Desert Solstice 24 Hour

The monkey is off my back – and safely back in the zoo.  I finished the full 24 Hours of the Desert Solstice Invitational – whew – and managed to win it in the process!  If you have read this blog before, you know that I have struggled for the last two years – both with the mental, and physical, aspects of racing 24 Hour events.  So, deciding to finally battle my demons at this “elite invitational” didn’t seem like the smartest of plans, but ended up being the only viable option I could come up with before the end of the year.

Although I wasn’t thrilled about running a 24 Hour event on a 400 meter track, several important factors outweighed the insanity of the venue.  First, my friend, Debbie Horn was going to be there, and I hadn’t seen her in a year.  I love running with Debbie because she is super focused, but also very supportive.  If you want to see a pro run a 24 Hour race, Debbie is the one to watch.  Second, Phoenix, where the race was held, is halfway between El Paso and Los Angeles, making it a very easy location for my family (i.e., crew) to meet.  Third, I knew that I needed to finish a 24 Hour before the end of 2011 so that I could “bookend” a really tumultuous period in my life.  Frankly, I had lost my nerve and I needed to get it back.

The race itself was one of the most organized events I have ever run.  Aravaipa Running pulled out all the stops to make this a truly elite event.  I actually felt guilty during the race for not relying on their extraordinary volunteers more because they were so attentive and positive, but I had learned the hard way that I can’t really eat much from aid stations in long, long events.  I have to be very streamlined in what I eat and drink, or I will pay for it later.  I ended up only eating a little fruit and lots of club soda from the aid station, but was still incredibly grateful they were there and cheering the entire time.

My only goal for the race was to stay on the course the entire 24 hours.  As much as I wanted to have a solid mileage goal, I knew that adding any further psychological pressure than I already felt would probably tip the scales against me.  I just set out to run and focused on my body.  I made sure that I stayed fluid and relaxed, keeping my stride as even and consistent as possible.  For the first 50 miles, I didn’t even check my distance or time, but just ran as calmly as possible.  Debbie, Suzanna Bon and I chatted periodically on the course, which was a really nice distraction.  The whole atmosphere felt very relaxed, except when the super-fast 100 milers would blow by periodically (both finishing under 14 hours! with Michael Arnstein winning and Jay Aldous setting an age group World Record – dang!).

At the 50 mile mark I was pleasantly surprised to realize that I was at 8:06.  I still felt fresh, so even though that was faster than I expected, I wasn’t concerned.  I continued on, Debbie checking on me periodically.  She told me that if I could get to 70 miles in 12 hours, I could break 130.  What?  Really?  I told her I was just going mile by mile, and that my next goal was 60 miles by 10 hours. When I hit that goal with time to spare, I started thinking maybe I could have a PR.  I’ve never been one to pay attention to my splits before 100 miles, but now it was getting fun.  Now I was looking forward to the 10 mile increments so that I could see if I was on pace. Instead of being a cause for stress, it became a game, giving my mind something to think about every now and then.

When I hit 72 miles at around 12 hours, I wanted to cheer.  I was so, so excited. But I was also starting to get mental.  The gremlins were moving in – “You can quit at 100.  You’ll have PR.  That’s good enough.  You don’t have to finish.  This is too hard.”

I told Tim that if I PR’d at the 100, I was going to stop.  He said, “No you’re not.  You said you were going to stay on the course no matter what.”  And he was right.  That is what I had said. My kids were watching.  And I knew this was the moment that would come back to haunt me forever.  No matter how I finished, I couldn’t quit.  I’d spent two years doubting myself, doubting my abilities, doubting my passion for running, doubting my sanity for wanting to do it.  If I quit now, I might as well just quit for good.

I went back out on the course.  At 100 miles, I barely registered my split (I think it was somewhere around 17:30), because I couldn’t afford another gremlin voice telling me it was okay to quit.  I just had to keep going.  The last 6.5 hours are a blur.  I remember Dan Rose cheering me on, which really helped a lot – what a nice guy!  It rained off and on, people dropped, and eventually there were only two of us left on the course.  It was very lonely, but I just put my head down and tried to stay as focused as possible.  I only had one goal, and that was to finish.  I’m sure I missed a lot going on during that time period, but I developed almost tunnel vision, blocking out all unnecessary stimuli so that I could finish the race.

Finally, it was the last two hours of the race, and I allowed myself to look at the mileage clock.  I was 9.5 miles away from 130.  Could I do it?  On paper it doesn’t seem all that difficult to run 9.5 miles in 2 hours, but after 22 hours and 121.5 miles, it felt like the hardest thing ever.  I kept telling myself it was just a “morning run” – I just needed to stay relaxed and get it done – no drama, no whining, no thinking.  Just run.  The last two hours went by both excruciatingly slow, and unbelievably fast.  I desperately wanted it to be over, but I equally desperately wanted more time so that I could hit 130.  Round and round I went, looking at my splits on each lap, feeling like I was hardly making any progress.  At some point, I stopped looking.  I knew I was doing the best I could, and it would just have to be enough.  But as we got closer and closer to the end, and people started congregating around the clock, I couldn’t help but look.  I was at 129.  One mile to go.  I tried to do the math in my mind, but nothing was making sense. I couldn’t figure out if I had enough time or not.  So I just ran.  Then Nick Coury’s wonderful mother was beside me, running the last lap.  She was my “marker’ – the person who marks your spot when the horn blows so they can certify the exact distance.  We were running, me trying to go as fast as possible, hoping I could get all the way around the track one last time. The horn blew and I stopped, almost toppling over with the abrupt change.  My family came out to grab me so that I didn’t do a face-plant onto the track.  It was over.  I hadn’t quit.

When it was all said and done, I had run 130.92 miles.  I was first overall.  And I was really, really happy.

At the awards ceremony, I found out Debbie set an age group record for her 100 miler (17:14) and Suzanna Bon set 3 age group records (50 miles, 100k, and 100 miles)!  Those women were absolutely incredible!

Happy Running!

Tagged as: 24 hours, Aravaipa Running, Debbie Horn, Desert Solstice, Jay Aldous, Michael Arnstein, Multidays, Racing, Running, Suzanna Bon