Frozen 50 – 09:48:50
Minnesota in December is a cold fucking state. I started this event at just before 9am on the last day of 2017 and it was quite literally -16 degrees. Weather Underground tells me it was the coldest day of the year. But, as any true Minnesotan will tell you, things aren’t actually freezing cold unless it’s also windy.
It was also windy.
For me this hasn’t generally been a big issue. Even on a normal long run in the winter, I usually have the ability to run at such a speed which allows me to stay warm and/or decrease the time exposed so I can stay properly thermoregulated. When you’re running an ultramarathon (at least, when I’m running an ultramarathon), you’re gonna be running slow and you’re gonna be out there for hours and hours. This effectively negates the easiest strategies for keeping yourself from wanting to Uber your way to the nearest Asian restaurant and dunking your whole body in ramen broth (believe me, there were times I came pretty damn close). But after reading so many books about ultrarunning and ultra-endurance athletes, I knew this was the next progression of my running career. I just had to experience what it was like to slog through miles and miles and miles. All these incredible, inspiring human beings detailed their accounts of personal catharsis through unimaginable hardship.
I knew that my recovery from an eating disorder would be capped with an endurance feet of my own. I had wanted to run an ultramarathon since I first started reading about legendary people like Scott Jurek, Ann Trason, Dean Karnazes, and others. You can check out my haphazard route if you’d like. I could not think of a better way to celebrate the end of a 4 year-long brutal era of under/over eating and the beginning of a new chapter in my life than suffering a (almost) couple of marathons in the frozen tundra. On my own. With nothing but some homemade superfood muffins (kept warm and moist with handwarmers) and 3 planned espresso pit stops along the way.
I have recovered from binge-eating but as you can see, I’m still bat-shit crazy.
I wanted this chapter of my life to begin with a new-found sense of being. To break a mold that I had casted. I had proven that I knew what it felt like to ‘fly’ for 26 miles. I loved picking people off on the trail during training runs and acting like I was being chased from behind when there weren’t folks to pass. This would be a new challenge. Not just because of the distance and the time on my feet. Difficult things to endure for sure. But during training I had to learn to accept that I was gonna be the individual people were picking off. I had to learn not to chase down the person in front of me, no matter how fast or slow they were going. You don’t get to make random long runs a tempo run when you’re putting in 30, 35, 40, even 45 mile weekends. Back-to-back long runs aren’t conducive to spontaneous speed sessions. That’s just the level I’m at right now. And that’s okay. One of the many beautiful lessons I had to take to heart running this ultramarathon was the old adage: “All’s well that ends well.’ I like my couplet addition: ‘If it’s not well, it’s not over.’ Things can suck (and I mean fear-of-permanent-frostbite-on-your-quickly-icing-hands suck) but however unbearable a pain, a thought, an emotion, or a feeling gets, all of them come to pass. There is an endpoint, and it’s a helluva lot better than whatever my impulsive and demanding brain can make me feel right at any given moment. Sometimes you just gotta sit with it. Or slowly jog though it. Either way, each nagging thought or negative, habituated pattern of thinking is an instance where the grass is truly greener on the other side.
Overall, many of the things that make a successful ultra are the same things that make successful binge-eating disorder recovery. You have to be patient. You have to observe the negative thoughts without judgement, not letting every detracting emotion lead you astray. You separate that icky, disgusting, filthy, part of your limbic brain from your rational self. That’s as much as I want to make a comparison between ultrarunning and recovery for now. They are independent entities, and one cannot lead to the other, or save you from the other. And you cannot replace one for the other (if I could have replaced bingeing for running I would have long ago). One individual I have heard describe alcohol recovery on my favorite podcast is this: ‘I didn’t always want to go running, but I always wanted a drink.’ You can’t love running (which is good for you) and hope it will replace something more powerful and destructive to you. Running is hard, but bad habits? Those are easy. And get easier and easier the longer they last. I can now say from experience that running an ultra doesn’t get any easier the longer it takes.
But it’s neither here nor there (a mantra that kept me going for hours on this fateful endeavor). The title of this is post is Why I Run, so let’s explore that. Hopefully through the series of pictures and related text I can convey what it means for me, and why it’s so important for me to be able to continue this for, well, ever. Much like the answers I provided for over a dozen medical school applications, I can tell you it’s multifactorial, and that the whole is definitely more than the sum of its parts. Each facet is intrinsically related to the next, and they all operate interdependently, creating a product that is restorative, enlightening, and ever-changing. Each run represents a chance for me to realize a truer version of who I am, regardless of the intended distance, pace, speed, or workout. So let’s get into it! The following pictures represent some of my favorite views across this most memorable trek. Each one is chosen for the insight its given me over the years (and in one specific instance just on that day!), and its ability to help me explicate my specific reasons for why the wind and cold is no match for this mother fucker (hadn’t used the eff word in a while – wouldn’t want to disappoint you!).
I can’t actually tell you how many laps I have run around this stadium. It represented my first foray into speed work as a runner. For years I had no idea how fast I would even run those repeats – I figured you just ran hard enough, with the same consistency on each turn, to make sure you were pretty winded once you got done…and that honestly hasn’t changed much even to today. Why I Run here is the same reason I would push myself during sprints in high school, outside of football and basketball practice. To improve. To know what it feels like to get faster, and fitter. Sprinting sucks, but the feeling of recovering after is a much stronger, positive sensation. It’s always worth it. Although sprinting exhaustion has a completely different quality than endurance exhaustion, they both are awesome.
If there is anything more awesome (read: shittier) than running around a stadium 8, 10, twelve times, it’s running up this thing an equal number of times. Up/down, up/down, up/down. If running laps on flat ground allowed me to increase my speed, then running laps up and down this bad boy allowed me to increase my strength. Nothing burns my legs and lungs harder than working like hell to hit 5:30min/mi splits going up this incline for 400 meters. Over and over again. Why I Run this hill is the same as the euphoric effect of working to exhaustion around a big, beautiful oval.
I have practiced formal meditation for only a few months, but much of what I understand about it relates to the experience of running my Sunday long runs on this lake in the early hours of the winter mornings during college. If you needed reminding, Minnesota sucks in the winter, and so does waking up early. So you can imagine the silence that entails breaking a sweat before the sunshine in subzero December weather around this beautiful body of water. No music, no friends, for 20 or so minutes I would focus just on the sound of my own breathing and the repetitive, rhythmic crunching of the soles of my shoes on the snow. It was peaceful beyond belief. By the time I made it out this far in the middle of my long run, I had locked in a pace that allowed my body and mind to operate in complete synchrony. No fighting to push a pace or back off. Why I Run around Bde Maka Ska (usually before other people are awake) is because I can cultivate a space that allows me complete dissociation from the city, while literally right in the middle of it. I can find calm and warmth while allowing my body to move without restraint in a vacuum of shuttering cold. It’s a measure of serenity that’s incalculable. It’s like living in that moment just before you fall asleep, where you completely surrender to the world around you and just let go. And I would experience that feeling for whatever length of time it took to complete the 3 mile circumference around Bde Maka Ska. Whether I returned to Lake of the Isles or took it out farther to Lake Harriet was inconsequential while I was in the moment. Which is basically the center of my meditation practice. A loop around a dark and silent glacial lake transcends physical or mental experience – it is spiritual at its core.
Water is fucking awesome. Whatever the human species’ fascination with it (beyond it’s necessity for our survival) is beyond my comprehension. And I prefer it that way. Running provides an opportunity to surprise you when you venture farther and farther outside of your comfort zone. I remember training for my first marathon and seeing that I needed to run the chain of lakes as part of the course route. From a bird’s eye view on a map it doesn’t look so far from Northeast Minneapolis – where I lived at the time. However, it was a distance I had yet to cover before. This would be the first time I’d run 20 whole freaking miles in my life. I was nervous. But this infamous 20 mile long-run was so-called ‘essential’ to marathon training, and it was on the schedule. ‘Here goes nothing?,’ I thought. So I took my training run down the west side of Lake of the Isle, Bde Maka Ska, and for the first time, Lake Harriet. I was met with the most spectacular view of Minneapolis that I’d ever encountered, before or since. I’m almost remiss that I couldn’t get a photo of it here, but I suppose you’ll just have to venture down to the south side of Lake Harriet to find out for yourself. There is an opening in the tree line that gives way to a view that is unforgettable. The skyline is so distant and stalwart, with this ginormous, beautiful, bright blue (at least when I first saw it) cavern of precious water dominating the foreground. This view, for me, has forever been the most impressive of the city-scape. And I’ve seen some bomb-ass views of Minneapolis as a result of my love for the sport. Which is another reason Why I Run – it surprises you. There is a positive correlation of the amount of courage you espouse in the face of fear with the level of surprise and satisfaction you achieve when adventuring on your two running feet. The brand new sights you see, the wonderful people you meet, it all comes back to you in a big, big way. In 2012, this was my ‘longest run ever,’ and in brought with it a surprising and unforgettable experience. The novel experiences haven’t stopped since. Read on…
I had a professor when I studied in Italy that talked to us about going to the top of the famous cathedral in Florence. He discussed with us the pros and cons, and ultimately shared his thoughts on if it was worth it or not. He told us that most people would climb all that way up to the top and realize that the view of the cathedral was much more impressive than the view from it. Well, I can tell you that doesn’t apply to this badass hill. The view of it and the view from it are awesome. I have chosen to give you a view of it. Fitness is achieved on this hill and deserves to be highlighted. When is that fitness achieved? Well you can read more about it here. But this post is hella long and I’ll say only that Why I Run is because I can’t be fit and healthy unless I have a community of kickass people that will run up and down this bastard 30 times in 30 fucking minutes. All with a smile on their face. It’s all about camaraderie. November Project. Google it. Check it out and then show up.
Motivating yourself to be fit can only take one so far. I think competition is really the spice of life. It allows you to take that emphasis off yourself and your own wellbeing and translate it into something that will allow you to really test your abilities. Whether that’s against a personal best and/or against others, this motivation can take you a long way (so long as you’re smart about it). And it’s fun! I learned about being a part of a running team while on a brief stint with some fine, fine folks at Mill City Running and their race team. I’ll be returning to that same team next month. This establishment sold me my first GPS watch (so I could stop pretending I had any idea how far I was running, and how fast), and even gave my first experience racing on a team. Why I Run is not only for the benefit of making myself stronger and faster, but to pit my fitness against others. Sure, this view of Minneapolis is from just a regular, easy, 5 mile route I would take with some great friends from this store on Friday mornings, but every time I see it I’m reminded of the spirit of competition and the beauty that is wanting to beat the individual next to you to the finish.
Before I took on this 50 mile endeavor, I envisioned breaking down into tears on the steps of the capital building. My finish line. A celebration of recovery from an eating disorder that had plagued my mind, body, and spirit for years. I had not anticipated my gloves completely freezing 6 miles before the finish and giving me immediate fear of frostbite. I was forced to turn back toward the Target I had just left to regain my warmth in this diner not far away. I couldn’t even make it all the way back to the Target – I was sidelined to this burger and shake shack as it provided the only neon fluorescence I could immediately see this late on new year’s eve. I also didn’t anticipate bearing my soul to a group of complete strangers, sobbing in their arms as their generosity provided me coffee, a hand-warmer, and an abundance of love. The catharsis I had ‘planned’ would be rescheduled for right now. There are moments in your life that are impossible to forget – and I experienced that this day. The sequence of events that drove me here are not for me to analyze, to figure out the reason for, or to determine what happened or why. It’s not even important. The generous folks at this malt shop heard my story of ultrarunning, eating disorder, recovery, and celebration, and showed unabated love in return. Why I Run is embodied in what happened on that cathartic, cold evening inside this restaurant. I run to learn. To live. What I learned that day was, that at the root of true catharsis, is love. And love, loves, company. It isn’t something you can give to yourself. It’s felt and experienced when you share. There is no way I could feel that level of this emtoion while in isolation on the stone-cold marble staircase in Saint Paul (even if my blood sugar hadn’t been so disgustingly low I barely had the energy to breathe, let alone cry). There isn’t enough of that wonderful emotion that you can contain in one individual. I would eventually make it to the capital steps to finish this race, but no matter how many great workouts I put together on my own, how many awesome tempo or long runs or repeats I put in on my solo runs, achieving catharsis comes when running with (or to) others and feeding off each other’s accounts of personal hardships and recovery. It comes from giving and receiving all of each others’ energies. It’s achieved when you know, in a raw, palpable sense, that whatever you’re going through is a shared experience with those who surround you. Who love you. Why I Run is because I love to run, and now, I’m realizing, it’s because of how much I love to love.