The term "you win some, you lose some" always
annoyed me. It's such a nonchalant way of accepting loss, defeat, and
unaccomplished goals. I understand that its fact, but it's the ingrained sense
of comfort in dropping the ball that makes me want to slap a nun when I hear
it. I can visualize a mandatory, unconscious shoulder shrug initiated mid
phrase that just adds to my distaste and disapproval. Yuck..like a bad avocado.
Recently took on a challenging 50k trail ultra and did less
than stellar..this horrible sentiment ( win some..lose..) actually meandered
from my lips as I tried to convince myself that it's ok not to succeed.
Clearly, I've had disappointments in life but it's a rarity for me to not
accept it, learn from it and move on without letting it cripple my ego and
attack my confidence. Although my recent disappointment was justifiable by some
extent do to some sick weather conditions, it doesn't settle easily for me.
Extreme heat did not mesh well with my body for some reason, although I take
full responsibility for my performance.
My symptoms started fairly early in the race, but about mile 17 or so with heavy legs,
lethargy, and minor stomach issues. Within a couple miles of these symptoms, sh!t
hit the fan. It was almost immediate and it was foreign to me. My stomach
tightened up and cramp significantly, making anything around my intestinal area
feel like fire pokers or the result of indulging in some bad Chinese food. My
hydration belt and even tension from my waistband of my shorts progressed from
a minor annoyance to an agonizing roadblock that seemed to conquer my drive and
focus. This alone, would have been manageable as I am fairly confident in my
ability to mentally overcome most physical disruptions, but that was not the
case. Partnered with some serious GI issues was an onset of an intense
headache, exhaustion, swelling throat, dizziness and blurred vision, increased
cardiac rate and uncontrollable breathing, and occasional drooling (before and
after vomiting). The vomiting occurred 4 times. I have never done this in a
race-EVER, this includes high-intensity triathlons mid-summer; virgin-vomiting
blows (literally). The worst hurling experience was when I was laying in the
middle of the rocky trail, my head on a clump of dirt and my right leg tickled
by uncharacteristically long grass for that area. I had already gotten sick
once and felt extremely dizzy and knew if I didn't sit/lay down voluntarily the
right force of wind from the flutter of a butterfly may knock me on my ass.
Screw you butterflies-I choose my fate. So, down I went and before I knew it I
could hear my heartbeat and I zoned out. I have no idea how long I was out, nor
do I care. I was awakened by a fellow runner tapping me on my shoulder, rather
aggressively. I'm not sure if it was the shock or unexpectedness of this
arousal, but something triggered me to blow chunks (although mostly dry
heaving) yet again as I laid on my back. No fun-but I think I scared her more
than myself. She told me to stay there and she was getting help and took off.
Immediately my thoughts moved from I feel like absolute crap and I need medical
attention to..'damn, that girl just passed me.." and up I went and started
weaving down the trail.
I was actually able to jog for a bit, hopes that the next
aid station would bring relief in the form of ice, misting sprays and water
(however I knew I couldn't even stomach that..) and possibly a medic on sight
to involuntarily pull me off the course. I had awesome volunteers pour pitchers
of ice on my head and down my sports bra. An ice cold towel on my head turned
to sauna sweat towel in a matter of about 30 seconds. However, those chilly 30
seconds were glorious snippets of heaven that immediately slowed my breathing
and gave me hope that I could press on.
I knew placing in my
AG or OA was out of the question. This bothered me for quite some time and I
had yet to get under 2nd place in my ultra career..Ok, it still bothers me a
little.
Dropping at any moment was an option, I knew that and it
haunted me. My focus teetered between what was best for my health and wellbeing
to what was best for me as a runner. Granted I know those two should overlap
but throwing in the towel would have been devastating to my confidence as a
runner and athlete. My recited motto "death before DNF" flirted with
a whole new level of realism on that hot Kansas day.
I pride myself on honesty but I lied that day…repeatedly.
Every time a runner or volunteer asked me if I was ok as I was fighting to walk
straight, keeping my vision from going in and out, and faking an occasional
smile while focusing on a spot on the ground to maintain my balance and equilibrium--I
lied. I lied to myself when I convinced myself that quitting would be a regret.
It would have probably been smart. Finally, at four miles out, I sat on the
trail, cramped up and put my head down again. This time when asked if I needed
help by a couple runners, I boldly said 'yes'. However, this immediately
encouraged me to get up and start back trekking on trail. It was suggested
repeatedly that I just sit down and let medical come to me but I was too damn
stubborn. I recited my plan to continue towards the finish line and asked them
to send medical my way. I prayed I'd reach the finish line before they got me..Moments
later I prayed they get me before I dropped to the ground. It was quite the
battle of will, stubbornness, competitive drive, and ignorance. The victor is
still unnamed.
Dr. Gay, on-site medical, ran at me on the trail. Lucky I
had about 200 meters to go. Crossing the line would mean I avoided the dreaded
DNF (primary focus), learned that my body could handle extreme adversity
(secondary focus), and I was not dead (3rd and misprioritized focus). I was
welcomed by the incredible RD, medical, and some fellow runners who I could not
be more appreciative for. I apologized to the RD for throwing up repeatedly on
his course. He was cool with it..he said it needed a little color anyways. Recovery
took less than 20 minutes after sitting in an ice trailer, having pitchers of
ice poured on me, having full body cramps rubbed out, and getting out of the
sun. Positive note: my recovery time is stellar. Before I knew it, I was up
walking around, cursing myself, my body, and my race time. (another good sign).
My legs were not sore at all and I felt like I could go again if I could get
some nutrition in me..Unfortunately it wasn't an option, which I am secretly
grateful for.
Sunday morning, the day after, I laced up and went out for a
run. I chose my course a little sadistically and decided to run a fairly
sun-exposed bike trail. I wasn't sure how far I was going to go at first until
I saw mile markers. My inner masochist took over and I knocked out 11 hot
miles-feeling amazing. Within a quarter mile, any indication of the hell I put
my body through was all but gone. Minimal leg pain, a little stomach pain from
muscle seizing during the Exorcist-style vomiting, and a slight headache was all
that plagued me on this recovery run. This is what I am choosing to take from
the weekend and move forward. Saturday's disappointment in the form of a trail
50k is now overshadowed with the concept that it was one hell of a training run
on an amazingly challenging course with incredible people. I can smile at the
finisher's medal holding onto that thought and discount the rest.
I vow to not ever recite the words "You win some, you
lose some" when it comes to ultra again because I truly do not believe them
at all… I will save this phrase for spilling a beer.
"Winning" takes a different form for all of us and
I refuse to let a race time supersede the higher and more long term benefits of
a challenging race situation. Because of this weekend, I am revisiting my
nutrition planning and thinking outside the box on supplements, mileage and
hill work, sleep patterns, and rest days. Although I thought I was hydrating
well, the coke-colored urine that even was a true indicator of possible rhabdomyolysis
so I'm definitely addressing that issue as well. I also am reminded of the
wonderful people in my life in form of friends (new and old) and fellow racers.
I love the ultrarunning community and the unity and comradery that has been
present at ever race I've participated it. That's pretty bad ass…that's
winning. The only things that I feel I lost this weekend was time that was
wasted pouting, engulfed with a bad attitude with related misguided energy..And
98.4% of everything in my stomach.
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