My Race Across the Sky and Why You Should Do Hard Sh*t Outside

I sat in the cheap motel armchair and sipped on black coffee, stifling a yawn, and hoping for a bowel movement to arrive soon. Around me, my room was a total mess; at least, it appeared that way. Laid out on my bed were a black tank top, blue running shorts, a variety of quick-digesting carbs (running gels, Stroop waffles, flavored powders, gummies), my race bib, racing socks, running hat, and running vest. In the corner were reusable grocery bags stuffed with bananas, peanut butter, rice cakes, electrolytes, and a change of clothes. It was shortly after 4:00 a.m. on June 18, 2022, and I was in Leadville, Colorado. I was there to run the Leadville Marathon.?

Leadville was a struggling town in the early 1980’s. With the closure of the Climax Mine, many residents were without work and the town was without a source of income. In 1983 the Leadville 100 was created by Ken Chlouber in hopes of reviving the town and boosting the economy. It turned into a big success and led to the spawning of several other races, thus creating the Leadville Race Series. I was there to “only” run the Leadville Marathon, a grueling 26.2-mile trail course that stayed above 10,000 feet the entire time and culminated in a climb up to Mosquito Pass, sitting at 13,184 feet in altitude. The total elevation gain for the race was just over 6,000 feet. And this was going to be my first ever marathon. Silly idea for a first marathon? Part of me agreed.?

Back in January of 2022, I decided I wanted to find a big race to train for and compete in at some point during the year. I had been in Colorado for two trail running seasons already and I was hooked. There was something about the infinite nature of it- despite your skill level, you always had room for improvement. The nontrivial task of running up and down trails at altitude made for a regular dose of humble pie that kept me grounded but also hungry for more. One could say I enjoyed it because it was so damn hard. And not to mention quite rewarding- the views at the top (and oftentimes on the way up) were enough for me to keep coming back for more.?

The Start

With the race set to start at 7:00 a.m., I got up early in hopes of getting some caffeine in, digesting a meal, clearing the bowels, and easing the pre-race jitters. At 6:30 I took a shuttle over to downtown Leadville where the start line was. Hundreds of people nervously tittered on the streets around the start line, swapping race stories, running in place, or jogging circles around the crowd to warm up. I talked to no one, focusing instead on managing my nerves and getting my own body ready for the hardest physical challenge I had attempted up to that point.?

Shifting my weight nervously from leg to leg, I hung out in the middle of the pack, not wanting to be upfront with the elites, but also not at the back with the slow-goers. By Colorado standards, I consider myself an average runner: nestled somewhere in the large, gray middle between the elite athletes on one end and the serial racewalkers on the other. The gun went off and we jogged our way eastward, out of the town and into nature. The gradual uphill gave way to steeper terrain about a mile or two in and I switched to power hiking for the first time.?

With a race of this length, fueling becomes a huge consideration: I would need to regularly ingest a certain amount of carbs and electrolytes every hour to avoid bonking (a term for the body completely running out of energy, unable to run or even move with any sort of urgency) as well as hyponatremia (low sodium levels in the blood that occurs from the combination of excess sweating and replacing it with water that is devoid of electrolytes). Hence, the running vest. I had 32 ounces of carb/electrolyte fluids on my person as well as carb snacks to keep me going. This, in conjunction with the seven aid stations laid out over the entire course, should keep from having any fuel-related performance issues.?

The first ten miles were relatively unremarkable. The undulating terrain took us through two small climbs and descents before the main course around the ten-mile mark: I had reached the bottom of the big climb up Mosquito Pass. I was staring down (or rather, up) the barrel of four miles packed with 2,300 feet of elevation gain. This was unequivocally the hardest part of the race, and it was ready for me after I had already put in ten miles in a near-alpine environment. I gritted my teeth and began power hiking.?

The Why

So why do something like this? Most people, when I tell them about my Leadville experience, just gawk and say they could never do something like that. I correct them and say: “The truth is you don’t want to do that; sure, you may not be able to do that right now, but that doesn’t mean you can never do that.” And this is true. One of the biggest factors that will determine whether someone will be successful in accomplishing a physical challenge is simply their willingness and desire to do it.?

Because we now live in a world where we have removed most of the effort required to do most basic things (I mean, we’ve been able to get our groceries without even leaving our own houses for years now), most people don’t understand why you should willingly put that effort back in to do something that is also viewed as non-essential. My example here, after all, is training for and racing in a trail race; that is likely not advancing my status in society nor is it helping me acquire more resources...so, what’s the point again?

?There are many reasons why going after a demanding, even intimidating, physical experience is good for us. Let’s start with evolution. We evolved in a world of scarce resources; we had to gather all of the food we ate, search for the best locations to sleep, and fight off other threats to our resources: we were faced with tough, physical challenges regularly. Because our bodies were hardwired in those resource-scarce times, we are still within that mindset- after all, we can’t erase or rewrite millions of years of evolution in just a few thousand years. The modern world is a stark 180-degree difference from those times: resources are abundant, convenience is maximal, and we no longer need to work to survive the way our ancestors did.?

The Evidence

While on one hand, this is awesome- a fantastic achievement of humankind- it also has led to significant increases in comfort creep, hedonic tendencies, and a progressive loss of appreciation for all that we have in our lives. To counteract these consequences, injecting a little bit of hard work, over longer time horizons, is a great option. Research tells us that humans feel more gratitude during and after tough times when the status quo is challenged or in jeopardy. Research also tells us how our confidence and feelings of self-efficacy improve after overcoming difficult physical challenges; the list of benefits is numerous.

The evidence is apparent in other circles as well. The effects of outdoor exercise on mental health as well as other health parameters have been studied in depth over the last few decades, and the results keep pointing to the same conclusion. It’s good for us to get outside, be outside, and exert ourselves outside. On a regular basis. The sterile, artificial ecosystem that we now spend a vast majority of our time in is a very new development, and we have yet to fully understand the consequences that come with this. If you are looking for ways to improve your life, and currently have a lack of outdoor time, then humor yourself and give this a shot.?

Enter trail running. Enter any sort of outdoor physical activity that you enjoy, or could potentially enjoy doing- even weekly sports leagues are a fantastic option. When I signed up for the Leadville Marathon 5 months before the starting gun went off, I signed up for a process. A long-term process that requires patience, commitment, and most crucially, an unwillingness to be persuaded by short-term temptations. If you are a little bit intimidated, perhaps even a little bit unsure of what the end result will be, you’re doing it right.

For me to be ready for a race of this magnitude, I had to be patient; spending many hours logging easy miles, each day a small brick in the wall. I had to be committed to the process- getting up and running day after day- even when my day-to-day motivation waned. I had to be immune to temptation- to anything that prevented me from doing what the plan called for that day- to lay brick after brick in the wall, gradually improving (I’m not a robot, by the way- I missed some days here and there and had to rearrange things when life got in the way).?

All of these qualities, you may notice, are somewhat antithetical to the modern world: a chaotic, information-rich environment that begs for your attention, prays on your waning defenses and easily throws you off any consistent process that serves some greater purpose. If you decide to sign up for something like this, you sign up for the very process that can serve to inoculate you against these modern temptations.?

The Push

I was breathing hard. The effects of altitude were getting to me. The faster runners were already making their way down the pass as I continued to huff and puff up the rocky terrain. This was the moment in the race where I started doubting my decisions- why was I doing this again? Am I sure this is worth it? I didn’t know if I ever wanted to do something like this again. My legs and lungs burned, and my body was telling me to slow down. But I was refusing to do so. I was in a race, after all; I’m a competitive son of a bitch and I was here to give it everything I had.?

Once I reached Mosquito Pass, the jump for joy I expected to have did not materialize. It was cold and windy and my sweat-covered tank top did nothing to quell the harsher conditions. I stuffed my face with some pretzels, high-fived a volunteer in an oversized down jacket, and immediately started jogging back down the way I came. Hop-scotching my way downhill and dodging oversized and loose rocks, I reached the bottom with relief but then remembered all I had left in front of me. Shit. I may be done with the big climb, but I wasn’t done climbing. I was 18 miles into the race and my body was starting to feel it.?

The Recipe

I’m lucky to be living in a state like Colorado, where all manner of difficult terrain is available to me. Hell, I’ve been living just miles outside of some of the most austere terrain that the continental US has to offer, which means it’s pretty easy for me to find a challenging physical feat to attempt. If you don’t have mountains where you live, don’t worry. We can still find something hard for you to do, it just requires a little more creativity.?

You absolutely do not have to sign up for a race- this can be an unofficial, solo quest. In truth, it doesn’t matter what you choose, as long as it includes these key elements: it’s outside (ideally in nature), the goal you set for the activity is challenging and not something you can do “off the couch” (aka it requires some preparation), and it’s some sort of physical activity that you enjoy or you are willing to do. Once you check those boxes, it’s off to the races. Time to prepare. Time to commit. Time to undergo a process that demands your time, patience, and commitment. Endure the process, and then wait and see how it changes you.

The Finish

Mile 21. My body was already screaming to stop, and yet I continued to trudge onwards, taking all discomforts in full stride as the pain cave enveloped me. I was on the last big climb of the race- about 800 feet over 1 mile- and my stomach had been protesting my fuel for the last few miles. I was tired of the sickly sweet carbohydrate water I was drinking and switched to regular water with salt tabs to see if that was better. Nausea was hitting me in slow waves and each labored step I took felt more and more like I was wading through Jell-O.?

Even though the last climb was short, and lasted less than a mile, my body had been slowly bonking for the last few miles and my pace had been reduced to a labored hike. Once I finished the last climb, I willed my legs to start jogging again; the end was near! Just over two miles of running downhill and then I was done. Those turned out to be the longest and most painful two miles in the whole race.

With other struggling athletes around me, I was reminded that I was not alone in this endeavor. We all had embarked on this journey with a common goal, and now we were almost finished. My body was hurting so much that I was almost numb to it by that point.?

I finally hit the pavement again with about half a mile to go. With the finish line in sight, I laboriously picked up the pace to finish strong. I slow-jogged across the line at 6 hours and 5 minutes, finally succumbing to the aches and pains and all the other signals that my body had thrown my way the last several miles.?

I was tired, beat up, my stomach on the verge of emptying its contents, and feeling every bit as if I had just run a marathon above 10,000 feet in mountainous terrain. I looked up to the sky and smiled.?

The End

My story is just one of many. As I’ve said before, there are many different avenues you can pursue that will give you similar benefits. A lot of people aren’t a fan of running, and I get that. But most people are a fan of some sort of physical activity. Even if it’s not considered a traditional option, as long as it has the key elements of being outside, being physical, and being a consistent part of your routine, you will reap a myriad of mental and physical benefits over time.?

But I encourage you all to challenge yourselves: don’t just do the same thing over and over without progressing yourself or without a larger goal in mind. Find a goal that allows you to submit to a longer-term process that requires patience, careful iterating, and thoughtful progressions.?

It is this very act- combining consistent, outdoor exercise plus a long-term plan of progression and preparation that will not only change you but perhaps help you be just a bit more resilient to the attention-grabbing, short-term influences that are rife in the modern world.?