“I’m so nervous I could cry,” I heard myself tell our six year-old as Tim dropped me off at the designated start line dropoff spot.
As I walked a half mile to the start, I told myself, “This will be hard, but you can do this. You’re committed. Just don’t start out too quickly and make it harder than it already is.
And then what did I do as soon as the race started? Started with a 6 minute and 40 second mile…oops. Race adrenaline made it feel easy, and even though I had purposely stayed 10-15 seconds behind the front pack of experienced ultrarunners, I had made a classic rookie mistake.
“That’s gonna hurt later.” I thought to myself, and followed it up with a slower-yet-still-way-too-fast-for-your-first-ultra 7-minute-paced second mile.
After settling in to a reasonable yet still strong pace, I stayed steady and feeling great for the first 18 miles, even up 4,000 feet of elevation to the top of Mt. Chuckanut.
But what goes up must come down, and the part that’s usually my favorite (running downhill) turned from whee to whoa halfway down the mountain as what felt like an army of fire ants stabbed my quads with each step, leaving me to dig deep for the last 10 or so miles, physically and mentally.
Ultras build grit. I’m so glad I did it. And I’m so glad it’s over. Much respect for people who do these often. Ultras are no joke, yet some people flew by me at the end of their race with huge smiles and kind words to me as I hobbled in. What a cool community.
Although my mom and dad would not consider themselves athletes, my grandma was another story…
She was the best athlete of all the girls AND boys in Surrey, B.C., and her dad, my great grandfather Jeremiah, was so confident that she, the oldest girl of his 14 children, would win the annual Surrey City grade school fitness competition, that he had a big trophy made, and he donated it for the winner. 🏆
The day of the competition came, and my grandma won it out-right, only to have the trophy given the first place boy, who had come in second place to my grandma. 😲
My great-grandpa was furious, but the city people stayed firm on giving it to second place since they were more comfortable giving it to a boy, as they always had. 😡
Even my mom, a 1950’s stay-at-home mom of nine children, says it was “disgusting” that they didn’t reward my grandma for her athletic efforts, simply because she was a girl. 😫
Props to my great-grandpa for supporting his daughter’s athletic efforts, a hundred years ago. 👍
This story reminds me both of how grateful I am to have the opportunities I have as a woman athlete, and of how much more work there is still to be done to support girls and women in sports…
One way to help support women’s sports is to watch them, so the network knows they elicit viewers. Even my old-fashioned 96 year-old dad has come around, saying that “Sue Bird is the best basketball player ever,” male or female, that he has ever seen. This is the same guy who, when I was in junior high and loving soccer, came home one day saying he couldn’t believe how “rough some women were playing soccer at the park,” shaking his head in disapproval. (Good thing he had never seen me play soccer – I was pretty scrappy myself.) 😅
And one way to support girls’ sports is to donate sports bras (if you happen to have a surplus, like I sometimes do) to a local girl’s high school team in a relatively poor neighborhood, since lack of proper attire is a large reason girls stop playing sports, an activity that is likely to keep them on the right track, feeling empowered…
To all the coaches and people who supported this little girl with raw talent and a fiery spirit, thank you. 😊
I have no idea where I would be today without the positive influence of sport in my life. ❤️
Habits shape who we are and determine where we’re headed. Consistency breeds excellence. From small actions to daily routines, habits sculpt our success story. Cultivating good habits isn’t just a choice; it’s a game-changer.
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What an incredible experience racing two different world championships, in Belgium and Portugal, in one weekend (the elite FISO OCR World Championships and the Masters Mountain World Championships).
Friday’s race was a flat, short (3k), intense, obstacle-filled race while Sunday’s trail race took us 4,000 feet up and down a mountain in 20 miles! Training for such different races proved to be quite a challenges…and very fun!
People say it’s important to specialize/focus to be your best, but some of the best athletes I know train hard/well in more than one sport. Mental burnout ends more athletic careers than physical burnout, so why not follow your heart if it loves variety? 😊
Training for both a speedy, obstacle-dense 2 mile race in Belgium AND a 20 mile endurance race all the way up and down a mountain in Portugal two days later was just the fun mental/physical challenge I was looking for! And I did it – the racing, the travel logistics, all of it…it was hard, and it feels good. 👍
They say the brain craves novelty, and introducing fresh challenge combinations keeps me inspired to train to my max for over two decades now. 💥
I’ve always been happiest doing a combination of OCR, Ninja Warrior, track, and/or trail running, and I’m a lifer when it comes to racing, so even if specializing could/should bring a better outcome in a particular discipline, if you’re like me – someone who can’t choose just one – why not just follow your heart?! ❤️
On 2/22/11, twelve years ago today, Tim proposed to me on a beautiful houseboat we spent many holidays pet-sitting in, offering me a glittery diamond ring as a symbol of his love and commitment.
Last week, on our way to live/train in Mexico for a month, someone stole it from me, as my carry-on had to be checked last-minute, and I hadn’t yet transferred it back to my hand after taking it off for strength training.
Even though I know things are just things, I still felt mad to have such special things (my engagement and wedding rings) stolen from me. And I couldn’t help but blame myself for leaving a tiny window of opportunity for it to happen.
“You don’t deserve nice things,” the little gremlin in my head told me.
When I arrived in Mexico and realized my rings were stolen, I felt stressed all day (and tired from an early morning flight and oddly cold) yet finally rallied and went on a training run late afternoon with my mind racing, only to get completely lost on new trails, finding myself at dusk surrounded by a dog chasing me to protect its territory, vultures eating animal parts, and truckfuls of guys heading to a party.
Fear filled my mind as I clutched my pepper spray, trying to navigate the ever-changing map on my phone, every terrifying runner story swirling through my head.
Finally, I saw a woman drive past, and I asked her, in my best Spanish, how to get to where I needed to go, before dark. She turned her car around, put out her cigarette for me, and drove me back. I tried to give her some money as a thank-you, but she wouldn’t accept it, simply telling me to not run by myself at night and to avoid that dirt road in particular because it was dangerous.
“Perros?” I said. “Borrachos.” She replied.
For the next week, I felt scared leaving our place. I ran only on treadmills and at a golf course. I looked up flights to go home, only to realize I have no real home right now, no comfort zone to go to…just a storage unit in Boulder (the downside to “adventure life” that nobody talks about).
“This is not how I retire.” I told myself while still in bed one day, wondering how I was going to get my run in.
So instead, I faced my fear. It was time to take action.
An OCR friend, Lauren Taska, who has lived in Cabo, reached out and hooked me up with her training partner here, a Kona athlete named Cibelle. Tim found a group for me to run with, and our AirBnB host’s father, Vicente, drove me through the trails he has run on hundreds of times, showing me the safest places to run. (He, too, preferred to avoid the section I had gotten lost and afraid on. I suppose every city has its safe and not-so-safe places to run.)
The community came together to help me out, and after a week of feeling afraid and wanting to leave Cabo, my mindset has shifted. I can get my training/job done by running with others or, if by myself, in an open, safe trail during the day. Phew!
And after spending time with good friends in town from both Seattle and Colorado, my nervous system is coming down from high-alertness. (At one point, I jumped at the sight of a garbage bag; my heart goes out to people who have experienced real trauma rather than just my perceived experience, like people in the military, and people who have had someone sexually/physically assault them.)
One of my favorite ways to experience a new place is by running in it – I’ve run through parts of Brazil, Ecuador, England, Ireland, Spain, Greece, Canada, Thailand, Costa Rica, the UAE, many parts of Mexico, and nearly half of the United States.
I’ve meant only wonderful and helpful people on my runs, including every time I’ve run in Mexico. Bad things can happen anywhere, however, so these are my top tips for running in a new place:
1) Research where to run (the trails I ran on were generally recommended as good, safe trails, I just needed to research the my exact trail plan better). Apps like MapMyRun and TrailForks can help.
2) Run with others when possible. This is not always easy to do, with varying paces and schedule, so when you can’t find others to run with…
3) Run with pepper spray. A law enforcement office told me “Sabre Red” is the best.
4) Take a self-defense class. I took one back in college, but I’m do for another.
5) Don’t run at night or even late afternoon, in case dusk falls quicker than anticipated.
6) Run without headphones on. I sometimes still listen to music, but I do it without headphones on. Bonus: people on the trail can hear me/my music coming.
I’m grateful that I feel safe again (not something to take for granted), I’m hopeful Aeromexico Airlines will reimburse my stolen rings, (though either way, I still have the love they symbolize – which is what really matters, of course), and I look forward to a chance to enjoy the food, beaches, and warm weather of Mexico, grateful for the mindset tools and community support I needed to shift this trip experience from a bad one to a good one.
As we say in our family when things don’t go right the first time, “Let’s try again.”
