Embracing the New Year. ATY A Re-cap in its own way.

Bringing in the new year….

“They say life is an adventure, yet we spend so much time following the “American Dream” we forget to take the time to live.” Lisaism 101

It's December 29 and we are gathering at the starting line. It's a chilly morning in Arizona, something my Canadian blood is well adjusted to. I'm standing with my “team”, my human Al and our very dear friend Wayne, who we met at the airport the day prior. Wayne is to return with us in our eurovan Winnie, on the long trek home to my mountain town.
Up ahead is our good friend Dave, affectionately known to me as “she-she”, a name I coined in Italy that has become his running alter-ego. She-she is here to kick ass, and he is ready, with quick hugs all around, the race starts….
I know this course, it's in my blood, each curve, each patch of dirt and pavement, the discomfort the hard packed ground brings, and the comfort of the warm bathrooms through the desperately cold desert night. I’m ready, heart, mind and body. This is my year. I can feel the 200-mile finish in my heart, I can see the final lap, I feel the post race agony in my bones before I take the first step.
I am nothing but an average runner, yet I have trained with the help of a dear friend for a solid year. I know the course and I have a plan. Realizing my potential is going to be easy, as long as I stick to the plan.

And that is where the story should end right?? Girl trains her butt off, drops close to 20lbs in the process, and reaches the glory of a dream realized.... the ever elusive “silver buckle”. But that would be just too easy, too boring, and 100% not my style.

This is only where the story begins.

I don’t know at what point on the first day I realized that I was in the weeds, I just know it happened.

 I was chugging along, my playlist created by friends and family entertaining me, as I focused on the task ahead. My first few miles were ahead of pace and I knew that I needed to slow it down. I was running smart, and feeling great. Seeing old familiar faces scattered amongst the new fresh meat. Feeling pure joy as my body settled into a comfortable pace, my mind was free of thought with the exception of a reflection on the person who may have selected the next new song on my playlist.  Into the late afternoon I circled that track, walking, jogging, singing, dancing round and round I went.  Soon I was joined by our dear friends Jamie and Lori, I had slowed to a 3.75 mile per hour walk pace and was feeling fresh still, it was approximately 7 pm possibly later. They came with fresh HOT pizza and smiles. I grabbed a couple slices and Al, Jamie, Lori and I started to walk the course, Al struggling to keep up, soon after decided he should take a break. I walked and chatted with Jamie and Lori until 10pm enjoying the company, and the laughter.  Just before they left I mentioned to Jamie I was feeling some pinching in the back of my hamstring that was painful, and the interior of my knee. (Jamie is a Chiropractor) He agreed there wasn’t too much you could do to stretch it out, but I did my best anyway.

As Jamie and Lori drove off I continued around the track on my own, the temperature dipping, I came to the spot on the track where our van was sitting. At that moment I had what I call the great internal debate. If I stopped for a few minutes to warm up I risk the chance of not getting out of the warmth and comfort of the van. I know Al is inside, I know I need another layer, I know that entering that van could bring a delay I had not counted on in my race plan. Into the Van I go!

Setting the Alarm for 30 minutes I decided to take a break put my feet up and enjoy chatting with Al a little bit before I enter the second phase of my day. Moments after I snuggled into the bed in the back of “winnie”, the door slides open and our friend Wayne slides in, he is in trouble reaching a low core temperature and fearing hypothermia. All 3 of us cram into the back bed and start chatting.... who knew a Eurovan could hold 3 grown adults in the back??

Agreeing it was just a cold night and we were all miserable I reset my alarm.

230am the alarm goes off, I rolled out of the van leaving my two friends cuddling in the back.  Its crisp and cold, the kind of cold that brutally sets into your body reminding you that its winter, even though you are in the desert.  My plan is simple... to run as many miles as I can before the temperature starts to do the pre-sunrise dip.

My body feels great from the rest, I’m alive and energized. I manage a solid 8 miles before I slink back into the van. Taking 2 hours down time from 5-7 I relax in the back drifting to sleep.  Somewhere close to 7 possibly earlier my counterparts start rustling around. Ready to face the track again. It’s in that moment that I feel something off. My left ankle is not right. With every move there is a crunching in my Achillies, like an old rusty door hinge stuffed with gravel.  There is a dull ach in my bones and my brain is struggling to compute. WTF is going on. I say to Wayne “hey, you gotta feel this”. Upon feeling the grinding Wayne immediately tells me to get to the medic tent, that its tendonitis of the ankle and I need an expert opinion.

Enter my favorite Medic ever. I mean this guy was so passionate about treating us runners it gave me the giggles. Al and I sat in the warm medic tent while my new best friend wigged out about the crunching, a phenomenon he has never felt before, almost like bone rubbing on bone, but not bone.  After calling his superior for a second opinion he gently told me my race as done. His strong suggestion that I may have a small tear and be headed for a complete blow out stuck in my mind as I hobbled my way out of the tent.

I managed 16 miles day 2, 16 miles, lots of tears and anger, frustration and finally acceptance. If I was not to continue in this race to compete for a goal I was going to enjoy my “ride”. This was the race my good friends were joining for the new years 24 hours, the race where I had the honor of watching my friends “She-She’ and Wayne, my new friend Kim. This was going to be an experience instead of a race and I was going to be O.K. with that.

With a new mental approach I crawled into “Winnie” to put my feet up while Al took us to find some food. Al, who had been my champion all day. Washing my feet with baby wipes so he could massage my inflamed ankle. Bringing me beer while I sat with my feet up and heckled my fellow runners. Putting up with my ups and downs, laughing with me, consoling me and encouraging me to go on even though he deeply felt I should withdraw.

I can only attribute my next wave to Al, and his diligence in massaging my calves, hamstring and my Achilles. When I woke up the following morning wedged in the back with Wayne and Al, it was early, the earth was cold and dark, and something was off again. The crunching had been replaced with a burning sensation and mild pain. This was something I understood, something I could manage and monitor. So I rolled out of the van again and somehow I started to run. A free loose run, the kind that feels so good, almost like your floating. I had 56 miles to go to hit 100 miles, and I felt that I would be able to achieve that before the end of the race. So I adjusted my goal for the final time and set forth to beat my personal distance best of 101 miles.

I will not say that last day was easy. Sure, we had an influx of new runners, including some of my dearest friends. Yes, the energy was invigorating. But nothing could take away the pain as I circled the track.  I tried to run smart. Resting and elevating my feet as much as I could gradually slowing to a hobble.

106 miles, 6^th place female overall for the 72 hours I reached a personal distance best, and made it halfway to my goal.

For some this would be considered a disappointment, defeat.  Others would not understand how I could be content with this end result knowing the effort I put into the race. The long hours of training.

You see, I run for a different purpose. I run for me. I don’t run to be the best, the fastest, the most epic, for I am but an average runner.  I run to change my heart and soul...to connect with others and myself. To spend 2 hours walking slowly with my old friend Dan while he tells me about his congestive heart failure and the struggles they have been having due to his daughter’s migraines. To encourage a man I hold in such high regard, because he was suffering and ill. To hug this same man 30 hours later and tell him I’m proud of him and see just how touched he was by those words, this man who holds a world record. To spend another year following the amazing “Jester” and his train horn, to do a 3 legged race-walk with “She-She”as he powers around the track. To be hugged and encouraged by the amazing Marie Boyd, to tear up over Jill’s success, and to make new friends on the course... friends like my fellow Canadian Kim and onsie Carl. To watch my dear friend Calli toss out 100Km.  To laugh at Susie as she runs in the middle of the night in a sports bran and tights, chugging beer every quarter mile. Mostly I run to let my heart be touched by all those around me.

The impact of ATY on my heart is the main reason I keep going back. The race itself sucks. Sure it is amazingly managed, the crew does a fantastic job putting the race on. And where else can you get warm flushing toilets in an ultra. But the course is unforgiving. It is hard packed and concrete like in nature. It can defeat even the strongest of runners. But it’s the soul of this event that brings me back year after year. The Smiles on familiar faces, the conversations as the miles tick by. The friendships only to be found again next year at ATY.

Yes we all run for different reasons, I run for me, to change my heart and soul...to connect with myself and with others...and mostly, to be free.