Oil Creek
It’s the big
one for me. It’s the toughest race
I do, and I’ve been at the starting line for every event. The problem is, I’ve not always found
the finish line. I’ve DNF’ed twice
on the course, at the 100k (bears psyched me out) and the 100 miler (I took a
beating and couldn’t find a way to recover). According to my friend Nick, it's my unicorn.
I’ve spent the last year, focused on getting this job
done. I worked my butt off with
relentless training. Yes, by
building physical strength, but more importantly by building my mental toughness.
Mark tells me that he knew I turned a corner one day, when I
told him I no longer cared if I finished or not. Oh, I WANTED a finish, but I wasn’t going to let a
non-finish define me. I knew I had
trained as hard as I possibly could, and if I ddin’t find the finish line, it
would be because of something very far out of my control. He told me that my taper was the most
serine he has seen so far.
That’s saying something…
On race morning, I was ready to take on the challenge. Rog gave me that “you got this?”
look. I did. He came over and I expected a bit of
friendly coach advice. I got,
“Forget the bears. If you don’t
finish this, be afraid of me!”. I
needed that.
The first loop was paradise. I was happy to be there, and once the sun came up, I was
moving at a great pace. I was
alone, but knew the 100k and 50k runners would be on the course soon
enough. I finished in 8 hours. I found Rog at the turn
around. I couldn’t believe I was
that close to his pace. I made it
a goal to keep him within 15 minutes of me for the entire race. I KNEW he would finish; he’s done it
three times before.
I’m always amazed at how the trail makes runners
disappear. It’s such a non-linear
course that honestly, you just go hours without seeing another person. Even at night, there is not a headlamp
to be seen. Once in a while,
you’ll hear at “Woot” that lets you know you are not alone, but that’s about
it. It can and does get lonely.
The second loop was also wonderful. I was still flying down the declines and
really enjoying the opportunity to do what I love. I finished the loop, saw Roger and headed back to the aid
station. Then the temperature
dropped. I swear it dropped 20
degrees in 10 minutes. I put on
all of the warm clothes that I had, but still had a bad case of the
shivers. I knew I had to warm up
before I headed out, or I would be in trouble. I sat for 15 minutes and probably beat myself up for two
hours for doing so. Looking back, it was smart. At the time, all I
saw was the clock ticking away.
The third loop was almost like I was on another planet. There was a beautiful moon, but I
couldn’t often see it. There was
fog and it was cold (someone told me it dropped to the 20’s). I was alone. I can only go so fast on that trail by the light of a
headlamp. I was able to
maintain a strong power hike, and bursts of downhill running, but I was not
making the progress I hoped for. I
gave myself quite a mental beating up during this time. I kept thinking how easy it was to
think of my challenges. I forced myself, when a negative thought
appeared, to instead count my blessings.
It was during this loop, that my training came back to
me. I visited OC so many times,
that I was able to memorize landmarks that I would otherwise miss in a race scenario. It was mentally settling to know that I
had 2 miles after that broken tree, until I hit the access road, or if I count
my paces to 50 up that hill, I can summit quickly.
Then the sun rose! OMG. It
changed everything. I felt
good. I changed my clothes to a very comfie t-shirt and a light
jacket. Now my thoughts wandered to
happier things. Specifically, I
spent a significant amount of time thinking about a shower. A long, hot, steamy shower….
I came in from the third loop and I was focused on the mile
math/time limit equations. My
thoughts were broken when I heard “Mom” in a voice that I would recognize
anywhere. NOAH! He came out to pace me the last 8
miles. I never struggled so much that
I had to default to a death march, but I believe I would have had my son not been by
my side. It means the world to me that he was there.
3.5 miles after Noah and I left the aid station. I TURNED LEFT!
We got to leave the trail after one more monster climb, a bouncy swing bridge and a few more miles. Once again on even
footing, I looked at Noah and said,
“I dd it. I finished.”.
Noah deadpan responded, “I don’t see a finish line, you still have a
mile to go. Get going mom”. I wasn’t done, but there was no way I wouldn’t finish. Awesome! Thanks boy!
With about a quarter mile to the finish, I saw this kid
sitting on the corner. My first
thought was that she was a striking child. I had to look closer (I had put in THREE contact lenses the
day before---oh my) to realize it was Natalie. I was SO happy to see her. I told her to “run with me, but please don’t sprint”. She did, and I got to cross the finish
line with both my son and my daughter by my side. Priceless, and a memory I will cherish forever.
I think the most memorable moment of the entire race for me,
had little to do with me. When
Noah and I were on the course, we saw a runner who was really struggling. He was bent at odd angles and shuffling
along. My heart went out to him. We offered what support we could, and had to get on our
way. After I finished, this runner
could be seen making his way to the finish line. Noah immediately stood and began to applaud. Natalie ran over to the gentleman and
helped pace him in. My heart
swelled.
Oil Creek. I
thank you. You have changed me in
so many ways. I have become a stronger person. You have ingrained in me that no matter my challenges, the sun will rise, people who love me will be there for me, and I can run through
it.
I'm heading down for a training run tomorrow. Thanks for the inspiration to remember if I get a bit tired...
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Sean
I'm heading down for a training run tomorrow. Thanks for the inspiration to remember if I get a bit tired...
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Sean