Ultra running is a wave of emotions, like a rollercoaster that lasts for hours and sometimes days. I’ve experienced this first hand on a number of occasions. From the depths of despair when your body wants to give up to the elation of crossing the finish line and all the emotions in between, it’s a constant battle between body and mind. To be successful the mind always needs to win because the body will give up long before it has reached its limit. We are accustomed to comfort and safety and ultra running is all about breaking through barriers and shifting the modern mindset. My races always start with anticipation and a sense of adventure. I know the size of the task ahead of me and I’m eager to find out if I can complete it. I always believe that I can, but the proof is always in the pudding, and the nerves and tension build as I take my place on the start line. I can feel the same tension in those around me. There aren’t many conversations going on as everyone is in their own zone, preparing for the challenge ahead. One or two runners might try to spark up a rambling conversation fuelled by nervous energy, but there are often few people willing to apply the energy to get involved. I’m certainly one of those that abstains from chatting. I concentrate my energy on the task ahead, keep myself calm, and await the signal to start another epic journey.
The great thing about ultra running is that people from all walks of life take part. And, every course is different, every day is different, and the weather can have a big impact on what happens on the day. These factors make the first mile or two a journey of discovery and the emotional train races from anticipation through confusion, fear, relaxation, comfort, discomfort, and all the stops in between. I’ve often found myself leading races early on and wondering whether I’m running too fast. Questions start to flash through my mind as confusion becomes the dominant emotion. Why is everyone behind me? Have they all run the course before and I’m setting off too quick? Have I started too fast and I’m going to run out of steam when we hit the first climb? I’ve become experienced in handling these emotions now. I think this has a lot to do with racing often, but a key factor is trusting in my own ability and the miles and hours of training that I’ve logged building up to the race. Ultra distance events last for a long time and everyone has their own way of dealing with them. Everyone trains differently in the build up to them. And, for trail races in particular, the terrain and elevation changes will hit everyone in different ways. I focus on my strengths, my plans for the course, and enter a zone of concentration and focus where the movements of those around me don’t impact what I’m doing. Sometimes I’ve found myself in the lead group thinking that the pace feels very comfortable. This allows confidence to become the dominant emotion. Even though it’s early in the race, and many things will happen before the end, it’s a good feeling to know that you’re handling the demands well. This is a situation that I’ve found myself in in championship races when times don’t really matter and it’s all about finishing positions. Everyone wants to win and no one wants to blow it by doing too much early on. The early stages put runners in a state of conservation and everyone is reluctant to make the first move. This is great for ultra running. Runners work together to carry each other to the finish. Unfortunately, this is something that doesn’t happen all that often, especially in trail races, as runners get strung out and gaps start to form between individuals. I don’t have a preference to either way as I always slip into my zone of concentration and focus on myself, not letting the movements of others affect me. There have been times when it’s been a race from the start and I’ve been left in the dust of faster, more experienced runners. As a road runner, you might not be surprised to learn that this has happened on the trails. It fills me with an initial sense of dread. Running sub 6:00/mile uphill and still being outside the first 10 runners at the start of a 40 mile race is a daunting feeling and thankfully, one I’ve not experienced all that often. This is when the focus and internalisation become important. I remind myself of the training I have done, and the confidence that I have in my endurance ability. There’s a good chance that some of those runners will have gone off too fast and there will be a chance to catch them later in the race when I get stronger. It’s important that I don’t get dragged into a race that I haven’t trained for. It’s an (ultra) marathon, not a sprint, and it’s important that I remain in control of the situation and my own destiny. Sometimes, there’s the person who makes a break early on. Like the famous footage of the man leading the London marathon for the first 400 m. When this happens, you just know. They know it, I know it, and those I’m running with know it. They’re never going to keep this pace up. Humour takes over as everyone enjoys the release that this moment gives them. Some runners m will even manage a wry smile. I always make sure to stay focused when this happens because I never want to be too relaxed. There’s a major challenge ahead and I need to get it done. It does give me a chance to weigh up my competition by judging any reactions from fellow runners. Do they laugh, do they try to keep up with the blistering pace, or do they stay focused on the task ahead and stick to their own plans? That’s when I find out who the main competition is. After the first hour or so, the race and runners start to take shape. The anticipation from the start has been worked off and, unless the course is laps of a loop, a sense of tranquility sets in as the noise, cheers, and hustle and bustle of the race village become a distant memory. This is mainly the case in trail races as gaps open up between runners, and you find yourself alone on a trail, with just yourself and your thoughts to contend with. It’s here when peace and comfort take over. I realise how fortunate I am to be able to do what I am doing and start to enjoy the moment. It’s important to stay focused on the task at this point. Racing with no one around you can be challenging. I need to keep an eye on the pace, remember my nutrition plan, and stick to the course so I don’t get lost and end up running a few extra miles - although this has happened more than once! The emotional rollercoaster continues to rattle along over the miles and hours that pass. The feeling of being fortunate is one that stays in my mind. Remaining focused, I let my mind drift slightly, always bringing it back to where I am, enjoying another ultra running adventure. The biggest wave of emotions happens in the final minutes of the race. You can’t stop it from happening as the relief of finishing starts to kick in, but I’ve been able to control myself enough to not let the emotions get the better of me. Two experiences of this stand out and both have been after long, arduous, sleep deprived runs. The first was at the end of the Dragon Coast 100. 100 miles from Rhosili Bay in Swansea to Cardiff Bay along the South Wales coast. The race started on a Saturday afternoon which meant that running through the night was a certainty. Sleep deprivation was always going to play a part in how the race unfolded. I waved goodbye to my wife and son as the race started and in the back of my mind I was counting down the minutes until I would see them both again. We weren’t sure whether they were going to meet me at the finish or not as my son was still just 1 year old and was on a strict napping routine. So there was an air of uncertainty as to whether I would see them there. I knew for sure that my parents were meeting me there and I was looking forward to seeing them. I ran for 19 hours and 50 minutes, through the night, along the relentless South Wales coastline. It was the warmest day of 2022 and I was definitely dehydrated. Despite leading the race, every ounce of energy had been spent. From about 60 miles I couldn’t take any more food in and I had been reduced to gels and the 1.5 litres of fluid I could carry between checkpoints. The emotions of dread, uncertainty, and anticipation started to circle in my mind as I counted down the miles to the finish. My watch battery went at around 94 miles, so, without knowing how far I had left to run, I was left praying that every corner was the last one. I really had no concept of how long I had left to run as my sense of time and distance had become warped by the extreme fatigue. As I approached the Norwegian fisherman’s church in Cardiff Bay where the race finish was, I was expecting to see just my mum and dad waiting for me. I looked around and saw them both there, and with them, my wife and son. The emotions hit me and I started to well up. There was a lump in my throat as I took a deep breath in and searched around for the finish line. I couldn’t wait to get the race over with and speak to my family. I felt like bursting into tears, but I managed to hold them back. It was such a surreal feeling. The elation of winning my first 100 mile race, running a heck of a long way, and setting a new course record, was competing with happiness, relief, and family for space in my brain. In the end, fatigue and dehydration won. I sat down to eat the post race meal kindly provided by the organisers. It looked delicious and I definitely needed to get some calories back in me. But I could barely eat it. A few chips and that was me done. I managed to drink 2 cans of Coca Cola to get some energy back into me but my body was completely done. Nothing left to give. It actually took me three days to get back to a normal eating pattern. I wanted to eat but my body just wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t chew my food for long enough and was getting fatigued eating, forcing me to stop. A strange but amazing feeling and one that I keep chasing. I had a similar experience at the end of the Gloucester 24 hour race in 2023. My parents and brother were there crewing for me and we spent a good 24 hours together. They helped me eat, drink, stay cool, dry, and they kept track of how I was doing. I had smiled, waved, given thumbs up, listened to their encouraging words, and had little chats more than 500 times as I ran around the 400 metre track for 24 hours. They were there every step of the way. I had experienced a wave of emotions throughout this, my first 24 hour race. Optimism as I started, fear when I realised that I was going to fall short of the target I had set for myself, and acceptance as I realised it was time to problem solve, show my mental strength, and put in a decent performance despite the situation I found myself in. It was another warm day and I was extremely dehydrated, having sweated all night in a roasting warm Airbnb the night before the race started. I had a bad period during the race where I couldn’t cool down, even as the night set in and the temperature dropped. I kept pouring cold water over my head but it didn’t seem to work. Everything I was eating just sat in my stomach and I wasn’t getting any energy from it. This lasted for 10 hours and I was in a state of despair when I finally started to pull out of it thanks to a pot noodle and a can of Red Bull! As the race reached the end, the tension and anticipation started to build. Everyone on the track, support crews included, were looking forward to finishing. With around 10 minutes to go, the race marshalls handed me a bag of sand that I was to drop when the 24 hours was up so they could mark my actual distance run to the metre. The anticipation was growing stronger and stronger in my head from this point on. I was still moving and not feeling too bad considering the 10 hours of hell I had been through over the day of running. Then, as I passed the race marshalls for the last time, that wave of emotion hit me like a tidal wave. I looked over to the tent where my parents and brother had been crewing from. My cousin and her daughter had also come down to cheer me on for the last hour or so. I welled up. I don’t know why. I had a lump in my throat and I tried my hardest to hold back the tears. I managed to do it as I converted that emotion into energy to move my legs and get as far around the track as I could before the end of the race. At the finish, relief set in. My brother had made it across the track to meet me as I finished but I just hugged the person nearest to me! Relief, solidarity, and strangely enough, a sense of regret that it was all over. For many people running is a way to manage their emotions. For me, it allows me to experience emotions that I don’t feel every day and sometimes not for long periods of time. I enjoy the roller coaster that ultra running takes me on and the emotional surprises that every race has for me. Similarly, running is used as a way of managing addiction by a lot of people, but for me it’s become an addiction. That feeling that I’ve given my all and I’ve got nothing left to give. That I’ve just achieved something a lot of people don’t even know is possible. These are feelings that I continue to chase and hope I do for a long time to come.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
DANIEL ROTHWELL🏴🇬🇧 Archives
July 2023
Categories |