Sybil Ludington 50K + Bronx Duathlon

Last weekend was sort of a 'double header.'

I ran the lovely- and also hot and hilly!- Sybil Ludington 50K Saturday, then jumped up Sunday morning at 3:30AM in order to grab my bike and catch the subway up to Orchard Beach in the Bronx to do the Bronx Duathlon. I milk these weekends off of school for all they're worth... : )

Thoughts on Sybil:

Hot! I have been complaining about the tenacity of winter, as it has stubbornly lingered around well past its designated cutoff, but Saturday, I was put in my place. The course was entirely on roads- the route Sybil Ludington, 16 year old girl Revolutionary War Hero, rode to rally troops to resist a British ambush- and also amazingly hilly and shadeless. It was hot enough, in fact, that one girl passed out from dehydration/heat stroke and ended up requiring IV fluids...she ended up much more healthy by the end of the day, with a little fluid in her, but her trip to the hospital speaks volumes about what kind of day it was out there.

That said: it was a well run, great race! I had the pleasure of riding up with Nelson and Gisele, two friends of a friend who happened to be heading up from Brooklyn as well, and meeting the two of them was a highlight. Wonderful people to share a wonderful Saturday with! The race was, at certain points, kind of brutal feeling, and my favorite quote of the day was Nelson's on the way home:

"You know, when it was so hot and I was climbing up the millionth hill, these two cars passed in the opposite direction...In the first, there was this rather overweight man, and his pretty overweight son; and in the second, this fat woman..."

(At this point in the story, I am somewhat apprehensively anticipating where Nelson is going with this...)

Then he continues: "And I looked at them, and I just thought, 'Wow. What am I doing with my life?!?! I should be eating ice cream...yes, eating ice cream and getting fat...' " I told Nelson I thought he should eat some ice cream, although he's going to have to make some life changes if he's really going to try to get fat.

Anyway. There is something sort of peculiar about doing a 50K on roads, particularly roads which are not closed, and thus, continue to bear the rest of the world's denizens in their comfy climate controlled cars, on their way from here to there, exerting no more effort to cover 31 miles than a little pressure with the right foot, and perhaps a little steering of the wheel now and then...

In a trail run, or even a road run on closed roads, it is easy to sort of lose yourself in your own purpose, to feel that this next 31 miles of trail/road really...matters. When carfuls of families on their way to do Saturday errands are zipping past, it keeps things in perspective a bit more.

Logistical things:

I only had to stop to use the bathroom once, at about Mile 14! And it was a porta-potty, and there was toilet paper (although, of course I had my own tissues in the pocket of my handbottle in case.) That was exciting for me, usually most of what I drink goes right through me. I have some weird, non sweating, fluid metabolism things going on. So maybe it was the heat, but whatever it was...it was wonderful, in it's own, strange and personal little way. (I don't know why I always feel compelled to report on the restroom breaks during my races. It's a weird quirk I have. I wish I could give you some good, necessary justification for it, but really...I don't know. Just is what it is, and I guess it's a habit now. Maybe next time I'll leave it out, just to keep everybody on their toes. You know, wondering and all. Maybe.)

Miles 9ish to 12ish were on Dixon Road! YAY! (That is my last name.) That was one of those little mental boosts.

I ran with Rob from upstate, who completely rocked his first ultra, from about Mile 14 to 20. Great company. He got to see me trip over some air and meet the road very close and personally, and also do my jaunty little sideways step up some hills when my quads just didn't feel like taking them head on. I felt cool... no, actually I felt like me, which I have, of late, decided is just not that 'cool' and which, quite frankly, I like anyway!

At about Mile 19, when the heat was really starting to set in, there was a guy- Tony, I found out when I met him after the race- wearing a Badwater Tshirt. I didn't say anything to him at the time- I think I was a little in my own head already- but my mind completely locked in on that shirt. And it didn't feel so hot anymore... I spent a good mile or so thinking about how, compared to Badwater, Mother Nature was practically air conditioning this course...I love the little tricks our minds find to keep us chugging along. : )

Some mistakes:

My beloved, newish Mizuno Inspire shoes are too small. This is slightly shameful, given that I work at a running shoe store, where I go through a reasonably intensive process to make sure people get in the best possible shoes for themselves... Anyway. Turns out, even if you are an every other brand perfect size 9, and have been for years and years, just try your shoes on, and CHECK for a thumbnail or so in the toe before you buy them and start running an ultra in them. Duh. It was pointed out to me that they were too small a week or two ago, after I had already run enough in them to make them unexchangable, but not enough to really feel it, at which point I insisted, optimistically, they'd do just fine. Flash forward to Miles 20 thru 31 of Sybil...not so much. So many downhills, so much jamming toes against the end of a shoe, ow, ow, ow. Anyway, lesson learned.

Second kind of dumb mistake: I dropped two packs of Luna Moons and some Nuun tablets, which meant all I had to eat was a flask of EFS gel. 400 calories worth of gel, mind you, but I started sipping on it at Mile 10 or so, and at Mile 22, it was gone. As I cruised into the mile 21.8 aid station and realized I'd just taken my last 'sip,' I was a little concerned, but somehow, I convinced myself 9 more miles would just fly by...I'd be fine... that said, there was also some food at the aid stations, but none of it really looked palatable to me- oreos, pretzels, some other cookies...it was just too hot. I did grab a few dried apricots at 21.8, but I didn't want to eat too many (fiber, fiber, fiber- wonderful in everyday life, not so good as quick fuel...) and by about Mile 23, I was hungry again. There was a water/gatorade only aid station I skipped over right there at Mile 23, and by about Mile 23.2, I realized I had done something stupid. Now I was not only craving some calories, I had nothing to drink. And here I was on the longest stretch between aid stations, after having already run 20+ miles...oops. The first time during a race when I've ever really been unprepared fuel-wise. I hit Mile 29, and told the one lone guy manning the table there, "Thank god you're here! I f***ed up..." That was about all I had the energy to say, while I downed three cups of gatorade- which I can't usually stomach, ick, sick, syrupy filled tummy!- mostly for the calories, because the thought of cookies or pretzels was just not. Gatorade usually sort of makes me queasy, but I have to say, I was hungry/thirsty enough at that point that it wasn't so bad...

Anyway. More importantly, I felt good to go, ready to attack those last 2 miles, and bring her home. Done. Second woman overall, AGAIN. I've got a thing going on with that. Whatever. 5th person overall. 1st me overall, and you kind of do these things for that reason anyway, yes? : )

And, before moving on to the duathlon, I feel I must do Tony Galfano, Sybil race director, justice and mention the incredibly delicious broccoli rabe and eggplant sandwich he had waiting for us post race. Mmmm...

Then Sunday. I got a bike a month or so ago, and in the spirit of getting out there and riding it, found this little event a few weeks ago. The website said there was morning-of registration, so I figured I'd see how I felt Saturday before committing. Ha. That was a lie. Without admitting it out loud, I'd already decided I was gonna do it. Saturday would have had to go really, really badly in order to mess it up...

Thankfully, it didn't!

So Saturday night, I put some speed laces in my Kayanos, laid out my newish Zoot shorts, and the same shirt I'd worn at Sybil (what, I REALLY like it...!), got my bike ready, googled a subway route up to Orchard Beach, and set the alarm for 3:30.

Crazy, some people are saying. Crazy, a little part of me is saying. But so worth it. It was fun.

My legs were tired on that bike, yes. But I repeat, it was fun.

I feel like I ought to write more about it, but...I don't know. Maybe later. Basically, I was nervous, it was all a little new and foreign, but that was kind of cool! I like learning as I go. And so far- with very much thanks to friends and friends of friends who have taken the liberty of advising me and answering my many, many cycling related questions- I am learning as I go, without many major mistakes. That is satisfying. Satisfying and cool.

(Although, as a semi-digression, here is a conversation I had Monday:

ME: People keep seeing my bike and my Chrome bag, and telling me they're cool. I feel like such a poser! Like, they look at me and think I'm cool, and I want to tell them, 'No, it's just me, imitating cool people...don't fall for it...'

TC: Awww....is that really how you feel?!?!

ME: Well...yeah! I mean...I'm a poser! I'm faking them out...

TC: No! I mean, if I didn't know you, I would definitely think you were, like, a cool biker chick...

Please note, the condition italicized for emphasis: if I didn't know you. Is that not the definition of posing? So, in conclusion, I am a really goofy, kind of dorky cyclist, currently playing it off as a cool biker chick. I wonder how long I can maintain the facade...)

Okay, and completely switching tones again (if this were a pop song, we'd need a few measures of a corny bridge here, to take us back to the serious, contemplative verse. But then again, note that I try to avoid ever being too serious. Most of the time I'm serious, it's tempered by another facet of myself going, 'No, seriously...?'):

But anyway.

The implications for life I'm currently contemplating as a direct result of my experiences last weekend.

When I am running a long way, I am completely committed to positive thinking. Thoughts about pain, tiredness, the [long] distance yet to go are filtered out, they occasionally occur to me, but they just sort of...bounce away before they can be internalized. When I am running, I find that I can not tolerate negativity in those around me either- it just feels like poison. I am constantly reminding myself how strong I feel, what a beautiful world it is, how lucky I am to be out enjoying it, etc., etc., etc, and in my heart, I feel that these things are true. I love what I do out there.

I am reading Christopher Bergland's book The Athlete's Way, and he describes this phenomenon in a way I love:

When I do Ironman races, I swing from positive thought to positive thought. I scan the horizon for any potential thought or vision bombarding me and attach only to things that hum of positive emotions and lock in to that thought. When that stops humming, I look for something else to latch on to. This neuronal choir is a group of neurons chanting in unison above the din of the crowd and could be seen on brain imaging technologies as a specific tapestry of neurons.

If a negative thought enters my mind, I make it very slippery. I imagine covering the neurons in Teflon and chicken fat. Happy thoughts are covered in Velcro and magnets and Superglue. They stick to my brain.

This passage resonates with me because of it's familiarity. I am lucky to be quite adept at constructing the mindset necessary to get through, and moreover, enjoy a long, hot, hilly run.

But as I think more about it, I realize that so far, I still have a lot of work to do in carrying over that skill set to life. But what a life I might lead if I could successfully do so! To be fair, I think my general outlook and approach to life, the positivity with which I try to approach it, has greatly improved as I've gotten a little older. I tend to think that running has helped me with this, but I guess I won't ever really know for sure.

Last night though, as I found myself traversing a particular portion of the longest race of all- the life one- I realized I could do a little better in my choice of which thoughts to latch on to. When I choose carefully, when I make a conscious effort to care for and cultivate the good, the negative, self-defeating thoughts just get edged out. I want to do better at nurturing the good, because really, life is just so much better that way.

(As an afterthought, I would just like to add this. See?!?!? See why I do this?!?!? To all of you naysayers who can't understand the joy I find in all these miles, do you see what I see? Somehow, someway, this is my classroom for life... ! )

Happiness is not a destination, but a means of traveling.

To embracing the journey,

K

[New pictures from Sybil up at kellebelleruns.shutterfly.com. The guy in many of the pictures is Nelson and the woman he's kissing on the head at the end is his wife, Gisele. The dogs in the middle are Luna and Lobo. They drove me up to Carmel, and they rock- Nelson and Gisele, that is, not the dogs. I mean, the dogs rock. But they didn' t drive. Anyway, I hope to have the privilege of Nelson and Gisele's, and even Luna and Lobo's, company again one of these days! Also: I apologize, in advance, for my choice of outfit. I look sort of like Catwoman. I don't have a full length mirror in my home, so the pictures were sort of enlightening. I promise I'll never wear it again. ; ) ]