's and would later pay the price.

After hitting the marathon mark just past the 4th hour, I picked up my iPod as a treat. The rain caused one of the earbuds to be full of static and so I just had one in my ear. Coupled with my inability to be comfortable at time, the music situation was hurting more than helping. I think I ended up tossing it onto my chair after about 3 laps.

Hitting 50K was the next milestone and I was plunging hard and fast into the pain cave. I stopped talking to people as I went by. The next 2 hours were completely and utterly miserable. I knew I needed to eat, but I kept passing the aid station because my stomach was a wreck. As the 6 hour mark loomed, I desperately wanted to throw in the towel. Everything hurt. My stomach, my legs, and worst of all, my mind. I couldn't wrap my head around running for 6 more hours.

I went to the darkest crevices of my mind. The self-loathing was cutting me deeper with each mile. I screwed up at life. And now I am screwing up running too. Mentally, I was 99% certain that there was no way I was going to find a happy place again in the race.

At 6 hours and 28 minutes, I stopped to do damage control at the aid station after emptying my guts at the porta-potty. I knew even if I was going to spend the next 5+ hours walking, I needed to get my stomach under control. I ate a slice of orange and drank a cup of ginger ale. I walked about 50 feet beyond the start/stop line and started making noises like a dog about to puke.

And then I puked everything I had just consumed. 6 violent and painful pukes.

I brushed my mouth with the back of my arm and stood still for a moment. And then I moved tentatively forward. Into a walk. Into a jog. Into a run.

Though I knew I was basically running on empty, I felt better than I had for about 15 miles. I gave myself a few more miles and then decided to try some broth. I'm not a soup person. And I was shoving ice in my sports bra half the night to stay cool even though it was in the 60's. But Sarah's love broth was a magical experience. I drank a cup of it and within minutes, felt like someone had injected me with a power boost. As I came around with my empty cup in hand, I asked for a refill.

At 8:14, I passed the 50 mile mark. 7 minutes slower than last year. I felt a little defeated and couldn't do the runner math to figure out that I still had a shot at a repeat performance. But the broth definitely got my body going in the right direction and though the miles were wearing on me, I was in a much better spot than the 2 hours prior.

My strategy dropped into the run/walk category over the next 12 miles. I would start walking at the start/finish line and pick up at the D2 sign. It was maybe about 1/8th of a mile. It would allow me a minute or so to digest the few things I could manage at the aid station. And mentally, it gave me something to look forward to every lap.

As the sky started to lighten, I felt a sense of relief knowing that I could get rid of my headlamp and visor. Plus, being able to see the other runners was huge. We could yell out to each other across the loop because we could finally see each other!

Nearing 7 a.m., I realized that I actually had a 100K PR that I was about to beat. This gave me a huge mental boost towards the end. And last year, I was trying to just hit 100K so I stopped and did a lot of walking after reaching my goal. This year, I had a shot at cracking 70 if I stuck with it the last 2 hours. I allowed myself a little bit longer walk as reward for the 100K and then kept on plugging away.

My mind was settled, my stomach was tolerable, and now I just had to overcome overuse soreness. The upper outer portion of where the hip meets the glutes meets the thighs on both sides were aching. Of the three pains, I can handle the body soreness easiest so I was relieved that this was the devil I was dancing with late in the race.

I really wasn't paying much mind to the overall standings until the last couple of hours when Jay checked on them. Loop races are weird because you never really know who is in first. Even the fastest runners will stop for aid and walk at some points. I was a lap ahead of the field and unless I experienced a breakdown and/or someone found a second wind, it was likely I could pull off an overall win.

Sean was pushing me to go for 71, 72, but I was definitely content to hit 70.X. As soon as I realized that hitting 70 was a possibility, I really just stayed in the moment. There was no outside noise. No dwelling in the past. No dreaming about the future. Just one foot in front of the other. Breathe steady. Stay moving.

The best part of the race usually is the last mile. But this one was especially great because I got to finish with Joseph and Cary who had been part of our pack at the beginning of the race. Both had hit the 100K mark and we all walked the last mile together with less than 20 minutes left on the clock. I don't even remember what we talked about, but that kind of camaraderie in ultras is easily the best part of doing them. It was so distracting that the finish and finish line experience was kind of a blur.

We all stood around and talked for a bit before collecting our medals and going about the rest of the morning. Jay and I had breakfast beers and sat soaking in the sun before we parted ways. I bid Sam good luck as he continued his 100 mile journey and high-fived John on my way out.

As I drove down the winding roads heading home, I honestly couldn't believe how dark things got around 3:30 a.m. and how I somehow managed to keep going. The body is an extraordinary thing--I am grateful for the one that allows me to do what I love. These experiences prove that things don't always go as planned. And maybe it's a bunch of idealistic hogwash, but I like to think that getting roughened up makes me appreciate all the things I am still so fortunate to have.

  

Merrill's Mile 12 Hour RR: Don't Wake Me Up From This Dream

"How many more do you have?" blue shirt runner guy shouted from across the track.

"2!" I exclaimed.

"Are you going to keep going?"

"Of course!"

With an hour and a half left on the clock, I made my goal of 100K. 62 miles in 10:29:45. But the race wasn't to reach a mileage mark and finish. This was a 12 hour race. It was to see how far I could go in 720 minutes.

I had to go on. Despite everything in my body telling my mind to stop, I knew I still was capable of more.

1 year prior, I was in the exact same location, running my very first distance longer than a marathon. I loved it. In the 366 days since, I've pushed the envelope further than I could have imagined. 5 marathons (3 of them in 3:20-3:22 range) and 4 more ultras.

I'm still learning. I'm still making mistakes. But distance running is often an exercise in taking advantage of the really great seconds/minutes/hours and not letting the really terrible times define you. Because there will be terrible times. Even in the best of races, there will be low moments. But that's what makes getting to the finish so much sweeter.

My last race was a hot mess. I had four one too many beers the night before (shocker...), consumed too much fat/dairy in the hours before the race, and continued to dehydrate myself by not drinking early and often. Plus, it was about 15° warmer.

I didn't want to make the same mistakes. The misery was too fresh.

Steve and I did take a very slow hike at Amicalola Falls and up Blood Mountain on Thursday. My calves were a bit sore, but I don't think it had much ill-effect on my race. Plus, I think the mental nourishment outweighed any tightness. We are brewing up some plans to section hike the Appalachian Trail next year and this reignited my desire for adventure.

I hadn't run since Tuesday so we did a short shakeout run at the Greenway on Friday morning. It was a typical Hotlanta morning full of stifling humidity and oppressive heat. A nice reminder to be thankful that we were going to be racing in the dark.

We headed to Midtown after getting cleaned up to eat burgers and drink one last beer together at the Vortex before switching to water and Gatorade. While we were in the area, we took a short walk to and around Piedmont Park before returning to suburbia.

The next 24 hours were pretty uneventful. We ate, hydrated, slept, ate, hydrated, napped, and I made a sign to place with our personal aid station.

Adam drove us up to Camp Frank D. Merrill and Megan was already there when we arrived. She caught a few before snapshots of us while we were counting down to 9pm.

Soon, Steve and I had our bibs, timing chip ankle cuffs, and were standing around receiving "instructions" for the race. Run around the circle. Switch directions when told every 6 hours. Watch out for water moccasins. Have fun.

There were 48 hour (!!!!) and 24 hour (!!!) runners that we were joining on the track. They had started at 9am and looked hot and tired. Our starting group contained 6 hour and 12 hour runners and approximately 25-30 people lined up with us.

My goals were to run 100K and to keep moving for 12 hours. I knew I would feel better earlier and that my pace would naturally wane, but I really wanted to avoid the crash and burn. So I repeated 10 minute miles, 10 minute miles, 10 minute miles over and over knowing that as long as I was within 30 seconds of that, I wouldn't be setting myself up for a complete bonkfest.

Steve explained his strategy of running and then run/walking to me. I got lost in the runner math and decided to just try to run together until one of us felt particularly good or bad. The great thing about a 1 mile loop is that we knew we'd catch up with one another all night even if we separated.

We cruised easy for the first few miles trying to get in sync with a pace. Jeff and his parents arrived right at the start and we were able to wave our hellos to them. Our spectator group decided to take off as we rounded the 3rd lap and around the same time, we switched on our lights for a long night of running.

Steve and I talked back and forth and the first hour went by relatively quickly. We settled into a strategy of stopping every other lap for hydration/nutrition either from the official aid station or our own stash. I was making every attempt at staying hydrated and cool early on. At the sweltering L.A. Marathon earlier this year, I learned that sticking ice in your sports bra is heavenly. So I repeated this genius behavior and attribute much of my success to keeping my core body temperature lowered.

I ate an Uncrustable (grape, duh) early on when I realized I was pretty hungry. I knew that I needed to keep calories in so I was trying to eat something every other time I stopped for liquid even though I was getting some calories from the Mountain Dew and Gatorade.

My legs felt sluggish for the first 15 miles, but everything else was pretty much perfect. I was energized, in a good place mentally, and was relatively comfortable. I stopped to pee which was a good sign that I was hydrating early and often.

Somewhere around mile 17 or 18, Steve pushed me to go on while he walked a bit. We got in a solid 3 hours and though it was early, I knew we'd be able to run more later given the style of the course.

Soon after that, I saw Dan who had come out to set up his stuff for the 12 hour on Sunday as well as support a few other friends running. He ran a 1/2 mile lap with me and it was a nice transition into my loner hours. 

I was feeling so much different than the race I had 3 weeks prior. Everything started to fall in place and I tried to stay on top of anything that might sway me from a great night. Without Steve to talk to, I decided I would wait until somewhere between the marathon mark and 50K to grab my music. It seemed to pay off because some of my fastest miles were between 26-39.

I allowed myself to remember the awesome feeling I had when I finished the lap after the marathon mark last year. I was hoping that I would have a similar feeling as I cruised beyond mile 50 this year.

I did actually start to feel sleepy around 2am so I popped a caffeine pill and drank a few sips of coffee that I cooled off with ice. My feet were sore from all the miles on pavement and I was hoping that I would suffer no long-term effects from repeated doses of OTC painkillers.

Food was getting harder and harder to figure out. I was hungry, but nothing stood out so I just tried a bunch of everything. I ate a couple of mini chocolate donuts (those kind that almost taste like they are coated in wax?) and a fair number of boiled potatoes dipped in salt. I ate another half of an Uncrustable at some point and a bunch of Pringles. I ate some baby pickles, a few peanut M&M's, some orange slices, a couple of hunks of watermelon, and spent the last couple of hours eating a lemon sandwich cookie every other mile.

My Garmin died at mile 39.99 (really?, really.) and so I relied on the time clock and lap counter for the rest of the evening. As I headed into the 7th hour, I realized that I was about to slay my 50 mile PR. I've only run 50 twice and both were on trails, but I figured that this was still pretty awesome considering I still was going to run for nearly 4 more hours afterwards. I finished my 50th lap in 8:07:23!

I was thrilled going into mile 51 and I almost forgot that I was entering new territory mileage-wise. But then again it was 5am and now I was counting down the moments until I could get rid of my head lamp and hat. I caught up with Steve and we ran for a bit together. The sky slowly started to get lighter and though I knew the sun would bring heat, it would also signal that we were nearing the finish.

The light brought the race back to life for many runners. Now that we could properly see each other, there were all kinds of words of encouragement being tossed around. I ran with blue shirt runner guy for a bit and he told me he was aiming for 50 miles. We were both on track to hit our goals and it was exciting that we had an extra time cushion.

I was waving to him and Steve as we went 'round and 'round the circle. When I knew that 100K was locked in barring some act of God, I allowed myself to relax a bit. It seemed unreal that I had run that many miles.

And yet, when I crossed the mat at mile 62, I just kept right on going. I still had an hour and a half left. I ran a few more miles and then I sought companionship. The boredom and fatigue were beginning to consume me and I needed a distraction. When I reached Steve again, we walked and talked. Erin and her niece came just after 8am and they joined us for 2 miles. I grabbed a beer from the cooler as we walked what I thought was going to be my final mile. A victory lap of sorts. 68 laps was more than I hoped for so I was pleased as punch to just enjoy the moment.

But as we neared the last mile, we saw there were still 15 minutes left on the clock. Runnable, but questionably walkable in our zombie state. Erin gave me the challenging push and that was all I needed. I handed Steve my beer and took off hoping to squeak out another mile.

It hurt so good. Knowing that it was just icing on the cake took all the pressure off. I felt as though I was running a 6 minute mile. It was the perfect mix of silly and determined which pretty much sums up my running. With a few minutes still left before the cutoff, I crossed the line for my 69th lap.

Results are still pending so I'm not sure where I placed in the weekend. But no matter what, I am thrilled with my race and even happier that I got to spend the race weekend with my RB.

Steve knocked out an impressive 58+ miles and kept moving and smiling throughout the night. There aren't that many weirdos out there that want to run around in circles in the middle of July in Georgia overnight. I'm lucky to share breakfast beers and cookies with this swell dude from Michigan. Better yet? He and Adam can watch 58590380285 innings of baseball together all weekend while I take naps.

If this is a dream, please don't ever wake me up.