Do Runners REALLY Love Running?

As I'm lying here on my couch in my sweatpants under a blanket surrounded by cats, hot coffee, and books, I don't feel a strong need to go outside...at least until April.

 

When my alarm went off at 6 o'clock this morning, my bed was so warm and cozy. I set my alarm for 6am to allow myself 30 minutes of reading and coffee time before having to get dressed and drive to Roanoke to run with my "friends." (They deserve the quotes. Seriously. These people are relentless.)

However, instead of spending that 30 minutes finishing one of my books and enjoying the morning, I spent it lying in bed thinking through all of the possible excuses (or lies) I could come up with to excuse myself from driving an hour to run up and down the mountains in 14 degree weather. I didn't want to go. Running isn't fun. 

You people who want to run, but don't because you hate it and you think that people that love it are crazy and you could never be that crazy? Here's a secret. Most runners hate it. We hate the act of running. We hate leaving our warm beds at 6am on a January Sunday morning. We hate the pain and exhaustion. We hate the wind and cold and endless climbs. (Don't get me wrong, there are those that love the act of running. They're weirdos. We won't talk about them here. The act of running sucks.)

What we love is the feeling of friendship and camaraderie that comes from suffering along with other runners. We love the feelings of accomplishment and overcoming that come after the run. We love how our muscles remind us of how hard we pushed them for hours (or sometimes days) after a run. We love being able to look at one another and say, "See those mountains? Yep. We just did that."

And if we can do that, imagine what else we can do? Go ahead. Tell us we can't do something. (And then hold our beer. Because we're probably holding a beer. We like beer.)

So, I knew, even as I was frantically trying to come up with the best lie I could use to get out of this run, that I was going to get up and go anyway. Because runners fear shame more than we fear discomfort.

And now I get to lie here the rest of the day reading books and watching basketball and daring someone to call me lazy. 

That Time A WWII Novel Made Me Panic During A Trail Race

Mountain Junkies Frozen Toe 10K Trail Race

First race of 2018

You always know this one is going to suck.

You always sign up anyway. Because...it's Mountain Junkies.

The weather hovered somewhere around 50 below zero. I'm estimating here. That's what it felt like.

I had to sit in my car for 30 minutes after arriving so I could finish my audiobook, Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys, an historical fiction novel about the sinking of a German ship carrying thousands of refugees during World War II. I point this out because it not only explains why I failed to socialize with my friends prior to the race, but also because it will explain my behavior during the race, as well. It will make sense shortly. Trust me. Plus, read it. It's an excellent book. But read Between Shades of Grey first. Again, trust.

Ok. When you start this race, you can't feel the lower half of your body. Or the upper half. Or anything. You can't feel anything, except perhaps the misery of poor life choices. So, for at least the first one and a half to two miles, you're kind of relying on the Force to get you through the technical aspects of the trail.

For those of you saying, "The Force isn't a real thing, Sunshine. It's just some made up thing in Star Wars and Star Wars is a fictional film series," I say...well, yeah, ok. That's clearly true. Because at some point within those first two miles, there is a strong likelihood that you're going to just go down. And you're probably going to go down hard because you've been relying on the Force to get you through and you believed in it so fully that you just went fast as you can all in.

So, I fell. Hands out, superman, sprawling kind of fall. I may have offered up a strangled little howl of desperation. I'm gonna say that was simply my attempt to warn those behind me of whatever treacherous evil had clearly grabbed me and thrown me to the ground.

And this is where the audiobook comes in. Because the last thing I had listened to prior to starting the race was a story about desperate people trampling over one another to try to escape a sinking ship in the middle of the frigid sea, there was a moment where I panicked. Like, legit panicked and thought that if I didn't scramble back to my feet quickly, I would be trampled to death.

In my panicked scrambling attempt to get up, I lost my footing even more and began sliding down the rather steep hill that the trail runs alongside. So, of course, I panicked more.

Amidst all of my panic, there were, in fact, several other runners trying to help me up. Because trail runners are pretty selfless people. They will always help. They will almost never trample. Bless their hearts, they didn't realize that I was living in WWII Germany on a sinking ice-covered ship after being betrayed by the Force and at great risk of drowning if I wasn't trampled to death first. So I was kind of half fighting them off and half grasping for a stable hand.

It all kind of went downhill from there. I mean, I finally got stabilized and finished the race, blah blah blah. But I ruined my favorite pair of running tights, reopened the scab from my fall on the same trail last weekend so that the fresh blood coagulated with the remaining fabric of the tights making removal so excruciating that I briefly considered just living in them forever, and ruptured the tendon in one of my metacarpals (according to my son's full year of high school athletic training diagnosis).

Photo Credit: Jimmy Moore

However, in the end, I was able to celebrate with all of my badass Mountain Junkies and laugh about all of the falls, blood, vomiting, and general misery. We enjoyed the best post-race food with the best people after overcoming the best challenges. Because that's what we love.

Photo Credit: Me. I did this.

Photo Credit: Marion Childress, leader of C&C Runners

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a bag of ice and Pacers basketball.

Adventure. Challenge. Pain. Frustration.

Here's what happens when you run two Ragnar relays in one month.

Here's what happens when you choose friends that spend their Fridays running 100 miles through the Blue Ridge Mountains or Saturdays running 31 miles across railroad tracks that are what look to me to be approximately 5,000 feet above the ground or training for upcoming marathons or Sundays beasting the Chicago Marathon.

My people do things. So, here's what happens.

You crave more.

And make no mistake. I hated the Ragnar Trail. It was miserable. Nothing like the magic of my Ragnar Road.

But still...

When you spend so much time doing hard things and surrounded by people that are also doing hard things and you're all coming out the other side smiling and laughing and embracing, you crave more.

Adventure. Challenge. Pain. Frustration. These are like crack to a runner. These things allow us the opportunity to push through and overcome. And there is no high in the world like overcoming.

So, you spend your Sunday evening sketching out a race and training plan for the next year by visiting websites with words like "ultra" or "extreme" or "beast" in them.

This might not seem like such a ridiculous idea if my left knee and Achilles weren't still in full revolt from this last Ragnar.

But I'm sure they'll heal quickly. We're always sure whatever it is that might get in the way of our running will heal quickly.

Curious what a Ragnar Trail Race is like? Take a look:

These are my people. My crazy, ridiculous people. 

Let's Talk About Disappointment

This past weekend was supposed to be the weekend that I earned my Spartan Trifecta. The weekend that I beasted the rope climb. The weekend that I found my physical and mental limits and pushed through them.

It was also supposed to be a special weekend for my oldest son and I.

See, this kid is my always down to take on a challenge kid. He's my drop everything to help mom out kid. He's my patiently listen to me rant and rage when I'm stressed kid. And he so rarely gets the acknowledgement that he deserves.

This Trifecta weekend started as a goal he and I made together. It's a special way for us to celebrate our mother-son bond. But it's also important to me that my son see me achieve this. I want him to see how strong, determined, and powerful a woman can be. I want to strengthen the respect he has for women. I want to reinforce his understanding that women can.

Spartan has given me the opportunity to watch my son demonstrate respect for my strength by pushing me to go harder, while also maintaining his chivalry by doing every burpee with me even though he didn't have to do them.

Unfortunately, he's an adult now and bound by adult responsibilities. When he found out he would no longer be able to have off work for Trifecta weekend, I had to decide whether or not to run anyway. Without him.

Except that it wasn't really a decision. Of course I couldn't run without him. This is our thing. He's the only one willing to carry me through the monkey bars. And for real, mama ain't made of money. Race entries are expensive.

It was disappointing. I spent the weekend watching my friends post photos and send videos and update statuses while they completed their Trifecta. I was jealous. I mean, I was so excited for them and so so proud of them. But I was also completely jealous of them. But that's ok. Disappointment just serves to increase the drive for success. It just makes me hungrier for a Spartan Beast. Last week I was anxiously nervous to face a Beast. Now I'm craving it. I NEED it.

So, new plan.

We'll defer our race entries and take on the Sprint, Super, and Beast as we are able to. At this point, it looks like we'll be able to kick off our Trifecta races in November. (Or I may have to make him quit his job so it stops interfering with my extracurriculars...)

And when we crush the Beast together, it will have been totally worth the temporary disappointment.