Grunting up a ridiculously steep mountain on unresponsive legs. What the hell was I doing? Every laboured step I cursed and questioned my life choices. I also wondered how other runners were putting time on me — we were all hiking!
Such was my day at Trailstoke, a 50km ish mountain race in Revelstoke. This was a true mountain race, exactly what I “wanted.”
Throughout, I questioned why I subject myself to such self-induced brutality. Then I recite things about how I love the challenge, I love pushing myself to the point where I question quitting.
My stubbornness carries me forward. That and thinking of how embarrassing it would be if I quit.
All of you reading this and supporting me are a huge part of what carries forward. I feel as though I’m expected to perform, and I take every race as an opportunity to do so.
I’m still trying to piece together why I didn’t feel as great as other races. The logical answer is that this course is a beast. It chewed me up physically and emotionally to the point where I was spent upon finally walking across the finish line.
Instead of a monotonous blow-by-blow, I’ll start with a few positives from the day. I was able to eat and hydrate well. My day kicked off with a couple of KIND bars, and some peanut butter slathered on bread while we sat in Josh’s car waiting for the sun the rise.
During the race, despite getting sick of gels, I forced them down the hatch — my stomach cooperated. Eating has never been a an issue.
I’m also satisfied with my ability to ‘grind it out’ and put in a good effort on a day where I may have not felt at my best. Perhaps the pace was a bit of a shock to the system as well. All a learning process.