Trail runners consider each other family and are there to encourage and support each other. Chain-O-Lakes State Park hosts the annual Indiana Trail 100 Race each October.
There’s been a recurring theme in my life lately. Over and over the same message has entered my psyche via different people and in different formats. It’s a long distance runner’s mantra, “Relentless Forward Progress.” There’s an entire world out there focused on endurance on the trails. They’re ultra marathoners and long-distance hikers. I’ve been one but not the other...yet.
It started in 2011 when I picked up the book, Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall. It’s basically a story that describes that people are physiologically designed to run and to run far. The author travels deep into the Copper Canyon of Mexico and observes a tribe of people who run, everywhere, all the time, in sandals. The young, old, women, men, girls and boys all run for recreation and for transportation. They look at running the way we see walking. It’s natural and they don’t suffer the injuries that seem to plague we “civilized” modern movers.
Post-race friends comparing blisters, hammer toes, black and missing toenails.
My mom died 15 months after being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. I needed to grieve and I found my therapy in sport. I needed to reclaim my life and get in shape. I trained and competed in triathlons for a couple years. I taught myself to lap swim (Thanks YouTube!). I crushed miles on a road bike. I did a couch-to-5K program and stretched those miles out to 10K and eventually a half-marathon, but the same thing always happened. I would hold my own on the swim, pass a few riders on the bicycle, and then on the run, I would get passed. Not by just a few people, but by everyone it seemed. I had to face it, I was S...L...O...W.
Then I read Born to Run. I decided if I couldn’t go fast, I’d have to try to go long. I had a friend, Mark Linn, who had launched himself into the trail running world. He offered to show me one of his favorite trails. I don’t remember exactly what we talked about as we jogged the trail that day. What I do remember is muddy trails, some “steep” Indiana hills, and a lot of encouragement.
I went on to complete six 50K trail ultramarathons over the next 2 years. For me, these were never races. I always started at the very back of the pack just for the boost I would get by passing a few people over the course of my seven or eight hours on the trail. Instead, these were lessons and I was a willing student.
The Huff 50k, Albion, Indiana, on a cold snowy December day in 2012.
I learned that the generosity of people is amazing. Other runners and volunteers have redirected me when I took a wrong turn, shared their candied ginger when my stomach was upset, helped me change my socks when I didn’t have the energy to do it myself, and offered hugs when I cried at mile 25 and didn’t think I could take another step, let alone run another six miles. They said things to cheer me up like: “Remember, you paid for this opportunity to suffer.”
I learned that we can do more than we ever thought possible. I was reminded that 80% of participating in an endurance event like a trail ultramarathon is mental. Yes, you have to put in the miles and hours of training, but what will get you to the finish line is mental fortitude and resilience. They said, “Embrace the suck!” I witnessed the joy of the person who considered herself a winner just by getting to the starting line. I once saw a firefighter run 31 miles carrying a full 50 pounds of turn-out gear in honor of fallen comrades. They reminded me to just keep putting one foot in front of the other with “relentless forward progress.”
One of the hardest lessons was learning the humility of quitting. It was a season where I had registered for a series of four 50K races over the course of one calendar year. In addition, I thought it would be a good time to attempt my first 50 mile run. The first 50K went off without a hitch in March. Next up, in April, was the 50-miler at a state park in Indiana. Not surprisingly the weather didn't cooperate. It was 30 degrees, the trails were flooded thigh-deep in places and ankle-deep with mud in others, and it was snowing. A friend and I ran the first 18-mile loop together. At the end of that loop, we sat down and discussed whether or not we should continue. It was basically a matter of risking injury or insuring we could go on to race another day. In the end we both decided to take our DNF (did not finish) and save ourselves for the races yet to come. I went on to successfully complete the other three races in my 50K series, but the DNF still stung. Often in life, I learned, doing the best thing for me takes the strength of quiet humility, and no one else really needs to understand.
Buckle awarded to seemingly sane person for completing seemingly insane races totaling 120.4 miles. Dances With Dirt!
The most important lesson endurance has taught me is, don't take life too seriously. Once, maybe halfway through a race, I asked a woman how she stayed positive. She explained that she just looked at it as an opportunity to spend a long day in the woods. She had a point. Who doesn’t enjoy a long day in the woods? More important than any finish time or age-group ranking that exists into eternity on the internet are the friendships I created within the trail-running community. The same goes for my hiking brothers and sisters. These folks are solid, and I know without a doubt they will be there for me if and when I need them.
It’s been several years since I’ve “raced.” The lessons I’ve learned through endurance sports inform much of what I do on and off the trail, and they make me a better human being. Now my focus is on helping and encouraging others through education and outdoor experiences. Maybe someday I’ll take these lessons and backpack a long trail. I still hear the call, “Relentless Forward Progress.” Do you hear it too?
If you would like to get connected with a local trail running group, check out the North Carolina Mountain Trail Runners. Connect with the Trail Sisters Asheville, NC Facebook page if you’re looking for a women’s specific group.
The finish line is a celebration of the hours and miles spent training.
