What I learned running 50 miles

It’s mile 25 and I’m on the last part of a 2,200 ft ascent. Lap 3 of 4. My legs are cramped, my digestion is a wreck and I’m wondering if I should just walk. I feel like I was one step away from collapsing on the dirt and passing out. 

6 months ago, I finished a half Ironman which requires more technical and complex preparation and training. From finding a pool in NYC to cycling technique, it turned out to be more barriers to entry than ideal. I wanted a more simple but equally hard challenge and was looking for another race to train for. After reading about running and talking to a variety of runners, I came to the understanding that there are two types of runners. Ultra running and the 5k - marathon running. 

I had read about people like David Goggins, running 135 miles in 100 degree F heat and also co-workers and friends doing 5k races. I wanted something in between. I had a feeling I could run a marathon but was nervous about committing to anything more than that. 

My ideal race was more than a marathon but less than a 100 miler, somewhere within driving distance of my home. It would be sometime in the fall where I’d have enough time and heat wouldn’t be an issue. I scoured the internet, finding a race in the Berkshire Mountains in September. I had never run more than 13 miles in one race.

It was the end of March and I only had 6 months to get ready. Like calling a timeout on a kicker  about to kick a game winning field goal, this felt like enough time to prepare but not too long where I would bail. I got a training plan and started preparing. I told myself,“it’s just running, I got this.” 

Like a typhoon, the questions and small details of it all flooded into my brain, drowning the little experience that I had. What type and brand of shoes is best? How do I practice hydration and nutrition? How do I even know if my form is correct? Thank God for Reddit (reference here and here) and obscure ultra running blogs because my ambition was met with the need to be organized and detail-oriented. 

It was frustrating and humbling having to learn what supplements my body could take, the limits I hit, and the emotions I felt. I had to train on crowded, dirty New York sidewalks and get up at a time when only the sanitation department and rats were up. 

After months of preparation, race day came. I got up at 4 am after barely sleeping, prepped my bag and drove to the state park where the race was. I set up my “aid station” (a beach towel with supplements, messy PB&J sandwiches and random supplement powders), turned on my headlamp and walked to the starting line. It was a completely different experience from the 70.3 ironman race. 

There were over 5,000 people setting up their bikes and the schedule of prep and start time was structured and detailed. For the Ultra, it felt like 15 of us walked out of the woods 5 minutes before the start, heard prep details from the race coordinator which consisted of, “trails look pretty good, aid stations are every 4 miles, good luck”, and there we were. 

At 5 am in the pitch, brisk dark of Pittsfield State Forest with 16 other people, it was time to see who I was. 

It’s a vulnerable feeling wearing nothing but shorts, a t-shirt and a hydration vest, knowing that’s not what’s going to get you to finish. I got that nervous feeling in my stomach. A fear of the unknown. I knew I was just running but also, it wasn’t just running. So many thoughts, feelings and questions flooded my mind. As I stood there waiting for the start, I reflected on what brought me here. After I finished I also had some time to think about what helped me cross that finish line. 

Here’s 7 lessons that I learned. 

We must take things in small segments. The only way to ever do anything is to just try. 

Every time I thought about running for 50 miles, I freaked out. Especially when I was halfway through lap 1 of 4 in the race. I had several moments where I wanted to walk and even quit. On the last lap, I told myself, “just try”. I’d find myself doing a running/walking combo, pushing my legs and mind to the limit. I was surprised at the progress I made and how good I felt. On each lap (12.5 miles), I’d tell myself, “you can run 12 miles.” You can, you can, you can.

 I broke down my fears into bite sized accomplishments. I wrote a narrative in my mind that I can do hard things. Just be present and do what’s in front of you well. Eventually, you’ll find yourself at the finish line. 

Know pain, know gain

There was a sign on the race course that said in horror film-like, red words, “comfort is a lie”.

 I pondered for a minute but eventually it hit me as such wisdom. Our minds are really good at telling us that what is comfortable is what is best. From an evolutionary perspective, it’s our body trying to protect us and give us the best chance at survival. Now that we’ve evolved though, we have to get back in the driver’s seat and create new thoughts with new emotions. 

Being stuck on that trail of 2,200 ft elevation for 12 hours and 45 minutes, having to empty my bowels multiple times by a tree and eating chalky supplements for food as I ran did not feel good. The strange part is that, by the end of the race, it had become normal. I felt a new expansion of inner strength. A quiet peace that I could endure the things I was once so threatened by. 

Find and push against your boundaries, regularly as a practice and through a practice. 

When I first trained for my half Ironman, I mistakenly assumed that my chosen challenge was harder than the average person’s. A self- proclaimed hero, I had quickly forgotten that just months before, I couldn’t run 5 miles and didn’t know how to swim. In fact, I had 0 motivation for even exercising and was giving in to every comfort in my life. 

As I trained for this ultramarathon, I realized that endurance sports are my threshold. They’re the things I love to do and give my time towards that also push me to my limits. Not only does each person have their own way of reaching their thresholds but they also have the process of reaching them. Only you know your limits, your character and motivation show if you’re committing to reaching and expanding them.

Saying no now is saying yes later 

While I didn’t completely cut out alcohol and sugar, I certainly cut back. It was difficult passing on drinks with my wife and my favorite after-dinner treat, Ben and Jerry’s. I was not used to getting up before the sunrise. I certainly wasn’t jazzed about spending an average of 10 hours a week running at a snail’s pace before the work day started. 

Most decisions I made didn’t feel good. Come race day, I was glad I made them. But I had a vision. A vision to not have hydration and digestive issues that could keep me from finishing, a vision to feel good while I pushed myself to the limit. A vision to feel the cost of what I was really aiming for. A strong and proud finish that says, “I gave my all to this and while doing so, found my limits and potential.” This pattern of trusting the vision in whatever I do has become an essential facet of living for me. 

Stick to your plan, you'll get used to the feeling

In the notes of my longer training plan runs it said, “these are all about time on your feet, not speed.” My ego wanted to push myself further each time to set a personal best. On race day, I was happy I hadn’t gotten injured or tried to max out as pushing forward was what mattered most. In my twist on the Tortoise and the Hare, slow and steady finishes the race. My initial finish time was so far off anyways, I had to reset my expectations and also realize pace wasn’t the primary goal. The more I was simply running, the greater my tolerance was to run. This proved more important than bragging about my new fastest mile time. 

The temporary focus on goals leads to the permanent commitment to habits 

I can be an extreme person. I oscillate between apathy and being over zealous. Having something to work towards everyday changed me. It grounded me in changing my behavior and regulating my behavior. I went to bed earlier, I ate healthier, I drank less, I stretched more. I thought it was just for the race prep. 

Days after the race finished, I found myself craving and doing the same healthy habits I developed during my training time. I passed on ordering a drink, I wanted to get up early. My body and mind had recalibrated. I was surprised that what felt like moving mountains before came as easy as floating in a river, now. 

I am completely free to do what I want and yet, what seems so constrictive feels so freeing. 

I didn’t have enough strength and discipline to make all those changes on my own. Starting small and focusing on small goals led me to creating these habits. 

Everything is integrated. Mind, Body and Spirit 

As Richard Rohr says “How you do anything is how you do everything.” I didn't quite understand that until after this race. When I first had the thought of doing another endurance race, I knew it would challenge me, maintain my health and give me a sense of meaning. What I didn’t expect were the unforeseen traits that blossomed. 

I found myself being more patient and calm. I wasn’t getting as upset with my wife or being as selfish. I empathize more with people saying they wanted to change but didn’t know how. What I thought was training for a race was actually the development of becoming my true self and a man. 

As a therapist, I want to work in male development and this race showed me that men need physical challenges that lead us to inner growth. Growing up without a father nor feeling challenged, this race was a rite of passage for me. It showed me that nothing is isolated and that each word we say, each action we take, is making us someone. The question is, who do you want to be?