My first race was the Louisville Half Marathon on 04-24-04. My longest run before that was 7 miles. Needless to say I hurt myself that cool April morning. The thrill of crossing the finish line was indescribable. The limp I carried for the next two weeks I had EARNED. I wanted more.
Several Half marathons later, it was clear that the next logical step was to go the full distance. In October of 2006 I ran Chicago (with bronchitis). At the mile 13.1, I was plodding along next to a young lady also in her early 20s, when an older lady pulled by us exclaiming "Half way there kids!
Instantly, my reply was a raspy, quiet, almost beneath the breath, "F*********ck! The pain, the difficulty, the training was more than twice as challenging as for half, but so was the reward. I graduated a few month later and confounded my training.
In 2007 I was accepted into the Southern College of Optometry (170lbs). I still occasionally jogged but there were plenty of months that the running shoes lay in the closet. In 2008, I was married, studying a lot, and faded into a life full of unhealthy habits. I was eating food that was convenient, and running was not the type of "fun" I wanted to have during my very limited spare time (185lbs). These bad choices and scale weight haunted me. The phrase "fat and happy" is an oxymoron. Then, something spectacular happened. My wife, Jessica announced she was pregnant.
There was a lull, a lag period where the magnitude of this information couldn't be felt or at least fully appreciated. But in the summer of 2009, Jessica's belly and my son's fluttering feet inspired me. I was about the be a father. Someone, who through no choice of their own was about to have no other option but look to me as there most immediate male role model. I have to be superman. On 07/01/09, I embarked on a fitness expedition. I ate impeccably. NO high-glycemic carbs...ZERO. I ran to the best of my ability. Running on zero carbs is an awful experience. Most days my heart would burn like it was building lactic acid but the results were coming so I kept going. About 10 weeks into training, when the taste of bread was just a distant memory, I hit my goal weight. 160lbs. I ate a whole medium pizza in celebration.
This is the point when almost all "diets" fail. What do I do now that my goal has been reached? It was the answer I found to this question that lead down the path toward an ultra. Raise the bar.
I was in the best running shape ever. My son, Liam, was still 2 months away. The goal changed. I wanted to hit my wrestling weight of 152lbs before he was born. Training for the St. Jude Marathon was going to take me there. I wanted Liam to never know me as the fat slob I was. Liam came early but I still made it. The new, lighter, me finished the Marathon 2o minutes faster than my first. What now? Keep going.
My next race was the first time I have experienced an Ultra style event. The 2010 Swamp Stomper. It offers a 25k and 50k. I did the 25k because the prospect of going further than a marathon still sounded pretty stupid to me at this point. This was my first trail race and it lived up to its name. The first 4 miles was 4" of standing water. The next 8 undulating miles was sloppy mud, the last 4 was back through the standing water. This was the hardest race Ive ever done. Even in flat, paved marathon condition, there was no way I could have done another lap. Hanging out the finish line some hours later the 50k winner crossed the line. The race director said, "Congratulations! Is this your first Ultra win?" With no heavy breathing, he calmly replied "No."
It was this exchange that changed my perspective. I have to do this. Why? I still have no real answer. Maybe just to see if I can. Maybe for the pain and the pride that comes with it. Maybe because that's where the bar is sitting at the moment. Maybe to demonstrate to Liam that through effort, all things are possible. Its all of these things at different times, when I'm searching for inspiration to hit the road for another long run.
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