My Best

On the Monday following The Angeles Crest 100 last year, we were forced to decide if we wanted to throw our name back in the hat for the 2015 race. It is a strange dilemma to be faced with the decision of signing up for the same one hundred miles that you are barely outside of twenty-four hours of completing, especially as the tough and painful moments have yet to be fully eclipsed by the euphoria that chronic runners and their short term memory loss often develop over time.

Making my way to mile 38 in the 2014 race. 

However, despite the rawness of the memories from the days before, and the faint lines of salt and dirt that still clung to my broken body, I found myself inexplicably rolling (literally) out of bed and reaching for my credit card. Still groggy and feeling like a piece of my soul was lingering somewhere between Chantry and Idlehour, I couldn’t quite comprehend what force or motive was possibly steering me back toward the race page and the premise of doing it ALL. OVER. AGAIN.  And as I typed the final numbers of my credit card and tentatively pushed submit, I forced myself to close my eyes for a few more peaceful moments of slumber before fully acknowledging the decision and the work ahead.

Over the next few weeks I took time to reflect on my 2014 journey so as to try and better understand my motives for signing up once again.  I surmised that running AC in 2014 had been mostly about survival; the race had long intimidated me and I wanted to prove that I could finish. Indeed, my trepidation coupled with a bad foot (nasty PF) made survival and the finish line often seem like a tall order by itself.

Training was typically painful due to my persistent injury and the joy I used to associate with logging long miles was often replaced with frustration and a depleted sense of motivation as I prepared for the event. I did what I could to make the best of it and clung gingerly to a sense of gratitude for the ability to train at all, but, pain, even in small doses, is often all encompassing.  My training plan, which could be described as “just enough” to get me through the race, had left my level of self-satisfaction rather low.

Despite those factors, the race had actually gone remarkably smoothly and my finish had been fairly strong. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing as I accepted my buckle for my 2014 completion.

As I stared at 2015 from afar, I slowly began to realize what it was that was missing from my 2014 race experience and what had driven me to return; my BEST.

So it was that I posed a simple, but extremely frightening question for 2015’s race, “What could my best look like?”

It’s funny how a seemingly simple question can be so terribly and uncomfortably scary. It is a question that demands a kind of honesty that leaves zero room for excuses and evokes a fear of what exactly one's best might look like. But as my body began to heal and ample time for work and improvement stretched far ahead, I truly had no reason for not attempting to answer the question.

During the latter part of 2014 and early months of 2015, I committed mostly to marathon and road training.  I was helping to coach an amazing marathon team and the transition to road running was a nice and welcome deviation from all the trail work I had done prior to AC 2014. During this training period for the LA Marathon, I also discovered a new love for speed work and for pushing through previous boundaries that I had established for myself. As someone who had always self identified as a “slow kid,” I was surprised to find what smarter and more dedicated training could do to my imposed limitations and perception of my "best." (Go figure!)

Cruising during the LA Marathon. Photo Cred: Flo

While marathon running may not be viewed as great or ideal training for a mountainous trail one hundred miler, there were a lot of great lessons and fitness applications that transferred nicely into the start of my focused training for AC once the LA marathon was finally completed in March.

For one, I had seen what smart and focused training had done to help my performance in the marathon. If I could improve upon the quality and type of runs I implemented for AC this year, I imagined I could see the same type of growth on the trails. Secondly, the gains in speed I had acquired from marathon training were helping me move quicker on the trails and helping to increase my overall confidence.

Armed with these takeaways, a healthy body, and a renewed excitement to return to the dirt, I began to construct my training plans for AC. On the books was a dedication to the continuation of speed work, a desire to get out to the course significantly more than I had in 2014, and a resolve to work on some of my biggest weaknesses (technical downhill) while not ignoring my strengths (climbing).  I was also excited to know that a few of my friends were training for the race and looked forward to training with them whenever possible.

Immediately following LA, I started to log some local runs on the trails to reignite my climbing legs, but really kicked off the training with the Leona fifty miler in April. Will and I, who had started to train together regularly, decided to approach the race as a training run and found it to be a great way to jump back into the ultra distance.

Will and I at Leona Divide. He never smiles :) Photo Cred: Carlitos

Following Leona and throughout the rest of April and early May, I continued to log some great mileage with Will and others, feeling stronger and more confident with every closing week. I continued to see gains in strength and speed and was enjoying the process so much more than I had in the year prior. But as I started to relax comfortably onto what felt like an uninterrupted path toward my goals, LIFE kicked me decisively and squarely in the ass.

There is a phrase that I have seen people throw about regarding AC 100 when conveying the challenges of the course as it relates to the runners expectations which is, “AC Don’t Care.” Similarly, I quickly discovered, Life Don’t Care. Life has no concept of timing or convenience; it simply happens.

And Life happened in June. Big time.

In the weeks that followed and leading into the race, I was met with one of the most difficult personal challenges I have ever faced. I was emotionally shaken, justifiably scattered, and my priorities were quickly shifted. I questioned if I should continue down what suddenly seemed like a selfish path toward a comparatively unimportant life event.

Interestingly, though, as I faced this new personal challenge, I discovered that the mantras I was utilizing to get through each day, were largely lessons I had acquired from my years of distance running, and was only now clearly realizing in the face of big adversity. I resolved, then, that I would brave both my personal and chosen challenges, drawing strength from and committing to these lessons in a bigger way than I had ever done before.

I recognize that I am certainly not the first to be dealt a blow or two, nor am I here to complain about my problems. I know many others who faced significant personal obstacles while training for this race and in life in general. What I hope to do is to always try and find takeaways from my journey as I know there will be further challenges down the road. While trying to determine my "best" was one of my major motives for signing up for this race, the other was the ever present reason of trying to learn something new about myself in the process.  For if "adversity is the state in which man most easily becomes acquainted with himself," one hundred miles is a pretty damn good reflecting glass. Add to that a life shit storm, and I figured I was going to know myself pretty well by the end of this journey.

And maybe, if I committed strongly enough to these lessons, I could find and be my "best" in both my personal challenge and that on the dirt.

Aid Station To Aid Station

I found myself reciting this mantra most during the course of June and July. It is a phrase that has obvious applications when applied to racing a long distance event as so much can happen, especially over the course of one hundred miles. While you might be feeling great at mile thirty, you might be engaged in a death march by mile fifty. You can’t predict what will happen twenty miles down the road, but you can be present in the moment, dealing with aches and pains as they occur and choosing the attitude with which you deal with them.

I often applied this mantra to my training, especially when personal hardships infringed on my time and made fitting everything in seem overwhelming. I tried to focus on what I could accomplish each day instead of what I felt I needed to do over the course of the week or month.

Likewise, this mantra proved beneficial during the race itself. It helped to keep me grounded and calm when things went wrong. When I had an uncharacteristically bad response to the heat at mile forty, I tried to focus on how I could best alleviate the present situation as opposed to panicking or gravitating toward negativity. At each aid station, I took inventory on my present condition and reassessed my goals and needs; I hiked when I needed to and ran when I could. The ability to break up the race into pieces kept it manageable and attainable, even when things weren’t going as planned.

Above all, this mantra helped me deal with the personal challenges that arose in the months before the race. The ability to stay in the moment was crucial in being my best self for those who needed me as well as in maintaining a touch of my sanity.

Preparation is Key but Flexibility is Paramount

Coach Wooden said it best when he noted that “failing to prepare is preparing to fail.” I believe this wholeheartedly, especially as it pertains to many physical challenges. If you don’t put in the necessary work, you are setting yourself up for an unwelcome outcome. But there is another piece of this, in my opinion, and that is flexibility. You can create the most detailed of plans and try to anticipate every possible outcome, but more likely than not, you are going to be thrown some curve balls. This goes for running one hundred miles, and this especially goes for life. 

Flexibility became a crucial component in training for AC this year. When shit hit the fan, I had to make due with my new reality and that meant fitting in runs when I could, whether that be at 4 am or 10 pm.

It also meant I didn't always get to train the way I had initially aspired to. I had hoped to have more time to make it to the course on the weekends, but sometimes, it just wasn't possible. And that was OK. I made the best of the runs I could fit in on the course and the best of the runs I had to do locally. Do I think my training suffered because of it? Not really, because I was still preparing the best that I could. I was putting in the work; it just wasn't always the way I had imagined it would be.

When the race arrived, I felt prepared, and as I was running over the first quarter of the course, I noted a remarkable change in the way I felt from the previous year. It was clear that the added preparation was affecting my ability to run in a positive way. An added bonus was a willingness to be a bit more flexible when parts of my day were less than ideal. When met with some unusual foot pain while heading into Chilao (mile 52), I willingly broke one of my personal rules about not sitting down, and stopped to examine the issue. Had I remained stubborn and inflexible, I wouldn't have discovered the pine needle wedged in my toe and would have undoubtedly suffered for much longer. Perhaps a small thing, but important, nonetheless.

Toes are serious business. Photo Cred: Jess Dorsey

Most importantly, though, I learned the value of flexibility when encountering personal challenges. While there are moments you can anticipate in life, there is no way you can foresee exactly how your future will unfold. You better adopt a flexible attitude and willingness to roll with the punches...or get punched directly in the face.

When the Path is Smooth, Remain Cautious. When the Path is Rocky, Remain Optimistic.

The beginning of my training for AC was uncharacteristically smooth and admittedly, I probably took this for granted. But when unforeseen challenges presented themselves and made training more difficult, I had to lean on optimism.

Even without personal challenges, training for one hundred miles has it's share of highs and lows. There are days that you feel like a super hero, effortlessly conquering training runs and setting new personal bests. And there are days, seemingly out of nowhere, when you can barely put one foot in front of the other. The latter type of day became increasingly more present for me as the miles and stress grew and the race inched closer. As a result, my confidence in achieving my goals became  tougher and tougher to maintain so I had to consciously champion optimism over doubt.

The peaks and valley's were heightened during the race itself . When I felt good in the first forty miles of the race, I enjoyed the ease with which miles were clicking by. In the back of my mind, though, I remained present to the fact that the good times could and would most likely give way to tougher times later on.

Sure enough, I started to experience some stomach issues due to the high temperatures at mile forty that ultimately persisted at different intensities for the remainder of the race. To avoid the pitfall of negative thinking and suffering even greater performance issues, I gently reminded myself that things could turn for the better at any moment.

The same became glaringly true on a personal level as I learned that the good and easy times should be cherished for the true gifts that they are. Understanding that these times can change at any moment provides an even greater sense of gratitude for their existence, and a better ability to cope when they disappear. When the tide does turn for the worse, consciously siding with optimism helps us to be our best in the moment and ride the wave back to better times. 

Don’t let fatigue make a coward out of you - Pre

In perfect life conditions, training for one hundred miles would be exhausting as I am not sure that there is anything natural about logging sixty or one hundred mile weeks. Add in a job, family, and other day to day happenings, and it can seem nearly impossible.

Add in big life stress, forget about it.

My dedication to logging big miles leading up to the race was already starting to wear me down, but when significant stress entered the equation, lacing up my shoes for a run often felt exasperating. The quality of my miles also seemed to take a significant hit as my body became more easily fatigued.

So did my confidence.

However, I quickly discovered there was major value in completing my miles aside from simply preparing for my race. The miles proved helpful in coping with the stress in my life and I began to celebrate the opportunity to have a hobby and a passion that could provide such relief. The miles weren't always pretty or ideal, but I felt a sense of strength in overcoming a desire to quit in the face of fatigue.

At the starting line of the race, and even after tapering my mileage for a few weeks, I could feel the emotional and physical toll that the months prior had taken on my body. It certainly didn't feel like the ideal way to start a one hundred mile journey and I worried about how the day might unfold. I considered taking it easier than I had originally planned, but I hadn't let fatigue make a wimp of me yet. So instead, I pushed ahead, faster even that I thought I would through the first section of the course.

Other factors affected my day at times, but I didn't allow fatigue to be one of them. Heading into Chantry (mile 75), I was starting to feel tired aside from the persistent stomach issues I had been dealing with throughout the latter part of the day. At that point, and without thinking, I did one of the more ridiculous things I had done all day. While drinking some orange soda in attempt to get down some easy calories, I suddenly and without pause, dropped a 5 Hour Energy drink in the cup and threw it back like a Jagerbomb!

Fatigue. Be. Damned.

There were many times throughout June and July that I wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate until the path was clear, but being a coward in those tough times was simply not an option. That I was present and involved when I was often too tired or afraid to be, is what I am most proud of during the past few months. 

Get by with a little help from your friends 

How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you're on your own?)
No I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm gonna try with a little help from my friends 
- Beatles

I have often been stubbornly independent, but if I didn't truly understand the importance of support going into this race, I am hyper aware of it now.

Some may think of running as an independent sport, but it is very much a team effort. While I had to put in the work and log every mile in training and on race day, I did so with the support, guidance, and encouragement of some amazing people.

There were almost zero training runs that I completed for this race that didn't include one of my friends who was training for AC, another race, or who simply wanted to join along. They woke up at unusual hours on the weekends, traveled long distances, and helped coordinate logistics. They pushed, encouraged, and demanded the best from me in terms of showing up as both a runner and a human being. And, most importantly, they lent an unbiased ear when I needed to vent or work through some of the tough issues I was facing.

On race day, I was further humbled by their support when they showed up to crew, volunteer, cheer and run by my side. I did not arrive to the start line or cross the finish line without the help of many, nor would the journey have been half as rewarding without every single person involved.

And of course, no dream or goal is bigger than the sum of it's parts...and a big part of everything I do is my family. Nothing has been achieved without their support and nothing is more important than their health and happiness.

The best. Photo Cred: Jess Dorsey

Metakoff, a wise and loyal friend. Photo Cred: Sando King

An unreal friend and human being. Photo Cred: Jess Dorsey

Taking ourselves so seriously at 10k feet ;) Photo Cred: $B

My reason. My favorite human.

Be true to yourself. Be honest with yourself.

Perhaps most important, I have learned, is the need to be yourself at all times and in all situations. This may seem redundant, but when faced with heightened challenges, it can be difficult to maintain one's sense of self.

Even more difficult, can be the need to be honest with oneself when simply being "you" isn't cutting it.

When beginning to plan for this race, I thought a lot about how my training should look. I reviewed how I had done things in the past and where I was at present day. I also looked closely at the example of others and how they had or were training for this race.

Ultimately, I realized I had to do what made the most sense for me as I know my body and mind best and what I can and can't handle. I also knew I needed to do it in a way that made me most happy and excited about putting in the work. Finally, I had to make sure I was being true to my intent and purpose for doing the race in the first place, which was to achieve my personal best.

In putting my plan together, it was fairly easy to determine what I wanted; I wanted the ability to log good mileage without injury, increase performance, and find an overall balance in how I distributed my time between work, running and life. And of course, I also wanted to enjoy the process. The difficulty came in being honest about what I might also need to do in order to best follow through with those wants and arrive in one piece to the finish line.

Being honest about my shortcomings was and is still something I sometimes struggle with, but I did my best to address some of the issues that had hindered my training for previous races. As someone who loves to put in work and can easily over-train, I tried to keep this tendency top of mind.  I determined that I would remove major back to back runs on the weekends for the most part and add in more strength training as a way to try and circumvent injuries. In an effort to keep happiness paramount and also maintain some life balance, I recruited friends to join me for longer runs and decided I would run locally one day per weekend so as not to lose as much personal time.

In the world of Instagram, Facebook and Strava, it was at times difficult to stick to my chosen course of action and not doubt my personal path. Admittedly, I sometimes strayed from my intentions when I worried that "my way" might not be enough.

It became increasingly difficult when personal issues made sticking to any kind of plan nearly impossible. Sometimes, survival won out, but I tried to be authentic and stay true to my ultimate purpose as much as possible.

There is a delicate balance between personal wants and needs, other individuals perceptions of those wants and needs, and the ability to stay authentically you through it all. I don't think I have perfected it by any means, but I have witnessed on a personal level how catastrophic it can be when you lose sight of who you are and what you need to do to be the best you possible.

My Best

On August 2nd, I crossed my second Angeles Crest finish line an hour earlier than I had the year before. The day wasn't perfect, but I truly walked away confident that I had given my best on that particular day and every day leading into it. While I know my potential has not yet been realized, which I am excited to continue to explore, I have slept easy this past week and a half in knowing that I did absolutely everything I could to prepare for and complete the event. So much so, that I didn't feel the need to sign up for 2016. (2017 is a different story ;))

I am also grateful for this hobby which continues to teach me so much about becoming the "best" version of myself. The one hundred mile distance provides so many parallels with real life and has given me so many tools to deal with the peaks and valleys that inevitably exist between the rare and smooth sections.

There is yet to be a "finish line" for the present personal challenge in my life and I can not predict exactly what the future will bring. I do know that if I take it day by day with a chosen attitude of optimism, honesty, flexibility, and a little help from my friends, that I can give my "best" to the situation.

Of course, if I should get tired along the way and weaken in my resolve to fight, then I can always chug a 5 Hour Energy and throw myself back into the ring.

Finish lines. Photo cred: Channy Chan Chan