My demons are small. The ghosts who follow me know this. They haunt me with laughing smiles at my pain, for theirs was much greater.
The ghosts who I think haunt me, following me with stoic gazes, I realize now they have different motivations. They do not haunt to torment, they haunt to support. No matter how fast or how far I run, even in the dark roads on the way to events, they are still there. And while I thought I was trying to escape them, I realize they are encouraging me to keep going, to keep pushing.
“Shedding skin succumb defeat, this machine is obsolete, made the choice to go away.”
When I decided I would run the 100 mile marathon, I had only ever run the Spartan races and a few 5Ks. My run training was 2 miles 2-3 times a week. I increased my running to 5K 2-3 times a week and started researching training plans for the 100. I bought a running book which mapped out a plan and made suggestions for intermediate runners. However, I was on the wrong page when I started, so the first time I went for a run I was following week 12 instead of week 1. And thus my first training day was a 3 hour run.
“Watching fate as it flows, down the path we have chose”
I put together a playlist. Half of the 3 hours was NIN’s The Fragile album. It has now become my pace album so I know about the halfway point in my long runs. The lyrics also strike some deep seated chord. I wasn’t even looking for an album to listen to when I planned out my runs, but that album fell into my life serendipitously right before I started training. The remainder of the 3 hour playlist were some Tool songs to fill in the rest of the time. I also decided 3 hours was long enough. I didn’t want to risk injury and 3 hours plus rest and recovery is a pretty full day as it is. So I kept the 3 hour run, each time noting how much farther I ran than the time before.
I also realized, before I run the 100, I should probably run a full marathon. I found one, the perfect one, the Shiner Marathon. It started at the best known Texas Brewery and they gave you free beer and food afterwards. I signed up immediately and plugged it into my calendar. That’s when I realized my 5 week ordeal of competitions ended with a full marathon.
And so it was time. After 4 weeks of competitions, travel, continued training, I headed south to a small blip in the middle of Nowhere Texas for my biggest challenge yet.
“There is a hate that burns within, The most desperate place I have ever been, Try to got back to where I’m from, the closer I get the worse it becomes.”
Tempered by the previous 4 weeks, my training was only at a maintenance pace yet during the competitions I gave full effort. I wasn’t sure how my body would hold up, plus there was rain in the forecast and a high of 45. The Friday before the race, I finished my work day, packed all my things and headed to my hotel. My research suggested ways to duct tape your shoes so your feet don’t get wet, so along with my supplements, water bottles, blender and cheap Walmart rain suit; I threw in a roll of duct tape with everything else.
In my training on those 3 hour lonely runs usually at dawn, I’d find myself full of emotion. Those thoughts of grief weighing me down and sloshing behind my eyes like the water bladder on my back. Sometimes I was on the edge of losing control, and sometimes tears leaked out of the sides of my eyes.
I ran around Lake Pflugerville, one lap was about 3 miles (probably less). People trotted by with their dogs, baby strollers or weaved around on bicycles. Some just walked, some ran. I wore my silly outfits of compression shirts, running vest and wide brimmed hat. I felt like I was some spectacle of fitness ridiculousness, I was even color matching because everything I buy is either black or shades of blue.
“And God Damn I am so tired of pretending…when all I’m really doing is trying to hide”
I never considered myself athletic. It wasn't until 5 years ago when I was training for the Beast that I took fitness seriously. Even then, I felt like it was a farce, something I only did half heartedly. Fitting in, pretending, showing off.
“The plastic face forced to portray”
Now I’m disciplined, focused, entering competitions whose rewards are more than participation trophies. Still struggling and asking myself: why? The answer isn’t escape, escape is just the excuse. There’s more to it, always has been. As I wrestle with myself, as I run, as I force myself through the pain in my legs and hands and head, there is always that question and the invisible barrier stretching like cellophane getting closer to the breaking point.
“I tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away”
The night before the marathon, I laid everything out, duct taped my shoes, had a heavy carb dinner, and slept uneasily as a light rain fell outside. People train for marathons, to them the marathon is their end goal, their penultimate challenge. The next day would only serve as a training lap for me. A quarter of what I would have to run in March, for me this was not the end.
“The voice inviting me away. Do you know how far this has gone? Just how damaged have I become? When I think I can overcome, it runs even deeper”
The morning of the race, I gathered my things. The first thing I noticed was I didn’t pack the right socks. I know I put a handful of them in my pack, but for whatever reason I didn’t grab my performance socks and only packed work socks. I slathered vaseline on my feet (also a suggestion from the internet) and slipped on my thin socks with worn out heels. Next, I realized I forgot some ingredients to my smoothie. I’d be missing out on some much needed calories. The worst error was as soon as I started filling up my water bladder for my backpack, water started streaming out of the end. I had forgotten the mouthpiece and there was no way to stop the water from pouring out. So instead of carrying almost a gallon of water, I could only carry about a quarter of that in two 20oz bicycle water bottles.
It was 40 degrees when I left the hotel and it wasn’t going to warm up much from that point. It was misting already and the rain was supposed to get harder by the end of the day. By the time I parked at the start line there was a downpour. I sat in my car staying warm for the time being trying to prepare myself mentally for whatever was ahead of me. About 30 mins to start, I put on all my gear, including my cheap rain coat and wide brimmed hat. I had gloves, a knit cap, and 3 layers of clothes. I hoped it would be enough to keep me warm because staying dry was looking less and less likely.
I stood at the start, other people milling around me. The rain had lightened up to a tolerable sprinkle so I stood under a tree to ease the drops. No one had rain gear beyond a hat. Some were dressed warmer than others, and at least one guy was only wearing a tank top and short shorts. I felt ridiculous in my duct taped shoes and thin rain coat. I had even brought a head lamp because I wasn’t sure how dark it would be in the pre-dawn before the race. I thought others would be just as prepared as me, but it turned out I was over prepared in some ways, and with all the things I left or forgot, I was under prepared in other ways.
“I never wanted to be like you, but for all I aspire I am really a liar, and I’m running out of things I can do.”
The rain was a steady and tolerable mist, I shivered under my raincoat. I didn’t need the headlamp after all. The gray clouds were weakly glowing as the sun rose over some distant storm hidden horizon. After a brief from the marathon announcer, the 60 or so of the marathon runners were lined up and ready to start. In my mind, it was just another competition. I didn’t think about what I was about to accomplish, I only focused on the things I was lacking, the things I forgot, the lousy weather, the uncertainty of the next 26 miles. They fired the gun and we were off. I would lose myself in the crowd, legs pumping, just another runner in the rain.
“But not another reason enough to continue, and now you’re one of us…”
The rest, dear reader, is a story for another day…
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