Your "truth" will set you free
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| Nicola Elliott-Savage @ Rio del Lago 100 Endurance Race |
The runner was well trained for this race, had assembled a capable support crew (team), and was an experienced ultra-runner. She also had an aggressive time goal of running a sub-24 hour trail 100 mile race. She had a plan to run "easy" up until mile 75, then move quickly in runnable sections to finish with a sub-24 hour race. As the race started, she was excited, injury free and fit. She ran through the first section perfect according to her plan - 3 hours and 15 minutes. She achieved the second aid station at mile 23.5 within a couple minutes of her plan. The third aid station was right on plan and aid station 4 at mile 44.5 was right on plan as well - a smidge over 9 hours. The next section was a 30 mile loop with a lot of technical running, and the sun would set before she would finish this section. She had allotted herself 8 hours to cover the 30 miles, and she was executing according to plan. After about 6 hours of running this loop, the crew received a text that our runner was "bonking". Bonking means that a runner was going into a caloric deficit, where all of the simple sugar energy stores had been depleted, and the runner's body was being asked to fuel on fat and muscle. To better illustrate what was going on in the runner's body during the "bonk", think of a car that runs out of gasoline, then you make the car run on crude oil.
The runner had been having a fantastic run, perfect according to plan, with one exception - running out of gas was not in the plan.
Her easy jog turned into a slow shuffle, and then to a power hike. She was out on this section longer than anticipated in the night, and was not moving at a sufficient speed to stay warm; hence, she began to experience the beginning symptoms of hypothermia. Her mood went from optimistic energy to sleepy questioning; and, pain settled in to join the adventure. This highly trained athlete, with a perfect plan for success just had the "bonk of all bonks" join her race, and it was dismantling her, quickly. She was able to finish eventually, but that is not where the richness of her race lies.
What enabled this person to be surprised by unexpected adversity, put down for the count, and was still finish the 100 mile race?
After the end of the 30 mile loop, her aggregate mileage was 74.5 and she had less than a marathon to go. With her "bonk" in full force, she said she had to "lay down." We threw a blanket on her and tried to keep her warm. a 5 minute rest quickly turned into 10 minutes, and she didn't want to get up. One of her pacers demanded that she get up, as leaving a hurting runner lying on the ground will only make it easier for the runner to give up and quit. The runner stood up, with help. We started trying to get the runner to consume calories in the form of soda and warm broth - both are common and time-tested ways keep runners moving through the night in 100 mile races. We put a hat, gloves, wind-proof jacket and a down jacket on the runner - in an attempt to stave off hypothermia. After a 30 minute pit stop, the runner was up and walking forward again. She was having thoughts about pulling out of the race, but the suffering had not been sufficient to cause her to voice those thoughts. With a new pace runner to cover the next 9 miles, the runner set off into the dark of the night, limping and making forward progress.
Our crew team drove ahead to the next aid station, and set-up to receive our runner. We expected to see our runner in a little over 2 hours. We did not know what was unfolding on the trail as we waited. impatiently.
At mile 75.5, 1 mile out of the aid station, the runner began to look over her shoulder. The pacer and the runner were descending a steep 3.5 mile section into a dark canyon. The runner continued to look over her shoulder, then she spoke.
"I'm going back."
"What?" the pacer responded.
"I'm going back to the aid station" the runner retorted. The translation of this statement was "I'm quitting." The runner was at the point of hopelessness, despite having covered 75+ miles and still having 11 hours to cover the remaining miles. She was cold, out of energy and in pain. The pacer made the runner keep moving forward. At the bottom of the 3.5 mile descent there was another aid station. The runner ate a little, then insisted she was going to sit. Then the runner demanded that she was going to sleep for 20 minutes, which turned into 40 minutes - at one point the runner said she was going to sleep for 3 hours. The pacer did her job, woke the runner after 40 minutes and made the runner keep moving forward. They were engaged in a slow walk/jog at this point. The terrain was single-track trail with prickly blackberry bushes and pokey star thistle fields. At points there was a sheer drop-off of about 40 feet, just to the side of the 12 inch single-track trail. The runner was falling asleep on her feet. She would close her eyes from time to time, then stumble. The pacer's concern was rising to the level of fear that the runner would slip and be seriously injured from a fall. The pacer's anxiety and fear fell upon deaf ears. The athlete just wanted the journey to be over. She had committed to the next aid station as there was no "bail out" at this point of the race.
After 2 hours, the support crew received a text from the pacer that they still had over 5 miles to go in this 9 mile section. We knew something was seriously wrong. We expected the runner to cover 9 miles in a little over 2 hours. This 9 mile section was turning into a 4+ hour battle with the human soul. Hopelessness began to rise in the runner, and concern was growing in the crew. At 3 am the runner was almost at the aid station where we were waiting. After the race, the runner recounted her feelings at that point and said, "I felt better because I knew the end was in sight. I was going to quit at the next aid station." As she described the irony of the situation, she reported "I suddenly felt better. I was awake and not falling asleep on my feet. My mood changed, and I felt 'happy'."
The crew was relieved to see our runner arrive at the aid station. We had plans for how to warm her up, get her calories, treat any injuries and work together to do whatever was needed to get our runner to the finish line. We were not prepared for one thing; however. We were not prepared for our runner to want to throw in the towel and quit. The runner had covered 83.5, and had been moving for 22+ hours. She had just over a half marathon to go.
As she sat in a chair, we covered her in a warm sleeping bag to heat her shivering body. Then, she spoke.
"This isn't fun."
"It's just a silly race. It doesn't define who I am. I'm giving them my bib."
Her desire to quit had grown from a pestering thought to an overwhelming urge; one that she was unable to control. We tried to reason with her. We reminded her of her pre-race statements about her intent to finish the race, even if she was not able to attain her aggressive 24 hour goal. She didn't care.
"Let's leave. It's time for this to stop. I'm asleep on my feet."
This was the second time the thought of quitting had overtaken her being.
Her oldest son had been crewing her all day and night. He was watching his mother suffer. He was listening to her want to quit. He said nothing, and agonized watching his mother beg for mercy. The runner was exhausted, still bonking and feeling hypothermic. We put the runner in the front seat of the crew vehicle, turned up the heat, forced her to drink warm broth and Pepsi. She belched and suffered. We leaned her back in the seat and told her to sleep. Her son had to get out of the car because the heat was just too much. Our runner was still shivering. As she dozed in and out of consciousness, she continued drinking Pepsi and broth.
The runner was experiencing an internal war. She wanted out. She wanted the pain, hurt and suffering to stop. She wanted to quit. But there was a part of her that hung on. When her crew suggested that she shouldn't quit, she chose to listen. When her internal will was broken, she leaned on the strength of her pacer to guide and care for her on the trail. There was something inside of her that was keeping her in the race. Then, it happened.
She heard her truth.
"You finish what you start."
These 5 words lifted this battered, beaten soul to her feet. She exited the car and began moving toward the course. She limped and stumbled, shuffled and walked for the next 5 hours - and she finished the 100 mile race in just under 29 hours (1 hour shy of the course cut-off).
Our "truth" is inside of us. Sometimes it is sabotaged by thoughts, pain, fear and hurt. Sometimes we don't remember it, or keep it top of mind. And sometimes, it takes another person to remind us of it, but in the end - your truth will set you free.
#ONWARD
Nicola Elliott-Savage is the owner and founder of Savage Endurance Coaching (www.savageendurancecoach.com), a northern California organization focused on supporting athletes of all running abilities. Nicola is a life long runner, and has raced all distance from the track to 100 miles. She is a decorated athlete and a proud mother of 3 children.
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