Doing hard things . . . for the right reasons. I decided about a year ago to attempt to do something hard, something very hard in fact. It's something that has been rolling around in the back of my mind for a few years, just waiting for me to find the courage to say "I'm going to do this." I started working, training and planning last fall and despite some set backs and weird, random injuries I have been diligently making progress. It's a race, yes. But a new distance (50k, wait what?!) and trail with significant climbing and lots of technical sections (um sure, why not?). I've long loved trail running and have spent plenty of time over the years running the local sections near my house. I've never put more than 7 miles together on a trail, but seriously the trails I run are pretty gnarly with plenty of climbing. And when it comes down to it, every time I step on a trail I feel a huge sense of relief, a sense of "yes, this is what it's all about!"
I made the mistake (maybe?) of mentioning this goal to a few running partners. We're friends, but not close friends. They are younger, and faster than me, and definitely competitive with each other and me and well, anyone else along the way. The next thing I know they both had signed up to run as well.
At first I thought, "Great! More running partners!" But after a few months, it felt more like they were trying to compete with me than run with me. I strayed and have mostly gone my own way in training and feel so much better than when I was trying to run with them.
I'd love to have a "fast" time, with "fast" being relative when you're on trail, with roots, rocks, mud, and 3,200 feet of gain. But really, I just love to be out on the trail. That's not the way everyone feels, and I get it. Trail running takes you out of your comfort zone, it pushes you to readjust your pace, your stride, your breathing every 1/2 mile, 100 feet, 10 steps. Not everyone digs that. Not everyone can get past the idea that they aren't running their personal best time for a particular distance. Not everyone gets that just being on the trail IS the reward. It's hard, and that's the point. It's slower, but you find new muscles, new strength and new views (porcupine, anyone?), every single day.
And running an ultra-marathon isn't about bragging rights, so everyone else thinks you're strong. Well maybe it is, but that's not what it is to me. It's about putting myself out there, being vulnerable, working hard for something new (and hard), knowing I might fail but doing it anyways, proving to myself (and frankly, to no one else) how strong I really am (mentally and physically). It's about putting in the work, every single day, and showing my kids that hard efforts pay off. That it's worth the wait for the reward, instead of only working toward things you can do without putting in much effort. I like to think that I'm teaching my kids, by example, important life lessons, that I'm setting a good example for them and that when they are faced with hard things in life they'll remember how hard mom worked to achieve hard things, because it brought her personal satisfaction. I also like to think that I'm doing it for "me", to find time for myself and to figure out who I am and who I want to be. Not who I have to be (attorney, mom, wife), but who I want to be. Someone I who will look back on some day and think "I did some interesting things and boy were they fun!".
This brings me back to why I started this post in the first place. Unless you're going to win (not me), all races are really just competitions with ourselves; competitions to be better today than we were yesterday (or last week, last month or last year). Sometimes people can't get past the mentality of beating others, be it strangers or friends. That's not why I'm here. That's not what I'm in it for. Sure, I don't want to be last, and so far I've succeeded in that, but even that's not what it's about.
This was most apparent to me in a recent trail race: 13 miles with 2,300 feet of gain, and two summits, with cool views (it's not called the Twin Peaks for nothing). Running part with running partners/friends and a stranger, and when I stopped to get a rock out of my shoe the friends took off. The stranger was out of her element, struggling and nervous about the bridge crossing the river. I could have left her to fend for herself and taken several minutes off my time and probably would have been exhausted for my efforts. But in hindsight even if I had taken off, I would not have finished a single place higher in rankings. Instead, I spent some time with a stranger (ie, friend I hadn't met yet), helped her stay on course, helped her conquer some fears and helped her finish the hardest race she (and I) had ever run. But instead of pushing myself to exhaustion (despite having run 10 miles the day before), I crossed the finish line looking and feeling like I had several more miles in me. I crossed the finish line smiling because I was having fun. I put in the miles and hours on the trail, in all kinds of conditions and it paid off. And I gained the confidence to know that I can succeed in the upcoming 50k.
Another friend, and running partner, who is fastest enough to win (actually, she did even though she seriously sprained her ankle at mile 2) runs my long runs with me almost every week. I made my goal of not taking twice as long as her to finish (may not seem like much of a goal, but I didn't beat it by much). Yet, we are soul mates when it comes to running, friendship and life philosophy. We are both thrilled for the other's efforts, she is willing to run with me at my pace; and just as importantly with my kids at their pace (which on the trail is even slower than mine) and she does it because she enjoys it, not because she has to. She's out there enjoying the trails because they are fun, not because she heard a friend was running a race so she thought "why not?" and now needs to get trail time to be ready. She pushes herself . . . to try to win, but mostly to try to be better than she was yesterday. She is an inspiration and regularly reminds me that working hard pays off and that the pay off is personal satisfaction of knowing you did something you weren't sure you were capable of doing before you set out to try. And that is what doing hard things is all about.
