Well. It's been nearly 36 hours since I've finished the Twin Mountain Trudge 2011, my sixth consecutive. I've had lots of time to think about it. Roll the events of the day over in my mind. Even sat down with Aurora and Eunjeong and just talked about what happened that day and what had been and was going through my mind. And even after all of that, I'm still not entirely sure how I should approach this report. Hmmmmm.....
I suppose I have to start somewhere. No matter how many times I start this report and then sit back/ leave, it's not going to write itself. I guess the place to start was where I was going into the race. Physically, I was just about where I was every other year I've done the Trudge: somewhere between fairly out of shape and very out of shape. I had two OK weeks of training under my belt prior to taking the week leading up to the Trudge off. So, more in shape than some years and less in shape than others. The race director, Alec, had been sending out warning emails the last several weeks suggesting that the conditions on this year's course may be the worst yet, which is really saying something when one recalls TMT 2008. 2008 was truly a physical battle where I had to mentally man-up and pull myself through the end, especially since there was no possible "out" once I was on the course. TMT08 set the new standard in misery. But, I was able to get through it because I was able to mentally pull myself through, even if that year's race almost did break me. As I've posted in previous blogs, one thing I've always kinda prided myself in was my mental strength, particularly when it came to these races. I've always seemed to have been able to drag myself through any event I've wanted to, regardless of good of shape I was in. I've managed to avoid a Did Not Finish thus far, including on several occasions where I really should have quit. And now, with the new emails coming out warning of a potential 2008 repeat, I kind knew what I was getting into and what I should be expecting.
The couple weeks leading up to the Trudge this year had been rough. It seemed like there was issue after issue coming for me, whether it was in the dorms or at work or with school, and I was mentally starting to break down. Three days before the race, I really started questioning whether or not I should do the Trudge, or if I even really wanted to be doing it. I knew that physically, I wasn't in good shape and I wasn't all that great mentally either. I waffled back and forth in the days leading up to the race, including deciding I wasn't going to do it Thursday night when I watched one of my "pump me up" movies, "Running the Sahara", and for some reason the movie left me feeling even shittier than where I started off at. Finally I decided that I was going to do it. I got up Saturday morning and got prepared, but there was none of my usual pre-race jitters or excitement. I just got up and it was just something I just had to do.
I got to the starting line and got checked in. As the start approached, I was starting to feel better, but I was still nowhere near my usual levels of excitement. The weather started off Ok... it was kinda chilly, but it was a bit breezier than usual. The Trudge featured a record number of participants this year. At 9:30, we were all released into the wild. After a short stretch of dirt road (one of the hold-over features from 2010 was the elimination of almost all dirt roads... The Trudge was as close as one could come to a "pure" trail race), we were immediately bogged down in the snow. The area near the start/ finish was one of the worse section of snow because it was a bit deeper than other sections, was on a fairly steep hill, and was crusty stuff that would randomly give way under you. From that point on, the snow-cover never ended. The course was consistently ankle deep or a bit higher, but very rarely reached my knees. Very quickly, I started to wear out and dropped back to a walk. With my three upper body layers, including a fairly heavy jacket, I also started to overheat very quickly. Within 10 minutes, I had to pull off to the side of the course to start stripping layers off. This action dropped me far behind the rest of the pack. I was alone.
Unfortunately, the fact that I was not mentally "in shape" for the race started to play a factor very earlier on. By the end of the first mile, I was already telling myself that I didn't want to be out there. That this was stupid. That I really should just turn around and call it a day. I trudged forward, but it just got darker from there. The longer I was out on the course, the more frustrated and more depressed I got. I can't even really explain what was going on in my mind, I just knew that I was getting more and more weighed down the longer I went. For the 2 miles leading into the aid station, I had decided I was going to quit. I didn't want to be out there anymore, and I wanted to quit when I reached the halfway point. I was upset that I was preparing to file my first DNF. I was the kicking the shit out of myself the entire way there, but I knew I was stopping. I was so upset by the time I reached the aid station that I just broke down and started crying. Ted and Brandon were there working the station and my mom had stopped to wait for me to arrive. They couldn't get anything out of me other than, "I just wanna quit." Eventually, mom started getting chilled and had to get moving again, so she left the aid station telling me that she would try and get back there with a vehicle to pick me up when she finished. I was logging my very first DNF.
I sat there at the aid station for a bit and just cried. I was upset that I was actually quitting. I was upset that I went out there in the first place. I was upset that the "mental strength" I've always considered my better quality was gone. But, after ten or fifteen minutes, that frustration and that depression turned into anger. I was angry that I was quitting. I was angry that there was nothing wrong with me physically- I wasn't hurting and I wasn't particularly tired. I was angry because I was just mentally pussing out. I knew that if I stayed there and didn't go back out there, I would be kicking myself for a long time over it. I got my pack back on, I told Ted to let base camp know that I'm not quitting, I took a shot of scotch (which, by the way, tastes terrible. Next year, I recommend good tasting fruity alcohol at the aid station), and I stomped off. I realized I was in for a less than enjoyable afternoon, but I was not ready to quit for no reason other than mentally wanting to giving up.
For the first couple miles out of the finish line, my mantra was, "You're going to finish this. You're going to get through this. You're not giving up this time. Just fucking move!" After the Devil's Loop rocky area, my physical lack of fitness finally started taking its toll and exhaustion was starting to set in. I could not go very far without having to stop for a couple minutes and rest. I started having to set targets for myself in an effort to keep some semi-constant movement going.
"Tree."
walk 10 feet to target tree.
Stop for 5 seconds.
"Small bush in path."
Walk 10 feet to bush.
Stop for 5 seconds.
"Next flag."
Walk to next flag.
Stop for 5 seconds.
I don't even remember how long this went on. By that point, my mind had shut everything down beyond, "Tree", "Bush", "Flag", and whatever it took to keep my feet moving in between my waypoints. After a while, the targets stopped and the Relentless Forward Motion kicked in. I picked out a set of foot prints, put my head down, and followed the tracks step-for-step and didn't stop. I couldn't even tell you what the course looked like beyond that set of foot prints. I was no longer upset. I was no longer angry. I just needed to move. The only times my mind really came back to me was when the course took 180 degree turns and started heading back east. That was usually when I would have some anger boil up over the fact that I was going the wrong goddammed direction and yelling over the fact that Alec was such a prick for doing this. About a mile out from the finish, I caught back up with mom, who was pretty shocked but excited to see me again. We didn't really stop and talk though because the only thing really keeping me going at that point was the Relentless Forward Motion. If I stopped too much, I didn't think I would get started again. I kept Trudging ahead.
Unfortunately, the wind had picked up a great deal by that point in the day, which meant the last 1/2 - 3/4 miles in were ankle-to-knee deep snow, uphill, into a very stiff Wyoming breeze. To be honest, with how hard the walk into the finish was, I think that point of the race was the lowest I had felt since the aid station. I eventually finished in 5:25:45, and as soon as I crossed the line, I had to get down on all fours. I mentally and physically had no more go and I just needed to stop. Mom finished shortly behind me. Later on that night, I found out that one of the 22 milers, Hawaiian Shirt Ray, got lost out on the course. Fortunately, he was very experienced with trail racing and outdoors survival and was extremely prepared, and he was found safely and in good condition after 14 hours on the course. You can read his story at http://www.hawaiianshirtray.com/2011/the-2011-twin-mountain-trudge-turns-epic/
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| Mom & I at the finish. |
The race this year gave me a lot to think about, both from what I went through on the course and with what happened with Ray. The first thought I had was about my over-reliance on being able to mentally pull through. For the last several years, I've been using that ability to pull myself through as a bit of a crutch or an excuse to do things I probably shouldn't. I didn't care how out of shape I was or how injured I was. I just know that I'm going to be able to get myself through this and I'll be miserable the next morning, but I'll go out and I'll finish it. And that strategy is all fine and dandy, until the mental aspect fails too. And then I'm out of shape and I no longer have the drive to get through. To be honest, I think the thing that upset me the most during the race is that I had mentally quit and it didn't look like I was going to be able to pull through. I need to change that. I need to physically and mentally be on board with this stuff if I'm serious about doing it.
The second thing I had to think about sort came up while I was on the course, but was really hit home with what happened to Ray. What I do is dangerous. I go out and run in the middle of the woods, sometimes far from other people. If something goes wrong, it will often be hours before anyone will come for me or stummble across me. Conditions can change rapidly, unexpected events can occur, things can go wrong. Trail/ adventure running is fairly risky if you think about it. And I make it all worse by refusing to properly prepare or train. I put myself in a position to be suffering from exhaustion right from the start. I make it so I have to pull myself through the entire race, not just the difficult back stretches. By not being prepared, I vastly increase the level of risk to myself involved. By preparing, not only would I eliminate the additional risk, but I would also mitigate some of the pre-existing risks.
The events of this past Saturday really got me thinking about these things and how I need to change my approach to the trail/ adventure running.
All in all, it was an... interesting day. For physical conditions, Trudge 2011 was the second worst year. Unlike 2008, there was no waist deep snow or crawling, though '11 was far worse than any of the other years. As far as race experiences go, 2011 is easily the hardest one I've been through. Saturday was the only race where I've had a possible "out" to get off the course, and damn near took it. In hindsight, I am glad I finished. If nothing else, there is no doubt in my mind that I would be kicking the crap out of myself if I did officially pack it in. Alec is doing quite a number on my ego though.... he has been in charge of the only two races where I genuinely wanted to quit or tried to quit.
In conclusion, thanks to Alec and all the volunteers for putting this on and making it happen. As always, it was a well put together and well ran event. I guess now it's time to move forward again, hopefully make some good changes, and hopefully make my way safely and intelligently back out into the woods.
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