The race is held at Pathfinder Ranch in Mountain Center, California and it’s a gorgeous venue for such an event. It’s a 2 mile looped course, although the past two years have offered an adventurous few the Relentless course option, which adds on a quarter mile rock/mountain climb up and then another quarter mile back down. Although the main loop is mainly flat, it is not what anyone would call an easy course. There are a variety of terrains, including one wicked sand section that is a real energy suck. We park our RV about halfway around the loop, which works out perfectly. We always get the opportunity to see and run with good friends at this race, which is another reason we look forward to it.
Two years ago, when I went out there to do a half marathon, I ended up completing a full. I felt awesome and it was fantastic to push myself beyond where I thought I was capable of going. Pushing yourself beyond your perceived limits is kind of the raison d’etre of both the race and the running company behind it. Beyond Limits pretty much says it all. Last year I was thrilled to complete my first ultra at this race, knocking off a 50k. That was made even more special by doing every step of it with a good friend whom I don’t get to see nearly often enough.
All of that introduction is by way of illustrating how much we love this race and this locale. So it’s very telling where my head was when I actually considered just not going. That week had been so bad in terms of pain that it was hard to even think about having the energy to get ready to go, let alone actually participate. I registered for this race almost a year ago, signing up for the 50 mile option to challenge myself even further. I knew going in that that wasn’t even going to be a possibility with my pain levels what they were. It was only the thought of the friends I’d be seeing and the disappointment I’d feel in myself that got me out there.
During the race, I tried to do all I could to minimize the effects of the race on my body. I walked the entire thing, keeping my pace fairly slow. I sat in my zero gravity chair for at least 15 minutes (progressing to upwards of 30 minutes as the day went on) between every lap. I took a pain pill every 4 hours. By the time I’d finished 5 laps, 10 miles, my body was protesting. I decided it would be a good idea to take a longer break and stretch out flat in the RV for a couple of hours and see if that would help. In spite of being up in the mountains, the day had gotten pretty toasty although there was a beautiful breeze. I ended up doing a baby wipe bath and turning on the AC in the RV. I took about two and a half hours off and then finished my sixth lap. At this point, I told the race directors that I was going to officially drop down to the 24 hour option of the race. I discovered that a couple of my friends had dropped down from their original race options and were finished so we had a good time hanging out, cheering other runners as they crossed the timing mat each lap, and discussing a variety of topics related to endurance racing.
I had thought perhaps I’d be able to get in another lap or two in the morning but it just wasn’t in the cards. I had a somewhat difficult time trying to get comfortable and staying asleep. In the end, I decided that it was better not to push things too much since I was going to be flying halfway across the country in less than a week and I was nervous about what kind of toll that was going to be taking on my body. I settled for the 6 laps, 12 miles, that I’d gotten in during day 1. It was definitely not what I had hoped for and is probably my most disappointing race since my diagnosis. People have told me that 12 miles is a lot more than most people did that weekend and that what matters is that I was out there. And don’t get me wrong. I’m definitely proud of those 12 miles. They represent a lot. But when you were originally aiming for 50 miles and hoping to still get in a 50k, it’s a little bit of a letdown.
In the more than two weeks that have passed since I started writing this post (still don’t know where the time went) and the three weeks that it’s now been since the race, I have attempted to put matters into perspective. My life, no matter how much I wish differently, is not the same as it once was. I have fibromyalgia, which involves dealing with chronic pain, of many different kinds, and fatigue. That’s not going to go away. I may never be able to get the miles that I would like in long races again. In fact, I probably won’t. But I’m stubborn enough that I’m likely to keep trying anyway. For a while, at least.
