Monday, July 18, 2011
Back on My Feet Lone Ranger 24-Hour
1st woman, 2nd overall. 137.82 miles in 24 hours. PR by 6 miles. CR (over my old CR from last year) by 12 miles. And I made the All-Time North American Ultra List with that distance!
When Anne Mahlum, the Race Director, drove by me on a bicycle at hour 11.5 and asked me how I was doing, I didn’t know what to say because my reality proper consisted in binaries. I was exhausted but caffeinated. I was dirty, but on the inside I felt clean. I was suffering intensely but probably on the same emotional plane that I might be spinning in a sundress in a field of daisies. My legs felt like cars had struck them, but moment-to-moment, I was detached from the immediacy of that pain. I was somewhere afloat in the noumenon with Kant.
Ah, the poetry of the ultramarathon.
I didn’t say these things to Anne. Instead, I said, “I’m okay probably.” I gave her a thumbs up/finger point combo, while expressing consternation with my eyebrows, and that seemed right.
Last year at the pre-race medical check-in, the doctor took my vitals, then shook me and asked if I was awake. This year, he checked my pulse, rechecked it, looked bemused by my body temperature, and then asked if I was alive.
I said yes.
He said no.
Apparently, he had been trying to count the number of breaths I had taken since sitting in the medical chair, and I hadn’t breathed yet. My pulse was slow, but it always is. The whole occasion was curious because I felt so alive at that moment, sitting there on the edge of my favorite environment, a race site, where Gatorade and spandex abound. My heart was fluttering, I think, but he couldn’t track it. I think if you move from "asleep" to "not alive," then that means you've improved your fitness...up to a point, that is, when the opposite becomes true.
The Lone Ranger 24-Hour Run is an incredible event. Last year, I enjoyed the excitement of the occasion and the Michael Buble playing on the backstretch of the course, (admittedly. I will admit that.) I knew I’d be back, and this year, it would be an A-race, meaning I would do focused training and build up for it. So technically, I had only spent a 24-hour span of my life on the course, but I’ve revisited it so many times in my dreams that I knew it more fully, like 24.5 hours worth of course knowledge. (Dreams are short, actually.)
The car ride from DC to Philadelphia was hilarious and wonderful because those are adjectives that describe my co-passengers, Tala and Nathan. I have the best friends in the world. Carrie, Lauren, Kim, Nathan, and Tala not only gave up their weekends to watch me run but also took care of a lot of the planning. I was able to share this part of my life with them! When I sent them a Details and Logistics email thanking them for joining me “on this metaphysical journey into the cosmos,” they decided to take over the practical aspects of planning.
I was VERY excited to run, though not in a camp counselor way—more like in a phlegmatic, placid, anticipatory way—smiling on the inside. And I altogether couldn’t decide if I was enthused about the adventure before me or if I was just chipper in general over the amount of Justin Bieber they let me sing along to on the way over.
Race morning came! I sought out Anna Piskorska in the starting area. Have I mentioned she’s awesome? She is awesome.
1. I would do well and be happy.
2. Something awful would happen to me.
Both 1 and 2 occurred, actually. But I landed more on the happier than the awful side.
All was going well for hours. I was jubilant and just taking it all in. People kept giving me sweet, feminine nicknames, like "Monster Child," "Beast," "MorANIMAL," and, my personal favorite: "Freak of Nature."
No, I have changed my mind. My favorite thing was when they yelled, "Oh, wow! You're the FIRST LADY!" And I would say, "Aw, yes. It seems I have been confused with Michelle Obama again." This happens all the time. Every time I am winning a race, people think I am married to the president.
Savasana,” but that I like to call “prostrate abject failure.”
Things eventually corrected themselves. I just got sick for several hours and lost momentum. It was awful, but it happens. I threw up on the bushes! And I wasn’t alone. It was quite the occasion out there on those bushes. This is acid deposition, and the plants will die. I don’t know what happened to everyone else, but I know I got sick because I am not used to eating so much processed food—Gu’s and such things. But I have learned. I wished for a nice spinach salad of pure, unadulterated lettuce.
Twenty-one hours in, I got the record and held a pow-wow with my crew. Rockstar Phil McCarthy joined. I considered being done, leaving room for myself to easily beat myself next year to re-secure the cash bonus, but Phil recommended I pound it out to see what I could do. I went out again, finishing the day with 137.82 miles. Thank you for being a great friend, Phil.
Also, thanks to Inov-8 for equipping me in excellent clothes and sneakers. I spent a great deal of time in my Road X-233s and loved them--strong and supportive--much like my team. I wanted to run for Inov-8 because I love those shoes, but in joining, I also got a family of runners and friends. I love my team. Also, thanks DryMax for the awesome socks! This is the first summer ultra where my feet have come out unbattered. It is actually remarkable.
Fast forward to the real world now:
Today at work, I was washing dishes in the bathroom with my co-interns, and I volunteered to be the bouncer to keep people outside. "What are you going to do?" one scoffed. "Run at them? ... For a day?" Maybe. I don't know. Sometimes, I'm in the grocery store, and I think that if anyone were to challenge me to a game of freeze tag, I might win. I'm beginning to feel more like an athlete, rather than just a philosopher in spandex. The world is opening up before me!
Congratulations, everyone! Great day, you guys. I truly enjoyed meeting all of you. I hope you reached your goals and are recovering well.