Getting Back in the Game

I had to sit out from ultramarathons for the past year due to an infection that led to multiple surgeries. It’s hard to remember those first few months of coming back from Badwater 135 in July 2021 and knowing something was wrong, but not quite being able to pinpoint it. After multiple doctor visits, though, via a CT scan, we found the culprit – an acute bacterial infection that impacted my jaw and gums – and took a toll on my overall health. I was hopeful at first, thinking I’d get past it and get back to running in no time. But there were complications, and one surgery led to the next surgery, all requiring weeks off from activity, with the cycle repeating throughout the remainder of 2021. Consequently, I had to avoid long plane flights and altitude due to the surgeries, which culminated in my canceling one race after another. Moab 240 miler was the first major let down, then Javelina Jundred 100 miler was out, eventually Ancient Oaks 100 miler was out, and then there was Long Haul 100 in January 2022, which I showed up for knowing I would likely cut it short at 100K, which I did. I was in earnest, but there’s a reality to ultrarunning: while you may get lucky and pull off a race or two without training, for me to have the confidence and ability I need to succeed, I need to be out there training.

?During my off year, I had time to process and assess the allure of ultramarathons in my life. There were weeks and months that I was sure I was done, and okay with that. I had work and a myriad of other activities to keep me busy. Beyond that, I’ve had a great stretch since 2011, running over a hundred races across the US and beyond, taking in breathtaking landscapes across deserts, forests, trails, and long and winding roads. I’ve met the most amazing people who have inspired me spiritually, athletically, and as a professional, too. Up until the pandemic, my dad took part in the festivities, so that while I was out there battling the miles, he was hanging out at aid stations and making new friends, embarking on a new and exciting chapter in his own life, in which he was initiated into the ultrarunning family, who embraced him whole heartedly, and made his newly found widowhood manageable, and over time, fun.

This is what I knew: ultras had helped me to re-access daily struggles and tedium, and separate real problems from self-imposed hurdles. They had taught me about the depths of my mind, body, and soul, and about the reserves that dwelled with me if I was brave enough to go the distance. When my mom passed away from cancer in 2011 and I didn’t know how I was going to go on, ultras were my lifeline. The hardship of pushing through an ultramarathon, the mass of meltdowns and resurrections, all taught me that I was going to be okay, no matter what life tossed my way. Perhaps the greatest gift of ultrarunning is that I learned I can struggle and fall apart, and still love life and the people around me; ultras taught me that feelings, no matter how bleak, are never final, and that it's always an option and a possibility that I can persevere and find joy and laughter in the midst. In the words of Dr. David Horton, I learned that “it doesn’t always get worse.” Beyond that, ultrarunning taught me how vast the world was, and reminded me about the endless possibilities around me if I was courageous enough to let the journey unfold.

Returning

In July 2022, when I ventured out to Badwater 135 to cover the race for Ultrarunning Magazine and witnessed the abundance of greatness in motion, something in me shifted. While it was fulfilling to hang out on the sidelines and watch the race unfold, I missed the energy, drive, and trepidation of taking part in the race. After all these years, there’s something about immersing myself in the struggle that speaks to me. Like everyone else, I like to have fun, laugh, but I like what I learn about myself amid the struggles. Races make me mindful, compassionate, aware, and quiet, and help me to evolve into a better version of myself.

During my week in Death Valley, I gut checked two of my guiding principles:

• Most people quit things too soon.
• Don’t give up before the miracle happens.

I wasn’t done with running ultras.

Days later, when I returned home, I set an intention to run ultrarunning legend Marshall Ulrich’s inaugural Route 66 Ultrarun in November, which he and his wife Heather had invited me to run just weeks back. The race consisted of 140 miles across Route 66, culminating in Seligman, AZ, and finishing near the California state line in Topock, AZ. But a comeback required that I needed to start training again, and with work and life and health setbacks, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me. By the first week in August, without too much overthinking, I was ready to commit, or in the words of David Goggins, recertify. Once I reached out to my coach, Lisa Smith Batchen, I didn’t look back. Within days, I was back in motion, with a plan that included daily running, yoga, and high intensity impact training. The thing about training, though, is that it’s hard to come back from a year off! Beyond committing and trusting in the process, you have to really want it and move through the vulnerability of starting over and putting yourself out there.

Over the weeks and months, I progressed from 50-mile weeks to 80 and 90 miles + weeks, with my training split between DC and FL. I spent many weekends doing 20-40 miles of bridge repeats – a Florida training tactic due to lack of hills – and often running from Fort Lauderdale to Boca Raton and back. One of the highlights of training was taking in breathtaking ocean views, and running through an array of beach towns and neighborhoods. At first, it wasn’t pretty. The intense heat and humidity throughout August and September often made for brutal running conditions, and endless stops to buy cold drinks and ice, but over the weeks, I fell back in love with the training, and the hours of taking in the world, while listening to books and sometimes music, and thinking and sometimes not thinking. There’s a magic that happens when you lose yourself and become the motion. By October, I had a green light from the surgeon, and I was fully back in flow – the miles were fun, and regardless of a persistent respiratory infection, I still couldn’t wait to get out there to run each morning.

It's worth noting that training for ultras is not glamorous. It unleashes mental and emotional drama: I can do it, I can’t do it, and everything in between. And yet, you grow from the training, and remember that there is no such thing as showing up and doing well without weeks and months of sacrifice, pushing, and hard work. There is a magic that comes from dedication, focus, and just doing it. Clocking big miles is a humbling endeavor, as every day your output is different; it’s a great mirror to see who you are and where you are on a daily and weekly basis. Our bodies have a compass of their own, which often defies rhyme or reason. I’m always amazed on the days I am sure I don’t have it in me, and I end up having a transformative run. It's said that training is 90% physical and 10% mental, and that racing is 90% mental and 10% physical. In ultras, I like to get to the point where I can lose the excuses and push through daily – a perfect blend of physical and mental push.

On November 11th at 7 am, my intention is to be at the start line of Route 66 Ultrarun , on Historic Route 66, in an attempt to recertify! In the words of Marshall Ulrich, I’m expecting a “battle and a journey” and will aim to give it my all.