I wrote this in 2013, but finally decided to publish today. It took place at the 2013 Pinhoti 100, but it’s not a race report. You can learn more about that race HERE. Thanks for reading, and happy trails!
Continue reading “Nine Out of 100”
I Never Ran 100 to Look Good
Not too long ago, I stepped in front of my full length mirror like I do every day. Post workout, drenched in sweat, no makeup, and completely undressed. As I looked, I felt what I’ve felt daily since I was a girl…. disappointment.
I instinctively covered up my bare chest with my arms, glanced at my thighs, and sighed. I looked away from my reflection with a heavier weight on my shoulders than I’d had moments before.
I washed my face, reached for my “full coverage” foundation and layered it on thick. Then I began to go through the motions of what has now become my daily normal….
Concealer because my scars aren’t presentable.
Contour stick to make my face aesthetically pleasing.
Lip liner because my lips aren’t full enough.
Eye liner because my eyes aren’t bright enough.
Mascara because my lashes aren’t long enough.
“Slow Tan” lotion for my “disgustingly pale” skin.
A push-up bra to fix what gravity, breastfeeding, and running has denied me.
… What a facade… I thought to myself. But this facade was now a part of me. Working in the fitness industry– one that is primarily based on helping people look good–I’d set the bar high for my own self.
My daughter walked in and sat down by my side. She sat quietly for a few moments, just observing me.
“Why do you wear all of that makeup, Mommy?” She asked, as I put on the finishing touches.
“To make myself look good!” I laughed back.
“Do I need makeup to make my face look good?”
“Of course not, baby girl.” I giggled back, looking at my strikingly beautiful daughter, “You are perfect just the way you are.”
“Mommy. Did you know I think you are perfect the way you are, too? I like your face with your scar. I like your spots, and your big nose! You don’t need to hide that from everyone.”
I dropped the hairbrush I was using, and turned towards my sweet girl as she scampered off to play, having no idea how impactful her words were.
…Wow…
I looked back into the mirror, and just sat for a second. Thinking. Pondering.
…Holy cow...my kid had just called me out. A 7-year-old girl cut me deep with the sharpest blade, straight to the gut! It hurt, but at the same time, it was beautiful, real, and honest.
…Man…I stayed stunned for a minute, trying to process her honesty.
Where’d she get that from, anyway? Who’s been telling her how perfect she is… just the way she is? Who told her that we love people no matter what they look like? And that how we are on the inside is far more important than what we are on the outside??
Where’d it come from?
ME…It came from me.
I told her those things.
I SAID those things.
I implemented those things.
I practiced those things!
But looking at myself in the mirror, it suddenly became clear to me that I did not truly BELIEVE those things.
Yes, I applied them to every single person around me, but to the one person I lived with the most— Me—I had failed.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek, and I wiped it away begrudgingly.
“This is not me.” I said out loud looking at my reflection. “This is not who I am.”
I pulled myself together, and changed into running clothes. I dropped my kids at school, and with no work or plans, I knew just what I needed– I grabbed some food and water, and set out for the mountains. My mountains.
As I drove to the familiar trail in silence, I kept replaying what my daughter said earlier.
“…you don’t need to hide that from anyone.”
It bothered me, and I couldn’t shake it. I began to think about just how much of me I’d allowed myself to hate and cover up. For years, I’d done nothing but mentally rip myself to shreds every time I’d looked in the mirror. Destroyed myself instead of celebrating the things that make my life worthwhile.
“Ugghh.. My ugly chest.”
“These stretch marks are so disgusting.”
“I seriously need a nose job. And my lips done….and botox.”
Just…not… good…enough…
I parked at the trailhead, locked up, and tightened my shoes….….I could use a good breather after that drive…
Alone, I started my climb up to the peak. 2 miles up, a thousand-some-odd feet of climb, rocks, roots, mud…. and me. Nothing else.
I fell into a rhythm with the forest around me: Feet moving. Legs throbbing. Heart pumping. Soul soaring… so very much alive.
After a bit of sweat and pain, I finally summited the mountain, and paused in appreciation of the familiar views. A vast sea of untamed earth–brown, blue, green, and gold. I looked up to the peregrine falcon swooping overhead. It was just the two of us. I dropped down to a rock, and took it all in.
…I love that I can do this… I thought to myself.
My own two legs gave me the strength to get up that mountain. My feet, my heart, my lungs, and my will! No one else’s.
It’s seemed kind of funny just how quickly those wonderful things I love about myself lose all value while standing in front of a mirror.
I took a sip from my water bottle, and caught a glimpse of the numerous stickers covering it.”101.85 miles” was boldly plastered on the side, a nod to my 6th 100 mile race finish.
I smiled to myself, relishing the memory of that awful good race. One hundred freaking miles. Over mountains. In the rain. In one shot. I did that.
As I remembered, I chuckled to myself, ” Shoot. I never ran a 100 to look good. That’s for sure.”
It was true. I’d experienced so many incredible things in life. So many accomplishments. So many wild adventures. I thought about my children, my husband, all of my friendships and relationships–heck, sitting on top of the mountain in that very moment– none of it had anything to do with the superficial things my body had to offer.
A better looking face couldn’t get me across a finish line any faster.
Perfect skin wouldn’t help me summit the highest mountains.
And the most perfect body certainly has nothing to do with molding my childrens’ future.
As my mind continued down that path, I suddenly began to regret the amount of self-loathing I’d ever entertained. How much had this perfectionism robbed me of my happiness? How many times had I looked at photoshopped women in health and fitness magazines jealously? How often had I entertained ideas of “fixing” supposed issues with my body? How many times had I said it out loud?!
I cringed at the way I’d caved to a crooked industry’s standards of looks, and demanded superficial perfection from myself. I felt sick at what impression I may have given my daughter, and I knew right then and there that it needed to change. I was worth so much more than that. She was worth more.
From that moment, I resolved to view my body for what it truly was: not perfect, but perfectly good and capable. Yes my nose is big. Sure, I have some crazy stretch marks. But, when I stand in front of mirror undressed and start singling things out, I would focus on what matters.
My legs– They’re strong. They’ve conquered things I once deemed absolutely impossible.
My arms– fully able to lift my own body weight, and then some! More than most men, even.
My wide hips and chest– they served a special purpose to nurture the precious babies I raised.
My mouth–able to laugh and smile! To speak joy, to give healing, and share encouragement.
My scars– relics full of history and interesting stories.
These–these are small parts of me that work together to impact my life and the world around me. These parts make my life richer, and deserve my utmost attention, care, focus, and admiration, and I don’t need to hide them from anyone.
And moments like this– struggling, feeling, seeing, the taking in of God’s creation. Having the ability to do something extraordinary– to conquer a mountain of a goal–this is what it meant to be a “fit woman”. This is what health and fitness was truly all about for me. It’s was more than carving “a shredded 6-pack” or working for “the perfect butt”. It was doing what I love. Achieving the impossible. It was helping others. It was so…much…more.
I felt my self-imposed burden of perfectionism slowly slide off my shoulders that day. I ran off the mountain feeling lighter than I had in my entire life. I thanked God for the much needed fresh perspective, and I swore to myself I would pass it on.
A few months later, I went hiking with my daughter. As we moved through the woods, I asked her what her favorite thing about herself was. I squealed in delight when I heard her answer. “My hands,” my sweet girl said, “They can draw so many cool things.”
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To The 15-Year-Old Me
I was driving home from a trail run the other day, windows down, feeling amazing, listening to my favorite radio morning show on KLove.
Ahh… endorphins flowing, sun shining… everything is just… right.
The host began a discussion that instantly grabbed my attention: “What if you could somehow write a letter to your 15-year-old self?” he said, “What would you say?”
Ha… I thought, everything wasn’t always “just right”, was it?
I started to reflect upon 15-year-old me. The rebellious, bratty, out-of-control, drug addicted failure daughter of a Baptist preacher… oh, I’d have a lot to say. So, why not actually say it? Where to begin… Continue reading “To The 15-Year-Old Me”
Grindstone 100: Hanging On To Hope
The last time I ran over 10 miles was at Grindstone 100. The race was back in October, over 5 months ago. My 6th hundred wasn’t a normal one for me …if there is such a thing as a normal 100. Most hundreds hurt in more ways than one. But this one– it was pure mental, emotional, and physical hell for reasons I could not have foreseen… Continue reading “Grindstone 100: Hanging On To Hope”
Stubborn Ankles
Hands in the leaves, briers scraping my arms, tears streaming down my sweaty face: “I just gotta get to the road.” The scene was all too familiar. Here I was, broken yet again, alone as usual, and crawling through the woods on hands and knees. Completely taken out by one tiny root, and one tiny ankle. Continue reading “Stubborn Ankles”
100 Miles to Trusting My Gut
All things considered, I had no right being at the Ancient Oaks 100 Mile Endurance Run . But I went anyway, and I’m so thankful I did….
Refined by Fire in the Fort Clinch Furnace
**Forgive me for not editing this thing. It’s a rough read. I typed it on my phone, mainly in the middle of the night, and over the course of a few days with my kids constantly vying for my attention! I’ll take a look at it again when I get to a computer, but I’m sure you’ll get my point, regardless. 🙂 sorry for the lengthiness.. A lot can happen in a day 🙂
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Ultrarunning…
It’s such a ridiculous, and redundant picture, isn’t it? Nothing but a bunch of stubborn fools running for miles and miles, and for no real reason at all.
…Or is it something more?
Look a little closer.. &
Dig a little deeper.
I see something crazy and beautiful..
A tangled web of discipline, friendship, character, purpose, meaning.. fate.
I am laying here, 1:26 in the morning, 2 weeks after my most recent attempt at running 100 miles, and I’m wide awake thinking about just that: ULTRARUNNING.
NO..running 100 miles, to be more specific. I’m talking the entire thing-the good, the bad, the ugly.
How awful it feels. How incredible it feels. How much I crave it. How it hurts so bad, yet feels so dang good. How it rips me to shreds, yet builds me up. Something about that particular distance just etches something deep into my soul.
And something about NOT completing it, but ending up in the ICU, made me feel whole….
Fort Clinch 100 mile, the creation of Caleb Wilson, sounded like a FUN race. It caught my attention instantly: A 10 mile loop right next to and partly on the beach, dense single track trails, a piece of history, and gently rolling terrain. It was set to take place on June 24, in Florida.
I think all that my mind registered when checking out the info was “beach and trails”. Apparently I forgot the fact that it was smack dab in the middle of summer..in FLORIDA.. or I may have ducked out of this one. 100 is no cakewalk. Running in Florida is no cakewalk. We’re talking heat, humidity, and hurt times a hundred, for a hundred….who does that????
Well, at least 40 crazy people do that. We toed the line for either the 50 mile, 24 hour, or 100 mile race. A few elite and veteran ultrarunners, and even a couple first timers were there to sweat it out. Before I knew it, 6:24 arrived & Caleb corralled everyone for the start. Odd time was to allow the runners to see the sunrise on the coast as they started their race, cool right? Caleb introduced some family and friends that helped make his event possible. To me, there’s nothing like a good family feel to make a race special. I love that.
After a quick, “Go!” everyone took off and fell into place. I was running slowly, but found myself in the lead pack. I was comfortable with this and started chatting with a few women. Michelle Matys, whom I’d met the night before while camping, was running the 50 & was going for sub 8. A mutual friend of ours, Jen Vogel, was coming to pace her for her last 20. I knew she needed 9-10 minute miles, so I figured I would stick with her for a bit. Another woman, Kellie Smirnoff, was also running the 50, and was bursting with energy. She provided the positive vibe I love so much in a running partner. The three of us ran together for a bit. But I checked my Garmin about 3 miles in and realized I was running 8:30’s. Not cool for a 100! I backed off from them and decided I had to be smart early on. Good thing I did, because I quickly realized that the course was tough. Really tough! These trails were really just humidity filled tunnels in disguise, and on ancient sand dunes.
So basically-
.up..down..*sucking wind*…up..down..*gasping for air*..
– was the general feeling of the first loop. Regardless of the humidity, I stuck with a 10min pace for the next 7 miles and brought my first loop in right around 1:40. Ouch! I can carry an 8 minute pace in my training ultra runs, but could barely breathe doing 10 minute miles here! When I got back to the start/finish, I yelled at my husband Dan to lace up for a loop or two. I needed some company (aka distraction) soon!
The next loop went pretty well, same 10 min pace, plus aid station stops. Caleb’s mom, Chaundra, and his sisters were manning the halfway point aid station and were quite entertaining and helpful. I found myself forgetting I was racing and more just hanging out with them– they were THAT FUN!
I was running strong early, female lead for the first loop or two, but I couldn’t hold it, it was just too hot. I was racking up time at aid stations trying to stay hydrated anyway, and knew I would have to give up my lead just to stay strong, period. Amy Costa, a super fast legend of a runner, was right there to pick up her rightful place in first, and soon enough was far out of site. I got to run with her for a bit though, and was totally intrigued by her. I knew she would run a great race that day, and I only hoped to come in a close second.
I picked up Dan for my 3rd loop and he paced me for a fast one. I kept telling him how I was meeting lots of new friends and really enjoying myself. I was loving all of the friendly runners, and really just enjoying every part of the day.
The hours went by, and the sun kept scorching. Hotter and hotter by the minute. Runners started dropping like flies. The conditions felt unrunnable to many. Elite runners, veterans, newbies.. It didn’t matter. The heat wasn’t discriminating! (80% dropped come to find out later!) Even Michelle, my new friend, had been taken to the ER after passing out, right before closing in on her potential 50 mile win. Awful news!
I was amazed at how much Caleb and his family were bending over backwards to aid and encourage the runners through the heat. Pouring ice on us, and taking care of the remaining few with extra TLC. I remember
around 55 miles, Chaundra gave me my first chia brew- chia seeds mixed with honey. I was in love and downed another 3 cups of it. I started running again towards the start/ finish and grabbed my phone (which has accompanied me on all of my ultras :)) and I dialed Caleb’s number mid run. I asked him if he had any chia seeds at his aid station because I needed something to look forward to. 🙂 He said no, but that he would gladly get some for me! I was smiling from ear to ear at his eagerness to keep his runners happy! (And when I got to that 60 miles at the start/finish- there were my seeds 😀 AWESOME.)
Though it was tougher and hotter than any race I had ever experienced.. I remained strongly optimistic of a good finish. I felt great. I slowed a bit during the hottest hours of the day, but stayed focused on my goal. Dusk finally came to bring a little relief from the heat. But with it came a severe lightening storm.
I had finished up 60 miles in about 13 hours, but I had to stop when Caleb had to call a timeout for lightening. We were on the beach, after all.
We sat for almost an hour, getting tighter by the minute. Several more decided to drop. Around the end of that hour, Caleb got a call that Amy was dropping- she was at 65 miles, out braving the storm, but had gotten a little delirious, and needed an IV. CRAP! Another strong athlete out? I was nervous now, but I remembered something Jen said to me in passing earlier in the day, “You just gotta be the cockroach.” In other words- outlast adversity. I could do that, I had no problem pushing through at this point. I felt great. 40 more miles and the race was done. Maybe even a negative split? I was ready! Little did I know..
It was getting late, and I needed to get moving again, so when the storm chilled out a little, I asked Dan to come back out with me for my 7th loop in the dark. We grabbed our lamps and fuel and started out with a nice comfortable pace, laughing hard and enjoying our run together. Dan had already finished 2 loops with me, but still had energy to push me through a 3rd. It felt good outside, now that it was dark, and the rain had cooled the temps down a bit. So we were finally loving the trail time!
About 62 miles in, we encountered a new friend, Juli Aistars, who warned us about some spider webs that had developed after the rain on the trails. I didn’t think much of it until we happened upon our first web, thick and decorated with the biggest spider I’d ever seen. Like tarantula Big. Nasty! They littered the trail every few feet. Needless to say, Dan took the lead. 😉
We made it to 65 miles easily, and refueled at the midway aid station. I laughed with the girls again, but got out of there quicker than before. I needed to keep running. I was still happy as heck, and ready to finish my race as one of the few left standing. More chia and we were gone. And then, out of no where, everything changed…
I noticed my mind slipping at about 67 miles, when I ran into a web and started spazzing out. I thought one of those gigantic spiders landed on my head. Daniel assured me I was okay, but I remember feeling abnormally paranoid and petrified. Right after that little freak out, I started getting tunnel vision, and told Daniel he needed to slow down, because I was having trouble seeing his feet. “Ash, we’re already going slow. You okay?” he asked. I promised him I was fine, but I guess he knew better, because he told me we would take a quick break once we reached the road crossing. I was fine with that, I felt weird. We walked onto the road, and I could feel my mind slipping quickly. I told Daniel I thought I might pass out. We sat down on a bench beside the road, and I blacked out. Daniel splashed me with his cold water and I startled back to consciousness. I was extremely upset and confused when I did. What happened to me? I was fine 5 minutes ago! He gave me a gel and water and tried to get me moving again. I got back up after my gel, and basically declared war on the course. I wanted to finish, I knew I could finish. I just needed to bounce back.
Daniel had seen me like this before. In my first hundred, I basically came back from the dead and finished despite tough conditions, and same with my second. He’d witnessed me conquer adversity time and time again. He wasn’t too worried, even when I started staggering all over the trail, and slurring my speech.
At about 67.5 mile while on the road portion of the course, Sue Anger approached in her car and asked if I was okay. She could tell I was struggling. Daniel, still believing in my ability to pull through, assured her that I could handle it. She believed him, but phoned Caleb to keep an eye out regardless. What a kind soul:).
The next few parts I do not remember:
Shortly after Sue left, Caleb drove up bearing gifts of chia and soup! 🙂 I was getting progressively worse, but Dan was still optimistic of my fighting spirit, and told Caleb we would be back to the aid soon to finish out my 70 miles, we would just be slow. Caleb agreed drove back to his aid station. All though he had brought me fuel, apparently I didn’t even eat it, but just held it in my hand. I was zoned out and walking on the pavement, which was no longer a part of the course at that point. Daniel tried to guide me back into the woods, but I refused to move. Instead I mumbled something about dying, and dropped to the road..and blacked out again, spilling my chia all over me. Daniel was finally worried! He tried everything to wake me up- everything from screaming things about snakes next to me, to slapping me clear across the face. Nothing. I was out cold.
He waited for a moment for some runners or cars to come by.. No one.
He looked for my trusty running buddy, my iPhone, but I had left it back at the start/finish due to the storm! Go figure!
He couldn’t leave me on the side of the road.. passed out..& not to mentioned the course was full of gators, snakes, bobcats, and spiders.
He realized he had no choice but to pick me up and run the final 2.5 miles with me on his back, back to the start to get help. Daniel is a very fit guy, but he had almost 30 miles on his legs, and for someone who doesn’t run long distance, he was already in a world of hurt. But he threw me over his shoulders, dead weight and all, and took off on a determined run. I was slipping in and out of consciousness while on his back, alternating between hallucinating, screaming, and being out like a lightbulb. Daniel didn’t see a soul for the next couple of miles, surprisingly, so he just kept running towards the station- ignoring all pain in his legs and body to get me to safety….:)…. (how romantic;)) Somehow, even though I apparently had been screaming my lungs out, no one heard me. What Im sure felt like a lifetime to him, Dan finally made it back with me in tow. He got the attention of Caleb and some others as he approached the station. They realized what was going on, and quickly helped. My superhero husband propped me into a chair, and collapsed in fatigue. After some evaluation by everyone (and apparently a remark by Jen that I was “demon possessed” 🙂 ) an ambulance was called.
I don’t remember riding in the ambulance or going into the hospital.
The only thing I remember is hearing a nurse explain to Dan that they were sorry, but I was really bad off and that I would be admitted to intensive care, and that he should be prepared for me to be there for several days. And then I freaked out and blacked out again, and didn’t come to for roughly 11 more hours. But when I did wake, I woke up to voices.
Dan, Jen, and Caleb were gathered near my hospital bed replaying the previous night. “Whoa! What happened?!”, I wondered. They began to relay to me everything that had gone down the night before.. Crazy stories about things I was shouting, and doing during my hallucinations, how scared they all were for my life, and so on. Caleb even mentioned that during my screaming fits, I was insisting that I wouldn’t quit…( Haha doesn’t shock me.) I couldn’t believe the things I was hearing, though. Did this really just happen? Did I go from running strong, to almost dying… over a tiny window of time? Apparently I did. But, how?
If you guessed rhabdomyolosis, you guessed right.
The doc came in shortly after I woke up and explained to me what I was dealing with: a severe case of rhabdomyolosis. After my body used up all of the fuel in my system, it started eating my muscles- so much that it eventually started eating away at my HEART. Yep, my blood was filled with cardiac enzymes, among others. My blood had become toxic to my body, and my kidneys could not process the junk anymore, so they stopped working. The result–2 weeks of bed rest and 4 weeks of no running. (YUCK.)
Apparently, I was having so much fun at the furnace -errr, fort clinch- that I failed to give myself proper nutrition and aid. It was a near death experience, and it seemingly came out of no where. After learning more about rhabdo, I realized that the symptoms usually take 12-24 hours to present themselves. Interesting. Even though I was downing bottles of gatorade and water like there was no tomorrow, it wasnt enough for over 90 degrees of pure humidity and 70 miles of running on an insanely tough course. I also had no major protein sources during my
race..such a novice mistake for me. I never skimp on protein during races- LESSON LEARNED!!!!!!!
I was happy to hear that a new friend, Bruce, finished his first 100, in brutal conditions, in first. Only two others finished- one being the incredible Juli Airstars, who has shown me so much love and understanding over the past. few weeks.
So how did I feel so whole and complete after such an epic fail? One word, and it’s no surprise: PEOPLE.
In all of my life, I have never felt so loved than I have over these past few weeks. So many from the fort clinch race checked on me regularly- Juli, Jen Vogel, Bruce, Michelle Matys, Kellie Smirnoff , and of course Caleb, to name a few, sent emails, texts, or called often.
I have had friends bring me dinners, family watch my kids, and training partners (like Beth McCurdy, and Beth Presten) constantly feeding me words of encouragement!
I was shocked at all of that support, partly because those who know me know that I am quite the loner, to say the least. I was surprised that, despite my constant attempts to keep people at arms length, they all still poured on the love.. simply because they knew I needed it.
And since I have had nothing to do but lay in bed, I’ve had a lot of time to think about these things.
I had no idea that Fort Clinch would go down the way it did. I was planning an day at the beach, basically, and not a death wish.
But everything happens for a reason..& I firmly believe that.
Because of the unexpected sequence of events, I bonded with several people and made some new, and very meaningful friendships.. Some that I never ever expected, and that I feel will last a lifetime.
I learned that I don’t have to keep my friends at a “safe distance”. I’ve been blessed with a great group of people around me, and they deserve all the love I can give.
I realized that I can depend on my husband and his love and support (& even life saving skills!!) 100%, no matter what! I always knew that, but to truly experience it..well.. that was really special. It means so much to me that he is there for me always, even when I intentionally put myself through this crazy type of pain:). (AND I love that he keeps reminding me I did not actually DNF, only my body did. He understands me. 🙂 )
I found out that my discipline and grit can actually kill me if I’m not careful. And honestly, I like that. (I’m not gonna lie!) It fascinates me that the lead women out there all pushed until we passed out…all of us being moms..& Juli being one of the only 3 to finish-that’s saying something about female runners, and our iron wills ;). I know people probably think that’s weird, but oh well. It’s a true statement.
These types of experiences and realizations only occur in my life because of ultrarunning. How awesome is that? To learn profound things, from doing something as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.
I don’t think it’s a silly sport. I think it’s an amazing , and very deep sport.
Running 100 miles creates growth in every way imaginable, discipline applicable to every area of life, priceless friendships, and meaning and depth beyond words.
I love 100 miles. I love attempting it. I love everything in my life that is born and brought to light because of it.
Fort Clinch was an incredible adventure. I’m truly grateful I was a part of it, and that everything happened just the way it did. Can’t wait for more!
*Big thanks again to Caleb Wilson and his family for an incredible experience at Fort Clinch. Caleb’s constant support and passion for his event was nothing short of phenomenal. I have heard several times now, and can vouch, that it may be the toughest race down south. Nothing like a real challenge! I will be back this summer to finish out my run, and definitely next year to claim that 100. 🙂
ASHRUNS100s 