Becoming an ultramarathoner
Reflections on a new relationship with running, time and myself.
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“If you want to run, run a mile. If you want to change your life, run a marathon. If you want to talk to God, run an ultra.” - Dean Karnazes
A few weeks ago, outside of Austin, Texas, I completed my first ultramarathon - a 50-kilometer trail running race. The race took place at McKinney Falls State Park and consisted of five 6.2-mile loops for a total of 31 miles.
I’ve never considered myself a runner. Prior to training for this race, the longest I had run continuously was 7 miles on my 29th birthday, and in the past year, I had only done a handful of 1 to 4-mile runs. Despite all of that, I called my friend’s bluff when he asked me in early February if I wanted to run an ultra. My answer was “What’s that? I’m in.”
In truth, I wasn’t that committed to the actual event at first but agreed to train. We started training at the beginning of February, about 11 weeks before the event. If you look on the internet, no one would recommend committing to a race of this distance with so little time, but we did it anyway. I ran 40 miles in February, 97 miles in March, and another 97 miles in April, including my first 10-mile run (February 4th), my first 15-mile run (March 17th), my first 20-mile run (March 24th), and my first 25-mile run (April 7th).
During the training process there many mental and physical changes along the way. At times it was quite the rollercoaster. I wanted to share some realizations and hope they are of service to you.
We can be extremely wrong about who we are and our potential: For 20 years or more, I told myself a story that I was not a runner. This story caused me to avoid certain sports and activities because of insecurities around running. It’s wild to think that we can spend so much time believing stories that aren’t even true. After all, I now have an achievement in the sport of running shared by .03% of the U.S. population.
Runner's highs (and lows) are real: The first time I exceeded 12 miles, I felt this rush of energy that I didn’t know was possible. I felt like a famished lion, blood hungry to crush miles. Along with this came an immense sense of connectedness to people and nature - there were several runs where I cried during my post-run meditation with feelings of immense gratitude. Along with the highs, I also experienced the lows. While my body was adjusting to this new activity, I had many depressive episodes and feelings of a lack of motivation. What I came to learn is that adjusting to this level of exertion is a shock to the system and takes time for your body to calibrate. We all have a capacity for willpower and discipline, and while it’s possible to expand that capacity, during the building process, our bodies and minds will resist.
Most things our body tries to tell us is temporary: Through race day, I was constantly amazed at how my body would open up over the course of a run. Over the training period, I had a sore lower back, tight hips and hamstrings, strained knees, and pain in my feet and toes. While these might exist at the start of a run, they may also dissipate over the course of a run. Especially on the long run days, I didn’t feel fully warmed up until mile 10 or more. On race day, I ran my fast splits on the fourth of five loops. The lesson is that feelings, whether emotional or physical, come and go, and while they should be listened to, we don’t need to yield to them.
We have more time than we think: There are so many things that I avoid because of beliefs and fears around not having enough time. Training for this race challenged that for me. What I realized was that I had no more or less time for the things that I cared about even while running 10 to 20 hours a week. It was also a reminder that we can dedicate long stretches of time to something without the world coming to an end.
Our actions can redeem the past: On one long run during training, I felt a deep sense of connection to my younger self at various stages of development: elementary school, middle school, late high school / college, immediately post-grad. In particular I was reflecting on my relationship with strength, fear and self-worth at each of those phases. Just being with the thoughts and feelings of each of these younger selves brought a newfound acceptance, peace and freedom to my current reality.
Maturity is not based on milestones: On several long runs, I was thinking about how our culture looks at maturity, specifically on rites of passage. We tend to place a lot of emphasis on discrete events: coming of age ceremonies, graduations, weddings, new chapters such as changing cities or jobs, birthdays and anniversaries that end in 5 or 0, major successes. These events are important and as a culture we probably don’t let ourselves celebrate these events enough because they are moments that carry a lot of weight and can have a tremendous impact on our life satisfaction. At the same time, many of the most profound changes of maturity can come in the smaller moments: cruising on a long stretch of open trail at night with a headlamp when no one knows you are out there, a feeling of connectedness and gratitude in a post-run meditation, all the runs and realizations that no one will ever talk about. One of my favorite sayings from a mentor is “among our greatest spiritual pitfalls is our human tendency to confuse the starting line with the finish line.”
Thank you for reading. Let me know if anything resonates with you.
- Adam
Before the race: Saturday April 27th, 2024 at 6:45 AM
This is an awesome write-up! Congrats!