5 Lessons from Running Too Far

100 miles is a long way to run. Too far, really. Traversing that amount of flat ground sounds ridiculous. Doing it in the Rocky Mountains is more like a cruel joke.

And so, it was with great alarm that I found myself this past August 20 at the starting line of the Leadville 100 Trail Race, a 100 mile ultramarathon. The race starts at 10,200 feet above sea level in the small mining town of Leadville, Colorado and mostly goes up from there.

I wasn’t really alarmed, I guess. More in disbelief that the moment was finally there and I had to execute. I had signed up for the event eight months earlier and trained for over a year to get ready. I had even run some “shorter” races at the 50k and 50 mile distance and managed to come out in one piece.

This didn’t give me confidence I would finish, however. It’s more that it convinced me that I’d be able to push long enough for things to get truly miserable before my body gave out and I died of hypothermia on the side of the trail. Standing there at 4am on that August morning, I was preparing for the worst. What transpired instead was one of the best days, and most rewarding experiences, of my life.

Only about 50% of the runners that start Leadville each year end up finishing under the 30 hour cutoff, so I was elated as I ran back into town just over 27 hours after the start gun went off and was handed one of the iconic Leadville buckles. I hadn’t set any course records or caused any of the pros to look nervously over their shoulders but, as my GPS watch casually informed me at the end of the race, “This was your longest recorded run.” It felt like a pretty big accomplishment.

Like having a kid or getting a face tattoo, everyone tells you that finishing your first 100 miler “is going to change your life.” I’m not sure I’ve fully seen that yet but I think I learned a few things during that long day (and night) in the mountains that I’ll carry with me the next time I face a big test; whether that’s on the road or in the office. With the benefit of a few weeks of hindsight, five lessons stick out:

1)???Impossible is an overused term. When people say that things are impossible what they often really mean is that they are unwilling to make a plan and put in the work. Three years ago running 100 miles sounded impossible. Then bit by bit I chipped away at all the distances in between, studied how other people prepare for the distance, got a coach, and executed the plan we came up with together. I’m not going to be so quick to rule things out in the future because they seem too hard at first.

2)???Doing hard stuff can be its own reward. Running 100 miles doesn’t really make sense if your goal is getting fit or dropping some extra pounds. It is, on balance, a really dumb way to accomplish any goal other than running 100 miles. It only makes sense if you want a way to dig really deep and test your limits. More generally, when you view big challenges as catalysts for growth and change rather than as sources of pointless misery and suffering it makes hard work self-justifying. Fun even. And that’s a pretty sustainable fuel source.

3)???You can pass a lot of people if you don’t stop moving. I’m not a great or even a good runner but I was able to move up the field at Leadville on every uphill (of which there were plenty)…especially the (in)famous climb out and back over 12,500 ft Hope Pass. My strategy was pretty simple. I refused to let my feet stop moving; through nausea and vertigo, when I kicked rocks or got stung by hornets, I just kept moving. At times my steps were so short and choppy that it felt like I was marching in place but I didn’t stop moving. The times when I passed the most people is when I was moving the slowest…because they weren’t moving at all.

4)???Run the mile that you are in. Everyone will tell you this before the race; don’t think about running 100 miles or it’ll seem too daunting. Focus on running to the next aid station or even the next tree or bend in the trail. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to follow this advice but, by and large, I did and it made a huge difference. I never let my mind fixate on the totality of what I was doing…I always kept my focus on the next objective and executing on what was immediately in front of me. I knew if I kept at it the big picture would take care of itself.

5)???Teammates make it all worthwhile. I was supported throughout the race by a crew consisting of my dad, brother, some great friends, and my wife and kids. They made sure I stayed fed, hydrated, and (mostly) blister free. I also got to run with a pacer for the last 40 miles who made sure I stayed safe and on-course as my mental and physical faculties degraded. By the day after the race I already struggled to remember much about the dozens of miles where I ran alone. What I remember vividly (and will for the rest of my life) are the aid station visits where I got to hug my family, the idle midnight banter on the trail with my pacers, and the feeling of crossing the finish line as a group on Sunday morning. Even if I could have pulled this crazy thing off without lots of help I would have been denying myself the greatest joy of the race.

I learned a dozen other small lessons along the path to finishing Leadville but these ones stick out the most because they transcend running.

When I think, for example, about the huge ambitions we have for the next phase of growth and transformation at #LMI , these lessons feel relevant. Our goals are aggressive and uniquely ambitious in our market but they’re not impossible. The challenge is what excites me the most. If we keep pressing forward every day and focus on doing the hard work immediately in front of us we’re going to achieve our objectives and, more importantly, we’re going to have the satisfaction of doing it together.?