Ultra-Bonded

Ultra-bonded: A friendship developed as a result of experiences shared amongst two or more people during an ultra-marathon event.

 

The past couple of weekends I have run 2 ultra races with some pretty cool people. Every time I go to one of these events, I leave having new friends. I continue to meet the most interesting, diverse, and  inspiring people.

I guess it might sound silly to say I leave with "friends" after only meeting her/him only once or twice. Like it makes us blood sistas or bruthas just because we "ran" together. Pshhhh... I mean really... how much could we know about each other?

Apparently we learn a lot! ...
"Running makes me constipated." "Really? I have to take Immodium."
"How many toe nails have you lost?" "I'm down to 4 toenails."
"I get chaffing under my bra." "I get chaffing in between my legs."
"Sorry if you are running behind me, I'm farting a lot today."
"You go ahead, I have to poop." .....

You know... we are out there being all cool and everything.

Then there are other conversations that go a little like this...
"I don't think I can keep going." "Yes you can, keep it up!"
"You go on without me." "We'll walk a minute, then jog further ahead together."
"You can do this, you're a strong person and a strong runner." ...


We are running for HOURS together. We share personal details of our lives and families. We support each other to reach a common goal and know how crossing the finish line makes us better people.  We undergo similar pains, weakness, and lows along with joy, laughter, and adventure. We share an indescribable camaraderie by taking a journey together that bonds us. We become Ultra-bonded.

Strolling Jim 2013: The Red Shirt, Legends, Poncho, and a Dog

I signed up for the Strolling Jim 40 (41 actually) Mile Run a couple of weeks before the race with wanting to experience a long road race. Several ultra-runners I know love this race and is the only road ultra they will run. This must be one heck of race if they love it and I was looking forward to experiencing it for myself. Oh yeah... it's got just a few hills.

The Red Shirt
Week of the race, I was told runners could earn a gold shirt with a sub-5hr, a blue shirt with a sub-6hr, and a red shirt with a sub-7hr finish. Well... I'm not an elite runner, but surely I could earn that red shirt. 

I've been training a lot this year, I'm a decent runner, all I have to do is maintain a 10:00 mile pace and the red shirt is mine. Seriously, how hard could this be?

My plan to just go enjoy the race, run for the love of running, singing amongst the cows and horses, and taking in the gorgeous scenery had now turned into "I want a red shirt!!!!!".

Race day morning... 100% rain and temps in the 40's. Yea! 41 cold, wet miles! If I already hadn't made the trip, there would be no way I would run that day. One thing I can't stand... running in cold rain! As my race room-ie Candy said that morning, "It'll make for a great story." OK, whatever... I sucked it up and headed to the start line. I stood at the start, already soaked, not knowing what to expect, but surely with the low temps I'll run OK and get that red shirt.

Legends
Started the run and found myself running with ultra running legends Ray K and John P. Ray singing, talking about being born in 1911, and letting me take some "respectful" cracks at his expense. I loved how it lightened the mood, made me laugh, and started the race relaxed. Ray took off down hill and left John and myself to talk over the next 8 miles. I had just met John and picked his brain about running and his experiences. I was running with a trans-con, Britain crossing, AT trekker, ultra-triathlon man. The stories were amazing and his conversation with me brought joy to my run. Somehow we became separated, probably at a water stop, so I got back to business of earning that red shirt.

Poncho
The rain continued, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, actually part of me didn't mind it. I'm pretty sure it rained 99.9% of the race. The previous year's race brought people to their knees with the heat, so I felt lucky to not be subjected to endure the sweltering heat, humidity, and aroma of steaming manure. The views were absolutely gorgeous! "Rolling" hills, pastures, cows, horses, farms, flowers, vibrant green trees, and buttercup fields. Definitely one of the most beautiful courses I have ever seen.

Mile 17 and those darn hips of mine started to tighten up, so I slowed down and tried to stretch my legs out. Now I'm walking and running slowly, trying to get through this dreaded low point of my run. I'm completely drenched and by mile 18 I am starting to shiver. 

Here comes my stupid, mental, badgering self: What the heck am I doing out here? I'm freezing, stiff, this damn run feels awful. No, no, no... Suck it up Buttercup!... Rachel, you really suck. This ultra stuff isn't for you. Who do you think you are? Really, you thought you could earn a red shirt? You really suck! You can't get a red shirt and it's not even hot! I hate you SJim! No, no, no again... you're not a quitter! Make it to the next aide. (Sadly, that wasn't even half of the crap that was running through my mind!) 

Mile 20 and my shivering turned into white, numb fingers, blue lips, uncontrollable teeth chattering, and I thought for sure hypothermia was on her way. I was 1 mile from calling it a day and writing off this ultra business. Then the poncho showed up....

Mr. Bill K, another legend, came up and checked on me. He just happened to have another poncho in his back pocket. Really? Who the heck pulls a poncho out of their back pocket?!!! He helps me put it on and stays with me to make sure I'm OK.

 "Thanks, I will be fine now. You go on." I told him.  

Now let me get on with my business of quitting.

 He would run a little in front of me then walk until I caught up.  

Aggggg!!!  Can't he keep going so I can quit!

 "Have you been taking in your nutrition?" he asked. "Yes" I replied.  

Oh crap! I haven't eaten anything.

I stopped to get my PB&J and was now wobbly. I walked and ate while Bill dragged me along.  

Oh I definitely have to DNF now, I'm cold AND wobbly. No, no, no... Just make it to the next aide. You can't quit on Bill. He just adjusted his race for you. Suck it up Buttercup!

My core body temp was now up, I was actually warm, and the food got my energy level back. 

Wow, I'm actually OK.

I made it to the 26.2 mile marker with Bill, feeling good, actually running again (at a darn good pace), and enjoying my conversation with Bill.

Red shirt or not... I'm finishing this thing.... I am NOT a quitter.... I will WIN this battle!

The Dog

I usually don't run with other people for long periods of time during a race, but I stuck with Bill. He not only helped me, but he turned this dreaded, wet run into an awesome adventure. He's an old-school ultra man and shared his stories and ultra running advice. The kind of stuff you can't find in a book.

Mile 29 and we entered "The Walls", a beautiful single lane road covered with a canopy of trees. There we were joined by another runner, a sweet good ol' country dog. We ran, she ran, We walked, she walked. We stopped for water, she drank water.  There were even times when she ran slightly ahead and would turn around to give us a look of "hurry up". She just kept truckin' on with us, keeping us company and keeping my mind off of running. This dog was awesome! Her peppy face and wagging tail added another happy piece to my story on what almost became my Running Doom's Day.

I crossed the finish line, Bill crossed the finish line, and the dog made it 12 miles to finish too.

I hugged Bill with tears in my eyes to say, "Thank you. Thank you for not just helping me finish, but for not allowing me to be a quitter."

Ultra-running is humbling. It will shred you physically and terrorize you mentally, chew you up and spit you out, handing out a reminder slip that you are a mere mortal... but... Crossing the finish line of an ultra gives you the opportunity to slap that physical and mental battle back in the face, to put your foot on the chest of an enormous beast, and walk away with honor. That's what Strolling Jim 2013 handed me.

As for the dog and red shirt.... I drove the good ol' sweet girl back to her starting line to make her way back home. Didn't get that coveted red shirt, but you know I'll be back to try again!