(Originally posted on Adam's site - https://adamcondit.com/2024/11/20/getting-back-on-the-horse/)
If I learned much about “failure” in August with a race that went horribly (read more here), defining “success” in November’s race (Tunnel Hill 100 mile) was two things:
- Getting back on the horse
- Being held by my wife at the finish line – the only one that was at both races. She hugs me the same whether the race (or my day) goes according to plan or goes up in flames. I know I need not perform for her.
PRE-RACE:
I was nervous. Not just normal race nerves. Coming off of that disastrous race in August, I had a certain freedom from failure but it was coupled with underlying doubts of “what if none of this actually works and I resort to that long slow ultra-death-march again”? I changed my everyday and race day nutrition. I went back to the drawing board on some training. I shut up, fixed problems, got out of bed, and ran & biked & went to the gym in solitude. I figured I had nothing to lose; it certainly couldn’t go worse than August’s disaster. I came in with much confidence, but 100 miles is a long long way and if there’s something I’ve learned in the last 20 years of post-collegiate running it’s that the longer the race, the more I struggle to finish well and there’s just a lot more that can go wrong than go right.
EARLY:
The first 26.5 miles were a breeze crossing the marathon distance ~ 3:21:xx. I remember commenting to my crew it feels like I ran only 5 miles and I just tried to keep the easy 7:3x / mile pace moving at minimal effort. The next 25 miles introduced a bit more ups and downs in some long steady hills, but 6:33:xx through 50 miles was about as perfect as I could’ve planned it. I knew I was ready, but another shoe change was necessary (hot spot / soreness on one foot) and legs were getting a bit heavier. Miles 60 through 75 was my biggest struggle the whole day although my crew just kept me moving and never gave into my negativity. They’re pros now and know how to treat an ultra-runner that wants pity … don’t give it to them! Nutrition changed to liquids – Tailwind, broth, and maybe gel(s) at every stop before running out.
THE LAST 25 MILES:
A perfect culmination of the last four months. I knew my pace was drastically slowing in the second half and I was dreading the final climbs that come in the final 20 miles. The rain was now pouring, the headlamp was on, the darkness had set in, and I was all alone. I still … never walked outside the aid stations. Never. I think there was 10 seconds of walking back to an aid station to go back to a garbage can, but on these final climbs when my legs just kept moving is when I realized I was back to ultra. I can do this. Sideways rain, in the dark, with the headlamp showing me animal eyes in the woods and my rain jacket’s hood pounding around my ears. Something softened in my spirit as I battled on. Joy in suffering is very difficult to explain, but it is one of the most fundamental human experiences we can encounter. To press on. To not give up. To know the race isn’t going perfect, but accept what’s been written for you on that day and enjoy the most difficult moments. I wasn’t walking, throwing a pity party, barfing, or being passed by dozens as I had in August. I was alone on the trail soaked with pouring rain, but felt so near to those that continue to pour into me. I could practice gratitude in the storm. Thinking of the kids, my parents, my crew, and even our fun eclectic running group that meets on Thursdays kept me going the last miles. Oh, and the fact there were two runners charging hard the last ten miles to take me out of the top five.
After a perfectly timed epic explosion of a bathroom break at the mile 90 aid station, I took my bottles at went to battle trying to push 8 minutes / mile pace after 14 hours of running. I did well for a while and kept fueling but was tentative about too many gels inducing another GI explosion, so the last 3-5 miles was managing pace / fuel / stomach and I’m happy to say I held onto my 5th place position (since mile 62) but by only less than three minutes!
Seeing the finish line in the final stretch, it finally hit me that I had not only come back to the horse that bucked me off and kicked me in the teeth, but climbed back on and gave it a good ride. Like most long efforts, I was so thrilled to be finished, but my joy exploded as my typically timid and reserved wife broke through the finish line area and gave me one of the most aggressive hugs to date. It was bliss. I felt no more pain. She continues to show up and be there on the good days, bad days, ugly days, depressing days, tear-filled days, vacation days, fun days, back-to-the-grind days all the same. In a sport that tracks splits, numbers, personal records, time, and place … I just don’t have to perform for this immeasurable love. She gives it freely and I’m eternally grateful. A true success story.
Don’t curse the horse that hurts you … you might not have to do it right away, but getting back on is one of the best skills & opportunities to grow. Other notable horses I’ve needed to climb back on in my running career:
- My first high school 5k was a DNF (did not finish) from cramps & heat … a year later, I won my first race at the same course (JV champ! you thought I ran varsity from a young age?)
- 2008 I wanted confidence but completely bombed a very competitive half marathon during a big training block … 8 weeks later my first marathon (2008) was a success running a faster pace for twice the distance.
- My only ultra DNF was 2014 Ice Age 50mi, I felt like my legs were lead with a sore achilles … 8 weeks later I finished my first 100 miler at Western States
SPLITS ALONG THE WAY:
- 26.2 = 3:21:15 (watch data)
- 50km = 3:59:45 (watch data)
- 50mi = 6:33:53 (timing mat)
- 100k = 8:37:18 (timing mat)
- 100mi = 15:51:09 (timing mat)
SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO "THE HERD" ...
I've run my fair share of races in the last 30 years, but this group was particularly on my mind the last 10 miles of my latest effort. After having a rain jacket on from mile 60 to 90, the downpour slowed so a change in clothing was appropriate ... Alicia and I both without thinking more than 2 seconds agreed the red-plaid singlet and therefore the Blue Ox Running HERD would bring me home the last 10 miles. It was a beautiful struggle to finish while literally grunting and digging my hooves in. I felt your presence, love, and support and don't know how I ran all those other years alone without a running store or club I could call a family. I hope we never take for granted the power of running in the pack ... I had major FOMO missing Fall Back Blast, but I didn't feel alone out there. Thanks!
Front, Middle, Back, AX PACK!!! ... Fast or Slow, LET'S GO!!!
MORE PHOTOS HERE:
https://adamcondit.com/2024/11/20/getting-back-on-the-horse/
