For almost seven hours, I chanted in my head I DON’T CARE / I LOVE IT. I care a lot, which is why it has taken me a month to write a Patapsco 50k race recap. Still, that accidental mantra can summarize the training cycle. Let’s break it down into three parts, like a long poem, if you will. I’m primarily a poet, so forgive me if I focus on the overall vibe, rather than every detail.
Pre-race
A few weeks ago, I was talking about iron infusions with a coworker. She said, “if I get an iron infusion maybe I can run ultras!” And I responded, “I literally couldn’t do this until I got my iron (and other chronic health conditions) under control.” So maybe I will have another training partner soon. I feel like I’m in a liminal space of healthy and sick. Despite a global pandemic, I’ve been able to pursue passions like running without physical limits over the past three years.
This was also the first training cycle in – ever? – I didn’t feel burned out. I reluctantly tapered, but I needed that for some pep on race day. Throughout training, I was able to step back when I was sick or experiencing a lot of life stress. I credit my own maturity, and what I learned from my former coach over the three years I worked with him. Look at that, learning to be flexible. And reasonable. Take the time to rest. I mostly followed this Hal Higdon plan, knowing that I wanted confidence from spending time on the trails over anything else.
During race
I followed my partner’s advice and didn’t stop at aid stations. Keep walking, keep moving. I barely paused through the halfway point; started lap two as the eighth woman overall. Then, my body did not want to go. Sort of the opposite of Tracy Turnblad singing, “The streets tell me go!” I was quite hot at the halfway point, but mostly in a good mental space after spending the first sixteen miles with two fellow Faster Bastards. I also felt like I was going to vomit and had a ginger chew. When I say I was feeling good, that is relative.
I fell around mile nineteen on a smooth downhill. Upon hitting the ground I thought, “Oh, I’m on the ground.” This was concerning – I didn’t feel anything when I hit the ground. Mostly, I was curious about how I got there. Then I decided I should be grateful to not have working pain receptors and kept going. Or maybe the repetitive early 2010s hit from Icona Pop had infiltrated my bones. Either way, I still have a shadow of a bruise on my left arm.
I told running group teammates I didn’t cry during the race. That’s not correct either. I was dry-heave-sobbing through miles eighteen to twenty-six. Ultras are true highs and lows of life! It was a pretty standard fight-your-demons-as-you-want-to-quit experience. Mile twenty-six was a turning point: I knew I’d see my partner, and the last six miles were on very familiar trail. The pace wasn’t blistering by any means, but I had enough pep back in my step to pass a few people.
I ended up twelfth woman overall, 6 hours and 38 minutes, just shy of my top ten goal, which I thought was possible if everything fell into place. I was about 40 minutes slower on the second loop, which wasn’t surprising with how I do in race weather over 50 degrees.
Post race
A little extra reflection here, that I didn’t allow during the race, because I feared crying. Three years ago, I was starting to build back to an idea of a long run, with no idea of what may be possible. Going back through my training journal, I was running with no thoughts about racing. I wasn’t back on trails until December 2020. Back is a generous statement. I started trail running in 2018, but the impact on top of my constant pelvic pain was too much to withstand before my excision + hysterectomy. This is to say: things look rosy now, but it took significant time to build to where I am.
I’m already signed up for a few races in early 2024, that aren’t necessarily pace-based like road races. At this point, I’m exploring possibility. We shall see what happens with some of the big plans in the works for 2024.
Books I’m thinking about / recently read:
- Three Pianos by Andrew McMahon
- Winter Recipes from the Collective by Louise Glück
- Golden Ax by Rio Cortez
Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.
#poetsthatsweat 