Why do I announce, to anyone who reads the blog or listens to me rant, my intentions to run a particular race? It is easier to just keep quiet, go to the race and then if all goes well, I can post/talk/brag about it afterwards. And if I "fail," no one will know that I tried and I will feel no shame.
Going public is a deliberate tactic. It provides that extra motivation. I can't quit; everyone knows I am out here trying.
Blah!!! I wrestled with this before Never Summer 100K. I decided to put myself out there. I did not succeed. Perhaps I failed. Perhaps I just quit. Whatever....doesn't matter. Let me tell you about this race.
Beautiful day for a run. Got to spend some time with new friends and old friends. Sauntered for a while. Went up a mountain, down a mountain, up a mountain, down a mountain. The Diamond!!! What the heck was that about? I swear, that sucker was so steep that, if I leaned forwards just a bit, my knuckles dragged the ground in front of me. I took a couple of breaks. Once I stopped and looked up to try to see the top. I almost fell over backwards, I kid you not!! It was that steep! Seriously!! As I was trudging along, one foot at a time, I could hear a snare drum, beating out a nice, slow cadence. Nothing to fast, just a steady rhythm. The most interesting part of this section of the course was that we kept crossing a trail that had switchbacks. How I longed to take that trail....switchbacks, a real luxury. Found out later that the switchback trail is "not on the maps" so we weren't allowed on it. Instead, we went straight up the damn mountainside where there was no trail.
All was good until about mile 35. I started getting a little goofy. Decided I didn't want to eat the peanut butter and jelly roll ups at the aid station. Didn't want the drink they had. Didn't want any of the foods I was carrying. Mile 44 aid station: Decided I didn't want to continue. Seriously, I was out of gas. But, the aid station volunteers told me I could only quit if the medics said I was too sick to go on. They didn't want to deal with a whining quitter. So I sucked down some broth and noodles and headed back out on the trail. Figured I could quit at the next aid station.
The trek from mile 44 to 50 was excruciatingly slow. It was dark. I was alone. In fact, I was DFL...no one was behind me. I started getting cold. I tried to force fluids down but they came back up. I barfed out the broth and noodles I had at mile 44. When I got to the aid station at mile 50, I fell into a chair, grabbed a blanket and put it over my head. I said I was quitting. I refused to take the blanket off my head. "Are you ok?" they asked. "Sure, I am fine," I said from under the blanket. "Do you want something to eat." "No."
I got a ride back to the start/finish. Only then did I emerge from the blanket (don't know whose blanket it was but I took it with me, even through a change of vehicles). I brushed my teeth, discarded my muddy clothes, and crawled into my sleeping bag. Blah!!!
I am not going to tell anyone what I am doing this Saturday (in Pagosa Springs, at Devil Mountain). Nope....not going to announce it.