Moab 240
It's difficult to talk about my experience at Moab without addressing the entire year (wait, what!). Yes, planning for this race took a lot of time, LOL. At the end of 2022, I decided to put in for the Moab 240 lottery in January.
I was planning on a year of racing. Which I never do; I am a "one and done" kinda girl, mainly because my budget can only handle one big race.
But this year was different. I sought out a coach (Thanks, Brian) in the fall for my ambitious 2023 goals to help with the stress load, and with the support of my partner, we braced ourselves for a long year—a long year of scheduling family vacations, work trips, training, and racing.
Here is an example: during our family vacation to Minnesota, first, it was a road trip. Second, we planned ALL our stops around my training schedule. It sounds looney, but that's how committed I was.
Our morning coffee always opened up with Mike asking, "What's on your training schedule today?" but we took it day by day and week by week.
This year kicked off with "Moab Runs The Rocks," a three-day stage race in March, Born To Run four-day event in April, managing an injury in April/May (ruptured my Anterior Tibialis), Leadville 100 mi in August, and wrapping up with Moab 240 in October. And by the time you read this, I, on a whim, ran the California International Marathon, also known as CIM. Yes, this was a road marathon (Yes, I'm a psycho).
As you can see, I put a lot of soul into this year in preparation for Moab. And I can't talk about the events that unfolded at Moab without talking about the entire year because of the growth and transformation I went through.
So, if you have been here before, "Welcome back." if you are joining me for the first time, "Welcome; I am Mel, coach and owner of La Direccón."
If you are looking for a race recap, I don't do them because it's cheap and overplayed. But I will provide you with an account of my adventure.
So stand with me first; shake out the legs and arms.
All good?
Now, find a quiet, cozy place and get comfortable. Turn on the DND feature and be here with me.
The Preface
Why 240
To be honest, it wasn't really on my radar. I volunteered for the race in 2021. I aimed to fulfill this desire in my heart to give back. Riding the high of completing my first 24-hour race, I was searching for community and friendships. I had been a loner. I didn't have a community or girlfriend(s) with whom I could share my weekend-long runs or ask questions about trail/ultra running.
So, volunteering for the race allowed me to have adventure and human connection.
After this experience, I left with no desire to run. Not one bit. First, I still didn't feel like this space was for me. Second, I was broke, and the financial strain on my non-existent finances caused a great deal of anxiety.
Yet!
I returned the following year (2022) to volunteer and pace my friend Izzy. At the time, I still had no yearning to run myself. I rolled off another high (completing my first 100 miler). I was excited to come back! See my best friend Michelle, and help Izzy. Shortly after this experience, I returned to Utah (again) for a girls' camping trip (with our dogs) and ended my October with
R2R2R with my bestie Hannah. I was drunk on my adventures and asked myself, "Moab 240?"
But why?
I did not say yes to Moab under the enchantment to prove how mentally tough I am, grrr (Insert bro grunt).
But I did say yes to Moab to answer the question, "What can I learn about myself?"
This race required a unique approach to training, honing in on multiple skills. I would be physically and mentally fatigued. My self-efficacy would be tested every day. My vulnerabilities-naked.
And all though I felt scared and unsure whether I belonged in a race such as this in 2021, I was not going to let those very same insecurities keep me away. I was here to claim my space. I was here to say, "We Belong."
Transformation and Growth
Injury is always scary.
When I ruptured my anterior Tibialis, I was required to be completely immobile and on crutches. My office was moved to the living room, and my couch was my new best friend. I couldn't even drive because I injured my driving leg, and since I could not dorsi flex my foot, I could not tap the gas or the break. Yes, I attempted to drive with my left foot, buuutttt it didn't go so well (10/10 I would not reccomend).
I felt such embarrassment using my crutches.
Every day, I challenged myself to see the "Bigger picture," I don't mean mopping around, reciting "Everything happens for a reason." I drew my attention to what I could do. In 2022, I did the identity dance and took a deeper dive into worthiness. And this injury was a trigger! I noticed my unhealthy patterns, and when I asked myself, "What am I even doing?" The alarms went off, and I said, "HELL NO, we are not going backward." Focusing on what I could do was so valuable to me because I was empowered by the actions I could take, and redirecting my attention helped me shift my perspective.
Returning home from the Leadville 100 mile, I was captivated. I was in awe of myself, not because I narrowly escaped multiple cutoffs and ran for my life (several times). It's a dramatic story. You should read it sometime or wait for the Netflix series (jk). But because I learned how afraid I've been my entire life. I reflected on fear and noticed patterns of disruption, anger, depression, self-harm, and sadness. I've let fear hold me back my whole life, and this realization was so FREEING! I wasn't going to question my capability; potential is my superpower. And all I really have to do is try.
And lastly
My relationship with my mom. For a very long time, I felt a disconnect from her love. In the last year, we have mended our hearts and opened them to healing. Three Weeks before Moab, my mom visited with me for a few days. This visit was special because it felt like a send-off.
We laughed as I drove her home; she shouted at me to "slow down!" and we talked about everything! When the topic of Moab came up, my mom repeatedly said, "How scary." And this reaction is similar to every unconventional event I've done. And when that event or race is all said and done, her response usually comes with a giggle, a sigh, and the words, "Mija por favor, no vuelvas a hacer eso." Translation: "Daughter, please don't do that again." that sentence bothered me (a lot).
But this car ride was different, and instead of becoming upset at my mom's response, I asked her, "What is so scary about it?"
I tugged on that string, and I received that these words don't mean I do not support you. It's I don't understand.
Sure, aspects of her daughter running 240 miles in the desert scared her. But I opened my heart, let her speak, and really listened to how she identified fear and what that looked like to her.
Listening helped me understand that her reactions have never been "I don't love you less, I don't support you, or I am not proud of you."
With this conversation, my heart received the words "I support you and good luck." This was, to me, a meaningful send-off.
~Okay, take a moment to stretch and drink that tasty beverage~
Chapter 1: Two More Sleeps
Wednesday, October 11
The evening we arrived in Moab, I no longer questioned if I belonged or searched for a community. I recognized all the support I had received leading up to this event. Instead of waiting for an invitation into someone else's tribe, I found my own and felt them here with me.
I reflected on training days in the rain, overcoming self-doubt, Leadville, and all the wonderful people who supported me through this year. I reminisced on my moments with
notable people like Michelle, Toan, Hannah, and the Chingonas. The conversations we shared climbing mountains and the joy I felt sharing my journey with them.
One More Sleep:
Toan: Good morning! How ya feelin’?
Me: I feel good, calm.
Seeing Jess made my day - she assured me I would love this race. "There's something about this race that I keep coming back," said Jess. I felt this baffled expression on my face, thinking, "Did I say that out loud?" When, in reality, I said nothing, I was just worried that my puzzled expression was noticeable (Sorry Jess, your strong words took me by surprise, especially since I had pre-race butterflies).
"There's something about this race that I keep coming back.” - Jess
Leaving bib pick up, Mike was running a tight ship (as he should as crew chief) primarily because I've developed a reputation for galavanting. We finalized our grocery run, picked up dinner, and settled in for our closing crew meeting. Our tiny cabin was well decorated with bags, lots of shopping bags. As I stood in front of Mike and Toan with the crew binder in my hand, this moment convinced me - sh*t was really happening. And although they looked to me to finalize the plan of action and communicate my "anticipated needs," I was looking to Mike to make sense of the chaos in my brain. Mike has been the "voluntold" crew chief since 2019. And now, since the start of the year, he witnessed the beginning of this intrepid adventure. And now he was going to see it all come together.
Chapter 2: Take Up Space
Day 1, Friday, October 13
The morning of the race, I kept up with my morning routine; I tried to keep it as "another day." I meditated, pulled an oracle card: "I am light," and journaled. In this entry, I wrote a letter to myself.
You are destined for greatness; know your strength, know your power.
Dear Melissa,
You are destined for greatness; know your strength, know your power. You've been surrounded by bold, beautiful, brown, solid women. You were raised by a woman with a strong soul and a steadfast heart. This strength is in you. Melissa, you are destined for greatness and this greatness is defined by you. Goals: set them, believe in them, and passionately go after them. This opportunity, this privilege, is beautiful, and you are worthy to receive and experience every precious moment. Celebrate wins, ride the highs, and savor the lows so sweetly. And most importantly, do not be an ass hat!
Lastly,
Ring your own damn cowbell! Ring it so fucking LOUD.
It's time, let's get it.
A quick note: This was a 12:00 PM start, so noon to noon completed a whole day. Just for timeline purposes
I felt calm. I felt the weight of the year finally being lifted. I was ready, and I had a whole tribe behind me ringing their cowbells for me. And just like that, it was time to shine.
At 11:48 AM, I nodded at Mike. I kissed him goodbye and hugged Toan and Marc.
I stood on my tippy toes, zig-zagging through the crowd, squeezing myself behind Jess.
She grabs my arm;
"Get up here! You deserve to take up space."
It's loud, and I am stimulated by all the side conversations happening simultaneously. I was still determining where to draw my attention until Candice (race director) began to speak. Her voice echoed through the megaphone. I stood on my tippy toes, trying to present myself as tall just so I could get a glimpse of her. The crowd followed her lead, reciting the infamous Caballo Blanco oath:
"If I get hurt, lost or die, it's my own damn fault."
Then the countdown: 10.. 3, 2, 1 - Bang.
Under the blue arch, I went, following the 200+ runners into the Moab desert.
I spent most of this day with Jess and my new friend Sam, the veterans in this distance. I was in awe to learn that this was Jess's 4th Moab 240, (I'm pretty darn lucky to call this girl my amiga). Jess pushed the pace to ensure we reached "Jacob's ladder" in daylight.
Jacob's ladder
is a steep technical descent; we are literally climbing down boulders. Whenever I heard Jacob's ladder, I imagined actual ladders (what an imagination I have).
I was in for a mighty surprise once we arrived. The view from where we stood was beautiful, looking into the vista of miles and miles of the Utah desert. To think I was only 22 miles in of this adventure.
Sam, Me, and Jess at the top of Jacob’s Ladder
I felt at home with Jess and Sam at my side; we joked that I was their running child, mainly because I was tiny between them.
We carried on into the blackness of the desert, with only the stars to light up the sky. Jackets, pants, and gloves ready to take on the cold desert temperatures.
I boldly decided to break away from my little family at Chicken Corner, mile 33 (yes, there were actually rubber chickens at this corner).
I kept telling myself, "If I'm going to commit, then I need to be confident and go." As the gap grew between them and me, I kept looking back, second-guessing if I had made the right decision. I was scared; these "what if" scenarios that filled my brain were falling asleep while running, losing my way, or getting off course. It was much too early to get in my head about "what ifs." So I got my phone, opened Spotify, and hit shuffle on the playlist titled "Run or Die."
"This is my moment
They can't take my talent
They can't take my stripes
They can't erase my hours..."
-Chant, Macklemore
My ears perked up, and I laughed, "Of course this song," I said. This song has fueled me, made me cry, and lifted me up so many times this year, and it was exactly what I needed to ease my fears.
Toan reminded me earlier to take it aid station to aid station, arriving at The Oasis, mile 53.56. I told myself, "Get the fuck out." It was depressing! Tired bodies, staring into the flames of a fire. Tired bodies, wrapped in blankets. Tired bodies, with no energy to stay awake. And it was too early to be sucked in. I was feeling good, high on caffeine, singing my songs, refueled, and carried on.
Indian Creek, mile 67.8
A little grumpy, sleepy, and hungry, I was happy to see my crew and sit.
Day 2, Saturday, October 14: That's a bar.
Dude, I really need to poop I said to Toan.
Mel, we are like 2 miles before we hit the dirt; as soon as we turn, we'll look for a spot said Toan.
I was no longer alone; Toan and I would enjoy each other's company for nearly 50 miles. Our final destination: Shay Mountain, mile 114.22. He was my hype man, spiritual guru, and first pacer. We traveled in the day's heat; he kept me moving with 2, 3-minute intervals.
During our pacer meeting, I stressed learning to use Gaia to him. Learning to use the offline map system because this race has no confident markers. I didn't doubt his ability to learn, but when the time came for Toan to fulfill his duties, he was well-versed and savvy. I was actually impressed with how well he navigated all the tricky sections.
As we paced through rustic color sand, we were nestled in between red-orange mineral mountains and dense rock. I recalled being here last year, pacing Izzy through this very same section. I was holding on to memories I shared with her and being present in my journey. However, the chatter between us could no longer keep my attention.
I looked at my watch for time and looked to Toan for the "okay." Should we start looking for a spot? I said. Yeah, how long do you want to nap for? These words brought joy.
I needed to rest my eyes and elevate my feet. The Advil had finally worn off; the sharp pain and swelling in my right Achilles became a big distraction.
We arrived at Bridger Jack, mile 96.4, at 9:21 PM, greeted by a warm fire and hot food. Go sit down, and I'll grab you some food. I greatly appreciated those 3 words, "Go sit down."
The swelling and pain in my Achilles was overwhelming with every off-camber step. I took off my shoe and clenched my jaw as the pain vibrated like a tuning fork.
Fuck.
The following 17 miles were not pretty; Toan was nice enough to find a nice patch of dirt for me to sit and cry. Eat something; you'll feel a little better, he said. My first low, no matter how I tried to compensate my stride, I could not escape the pain in my Achilles raging.
We troubleshoot. Toan gives me his spare sock to act as a brace, with hopes it will ease some of the pain.
"I am being humbled." Toan repeatedly said as we kept going up the 4,228ft ascent. At 6:00 AM, we approached dim lights, and the soft rings of cowbells welcomed us. I sighed deeply as tears rolled down my cheek gently. The pit in my throat grew from the various emotions I felt all at once. I was lifted from seeing Izzy in her pineapple onesies; as she hugged me, she said, "No more crying." The moment my body fell into Mike, I cried even more - he rubbed my back and said, "That's enough crying; let's get you warm."
~~Intermission, stand up and move your body. ~~
Day 3, Sunday, October 15
I admired the morning chill and stopped to take pictures of the snow that tinged the trail. The fall colors shone in the row of Aspen trees. Jess was right; I told myself this section was beautiful. The single track felt familiar as I flowed with short, punchy climbs and let go on the descents. It was magical - like a page from Chronicles of Narnia. It was all smiles again as I made my way to Monticello Lake, mile 126.4.
I was alone, and the road to Dry Valley, mile 143.8, was just that - dry. I kept thinking of what Izzy last said: It's runnable; make-up ground here. I ran and aimed to stay in the shade whenever it presented itself.
I reach for my hose, and the pressure from my bladder is light. Fuck. I attempt to take another sip, hoping my hose is just kinked - nothing.
All that is left is 500ml of Fluid. I've run out of water, and there is nowhere to filter. It is well, all dry, desert. I pulled out my phone and checked for any sign of cell service. Aha! One measly little 4G bar.
I ran out of water - sending - sending - sent.
Mike texts back, how are you feeling?
In a grumpy tone, I reply, overheating.
He encouraged me to drink my electrolytes, but every sip felt like sandpaper in my mouth.
I was at mile 134 with 9.8 miles until I reached Dry Valley, and I desperately wanted water.
Hannah?! How are you feeling, she says. She jogs alongside me, leading me to the crew vehicle. We made you some soup, and you need to drink this, Mike said as he handed me a packet of soy sauce. We think your sodium is low. That's why you are drinking so much and peeing a lot, Mike said.
Yes. Chugging soy sauce corrected my "thirst" problem.
Izzy, if you need to make a lifeline call, now is the time to do it. You'll have service in this section. Again, it's runnable. Take advantage of it.
I would travel 26.2 miles, a marathon, till I see my crew again and pick up my second pacer.
Izzy's words echoed; I haven't had much cell service, so I took my phone off airplane mode, and in the little corner, all the bars were lit up. An abundance of messages began to buzz in; I was in my own little world for 143ish miles, and my only communication with the outside world was with my crew. Ignoring the messages, there was only one person with whom I wanted to talk with.
I tap favorites and tap call on the name Lizard Perez.
My watch read 9:20 PM, and the voice on the other end said, "WASABIE." OH MY GOSH! I'VE BEEN FOLLOWING YOUR TRACKER. YOU ARE NUMBER 8 WOMAN! This race has been crazy.
This was the first time I learned of my position. I was so happy to hear my little sister's voice. She filled me in on the details about the race leaders and how close I've been to catching the F7 and F6.
I've been shouting with the boys (my nephews) all around the house: Go, Melissa, Go! She said.
Arriving at Needles aid station, 157.74, there it was - a marvelous slim blue structure. IT WAS A PORTAL POTTY! I was finally going to sit on a physical toilet and wash my hands! They even had pressed coffee! I was over the moon! I followed the instructions given by my race strategist Izzy and refilled, ate, and got the fuck out of there. Onward I went, high on caffeine and a satisfied belly. My next stop was Road 46, mile 170.0.
It was witching hour, and my hallucinations had taken over. If I looked down, there were faces in the sand; if I looked up, brujas and if I looked at the brush, there were baby Groots and The Chuck E. Cheese band playing tunes.
I am hallucinating, I said to myself; none of this is real. I sang out loud to stay awake and struggled to peel off the wrapper of my caffeine chew. "C'mon, Mel, shaking my head, F-O-C-U-S, FOCUS," I repeated. Reaching for my phone again, swiping the airplane mode off, disco! I still had service. I quickly take off my gloves and text Michelle.
She replies immediately; Gooooooodddd Morning!!!
Thanks, Michelle for keeping me company.
Ps. Look at that time stamp lol
As our texts went back and forth and my brain stimulated, the one question that came to mind was, "What is everyone thinking watching my dot?"
Chapter 3: Brujas
Day 4, Monday, October 16
At 6:03 AM, I send the following text:
I just woke up.
Me and Izzy getting ready.
Michelle replies: Fuck Yah!
7:23 AM
With 70 miles left, Izzy and I headed into the La Sal mountains. She was pacing me all the way to Geyser Pass, mile 200.5. It was time to hunt brujas, we joked. The morning chill wore off, and we both found ourselves stripping off layers and layers of clothes. I hid behind some brush, my sore body struggling to change from my tights into my shorts.
The terrain to Pole Canyon, mile 185.5, was bumpy. The trail was a 4x4 Jeep trail, and it was covered with off-camber baby heads (big rocks). Every time we reached a plateau of a climb, Izzy would point to the vista behind us and remind me of all that I've traveled.
That's fucking wild, I would say.
At the start of our journey, I had developed "The Desert Cough." I'm calling it "The" cough because quite a few runners had it. It was unfavorable for me because my asthma had begun to flare up (Yippie).
Izzy encouraged me to shuffle whenever possible, but I felt this elephant on my chest keeping me from breathing comfortably.
Adding to the conflict was my Achilles now pain in my left foot began to stir up trouble. All the familiar pains started aching with every step; not again, I told myself.
God Bless the volunteers and the volunteer medics at this event. Once we reached Pole Canyon, I was well taken care of. The medic tapped up my Achilles and complimented my feet, and just like that, we were off.
Well, kind of. Izzy and I made it about .50 mi from the aid station when I took a sip from my hose.
Did you fill my bladder with Tailwind? I asked Izzy.
Gag.
Shit. I took from the clear pitcher, Izzy said.
We turned ourselves right back around to the aid station to correct the error.
The desert terrain shifted, and we made our way to higher elevations. We were among quaking aspens and ponderosa pines. Izzy mentioned several times that this was her "favorite section." However, I felt bamboozled as we climbed over fallen trees and pushed through overgrown and dense brush.
My lungs began to whistle as I struggled to breathe. I felt it more as we arrived at higher altitudes. I stopped more frequently to take my inhaler, but it didn't help. Frustration began to set in.
As we continued on the trail, we checked the map more frequently to ensure we followed the correct route.
I religiously checked where we were on the elevation profile of this section to Geyser Pass, mile 200. I needed to know what more trickery lay ahead because, at this point, I was miffed. This section was so deceiving! I felt like a Nickleback song.
"These five words in my head
Scream, "Are we having fun yet?"
The answer was no; I was not having any fun.
Izzy made small talk, but I just felt grumpy about everything! Grumpy about my asthma flare-up and my restricted ability to move efficiently. I was cranky that this trail seemed to never end, prickly that we ran out of water, and shaming myself for leaving my water filter.
As we hiked along the mountain ridge, Izzy pointed out the headlights from below.
We have to be close, she said.
I was a negative Nancy. I didn't think so until we saw a headlight approaching us.
Toan? Izzy said.
Yes, indeed, he replied.
Izzy and I let out a cry so loud following the words
OH MY GAAAAAAWWWDDDD!!!!
"I'm never trauma bonding with her again.” ~Izzy
I admire Izzy's courage and patience throughout this section. This experience was cruel to both of us, but; she kept her emotions in check and didn't let me get eaten by mountain lions. And How the fuck she knew it was Toan still boggles my mind; I guess my brujería rubbed off on her that day.
Chapter 4: F6
10:18 PM, Monday, October 16
Since the race, people have been calling me "F6." So, I find it fitting to title this chapter "F6." You are welcome.
With tears in my eyes and a frail tone, "I fucking hated that; it was so deceiving!" Everyone around me just nodded their heads as I expressed my frustrations.
I sat in the chair, mentally exhausted; I felt my lungs struggling for air as I fell asleep with a cup of mushroom stroganoff in my hands.
Little did I know that F7 and F6 were also at Geyser Pass. My crew kept an eye on them as they strategized. Now, sitting in the car's passenger seat, I fell asleep again; they set the time for 30 minutes. As I slept, Mike and Fab went to work on my feet: cleaning, blister check, and retapping my Achillies. They worked with such finesse (Thank you for this).
I could hear Hannah in the backseat, preparing to fulfill her duties. The honor was mine, sharing the final moments with my best friend.
Tuesday, October 17, 12:38 AM
Mike and Toan filled me in on F6 and F7. I nodded; together, we walked to check out.
"Alright, Hannah, bring her home,"
Mike said as he hugged her.
"152 out."
Onward, we shuffled into the darkness. I tell Hannah that moving forward, we pass with commitment.
Closing in on F6, I see she is struggling with something. Are you alright?
She mumbled something. It wasn't clear, but it was enough for me to understand that she needed help with her light.
She was struggling to close the cap on her waist light. I take the light from her, seal the cap, test it, and hand it back to her.
One foot in front of the other, we pushed on - my nose began to run. I used my buff to wipe AND BLOOD. Droplets of blood began to flow faster and faster. We stop, and I am bent over on the side of the trail; my buff is now soaked in blood.
Hannah, do you have a buff? Wait. Do you want it back? I jokingly say.
We made the decision to press on even with my bloody nose; Hannah kept me moving, and as the adrenaline wore off, I became more and more zombie-like.
I COMPLAINED!! Oh, boy, I complained to Hannah about how sleepy I felt. I pleaded and begged her to let me sleep, but the answer was always, "No, you are moving good."
I even lied about having to poop so that we could pull over and I could rest my eyes. I'm sorry, Hannah; I didn't have to poop; I was trying to be sneaky. She did let me nap for 2 minutes (and has said to me, "I'm never going to hear the end of this.")
She stood firm and steadfast to her word and kept me moving. There was no improvement in my asthma, and my wheezing became an annoying tune.
The Morning Light graced us as we hit the final stretch to the last aid station: Porcupine Rim, mile 221.4. Hannah frequently checked the tracker to understand how close the women behind were. I was officially F6, and I refused to be caught.
7:49 AM, we left Porcupine Rim. I said we need to run this last section like we are running for our lives. I want to be on the bike path, knowing I can cruise home.
This was my favorite section, not because I was 18 miles to the finish, but because it was the type of technical terrain I LOVED! Oh, man! Hannah and I lit it up. I followed her line as she ran with such grace. Dancing on the slick rock, moving her feet quickly on the trail. I admired her as she moved with ease.
As our feet touched the bike path, I knew my wild time in the desert was ending. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right, the movement forward, which has brought me full circle around Moab, Utah. This movement forward was all I needed to finish, whether fast or slow. Full circle, I thought about the people who came out to help make this very moment possible: Mike, Toan, Marc, Izzy, Hannah, and Fab. I felt gratitude for my coach Brian, and all my experiences from this year: the growth, the tears, the fatigue, the losses, and the triumphants.
Running on the bike path was very special for me; I felt this surge of energy from everyone ringing their cowbells for me.
I was on my final leg of The Destination Trails Moab 240.
Coming through the bike tunnel, Izzy and Toan greeted us, running alongside the final 200m. Toan cheered enthusiastically, and Izzy spoke,
"This is your moment that you have been dreaming of, that you've been working so hard for. "
On Tuesday, October 17, at 1:07:54 PM, I returned to the blue arch and completed the Moab 240 Endurance Run in 97:04:11.
A Moving Time of 2 days: 17 hours: 19 minutes, averaging 55.2 mi per day.
Chapter 5: Homecoming
Upon arriving home from my adventure in the desert, I was overwhelmed with the "Post-Race Blues." My heart felt like I was going through a nasty break-up. I was hard on myself, trying to understand why I felt the way I felt. Why I didn't feel happy or satisfied. And instead of holding space for myself to process and grieve, I scrutinized myself.
I failed to plan for the post-race blues; I did not anticipate how hard it would hit me.
This is why I've struggled to write the blog; I'm unsure of the story I am telling because I have yet to reflect on this experience. I am still trying to navigate the grief and this slight disappointment. And maybe my why is still evidently present; although the race is physically over, I am still learning from it.
It's 2 1/2 months later, here I am. I'm taking the first steps towards breaking through my little grey cloud by telling my story and bringing this book to a close (someone get the champagne ready).
Lastly, revisiting something Jess said to me. At the time, I didn't understand her statement, "That's why I keep coming back," but once I waltzed back from my "soul vacation," I understood. And If your pretty little brain is curious: will she return?
You bet your ass I will, with fervor!
If you made it this far, I want to congratulate you! You did it! Thank you for sticking with me and reading the damn thing! Thank you for returning to read and share (sometimes comment) my stories. I appreciate you ❤️
If you want to know about my adventure, my dear friend and pacer Toan created a video diary, which you can watch here
I hope you feel inspired and inspired enough to act on your goals. Remember, in the end, all you have to do is, " try."
As always,
I am ringing my cowbell for you! Happy Trails! Have a Happy New Year!
Quote of the Week: “Having passion for work alone might be the ultimate goal of all, because the work is the only thing that is really, truly yours. You’re entitled only to your labor. You’re not entitled to the fruit of your labor. The universe guarantees no results.
― Des Linden, Choosing to Run: A Memoir
Song of the Week: Sam Ryder, Fought And Lost
