Do You Have to Rub It In?

 

I had never been to Santa Fe, New Mexico...so I chose to run the Jemez Mt. Trail Runs in May. Why I waited 7 months to write this report I cannot explain, other than life gets in the way. Sometimes writing just has to happen in its own time, when it feels right. Now feels right, and I'm not sure why, so I'll just let the writer take over from here.

The race starts in the town of Los Alamos, site of the Manhattan Project and birthplace of the atomic bomb that, um, ultimately led to the demise of some 210,000 souls in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But this isn't a history or political blog. This is a running blog, written by a runner who sometimes falls off script and succumbs to his make-the-world-a-better-place subconscious dissonance. Did we need to drop the second bomb? Just wondering. 

Running at altitude when you live at sea-level is the ultimate game of self sabotage, particularly when you don't prep for it. They say it takes some three to four consecutive weeks to acclimate to a race at altitude. I was lucky to get three consecutive days, which is disappointing given I often train in the mountains. Perhaps this is why I was a little peeved when several runners passed me while I was sucking wind on the course around 9,000'. I heard one of them casually mention that she lived close by at 9,000'.  Really? Did she have to rub it in? I've always been jealous of runners that live at altitude.

There is a famous scene in the movie Billie Jack where Billie confronts his nemesis in a park. He tells the guy "I'm going to take this right foot and I'm going to wop you on that side of your face...and there is not a damn thing you going to be able to do about it". If you haven't seen this, watch it here, it is so awesome. The scene was filmed in the Plaza in downtown Santa Fe. Billie Jack was a hero to so many of us who grew up in the 1970s and the reason I am wearing the hat you see above. I digress.

The penultimate moment for me on this day was when I was making my way in the snow to the 10,500' high point of the course. Every other step resulted in slip and slide to my hands and knees, followed by surge in heart rate, then a wondering...why-do-I-sign-up-for-these-damn-things. Then from somewhere below me was a voice that kept repeating these chant-like slogans about business and motivation. I couldn't help but laugh. When we reached the top of the caldera I had to thank the guy - Max - and stop for a selfie.

When I finally crossed the finish line, apparently my body didn't look great. The race director approached me immediately and asked me if I could accompany her to the first aid tent. Wait. I know I had a couple of face plants, but I didn't realize the blood had continued to flow. As I sat there with the medics I couldn't help but revel in the accomplishment of finishing the most difficult 50k in all my running days.       

    

Necessary Ambivalence

Today I found the perfect rest spot on my run. I wasn't tired and didn't need to stop. But the location - a little nook in the forest in between some trees - invited me in. The ground was cool with some snow and lots of pine needles. I sat back for a few minutes and took in the view.

What now? As I lounged in this woodsy nook, I pondered what to do next. With nothing planned, and no special place to go, I sat and soaked in a few minutes of necessary ambivalence...a few minutes of no responsibilities, no commitments, no obligations, no nothing. Just trees, snow and pine needles.

Then I rose to move up the trail, crossing a few snow fields and taking in more views. The day was crisp, and the blue sky hugged the tree line above me as I continued to climb. After getting a glimpse of Mt. San Gorgonio and the 10,000 foot ridge, I started my descent down some ski slopes. 

Then I saw something moving a couple hundred yards above me. I stopped and looked closer. It was in the middle of a snow field and I wasn't close enough to determine exactly what I was looking at, so I had to deduct in the moment what preditor this might be. Not a coyote - this was too bulky. Probably not a mountain lion - they don't show themselves until they are attacking, and this didn't seem hungry for me. Then it took off into the trees. 

So, Dorathy, yes! I do suppose we will meet some wild animals. 

 

Embrace What Comes, In Due Time

Today was another inspiring day on the path. To learn and to ponder. What else can one ask for? 

Starting with a touch of the Pacific Ocean, I turned east and fell into a consistent pace hovering around 130 bpm while climbing 1'600 feet, cresting at the top of Newport Coast. There is something about touching the ocean that draws me in. Especially knowing I will peer down from much higher ground. Knowing I was there and now I am here, that is fulfulling. 

Listening to Alan Watts along the way reminded me of some basic truths. The importance of spontaneity and effortless action. Pursuing things without forcing them to happen. Waiting for the right time for events to unfold. What the Chinese call Wuwie, or acting in harmony with the universe. Some might call this "going with the flow," with a healthy dose of spontaneity mixed in.

I think running longer distances has helped me embrace Wuwie. So many times in my life when I've been anxious and pushed too hard, too early, I end up crumpled and dissappointed. Alternatively, when I bide my time and remain patient, and let my body embrace what comes to it, in due time, I end up feeling strong and complete. 

And in harmony. 

Yesterday 4:17PM

Yesterday at 4:17PM there were grey clouds covering Saddlback Mountain. More, still, hung beutifully over the southern horizon. As I approached the lookout I decided to let my camera roll to capture the moment. Inspiring? Or just another day of a runner seeking solace through his obsession. Perhaps both.

I have not written much here in some time. Maybe that will change. I miss transferring emotion I've gained on the trail to these pages. 

  

   

Age. A State of Mind?

“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”

           — George Bernard Shaw

They say that age is a state of mind. I tend to agree with this adage - with one caveat - your state of mind can change quickly, and without notice. As in one moment you can be running like a banshee down a mountain trail, full of vim and vigor, and the next moment you can be falling face first on that same trail, questioning your own sanity before the point of impact. 

Twain had an interesting perspective on age. He said "If you don't mind, it doesn't matter". I wholeheartedly agree with this thought, with one minor exception. Like when you have been running for 5 hours in the heat of the day, and you forget to take in adequate electrolytes. You begin to notice the rest of your body taking on a mind of its own. Now you are running with two minds, with one telling you to charge on, and the other is slowly turning out the lights, telling you the party is over. Next you find yourself crumpled on the ground fighting leg cramps. Does that matter?

There are occasions when I question myself, and the decision to pick up ultra running in my late 40s and continue into my 60s. Why put myself through the difficulty? Why not simply play golf or pickle ball to, as Thoreau once said, "wring the marrow out of life?" Perhaps it comes down to something I realized as I look back on the challenges I faced along the way. Maybe its the highest "highs" and the lower "lows"  that are the most memorable, because they are the ones that make me feel alive.

Happy running everyone!