2011 02 05 mt mist 50k turning a bad day good

Susan Donnelly Ultramarathon Trail Runner. Motivational Speaker. http://www.susanruns100s.com

Mt. Mist 50k - Turning a Bad Day Good Date : February 5, 2011

Starting out in the cold.

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January 22, 2011 Before I was racing so often, I still put in the same mileage, if not more. Every Sunday saw a 30-mile run, or at least every weekend I wasn’t racing or tapering. Most of these were good days but some were a struggle. The funny thing is that the struggles that didn’t seem to do any good at the time are now gold. Those frustrating runs taught me what I’m capable of – mentally, physically, and emotionally – on a really bad day. I had far more than one bad day, and bad in all kinds of ways, so I’ve spent plenty of time over the years stumbling around in that dark, dreaded space and still haven’t found all the walls I expect to hold me back.

One result is that it doesn’t occur to me to drop out of races. Sure, the idea might float along my stream of consciousness but even if I notice, it’s only to watch it disappear downstream like a leaf. I’d be lying to myself if I said I couldn’t finish a race, one way or another. I generally assume I can do it, whatever it is.

So my reluctance to run Mist wasn’t a matter of being able. It was more an inability to accept the distinct probability of floundering injured through the type of course I adore, like seeing your favorite candy in the window and not being able to taste it. That this was my first chance to run this type course in a long time made it all the more frustrating. I couldn’t predict how difficult the day might be, but given the level of discomfort on flat open roads at Avalon 50 Mile last weekend, and these rocks and streams and of course the climb up Waterline, it couldn’t be good. I sooo wanted things to be different, to be able to run.

The night before, Rob suggested it was my SI joint instead of my hamstring. I’d avoided that likelihood but he was probably right. The entire joint felt like it had been jammed up into my lower back and my right leg didn’t do what it was told, veering over toward my left leg every step. As painful as the hamstring was, that wasn’t its doing. Rob was right, but I didn’t want to think about it because I couldn’t fix it.

And no matter what it was, SI joint or hamstring, I couldn’t wish it away overnight anyway, which left a simple choice. Running and dealing with the situation as it was…or not running. I didn’t have to even try the “not running” option on for size. I hated it more.

Treading Lightly Race morning, The Weather Channel promised temperatures would warm up to 49F but the car thermometer plainly said 18F. It would have been a really good day to run fast.

I started as fast as possible in the numbing cold but felt as graceful as Quasimodo and couldn’t fly over the icy parts of the trail like usual. I got passed like crazy while stepping around rocks I normally hop, walking hills I usually run, and forcing my leg to work as normally as possible. I hardly blinked at the trail ahead and the one time my concentration drifted, I tripped, yanked the joint harder out of place and went down hard on the frozen ground. Eyes on trail! There was no reason to jeopardize upcoming races.

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Trying to deal with the slick stuff.

Getting passed that often isn’t fun, especially when you’re dwelling on the fact that you could and should be way ahead. Precious miles disappeared like this, focused more on my hip than my thoughts, but somewhere before the halfway point it hit me – those thoughts, not my injury, were ruining the day. Heck, I wasn’t running to beat anyone or catch anyone or do anything in relation to anyone else. I was here to run the best of my ability, even though that didn’t happen to be as good as usual today. But wow, I’d rather be here than sitting at home.

Larry Monroe came to mind, chiding me for complaining about tiny imperfections in an otherwise

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great race. “Did you have a good time? Be grateful you can do that – most of us can’t even imagine it!” He was right then and he was right today. Slow or fast, graceful or clumsy, first or last, I was still so incredibly grateful to be here, doing this. What if I was confined to a wheelchair and couldn’t run at all? Having the ability to do something like this that I love, even on a challenging day, made life sing.

The universe works in beautiful ways and the end today was worth all the work that went before. I topped the last hill, dreading the flat 1.5 miles to the finish line everyone usually sprints through, and saw Andrew Hackett walking ahead. I haven’t seen or run with him much in the past few years, though we started running ultras about the same time. I caught up with him, happy to walk the entire way to the finish with him if that was his pace.

As we walked and jogged down the trail, we also caught Susan Lance, another friend I hadn’t had time to talk to in forever. The three of us rafted up for the few minutes left. Drew wouldn’t quite let us chick him at the end but the Susans crossed the finish line together. Those minutes spent together were the highlight of the day and well worth all the careful hours of running that came before.

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The Susans cross the line!

It was my ninth finish of this race and the finish I’ll probably remember the most, if not the fondest. I’m so glad I was there and didn’t miss it!

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Any day you can laugh like this is a great day.

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