A few months ago, the editor of a major running magazine spent a long time interviewing me for an article about addiction in running. I poured my heart out, but never saw it published.

So I battled back and forth for awhile, torn between letting the story go, if I wanted to go there, yada yada, until I finally just said …ya know what? Screw it…. nobody can tell my thoughts better than me…. So here we go. Prepare yourselves.

In my opinion, an addict will always be addicted. Whether its to something..someone.. or someplace.. they’ll be hooked on something. And you see, I have a whole history behind me covering that spectrum. But the past is the past, and constantly bringing it up makes it what…?yup. the present. So past addictions aside, why not talk about the here and now? I’m an open book.

And if that rubs you the wrong way, well click that little x at the top of your screen, buttercup.

Okay. Now we can talk.

This little running and addiction topic has become taboo amongst runners. But I want to address it from an addict’s standpoint.

Does running addiction exist?

You betcha. Why wouldn’t it??

Have I experienced it?

I’ll let you decide….

Scratching the surface.

Roughly two years ago, I ran a 12 hour with no real target or specified training. I threw down 70.5 miles that day–coming in 2nd place overall– almost effortlessly. I went home and started plotting. If I trained hard enough, I could try to run 120 miles to qualify for the world’s 24 hour team at a race that fall. It was a long shot, but I had a ton of crappy stuff going on in my life, and God knows I needed something to focus on.

So I started to pour myself into my training before the sun came up. Every freaking day I would wake up between 3-4am for 20 miles. If I missed mileage throughout the week, I would cram it all into an overnight run. Nothing could derail me. Even a stint in the ICU. I was a woman on a mission. Completely driven and locked hard into my goal.

Addicted?…others saw it that way. [Remember that interview when I was attacked by raging normal runners offended by my "psychotic tendencies"?]…. But I saw it as nothing but pure dedication.

I trained so hard for that race and did what?? …. Well, I ran 80 miles in tremendous pain to complete failure — later learning that during the race, I had torn my gluteus minimus, illiacus, & had a stress fracture in my hip. All of which pain I somehow ignored. …Good times.

But I still wasn’t “addicted”. I got back up from that spill. Stayed off my feet for 12 weeks, then BAM, up and ran a 100 and slayed the heck out of it.

Nope. That wasn’t addiction either. That was all heart.

But running, man it was everything I thought about, everything I dreamed about. Everything I TALKED about. It was what I sacrificed for. What I cared for.. but it wasn’t an “addiction”. I’d felt addiction before.

It wasn’t until the following year, while I was training for a MARATHON, that I started to fear that the tell tale signs of an actual addiction were, once again, taking hold of my strange little life.

I had a coach’s plan to follow. Speedy. Structured. Every day, I would go out with a specific workout planned, but no matter what that was, I would leave with a raw and rugged speed session. All I wanted was to run fast. For weeks it was an obsession. Every day, a harder effort than the day before it. I literally could not save my best effort for race day. I didn’t want to wait that long to feel it.

Why do I crave it so much? Why can’t I hold off for race day?

Less than a week out from my target half marathon, I went out and ran 10 miles at a 6:50 pace…the hardest I could run, because I simply wanted to feel it. I knew I destroyed my hopes for the race, but I didn’t care. That adrenaline– the rush of it surging through my veins– I had to feel it. Always.

That next week, I ran a half and struggled hard to hold 6:50s for more than 4 miles. My tired wrecked body crashed and I jogged it in for a crappy finish.

I have wreaked havoc on my body yet again. I lack control… I noticed.

And that right there sent me over the edge. I fell into an awful pit of burnout, sadness, fatigue to the point of not being able to take a step, and full on clinical depression.

But that wasn’t addiction, that was stupidity….right?

My gut tells me “wrong”

Hindsight is 20/20

Fast forward to a few months down the road and I was on my way to a full recovery.

I began to open my eyes to the big, giant, gorgeous world around me that had absolutely nothing to do with running. I began to find little fragments of ME again that I had lost somewhere in the miles.

I started painting again.

I called up old non running friends for coffee.

I started hiking mountains instead of running them.

And my kids–gosh my kids–I poured myself into them more than ever. More than I thought I could.

My weekends weren’t dominated by long runs, or race plans. And my nights weren’t spent on the trails.

I was nonrunner Ash again, and I liked her.

And to be quite honest with you all, a year later and the latter Ash is still hanging around. I love her more than the old one.

Looking back, I remember saying “I’m not gonna waste my life sitting around.” -and crap like that- to justify the insane amount of training I was doing. But sometimes JUST SITTING AROUND is good.

I can see now that life shouldn’t be dominated by just one thing. That would be wasting it. Because there’s so much more to life than one hobby.

I mean, after all, I got into running to have fun and get healthy, and if the outcome was a grumpier, sleepier, injured me– well then what the frick did I accomplish?

Now dont get me wrong, I’m never gonna write ultras off. I’m running 81 miles next week for crying out loud. I just approach things differently from now on.

No incessant schedules.
No over the top training.
No super goals.
No sleep deprivation.
No missing out on bedtime stories, late nights, and morning cuddling.

Now-I’m 100 percent lined up in the right order: God. Husband. Kids. Me. Family. Friends. Happiness. SLEEP. Running.

But I only see it this way now, because I can tell I wasn’t healthy THEN. It took me awhile to realize that, but I know it now, and I won’t let myself get lost in that running pit again.

And just like with other battles I’ve gone through, I have to have people keeping me in check with my running.. accountability. If my husband says “baby you’re training way to much..” I don’t shut him out, I listen. If my friends say “hey you’re gonna overdo it with a back to back” I consider their opinions.

And also, I really only ended up writing about this, because if I had to guess, I’d bet some of you have experienced this too. I mean, I see it on social media — comments like “Wife says I race too much, but she doesn’t understand.” — or– “Dont ever let people get between you and your dreams, even friends and family!” — blah blah blah– hey buddy- I gotta tell ya.. If your wife says “back off the running”, she’s saying it for a reason. And your marriage better be a heck of a lot more important than some stupid hobby you have, so check yourself. It ain’t curing cancer here, man…

Walk the Line

So when it comes down to it. It’s tricky. But I think a fine line exists, and I think certain people can and will cross it.

Did I cross it?

Looking back, I hate to say it, but yeah..probably.

Running alone in the dark from midnight to 8am when I should’ve been in bed with my husband? …yeah. I’m an idiot.

Screwing up expensive races because I wanna taste adrenaline?… uncalled for.

Letting a sport completely dominate my adult life when I have about a billion other things that should’ve come before it? ….FAIL.

But it can’t be all bad..had I not found my love for running, who knows where I would be right now?!

But I’m an addict after all–even if I’m a healthy one–and this is just how I work. I have to learn things the stupid hard way. Because when it’s all said and done: I NEED IT. It all makes me ME. It
is my story! Just like all the other Hell I’ve put myself through during these crazy short 26 years. The puzzle pieces all fit together in the end.

And I’ll struggle with it again, I’m not stupid. The miles, the dirt, the mountains — like I wrote yesterday — it calls to me like a siren. But I will have to wait. Wait until it fits into my life again. When I’m older and free to be a healthy addict.

Anyways… I talk too much. [And write too much.] but all of that to say…

Addiction is ugly. But running? Running is beautiful. So a running addiction? Well that’s just tricky.

But if I can walk that line between beautiful disaster and complete and utter chaos… I’m right where I want to be…. Happy.

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As always, thanks for reading, guys & hey, can do me a huge favor? If you clicked over to this blog from Facebook or Twitter- leave your comments HERE! It sucks when people talk about my posts and I cant even be a part of the conversation. I LOVE and appreciate the feedback. It helps a lot. Happy running:) -ash.

That thirst–that insatiable wretched beautiful thirst–it calls to you like a siren.

It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are doing, it will attack you without warning…calling out to you, tugging at the deep sacred conclaves of your inner being:

You’re different.

And once you’ve satisfied that craving, even if momentarily, it will hunt you down like a hungry wolf until you come to terms with it again.

Your soul KNOWS you need pain. It KNOWS you need to struggle. God Himself KNOWS you need to feel the utmost discipline to find true satisfaction.

You want it nonstop.

But instead of breaking the beautiful Americana quilted pattern, you stay your charted course– fraying up the fabric only every now and then–enough to feel tattered and beaten, but certainly not broken.

Are you scared or are you smart?

Will you ever really find your calling? Can you ever come face to face with the wild “free spirit” you’re created to be? …reckless abandon wreaks havoc on your brain.

You’re a double-minded woman, but there’s hope for you yet…

You will live with a mask: hiding your daring secret of lust for the mess and the dirt.

You will sneak away before dawn, to drink your pain under the moon.

You will conceal your bloodied and broken knees on Sundays–to save face–knowing that your dance in the dirt brought Him a smile anyway.

You will wash away your long hours of sweat, mud, and tears by nightfall, but your canvas will never fully dry.

…and you’ll do it all while questioning satisfaction, until you dig deep enough at yourself to remember…

You’re a mustang. You’re a wild raging stallion hidden among a never ending supply of thoroughbreds.

Deep down you know you like it that way….you know it.…because while your heart yearns to soar among thousands of unchained hooves, your will and your grit remains unchallenged behind the gates.

Wild…Free…Meant to be?

You can taste it. Sometimes.

But you can’t….ever…really…have it.

And that tortured craving just might keep you hungry enough.

“the funny thing about survival is that all we want when we’re stuck out there is home.”

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PS. Ack. Wow. Couldn’t sleep…Haven’t posted on a whim like that in ages! Go ahead and take a stab at what you think this post meant! But to be honest, I wont tell you if you’re right or wrong …. Ha.

So.. I’m going to California to run THIS next week. And guess what? it’s not a 100 but its LONG! 81 miles long! I’m bringing Amber & introducing a new friend -Ange! We will run the entire 81 miles together. Then Amb and I are road tripping up the coast to run & visit a friend. I can’t wait to share another story with all of you. Leave your thoughts below! I love to hear from everyone. ~Ash

Every year, I trade in my easy going trail kicks for some sleek pavement shoes. I draw up fancy dreams and aspirations, wanting nothing more than what every other runner at the race wants: to be the most elite and coolest hard core runner out there, and win the race “chariots of fire” style to do pretty good. (Remember last year…?)

But this year was going to be different. Because following my Annual 100 Mile Emotional Breakdown of Life, I swore off my running obsession….and I stuck to it!

Yep… I made running take the back burner to EVERYTHING in my life. I poured myself into my family, my work, and my other hobbies that make me ME. I became super mom, and completely redecorated my entire home. I took over all of my husband’s personal training sessions, started weight training again, and kept my running under 40 miles a week. Sometimes a LOT less than that. I stuck to doing only short and fast runs. For someone who once did 150+ mile weeks— this was huge.

I felt good! Strong. Healthy. Happy. Balanced. See proof of much healthier Ashley below:

And guess what? Despite not running too much, I got faster.

I ran a half marathon in February in 1:33, placing 3rd overall for the females.

Check that wad of cash in my hands. “MONEY!!” (said extra crunk-like)

(Also check the much larger wad in my girl Beth Presten’s hands… she won 1st!)

So lemme get this straight: You’re telling me after 5 years of training hard, I actually stop trying, run only when I feel like it, and THEN I get fast? Pshhhhh. Go figure.

Anyway, I spent the rest of my spring (semi) running with a goal of a 3:20ish marathon in mind. I started doing long runs again, and had no trouble hitting my marathon pace for several miles at a time.

Ehhh, Knoxville’s in the bag. I figured.

Flash forward to race week, and I felt pretty dang good. But all of the sudden, I felt completely unsure of myself: WHO AM I KIDDING?
I suddenly felt that I hadn’t put in nearly enough work. I had trained hard, but not hard enough to feel like a bullet in a barrel. But it was too late now.

“Whatever. Lets do this.”

My family made the trip up to Knoxville, and stayed nearby in our family’s cabin. We spent the weekend hiking and exploring our favorite Smoky Mountain trails. PERFECTION.

Once race day arrived, I kissed my little fam goodbye and took off for a morning alone. I was calm, cool, collected and ready to annihilate some pavement. I met up with Beth Presten, who was tackling her own similar journey, and together we made our way to the start.

Finding My Place.

Now, let me just tell you, I should probably be a professional “people watcher” because dang, I’m so freakin’ good at it. So of course, I’m eye surfing everyone around me, scoping them out, seeing what they’re wearing…..she looks nervous….she looks fast….I’m probably faster…. you know, stupid stuff that everyone does. Don’t lie. You do it too.

I chose to run Knoxville with no music. No pacer. No distractions. I just wanted to be fully alive in the moment. I wanted to experience the race–every bit of it.

I looked at Beth, and said, “You ready?”

“Yup!” She said, “We’re gonna rock this!”

We gave each other a hug, probably more of a sympathetic one, knowing good and well the amount of pain that was hanging over our heads, and then we separated to find our proper place amongst the other runners.

I looked around, gauging the crowd, and eventually positioned myself somewhere kinda near the front…but not the front…You know, THIS place:

“I’m sorta fast for a busy mom” *steps up a step*

“..but I like food a smidgen more than speed work” *steps back a step*

“….aaaand I’m just a lowly Kenyan-blood-free, pale, American nerd.” *three more steps back*

“BUT. I could possibly have some great great great grandfather Kenyan blood in me somewhere? I do tan easy sometimes…” *half step back up*

Riighht here.This should be good.

I bounced nervously back and forth from my left foot to my right, ready to get the show on the road. There’s something so intoxicating about the beginning of a marathon. The anticipation, the buzz, and the overwhelming feeling of “OhMiGosh. Crap.” –it’s something I wish I could bottle up. I’d definitely call it Crunk Drank (seeing as Crunk Juice is already taken).

Anyway…After a beautiful singing of our National Anthem, the race director prayed and counted down the send off…

3.. (Yes!!)

2.. (Woo!!! I’m gonna slay this!)

1.. (NOOO GOD NO!! NO!! Please!!!!)

BAM!!! …and just like that, I was running my [who knows how many]‘th marathon.

Don’t stick with the idiot crowd.

Lesson number one in a Mary. Don’t start out at the pace of the crowd. I promise you that everyone is going about two minutes faster than they should be. And so being the super smart blonde that I was trying to be, I held back, and ran my first mile at 7:45.

GO ME! Nice and easy. I felt so smart. I decided to hold this nice easy pace–about 15 seconds slower than my regular pace–for a good while. Then, if all went smoothly, I would have so much energy, that I could practically sprint the last 6 miles. Perfect plan. Perfect.

So, halfway into this thing, and despite crazy hard hills, I’m still chugging along, and totally enjoying myself…listening to the live music, feelin like a total pimp with everybody screaming “Go girl!!l”, …smooth.

And by the way, if you’re ever going to run a marathon down in the South, make it Knoxville. The race is just awesome. Such tremendous crowd support, and runs through some beautiful parts of the city, University of Tennessee, and scenic river side neighbors. It’s the big city marathon you want, without the stress and crowds like other typical big city races.

…Being a trail runner, I was surprised that I was actually enjoying the change of pace. I missed my trees, I missed the comfort of soft earth, but I liked being locked into a goal. And the energy around me was intense.

Is This What Fast Feels Like?

As I continued on my merry 7:45 way, I was greeted by mile 16 of the race. Time to step it up a notch.

I began to slowly increase my speed [does that even make sense? Slowly increase my speed...slowly increase my... Whatever. Never mind.]

…so I started running faster.

Omigawd I am going to slaughter this run. I’m going to spank it like a 4 year old in K-Mart. I AM GOING TO—*Garmin Beep*

“Lap 17: 7:45″

…..huh? Nahhh that felt at least like a 7:25.

Hey, idiot Garmin, don’t know if you know this or not, but I was DEFINITELY trying harder…Definitely running faster than that.

I wasn’t slowing down was I????

18 miles and I kept pushing, refusing to look at my watch.

By 20, I was running over a highway bridge, uphill, and completely exposed to a hotter than normal sun…and the battle began…

“Ughhhh this sucksss!”

“Ohhhh no does Baby Ashwey need her mommy?! Does Little Ashwey’s feet hurt?? Awwww…”

“AHHHH NO. Shut up. Shut up. RUN RUN RUN.”

And then there was this:

*Lap 20 8:15*

Ahhhhhhhhh!!! Frick.
Frick frick Frick!

Turns out I was completely not Kenyan at all, and was totally incapable of running a negative split.

Betcha didn’t see that one comin’?;)

Fall Apart or Find Heart

At that moment I had the choice. I could either suck my thumb, jog it in, be a brat about it and miss my goal by a lot. Or, I could push with whatever I had left, and bring it in as best as I could.

I figured the latter had a more positive lasting life impact. So, I started picking the pace back up. Of course there’s not much picking up you can do with 21 miles on your legs, but I did what I could.

I mentally ran from crowd support to crowd support. Using the human energy to propel me forward. Each time I’d pass through a water stop– full of motivation from onlookers and awesome volunteers– I’d run a little bit faster… These people totally think I’m hardcore….Right? Riiiight?!! ha! You runners know what I mean.

Finally, with one mile left, I looked down at the 3:20 on my watch and realized that I hadn’t done so bad after all. ONE. FINAL. PUSH. No pansies allowed at this point.

Run forresssst runn!!!

So I reached down deep into my little gut, and started running, balls out, as hard as I could to the finish line!!!

I’m talking a glorious, beautiful, solid 5 minute pace!!!!!

(Disclaimer: it may have just FELT like a 5 minute pace, but could have actually been closer to umm.. you know..7:46…)

As I ran into the finish line, right on the 50 yard line of Neyland Stadium, I felt a huge smile stretch from ear to ear.

3:28. My first official sub 3:30 marathon! With the way I trained…Not bad. Not bad at all.

Where Bittersweet Meets Sweet

I found Beth at the finish. She PR’d with a cool 3:19, less than a year after having her first child. I was super proud of her, but knew that she also missed her goal time. We gave each other a sweaty nasty hug, and began the typical post marathon complaint fest:

“That course was SO hard. SO HARD!” She said.

“Yeahhhhh, I think every year I forget how hard it is!!” I replied.

“The hills were awful!!!”

“I know, and it was so freaking hot. Why is it so hot anyway? I hate the sun…let me tell you what else I hate about running….”

..that kinda stuff.

However, we quickly forgot all of that nonsense as soon as we walked into the post race party room– complete with probably the most amazing combination of edible greatness I had ever seen in my life.

Engage inner fat kid mode.

Pizza.
Slushies.
Soup.
Fresh baked amazingness.
I think probably every drink ever made.
…Some healthy stuff I didn’t notice….

For a good girl on a diet, it was total bad girl heaven.

Beth, her husband, and I all sat around a table, laughed, griped, and ate. We celebrated the little victories of the day and swore off the moments we’d rather forget.

After I stuffed my face, I walked the mile back to my car, usually the crappiest part of the marathon, and reflected on my race. I didn’t reach my goal. But I didn’t suck at life either. It was a good/bad day. And as I sat down, I realized that despite a PR, I’d never felt better. I even took this gangsta picture for all of you….

After I got back to our cabin, I cleaned up, told my kids I won the race (shut up, I got my age group) and I slipped on a pair of high heels for a day on the town. And it was in that moment, as I easily stood up on 4 inch wedges, that the sad truth sank in: I wasnt sore. I felt fine. And I knew why. I didn’t try hard enough, and I failed to run a peak effort race.

I didn’t feel a ton of pain. I didn’t puke my guts up at the finish. I didn’t leave it all out on the course.

I just kinda, you know, ran.

Grrrrr. Daggum marathon!!!!

“DANGITT! I’m not sore!!” I shouted to my husband, “I didn’t run fast enough. I have to try again! Google the next marathon within 100 miles of our house!”

Sure, I got to the finish line happy and healthy, and that was my true goal. But you know as well as I do what lies just underneath the surface: the GOTTA BE’s.

Gotta be better.
Gotta be faster.
Gotta be100 times more awesome at life.

The “gotta keep up that never ending chase for personal success and satisfaction”. Why? I dunno… because I’m human? Because it’s so freakin’ addicting? It feels good to hurt? It doesn’t matter. All I know is that no matter how many times I run one, I always love it, hate it, write it off, and then learn from it. And THAT is what keeps me coming back for more. Knoxville made me happy, but I’m still so hungry for more. Starving.

So thank you, Knoxville Marathon, for providing 26.2 miles for me to turn into a cocky little brat, a raging schizophrenic, a dumb blonde, a humble little baby, and finally…a RUNNER…all in one day.

Crave the run.

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SO- you tell me. Did I run a good race or do I need a repeat?? Leave your thoughts below!

P.S. I have another ultra adventure coming up with Amber and some other friends in California. Stay tuned! ~Ash

So after my crazy emotional breakdown at Ancient Oaks 100, I switched my ultramarathon focus to something a little more intimidating for me: running a fast marathon. I chose the Knoxville Marathon as my cardio killer of choice, and the ensuing training has nearly killed me in more ways than one. Being a carefree fun loving ultrarunner, I almost forgot about all of the breakdowns I get when I train hard for something. Almost… until last Saturday.

So picture this: here I was, in nothing but my underwear, around 11 o’clock at night, up preparing a breakfast my family could stick in the oven while I was gone running in the morning. And mind you I’m not doing this happily, I’m all huffing and puffing, completely conflicted with the fact that I’ve got to wake up at 4:30am [at what really felt like freakin' 3:30am due to time change and losing an hour] to go do an extremely challenging long workout…by myself.. the cherry on top.  So Dan comes into the kitchen and asks if I need help cooking. And I just go bat[crap] insane and start to pitch a crazy hormonal induced fit:

“No!! Gawd Daniel. I don’t need your help!!!  I’m perfectly capable of cooking a freaking breakfast for my family and doing every freaking thing that I need to do–BY MYSELF!!! You are always asking me if I need help!!! Stop asking me if I need help!! I don’t need help. I just want to cook a breakfast..at night. I CAN DO THIS!!!!”

Of course Dan is standing there gawking back at me and trying really hard not to laugh, and it just pisses me off more. So I hurl a [very feminine] punch at his chest and scream “Ughhh! It’s not funny! Leave me alone!!”

To which he responds by wrapping me up in his arms…annnd I cave, turn into a little wimp, and start crying some estrogen laced tears.

And the first words out of my mouth?….”I don’t want to run this marathon.”

Ahhh… she’s run herself crazy again? Maybe not. Stick with me here…

I let Dan coddle me for a few more minutes of that emotional “I don’t want to run this marathon” thing before I put my big girl pants back on.

I crawled into bed, pondered the secrets of the running universe, then woke up exactly 3 hours later to get ready for my workout:

Clothes -check. Shoes – check. Garmin – check. Confidence – ehhh…Check????

The workout was sure to bring some pain: 5 miles at 8:20 pace, 5 at 7:20 pace, 5 at 6:50 pace all on hills, then a fast run to the top of Stone Mountain. .. God help me.. As I got dressed, I started to have the typical pre workout brain chatter:

“Why the heck are you doing this? This is freakin moronic.”

“Nooo…C’mon Ashley, pull your crap together. Discipline. Discipline. DISCIPLINE.”

“Discipline? Please. You know nothing of discipline. Seriously, why are you doing this? Go back to bed.”

“Bad Ashley. Don’t listen to that. Drink more coffee. You’re gonna slaughter this workout.”

…I swear I’m not schitzo.. most of the time.

Somehow I finally made it out the door, but it wasn’t easy. I hopped in the car, turned on the radio, and — a song about depending on God for strength was on. Really??? Really…? Yup, I lost it. I started sobbing again. I mean literally sobbing. Like I actually had to pull over the car y’all. It was pretty pathetic.

And I don’t care what you people think, because this is my blog and it is what it is. But, I shut my eyes for a second, there in my car, on the side of the road, and I prayed: “Hey God. Obviously I need some type of clarity…or a pill to fix my hormones? But either way… I don’t know why this whole marathon thing is destroying me so much. It’s just a freaking race. And there’s so much crap that is a billion times more important. But help me get over this– and see the bigger picture. Help me see why running this race means so much to me.” (Yes I really do say things like “crap”, “freakin”, and “stupid” in a prayer. God knows what’s up.)

And after that second breakdown, I continued on my merry way.

I finally somehow got to Stone Mountain, parked in the empty dark parking lot, shakily got out of my car, stepped onto the running loop, pressed go on my Garmin…and began to slay my demons one mile at a time:

So why the heck am I doing this? Each mile brought clarity.

Mile 1: Because it feels absolutely amazing to put myself through this pain.

Mile 2: Because running fast and alone in the dark of the night is euphoric.

Mile 3: Because I said I’m gonna give this race my best effort, and my Dad taught me that I can’t go back on my word.

Mile 4: Because life may be hard, but somehow, it’s still just too easy.

Mile 5: Because discipline at this level is an essential building block of my life

Mile 6: Because I need moments like this to get real with myself and with God.

And each mile after…. Because somewhere deep in my DNA, it’s etched in there that I AM A RUNNER. And I simply cannot deny that.

I ran every single mile that day with passion and purpose, and at the end,  I climbed to the top of “my mountain” and savored the incredible taste of pain in my mouth as I welcomed in the sunrise over Atlanta.

I did what I came to do. And I got the answers I was looking for.

So why do we run? Why do we push ourselves like this? Why do we run a marathon, or any race for that matter, when we simply don’t want to?

Because when it’s all said and done, we know deep down that it’s worth it.

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Thanks for reading! What are all of you up to lately in your running world? Ever had a break down like mine? Haha…Leave your comments below! ~Ash

The Day of Reckoning:
“A time when one’s past mistakes or misdeeds catch up with one.”
“A day at the end of time following armageddon when God will decree the fates of all individual human.”

…annnd this post has absolutely nothing to do with any of that…Now you know.

So things in my life have taken an interesting turn as of late…as usual. As [semi] bad luck would have it, my family is having to relocate. I say “semi” because I’m thankful my civil engineering husband has a job in a crappy economy, and I hate hearing Americans complain.. but anyway.. We’re moving to an even lamer place than Winder-Armpit-of-the-South, Georgia.

See, a few months ago, Daniel took a job a couple of hours South in Perry, Georgia. If Winder is the armpit of the South, I suppose I’d say that Perry is more like the butt crack of the South. At least in Winder we have trees and trails. In Perry, there is nothing more for an outdoors junkie to see than a vast empty wasteland of flat ugly brown fields… No trailrunning. No rock climbing. No exploring. No hiking. No mountains. None of this:

I mean–err– it’s terrific. Really!

Without sounding too terribly much like a trailrunning brat, no one in our family is excited to move to Perry. But since we have mouths to feed, at the end of the school year we’re making the move. …And leaving life as we know it behind!

Imagining our life without a daily dose of trails straight up blows. Of course I’ll have a good attitude, make the most of it, set a good example for the kids, and be thankful for a place to live. But deep down — not gonna lie — I’m sad. All four of us are.

Ehhh, it is what it is…

Since the concrete decision was made, we’ve all been kinda moping around the house, with a general “blah” written all over our faces.

I HATE THOSE KIND OF DAYS!

But I love life way too freakin’ much to let those type of days play out without making an effort to change it. So on Sunday, after a weekend of BLAH, enough was enough. We were all sitting on the couch quietly, and I started randomly shouting:

“Enough of this!!!! It’s time for the day of reckoning!!!!!”

I honestly have no idea where it came from. I just shouted it.

Since everyone is so used to my randomness, no one even batted an eyelash.

Okay… they’re not listening.

“I said it’s the freakin’ day of reckoning!!!!!”

Finally Brett caved and asked, “What the heck is the day of reckoning, Mom?”

I had no clue what the day of reckoning was. All I knew was that we needed some fun and spontaneity in our lives. So I cooked up a random idea and started barking orders.

“I’m not saying what the day of reckoning is. Everybody grab a jacket and go wait for me in the car.”

At this point Daniel was looking at me like I was crazy. I told him I needed 10 minutes and I’d be outside….

When everyone was in the car, I reached into my stash of fun stuff and found some water balloons….yesss..perfect… But there were no plans for a water balloon fight.

Back note: A long time ago, after I came clean from Meth, I struggled with ways to feel like I was being rebellious and crazy without actually doing anything illegal…. Enter throwing water balloons at random things while driving…. No idea why I started doing this, but I used to do it all the time. And actually now that I think about it, it probably is illegal in some way, but whatever. Ignore that.

So I made these bad boys while everyone waited, and I brought them out to the car:

(Tools for The Day of Reckoning.)

The kids looked at me and the balloons with a face that said “What the crap is wrong with this woman” and “My mom is awesome” at the same time.

I looked at everyone with a serious glare and said, “The day of reckoning is upon us. It’s time to blast signs with water balloons.”

Dan started cracking up, and Brett and Brooklyn just looked at me and started laughing. And with that I handed everyone a balloon, and laid out a few rules:

1.) Never throw a balloon at a living creature or mailbox.

2.) Never throw a balloon when cars are driving by.

3.) We have to drive back by and pick up the balloon carcasses.

4.) Never tell anyone we did this.. especially your grandparents.

5.) You have to shout THE DAY OF RECKONING before launching a balloon.

And so the very first Day of Reckoning commenced on a little Georgia back road on a cold Sunday afternoon…and it was awesome.

Prepare yourselves for the footage:

Sometimes, you have to say “screw it all” and just have some fun. If that means teaching your kids to throw water balloons at country road signs to burst bad moods and boredom–so be it. Life is for living. Go for it.

After I got his message, I sat there for a minute and processed it… freedom to confront your past…freedom to confront your past.. huh. Nothing extremely inspirational made its way into my brain. Likely because I’ve talked about my own story so much, it’s even old news to me! You can read that here. Well, actually, nothing inspirational hit my brain, but there was this random piece of seemingly unrelated material:

I thought back to my days growing up in the glorious white trash town of Winder, in which I recollected a vivid memory. I suddenly remembered standing in the 6th grade hallway watching as two skanky teen girls started fist fighting and screaming, “YOU A LIE!! YOU A LIE!! WHY YOU FRONT’N?!!” For those of you who don’t speak fluent white trash, the term “You a lie!” and “Why you front’n” are slang for “Why are you pretending to be someone you are not?”…

I suppose somewhere in that strange thought train, my mind had translated Jimmy’s topic suggestion of “freedom to confront your past” as more of a “why hide from who you really are”. And at that, the thoughts began to pour…

Confronting your past can suck. Especially if your past sucks.

Take me for instance….my past kinda sucks.. a lot. As you’ve likely read on my blog, I was a kid with very low self esteem, who ended up taking a lot of verbal abuse and harassment and found myself hooked on drugs, alcohol, and other dangerous “pastimes” by 15. I dropped out of high school, straightened myself up for a bit, went back, determined to finish it all out….and then got pregnant months before graduation. I ditched college in favor of a full time job so I could support my baby. Somehow along the way, only God knows, I ended up getting this:

But despite having THAT goodness up there… things are not perfect at all. But I’m completely cool with that, and have no problem admitting that to anyone. We deal with tons of crap, life drama, financial garbage, family problems, and all the other good stuff that most of you know and understand all too well.

But hey, that’s life. I’m not gonna act like this crap is a cake walk! I own up to it.

I rarely intentionally throw myself into uncomfortable social situations, but I always end up in them some how. Any time I meet new people it’s the same old, same old: Filler Questions. Where do my kids go to school…What part of town do I live in [raised eyebrows at "Winder"], what does my husband do, what do I do…yadda yadda yadda… and YEAH.. this conversation blows. Let’s get to the point here and find out if we REALLY want to be friends!

“Question number one: Are you eventually willing to discuss your life mess instead of playing pretend? If yes, continue onto question number two. If not, shut your face. Two: Do you like running?….”

Ha. Not really. (But maybe a little bit really.) But why hide real life? Can we
not go there? Is it because we fear rejection? Because we’re scared of how bad it would hurt if people don’t like us?… Man, I don’t know… but we all do it. Here… check yourself! Bet you can identify with one of the following:

Are you front’n about your past? Hey guess what… we’ve all done some really freakin’ stupid things that we wish we could take back. But do you own up to it?
See, that’s the hard part…The easiest route is to cover up our past, and pretend like we have been outstanding citizens of Earth our whole lives. But that’s not the smart path. That’s the fake path that is well traveled, but leads to a dull destination. Because when you open up, and you’re honest about who you really are or what you’ve gone through in life–people get you. And they appreciate you because they’ve probably been there too. If they don’t, …then who cares? Let them judge.

Are you front’n bout your running?

So just the other day, I was running with my good friend Beth McCurdy. We weren’t doing anything especially hard, just 15 miles at an easy-to-talk pace. By the end of the run though, Beth asked me if I was tired… “Yeah,” I said, “I’m hurtin’.” She smiled and said, “I love it when you tell me you’re tired! Everyone else acts like they’re feeling fine when I say I’m tired.” I started laughing and questioned why anyone would act like they aren’t tired. But shortly after I said that, I realized why: people don’t like to show weakness. It’s so stupid too, because acting like you’re some superb runner when you’re not doesn’t get you any better results. If you’re tired..you’re freaking tired. Just say so. Who gives a crap? I don’t have a daily mile, but I’ve seen entries on the site…:

“So and So ran 20 miles and felt TERRIFIC! Awesome run!”

“Just slammed a 10k in 45 minutes… Easy run.”

“Ran 100 miles. Felt good.”

…..I’m calling bullcrap on that. Really?? It’s probably best that I don’t have a dailyMile, because mine would be more along the lines of the sickening truth:

“I ran 20 miles and felt like death. I wasn’t even going that fast because I’m pretty out of shape right now. About 10 miles in, I questioned my existence and why I even run in the first place. The next 10 looked pretty ugly. However, I finished that crap so I could write this post and show all you guys that I’m not really a wimp.”

….Preach.

Nobody ever said running was easy so maybe lets all stop acting like we’re always having such a blast.

Now hold up, before I move on, let me clarify that I’m am not an advocate of complaining. But there’s a difference in saying “that run was hard!” and going on and on for months about your sore knees… suck that stuff up, buttercup.

Front’n Bout Happiness. This one is tricky. Because you can walk a fine line of being real and being emo. I tend to front about my happiness and I hate when I do it. I have a history of clinical depression. Not sure why but it creeps up every now and then in my life for a few months, and I’ll start running heavy miles like a mad woman.. I’m so phony about it when I’m going through it all though, I’ll be all smiles if I meet up with friends for lunch or something. And I should really stop doing this because I’m a bad faker. I always have to remind myself that it’s okay to not be [or act] happy all of the time. Sometimes life just sucks. I think it’s good to allow yourself to deal with suckiness in your own way, grow, learn, and move on.

Front’n on Social Media? PROBABLY! Social Media is seriously the Front’n Playground. Especially Facebook. It’s like we can be whoever the heck we want to be, easily excluding all of the crappy ugly parts of our lives and keeping the pretty stuff to share with the world. We act like “This is who I am!” when in reality, it’s only a glimmering polished fraction of who we are. But the funny thing is, it’s in those life moments that we don’t share– the ones where we act maybe a little too loony, get hurt, experience major disappointment, or struggle like crazy–that we connect with one another on a genuine human level. That’s beautiful.

…Yup. All examples of serious life front’n up there.

But wouldn’t it be great if we could move past all of the nonsense? I know whenever I move past the traditional “I’m doin’ great” facade with a person, I find depth and true friendship. My closest relationships are with people who have seen me at my best, but have also been down with me in the pits at my worst. Opening up about all of that human stuff–in the real–exposes us and makes us vulnerable to judgement and criticism, yet it also makes us relatable and lovable.

As for me, I’ll always risk ditching the former for a chance at the latter.

Oh..and by the way, this is a far more accurate portrayal of my family:

….okay…okay…maybe this…haha…

_________________

Be sure to check out the other bloggers who joined in on Jimmy’s synchro blog!

Jimmy Dean Freeman

Nathan Coury

Katie DeSplinter

What about you?? Do you share your story with others? Why or why not? What are some ways that you experience “front’n”? Agree or disagree with any of the above? Leave a comment and let me know! Thanks for reading! ~Ash

running Ancient Oaks 2012- photo by Caleb Wilson

So if you aren’t on Twitter, it’s likely you haven’t seen or heard my recent podcasting with Trail Runner Nation. Initially, TRN invited me on to do a podcast on toughness in ultrarunning. You can listen to that here. Afterwards, I continued talking with the hosts, Don and Scott, and they expressed interest in bringing me on for more episodes. Around the same time, Jimmy Dean Freeman, an accomplished “west coast” ultrarunner, contacted me after reading my blog. He wanted me to chime in on a community blogging topic: “Pandora’s Box: 100 milers” in which we would discuss running 100′s. Now this all happened coming off of my…what would you call it..I don’t know...an ultra life awakening of sorts. The one that happened down at Ancient Oaks 100 in early December.

My initial response to Jimmy was something along the lines of….NO. Honestly I had nothing especially great to say about 100 milers at the moment, and I felt like blogging about it at the time would be an [irreversible] emotional online wreckage. However, Jimmy kept encouraging me to reconsider, noting that an opposing viewpoint to the Yes! Go do a 100! mentality would make for a more complete look into our crazy running world. Jimmy is pretty persuasive, and somehow he talked me into it.

Meanwhile, during all of the tweets, Trail Runner Nation got involved. “Hey why don’t we take this topic to podcast,” Don said. I agreed to roll with it, and my second podcast with TRN was born. You can download “Ashley Walsh and Jimmy Dean Open Pandora’s Box” here.

Now in that podcast, Jimmy and I got a little heated debating the pros and cons of signing up for a 100 mile race. Afterwards we took the name calling to twitter, people took sides, and it got kinda crunk. So a follow up podcast with Jimmy- one that was probably a little less about 100′s and a little more about trash talking- took place. Click here to download “Unpacking Pandora’s Box with Ashley Walsh and Jimmy Dean Freeman“.

Surprisingly, and though I hate to admit it to Jimmy or Don, the chatter on podcast and the ensuing conversations stirred more thought in my ever-changing brain about the 100 mile topic. I’ve thought a lot about it since.  And seeing as that I never actually wrote a post to go with Jimmy’s synchro blog…crap happens… I feel that it’s time to put my 100 mile thoughts into readable words:

WHY?

If you’re anything like me, if a thought has entered your brain, nothing will stop you until you execute it. But with 100′s you might want to check yourself and recheck yourself on that way of thinking before you commit. Here’s the thing: you gotta be really freakin’ in touch with yourself and have a solid reason as to WHY you are willing to put your body through Hell. Is it to have fun? To experience trails? To make new friends? To see if you can do it? To run another faster than you did the last time? Therapy? Raising money for dolphins?  If you can answer that WHY, then you’re doing good so far.  My fear is that people (myself included of course) sign up for these things without realizing the time and commitment it requires from not only the runner, but everyone surrounding the runner.  Especially the first one.. that one’s a big freakin’ deal. And you’ll squirrel away all kinds of hours in preparation: running, buying dumb crap, reading forums, stalking people for advice, running, driving to running..talking about running..running! It’s intense.

For me, I’ve discovered that the distance needs to be somewhat of a pilgrimage. Each 100 I have finished, I’ve finished because I had some kind of personal vendetta. I talked a lot about this in my recent Ancient Oaks story. Any other 100 I’ve attempted that I didn’t have a real reason to finish, I didn’t finish.

It’s also very apparent to me that the races have become extremely popular in the last two years. Maybe people are signing up for them left and right due to popularity, peer pressure, or thinking it’s simply the path of natural progression… “Marathon..50k…50..100k.. 100 DONE! More 100′s please!” I feel strongly in that committing to 100 without a real reason to do it other than an ultra version of “Keeping Up With the Jones’s” is dangerous — and I don’t mean that in a cool, risky, kinda dangerous way.

I feel that what many fail to see, is there are plenty of other distances to specialize in. Just because you decide to run a little farther than a marathon doesn’t mean you have to lose your 100 mile virginity. Just find what distance makes you happy. If spending an entire day running doesn’t appeal to you or fit into your life, then screw it. Do something else. Find you. Which leads me to my next point…

ELITE INSPIRATIONAL ATHLETIC ACCOMPLISHMENT?

Sorry. I hate to say it, but the truth is, for most of us, this isn’t some elite sport. Running [errr hiking usually] 100 miles doesn’t make me or you or anybody better than any other runner out there. Sure we can move far…but it isn’t elite as many have made it out to be. I took a lot of flak for my stance on this in the second podcast, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. And seeing as that I do run these things competitively, I feel I have the right to voice my opinion here.  The way I see it, we don’t always have to do things to get pats on the back for being the best or the most inspirational..

You know, I haven’t been on Facebook in a long time–a couple years actually–but I remember the constant display of insane butt kissing in running. Any time someone would do something even a tiny bit challenging, the comments would just pour in with “Ohhhh my gossh!!! Sooo inspirational! You’re incredible!!!!” and it would go on… and on.. and on…and on… and oh my friggin gosh… it’s like each person has their own individual fan club!  People will say just about anything while jumping on that “motivational bandwagon”. Why, though? Does everything deserve a huge congratulations? It’s like ‘Wow. That’s incredible!’ has lost its merit. …Annnd…..Enter some really friggin inspirational running…..

Nevertheless, I do believe that everyone deserves to be praised for their efforts. I really do. Because it feels good to build others up. But it seems like in this semi twisted age of social media, there is nothing genuine left. Things get done for the facebook likes alone… I’m guilty of it, trust me…and it kind of blows to accept that reality. Because when it’s all said and done-even after all of the loads of praise- without that face to face interaction, I suppose it feels like more of an emptiness.  …Which reiterates the need to have a serious “WHY AM I DOING THIS?” in place before you run 100.

IS IT FITNESS?

So I had originally planned to write this post several weeks ago, and voiced all of my points over twitter to Jen. But that was lame of me, seeing as some dude jacked my quotes and turned them into his own blog post. So you may have already seen a lot of this elsewhere, but here are some of my original thoughts on 100′s as fitness:

To me, 100 is a mental accomplishment more than a physical triumph. There are exceptions to that, such as drastic weightloss and people with one leg running to name a few– which are all incredible. But for the average runner, getting to the end of the line doesn’t require as much fitness as it does mental grit. I know from experience that your body starts to break down miles away from that 100 mile mark. So is it a strong body that keeps you moving or a strong mind?

I fully believe that in training [as I've said plenty of times on twitter] you’re really going farther than you need to once you hit that 20 mile mark of all out running.  And in ultrarunning prep, I feel like it caps at 50. I don’t believe that there is much fitness to be attained after that point. I’m just a trainer, and not some doctor that’s studied this crap all of my life, but that’s just my observation.

100 is a lot to put your body through. The breakdown of the body that occurs is intense. I definitely believe it goes well beyond what is considered healthy and normal. I’m okay with that, ..but are YOU? In my 3rd 100, Fort Clinch, I was taken to the ICU by ambulance due to severe rhabdomyolysis. My body literally began to eat my heart for fuel….not one of my finer moments… Of course that’s not likely to happen to most runners, but it’s just an example of how quickly extreme running can break down your body. On the flip side, I have also finished a 100 and walked right off the course with nothing but painful blisters and sore legs, and resumed running again a couple days later. Either way, you have to accept the reality that these things can and will mess with your body in a major way.  SO TAKE IT SERIOUSLY, DANGITT!! …Hey, you had to hear it from somebody. 

IT’S MENTAL. I brought up another point on podcast about 100′s not really being that big of an athletic accomplishment and more of a mental one… and as usual… took a verbal beat down for it. But again, I remind you that my blog is called AshRuns100s, so I must find some value in it, right?….Hang on I’ll get to that!… Certainly it sounds incredible to say “I ran 100 miles!”. I mean, as ultrarunners, we know what that entails: It’s a lot of running, but it’s also a lot of walking, eating, talking, sitting, moaning and groaning. I believe that the outside non-ultra world imagines us running nonstop Kilian Jornet style across the mountains, and they’re thinking…Holy friggin’ crap. You gotta be kidding me?!… And the truth is, that’s not an accurate portrayal for most of us. And there is nothing wrong with that!!!!  I just feel that our society has become so used to doing NOTHING (i.e. “The Comfort Society of America) that we celebrate anytime someone does SOMETHING. When in reality, we were built to do this kind of stuff. Like migration (that was for you, Jen).

Can we not accept that it’s a maybe more of a major MENTAL achievement? I can! In my own experience, I have seen exactly how ultrarunning made me look LESS fit. Here’s my proof: the picture on the left is me before I started ultrarunning. I was only doing low mileage marathon training and high intensity cross training at the time. The picture on the right is when I started running well over 100 miles a week and no longer had time or energy to dedicate to serious cross training.

OBVIOUSLY I lost overall fitness even though I amped up my training hardcore for ultrarunning. I was putting in 30 hour weeks of running during that picture on the right. Strange, huh?

BUT WHY, DESPITE EVERYTHING I JUST SAID, WILL I TELL YOU TO GO FOR IT?

Because it’s life changing. 100 miles is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. And I can give you my favorite reasons why:

Though I don’t believe these things are a good choice for me fitness wise, I do believe that they have made me a stronger woman. Stronger mentally, because I feel that I can conquer any situation that is thrown at me. Stronger physically, because I believe that I can endure far more pain than most people I encounter. I believe that they helped me to develop toughness, and a thick skin in life in general. Trust me, submit yourself to running for hours alone in terrible conditions and you’ll feel the same! 

I have a cool story. Jimmy touched on this a little in our first podcast. Telling your friends, kids or grandkids stories of your 100 mile glory days is nothing but cool. Seriously. There’s no denying that. My little boy is always asking me if I think I could run to ____ [some far away place thousands of miles away]. I love being able to respond with, “I bet I could if I had enough time!”… See, I know that his brain is filled with thoughts and dreams of his own. If he sees me chasing down these things that most people think are ridiculous, then maybe he’ll do the same. And since I literally have a scientific whiz kid genius of a son, who know’s where that could lead?? Your life deserves a cool story…so make one.

It’s good free therapy and stress relief. So far, I have lived one beautifully [really] screwed up life. Browse this blog for evidence if you don’t know my back story. I have battled addictions of many sorts, but one of the biggest for me was an addiction to Chrystal Meth when I was a teen. Running for hours alone daily in the woods became my permanent way to deal with my past mistakes and to hash out things in my brain. I’m convinced I’ve settled a lot more in my life than I would have if I paid for 100 dollar counselling sessions! It works for me and it feels good for me to let everything go — out of my brain, through my own two feet, and I leave it all out on the trails.  And that right there is good enough reason as any.

And most importantly, all of my friends, even my best friends, I met through ultrarunning.  These connections are not just superficial “Hey how’s the weather?” kinda nonsense. No, I mean these people are here to stay! We talk about anything and everything, and we get each other. You know, most of us would agree that we didn’t find this sport, rather this sport found us.. and that’s indicative of the type of personalities we have. The connection that we share over the unique accomplishment of finishing a 100 mile race..  even sans racing, like I do with Amber….it’s special. And more importantly, it’s worthwhile. ALL of the pics below are with my ultrarunning buds outside of running, because we all hangout and talk in day to day life!

Jen and I road tripping out to Death Valley for Badwater 135.

Amber and I having a celebratory dinner after a dangerous solo 73 mile mountain run through the Smokies.

Beth and I flying out to Ohio for her 24 hour race.

Run Bum Sean and I grabbing lunch out at Lemonade in LA before road tripping to Santa Barbara with  Dan.

Bruce and I partying out on the town in Gatlinburg spending the weekend at my parents cabin before a marathon.

With Caleb, Jen, and Michelle after my 100 mile induced near death trip to the ICU. Our paths have been forever intertwined since.

The memories I’ve made with these people, and many many more, are an incredible part of my life that I cherish.

…..And that, my friends, is why you should run 100 miles….even though you shouldn’t.

———————————-

So there you have it, the good the bad and the ugly from my perspective. If you made it this far, leave your thoughts below! Thanks for reading:) ~Ash

I love trail running….Scratch that….I breathe trail running. In fact, it deserves to be one word: trailrunning.. there we go…beautiful.

I could never fully explain what type of perfection I feel when I run hard alone through the forest. When my barely padded feet pound the living earth.. when I push so deep I think I’m gonna choke…

It fits.

It works.

I was made to do this and I know it.

When it all comes together, it’s like there’s some supernatural connection inside of me that is brought to life. It’s like a spark of passion raging through my veins. Man it just feels so freakin’ good. So right.

The trees tower over me, like friendly giants watching guard so I can let loose.

...I appreciate it.

Dirt…the more I feel it–when I can really sink my shoes in it– the more awake I become.. the farther I run…the more it hurts.

…I welcome it.

And when I can’t get out there… it’s like I’m dead. Something inside of me knows I’m not where I’m meant to be– and it kicks and screams to get out– to be immersed in the overpowering, ever changing, perfectly created, natural world.

It’s my niche.

It’s my therapy.

It’s my comfort.

It’s my pain.

It’s my passion.

These are MY trails…..

AND THIS IS ME.

_______________________

….okay…I know, emo… right? I feel like such a geek sometimes. haha. Any body else feel this way??? Who has trail love— I can’t be alone right….?!?!?!? Leave your thoughts below!:) Thanks for reading.

I’ll never forget how incredible that day felt. It hurt so freakin’ bad, but every single mile was just so beautiful. Beautiful not just because of the scenic countryside, but because I spent hours of it dealing with myself. I took those hours of being alone and dug deep into my heart. I slugged it out with any mess that I felt didn’t belong in there. I always say that every mile that day was a mile further away from who I used to be… and that’s completely true. Because when I crossed that finish line -with Temper Trap’s “Sweet Disposition”- filling my ears (yes. random)….I became a different woman: confident, strong, and completely renewed.

Photo by Ray Krolewicz 

As a result of my first 40 mile therapy session, my running naturally progressed further. I ran my first 100 mile run that December, just 2 years after I started running entirely. I learned how to use the hard things I had been through in life, and turn it into powerful running fuel. So when I was faced with adversity during that race, I could easily overcome it with thoughts of things that I’d conquered that I felt were worse. Immediately after that 100, I only wanted to run ultras more and more. I was addicted to the act of running. It just felt so good to move and to conquer things in my life. I needed it…

But eventually, I got way too much of a good thing, and ended up destroying my body more than a few times because I literally could not stop mentally. If you’re a follower of this blog, than you’ll remember when I nearly died at Fort Clinch 100 when my body almost succumbed to rhabdo. Then again, at Hinson Lake 24 hour, when I tore two muscles and stress fractured my hip. I was scaring everyone around me with my “inability to except boundaries”. I knew that, but I refused to quit. I wasn’t done hashing it out with myself. But at Ancient Oaks 2011, I came full circle. I used that race as an opportunity to prove to myself and everyone around me that running ultras were good for me, and that I NEEDED them… because I did. I finished that Ancient Oaks successfully, and felt complete satisfaction in knowing that I left everything on the course….everything including my need for running therapy.

I NEED To Do This….Right?

Fast forward to this year, and it’s been nothing but sunny smooth sailing. Things haven’t been easy in my life this year, but I’ve never been more content. I’ve felt no real need to run since Ancient Oaks last year.  I’ve felt no need or desire to push myself in a way that I used to. Instead, that desire was replaced with adventure. And I spent the year traveling and running in places for the sheer beauty and act of running.

By fall of this year, though I had done of ton of crazy adventure running and playing in the woods, I hadn’t done any real racing of any sort.

…Guess I should sign up for a 100… I thought.

So I sent Mike Melton, RD of Ancient Oaks an email requesting an invite to run his race. I was invited to run, I filed it into my brain as a “must train”, and that was that. Over the next few months though, I never put in any serious ultra training. I had every intention of doing so. Instead I just screwed around on the trails taking every day in stride. Whatever happened, happened.

I didn’t feel like busting my butt and training hard again. I didn’t feel like taking hours away from my family on the weekends, or waking up at an ungodly hour to get any miles in. So I simply just didn’t train more than I felt I could squeeze into a normal week.

Daniel, Jen, and Amber, whom I talk with every day, all told me to back out of the race, because they could tell I didn’t really want to do it, but I insisted that I needed it:

“I need to run a 100! My blog is about running 100′s for crying out loud!”

“I haven’t done a 100 in a year. I’m gonna lose cred if I don’t do something again.”

“I know I’ve been out running long in the wilderness but what does that count for? I need a 100 on paper!!”

Every reason seemed completely logical to me. So despite my lack of caring or training, Daniel and I decided to make the trip down to Florida with the kids so I could give Ancient Oaks 100 another go. The race is in South Florida near the coast, so we made a long weekend out of the trip, and decided to spend our time at the beach. Our family needed the weekend together. Dan works 3 hours away, so we don’t get to see him during the week much, and both of our kids are in school full time this year. Getting the four of us alone together doesn’t happen as much as we would like it to.

So needless to say, I was a little bummed when Saturday finally rolled around and that meant I had to leave my family at the beach and go race.

“I need to do this…right? I haven’t finished a 100 all year. But, do you think I can even finish?” I said as we drove down to the race.

“Sure you can finish easily. It’s just a matter of if you want to. Personally, I don’t think it matters that much to you any more.” he said, “But I know you’re gonna go for it any way. You always have to learn things the hard way.”

“But this is what I’m about. This is the kinda crap I do. I’ll be fine once I get out there.”

“Well then go do it! Go finish another 100. It’s only a day. I’ll have fun being alone with the kids. A daddy day. I hardly get to see them any more. Just enjoy your day out on the trails!”

Out Of Place?

We got to Ancient Oaks with just a few minutes to spare before the start. I found Mike Melton ,the race director and a long time friend, and gave him a big hug and thanked him for inviting me out to his race again. Then I found my buddy Bruce, and together we waited for the race to start.

“You’re gonna do great, Ash.” Bruce said, knowing that I was completely under trained. “Just relax and have fun.”

I’m definitely relaxed, I thought, as I looked at everyone around me, maybe too relaxed. I realized after observing the fellow racers that I felt very out of place. I wasn’t wearing any gear or even holding a water bottle, I wasn’t a bundle of nerves or excitement. I had not put any preparation into doing the race this year. But none of that bothered me… I just wanted to run in the woods.

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(*Please take note of the insanely legit  #AASugar shirt. Photo by Michelle Matys)

Mike Melton shouted a quick GO! and we all took off for 29 3.4 mile loops of sand and twisty technical trail running. I settled into a comfortable pace with the lead pack and quickly fell into a good groove chatting with Shannon McGinn, Bruce (Sung Ho Choi), Brad Lombardi, and Will Glover.

Though I was expecting immense pain to cripple me early on in the race, that really didn’t happen. My left knee was hurting like a mother, and the chronic Joplin’s neuroma pain I’ve dealt with for years was flaring up, but I tuned it out like I taught my body to do years ago. After a few loops, I began to really enjoy myself! It wasn’t until 20 miles in, when I randomly started puking my guts up onto the trail did I start to question my decision to be at the race.

…are you freakin’ kidding me? I’m puking already?? This can’t be a good sign…

Turns out, due to my racing rustiness, I had forgotten to take any electrolyte replenishment the first few hours of the race… oops.  Mike Melton helped me get my act back together with these random magic papaya pills–sounds like drugs but they’re actually available at Walmart–and got me on my way again!

Crunk Running.

By the 50k mark I had completely found my happy running place. Man, who cares that I hadn’t raced all year because puking or not, my legs didn’t skip a beat. I was loving life, loving running, and totally immersed in the moment. I cranked up my ipod and literally just started rocking all the frick out to Dead Sara mid run…. not gonna lie, it was pretty crunk, and I pray to God that nobody saw it. (Dead Sara Weatherman video is below for those of you unfamiliar with her awesomeness.)

Thanks, Dead Sara.  Anyway…That vibe lingered the majority of the day. 100 miles or not, it simply felt good to be out there running.

…Maybe this thing was a good decision after all…

As the day progressed, I kept running and pushing. I was enjoying running in the woods and running well, and surprised by how little the run was taking out of me. The only thing I was truly battling was my inner desire to be at home with my family.

Songs would pop up in my playlist that made me think of my kids, or Dan. And Lil Jon’s Get Low came up making me think of mountain running with Amber. And I just kind of got sad. I felt deep down that my heart wasn’t totally in this race, and I’d rather be doing other things at the moment. But at the same time, the tough side of me was shouting Shut the frick up and run you big baby!!!

I had kind of adopted Michelle Matys and Brooke Berns as my quasi crew. And often when I would see them, I would explain that this mental struggle was going on in my brain. They would remind me to stay in the moment, and that I would see my kids in the morning. I was thankful for that. Because I honestly needed to be reminded that I needed to race. It kind of sucked to realize that, but they kept encouraging me through it. I wasn’t expecting any crew help until well into the night when Caleb Wilson and Jen Vogel would be coming out to push me through to the finish, so I was very thankful for Michelle and Brooke!

Buellah

Loop after loop went by and I continued running alone. Somewhere around 60 miles or so, as evening fell, I was getting a little tired of running. However, I knew I was there to run a 100, so I stayed my course. I headed out into the woods for another lonely loop and stumbled upon Dave Krupski, a fun loving ultrarunner. I guess he could sense my lack of true motivation…

“Keep running hard!” he shouted to me, “It’s AshRuns100s, not AshRuns50s!”

I laughed at his remark and shouted back, “Hey Bueller,” noticing his Ferris Bueller shirt, “How’s ’bout you come out and run a lap with me. I’m getting lonely!” He agreed and we took off into the woods together.

I realized once we started moving that Beuller (Dave) may or may not have consumed a smidgen or so of alcohol, and his spirits were exceptionally high. In fact, they were higher than mine.. And that’s saying a lot, because the amount of energy in my giddy ultrarunning infused brain is pretty hard to duplicate. I started off the loop by feeling out his humor level and quoting lines from the movie Zoolander. When he responded with the same amount of dorky quotes, I knew that we had the same sense of humor and the loop was going to be a blast. I instantly pulled out my Roofus voice, you know, the crazy voice I lock into when I’m having fun, and insisted Dave do his own Roofus & Dangemon-esque voice. He did. And I named his character Buellah. And from that point on, until forever, Dave Krupski will be known to me as “Buellah”. Not Buell-er, but Buell-ah. Big difference…

So Buellah and I spent that entire loop walking and running through the dark woods, laughing our freakin’ butts off about the most ridiculous crap I couldn’t even begin to tell you about. I literally stopped running several times and just stopped to hold my gut and laugh….because my stomach hurt so bad from laughing. It reminded me of being out in the woods with my best friend, Amber. It just felt so dang good to be having fun.

…This is the kinda stuff I love! This is FUN!… I thought to myself. I appreciated the direction my brain was going in, because I really needed to be distracted from the fact that I wasn’t that into the race.

After finishing that loop, we walked by the aid station and Mike informed me that I was winning the race because Shannon, the kick butt chick in front of me had decided to drop.

I kind of chuckled to myself when I realized I was winning…. Winning? Pshhh. I ‘m not winning this race…. I thought. I mean last year–LAST YEAR I was winning. I was trying. But this year,…shoot. I was just out in the woods hangin’ with my friends.

Shortly after realizing I was leading the race, Jen arrived. I convinced her to come out into the woods with me and Buellah in an effort to keep moving and distracted. I had imagined all along that once Jen, one of my best friends, made it to the race to pace me, that we would turn into a drill sergeant combo of work like we had the year prior, and we’d get the crap done.  The funny thing is though, the exact opposite happened.

We weren’t running or cranking out any hardcore ultra moves. Nahh… we just let the true nature of our friendship come out, and we started doing what we do best: laughing. So, walking through the forest with flashlights and tossing around an insane amount of witty and ridiculous banter…the 100 mile race continued…

And I was okay with that.

The loop with Jen and Buellah started out with us laughing about the irony of me winning a race that I had no business being at…

“Ashley, here you are barely moving, chomping on a d*** twizzler, acting like some fool named Roofus and you’re still winning this thing?’ Jen laughed.

“Yeah Ash, this is the most epic most inspirational display of winning I’ve ever seen.” Buellah chimed in.

It was so funny, but I needed to get my act together. I was out in the woods pranking people and causing a ruckus, …and winning a 100 mile race was the absolute LAST thing on my mind. The irony of it all was actually pretty hysterical at the time, and fueled even more laughter for the rest of that loop.

The night continued in that manor, with me semi running [mostly laughing] circles of trail with Prophet Jen, Buellah, and Caleb (whom I renamed Llamaqueesha…just don’t ask…) until I only had about a marathon left in the race.

…A marathon? That’s it? Pshhh… I can do that in my sleep…I thought to myself.

I kept on moving easily, and the battle of missing my family didn’t pop into my brain much,  because I was distracted by the fun of being with my friends. And as long as I was having fun making memories with them, then I was going to be okay…. because at that moment, I was doing what I needed to do…relaxing and having fun.

One Crappy Marathon Attempt!

I looked at the clock and realized I had about 7 hours until the 24 hour mark of the race to finish up that marathon which would bring my race sub 24- likely a bit faster than I had done last year. I was confident I could do it physically– mentally though I’ll admit I was a bit scared. I knew I had nothing deep to dig from. I knew I had no demons to battle. I knew I had no reason to push myself to the edge. But I continued to move.

…Just gotta move…

“Dude, Jen.. I can be done with this thing soon if I just hurry up and run.” I said to my friend.

“Yeah quit messing around and go finish this thing. You only have a marathon left” she said.

I remembered back to being in the same place last year when Jen was with me on the exact course, saying the exact same thing… “You only have a marathon left.” 

That night it had lit a fire under my rear and I took off running harder than I had all day, and finished the race strong. I took a swig of Mountain Dew...because Mountain Dew tastes phenomenal in an ultra…I grabbed Caleb Llamaqueesha and some headphones and I took off running… but I had no fire under my rear this time. There was no real motivation. I just felt like running..

…and man I ran so freakin’ fast… So fast…. Caleb was behind me shouting at me to slow down, but I didn’t care. I was almost to 80 miles and every move felt like my first step. I was on top of the world..and secretly I was trying to see if I could make Caleb trip up on the technical trail, because he’s a barefoot junkie and was wearing his special little barefoot wonder sandals and I thought it’d be funny if he tripped… (just kiddin Llama. You know I love you.) But regardless, I was running good and really feeling it.

Caleb and I finished that loop together strong. I only had 7 loops to go to finish the race. I refueled and asked which of my friends was planning on going out with me…but the answer I got was like water on fire:

Jen had fallen asleep in her car, because-duh- it was the middle of the night.

Caleb had to go home- because it was the middle of the night.

Buellah was running with Brad, the guy he was actually there to crew…because it was the middle of the freakin’ night.

….Frick. I gotta go it alone? In the middle of the daggum night?….I thought.

And that tiny little thought, my friends, was a complete game changer for me…

Holy Crap. What Am I Doing Here!?

You see friends, I run alone 99.9 percent of my life. I run alone on trails. I run alone in the dark woods. I run alone in mountains and during long long races. I just really really like to run alone!! In fact I think it’s BEST to run alone because it builds mental toughness for moments just like the one I was experiencing! I even mentioned this on a TrailRunnerNation podcast recently.

So why was I all of the sudden bothered that I had to run alone??

Because I knew that I would be alone with my brain. And I knew that deep down, my brain wasn’t the same brain that attacked this course the year before. I didn’t need to be out here running this thing like I did last year….. I just didn’t want to admit that.

So I stuck my headphones in and trudged into the forest, far less enthusiastically than I had done the 20 some odd loops before this one.  I could tell right away that things were changing, and it was out of my control. I suddenly felt the fatigue that had accumulated over the day and I began to walk. Not run-walk. Not power walk. Just straight up walk…like the walking-dead-zombie-without-a-brain walk.

The fun had gone away, and with it, my spirit.

I walked a couple miles and then the battle with brain began. Just like I knew it would.

...What the heck am I doing here? This isn’t fun any more. Screw finishing this thing. I wanna go home..

Whoa… I had NEVER had such a flippant thought during a 100. [EVER!!!!]

Ash, you’ve been low before. It’s just a part of the race, pick yourself up and go finish. You know what to do… I reminded myself.

But that’s the thing. I didn’t have any REAL interest in getting my act together and finishing….I quickly begged God to give me some clarity, then thumbed through my iPod searching for any ounce of motivation to propel me forward. I stumbled upon Sweet Disposition, and the memories from my first ultra race came flooding into my brain. It impacted me so much, but instead of taking off in a triumphant run, I literally just stopped and sat on a bench to process all of my thoughts.

(..I know, I’m really freakin’ emo …& can over analyze an orange.)

The music played, and I just sat and thought. That day-that first ultra- that was so special to me. It meant everything to me to finish that race. I needed it so freakin’ bad in my life. Same with my first 100, and Santa Barbara, and Ancient Oaks the year before. They were all such important milestones in my life, so why didn’t I care about this one?

I realized, while sitting on that stupid bench in the middle of a dark Florida forest, nearly 80 miles into a race that I was winning nonetheless, that I had NEEDED all of those races. They all came at perfect times in my life when I was going through some form of hell, or I needed to deal with demons from my past.  They weren’t races. They were journeys….

It finally occurred to me that all of my reasons I had stated that I needed to run this race weren’t deep enough to carry me any further. There was nothing deep. Nothing spiritual. Nothing profound. I was running it for pointless superficial crap, and since the fun of it was over, my brain finally gave in.

….Holy crap. What am I doing here? I don’t need to run 100 miles. I didn’t need it at all. I missed an entire day at the beach with my family to be out in the freakin’ woods for no reason at all..

I suddenly felt an overwhelming repulsiveness at my decision to be out there all day. I pulled my knees up onto the bench, and buried my head in between my legs. I began to cry a couple of tiny “oh crap, I’m so stupid” tears. I have no idea how long I was there.  I didn’t even put a watch, I realized, adding to my frustration. I eventually laid down and looked up at the stars… trying to get a grip on what all I was feeling.

I realized that I was a completely different woman than I was the last time I raced the course. Last time I needed the run. I needed it for therapy. This time, I had no need for therapy, therefore I had no need for the run. The realization that I had grown and changed so much was all pretty overwhelming, sad, and beautiful at the same time.

At some point, I guess I just thought so dang hard about it all that I actually fell asleep. Because the next thing I know, there was some random crusader leading me through the dense woods with me semi sleeping, saying something about getting me back to the aid station. I must have zombied all the way back to the start, because I have no idea who that man was, where he came from, how he found me, or anything… but I owe him a thanks. (Seriously, if you’re reading this random nice dude, please please shoot me a line so I can thank you personally!)

So I’m Done..With All Of It.

When I got back to the aid and finally woke up a bit, Jen was there, and I told her I was ready to go home and see my family. Of course she was there to fire back with the typical pacer stuff:

“Ashley shut up. You have like 12 hours to finish 20 miles before the cutoff. You could walk it backwards. Just stop talking and go out there and do it.”

“Jen. Seriously. I am kinda pissed at myself for even being out here. I could’ve spent the day with my kids at the beach. I didn’t need to do this today.”

“Well you already did 80 miles of it. Go finish what you started. You’re whole life image is based on running 100 milers. You can’t not finish. Imagine how much cred you’d lose for that.”

“I know. I know. I mean I could finish if I want to. I JUST DON’T WANT TO. I don’t give a flying frick who thinks what. I shouldn’t have even come out here today.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have! I told you that!! But now you’re already out here. Finish what you started!!”

At “finish what you started”, I felt a little plucking at my inner gut heart strings, so I picked my tired self up and started moving. I was shivering in my own sweat, my body unable to warm myself from a day of running, so Jen draped her sleeping bag over me and we started trudging towards the trail to do another loop.

“Atta girl.” Jen said.

Everything in my entire brain was telling me to call it a day, but “I needed to finish what I started” so I kept moving.

Jen tried to distract me, and we laughed together, but we had only walked a little less than a mile when I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Jen… I can’t do this. I’m not going any further. I know it’s not real for me. I don’t need to finish what I started today. I finished what I started a long time ago. I don’t NEED this anymore. I don’t need to keep moving..”

I bent over and thought long and hard about what to do next. Then I looked up at my friend and said, “I’m going home.”

“Okay.”

She knew I meant it and she didn’t try to argue with me. Instead we just turned around and walked back to the aid station. I was still freezing cold, and exhausted, so I went inside of the only unlocked building- a bathroom- and laid down on the wet floor….look people, crap happens when you’ve ran 80 miles in the woods and had some strange life realization, okay?…and sorry Jen for putting your sleeping bag on the “venereal diseased floor”.

I slept for an hour or so – while everyone came in and snapped pictures of me passed out cold on a bathroom floor -and then I woke up, wrapped the blanket over my head, and cried silently into my shirt for a long long time.

I’m not sure exactly why I was crying, but I know it  wasn’t because I wasn’t going to finish the race, or because I was hurting in any way. I think I was crying because I realized something that I realized a long time ago and refused to admit: My love affair with running 100 milers was over. And there was finally no denying that fact. I think I was mourning the loss of interest in what was a very special and important thing to me.

Time To Close The Book

Michelle popped into the bathroom and I asked her if she could grab Mike for me. I knew I needed to explain to him what was going through my head. Mike has been there since the very beginning of my journey, and has witnessed the ultra therapy play out right in front of his very eyes at my first ultra, his 40 mile race, and the year prior at Ancient Oaks. We’ve talked a lot about the emotional highs and lows in life, and how it’s all connected to running…

Mike came into the bathroom and plopped down right in front of me.

“What’s goin’ on Ash.”

“I think you know.” I said between tears. “You know me. You know what these races mean to me.”

“Yes. I know.”

“I’m just too happy in my life to finish right now. I can’t push another 20 miles Mike, because I have nothing left to push with. I can’t do 100′s anymore, I just can’t. I conquered everything I needed to conquer in my life, and now I’m done. I feel like going out there for another 20 miles will just take me back to that therapy zone, and I simply don’t need to experience that any more.”

“I know. I understand completely, Ash.” Mike said, wrapping me up in a big bear hug. “If these things aren’t good for you right now, then you don’t need to do them. Just like recovering alcoholics can’t go into bars.”

 ”You’re right. It’s time to close the book. I know it is.” I whispered between tears. We stayed locked in a hug for a few minutes as I cried on Mike’s shoulder, and he fed me more words of wisdom and encouragement.  As I leaned back and wiped my eyes, I smiled at my friend, “Thank you so much, Mike.”

I knew for sure in that moment, it was time for me to go home….

My 100 mile journey was complete.

__________

So what now?

Over the days that have followed Ancient Oaks, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life and everything that’s happened over the past few years. I learned so much. I always do.

Toeing the line of a 100 mile race without a real reason or a need to do so, in my opinion, was one of the most pointless things I’ve ever done. Why did I go? …My image…? Just because..? Everyone else does them….? I don’t know, but none of those are good enough reasons! You know, I think the running realm, and constant bombardment of social media has skewed our images and ideas of these 100 milers. We all feel like we’re supposed to do them all the freakin’ time, or we’re supposed to do them period.. like if you decide to be an ultrarunner, well you better just go ahead and decide when you’re gonna do your first hundred.

But, why? Why do something SO challenging, SO painful, and SO time consuming without a real need to do so?

I feel like tackling a 100 is supposed to be more of a journey.. a pilgrimage in your life. And for me, they really were…Trying to finish one for superficial reasons can never give anyone that deep satisfaction that they crave. That’s true for me or anybody.

I’m positive that I will reach another time and place in my life when I need to use running 100 miles as a way to resolve things in my brain. Positive. Because that’s just the kind of person I am. But right now, things are just too good in my head to try to do something that requires a screwed up brain from me. Instead, my body and brain are craving adventure and laughter with my family and close friends.

During Ancient Oaks–that’s when I felt happiest– when I was laughing in the woods with my buds, and that is definitely what I need more of in my life right now.

The journey from my first race to this last attempt was incredibly powerful, and I’ll never forget it. These races have helped me grow into the woman that I am today. But the woman I am today isn’t the woman I was yesterday. The woman I am today doesn’t need a ton of running therapy, or a 100 mile run. She just needs her own two feet, her family, her friends, some miles and a couple of mountains.

And as long as I’ve got that and I’m smiling, …I’ll be okay…

Thanks for reading my race recap of the Ancient Oaks 100 Mile Endurance Run. It was a tad different than the stories you’re used to from me, I’m sure. But it’s me nonetheless. Don’t worry- I’m not done ultra running. I plan to spend 2013 adventuring across the globe running style with my family and friends, and I’m throwing in a couple of Under 100 ultra races for fun in there to keep me fit. Let me know your thoughts on this story by commenting below! Thanks for reading! ~Ash