What are we all doing here? How did we get here? Think nat, think. The sky turned from starry sky black to glowing blue- that's where we were, and now we are here?
I'm in pain & numb ?
I'm sitting & throbbing
My skin hurts & I'm still
It's getting to a point that I might be running too many races to have authentic thoughts about the events anymore. I find the write up boring myself, reading the same buzz words over and over...and over again. Climbing, eat, salt, pain, impatience, pacer, finish line, puke, mud, heat, snow...and so it goes. I've run out of fresh ways to describe my races in a way that I only hope you can connect with or at the VERY least chuckle, wonder why?, or at best...think, I want to do that too.
Beaming into the pit, juvenile optimism about the pain.
Brave to the fatigue and naive at once
Lost in a thought about my body,
dissecting every step. Hungry?
No. That doesn't matter, as I know.
The sun is whipping me and I'm standing here
silencing my hate for this moment.
The Wasatch is special, don't let me get this twisted as I complain. I believe it would be special even if I did not live in these mountains, did not play in these mountains, did not leave my life in Baltimore for good when I stepped foot in these mountains...I think it's special for first timers, for 12 timers, for 17 timers, and for runners who were placed in a chair sick, injured, or unable to...anymore.
I've been thinking more about the Wasatch allure than the actual trails lately. There's an electricity. That might be a local charge, but I know how hard this race is. I know how relentless and damn right miserable it can be. I've met people from out of town, and I am so impressed that they are here, many alone without crew or pacers or a familiar face for 100 miles. Why? Why this race? I can't shed light on anyone but me.
It started with my first Wasatch finish in 2015. I fought harder for that. I slogged Lambs-Brighton with a pacer that had every reason to believe I could not make it. A pacer who wanted to leave me, and in her defense, I can only say, she did not know me well enough to think otherwise. I would go into van gouge color like description of the first Wasatch, but as they say, it's not about what you've done...
The allure, started there. An extremely hard fight and run to the finish in 2015 with my friend. My friend, who in fact, did know me well enough to know, I don't go out unless I'm swinging doing it. (It's an east coast thing;) (muwah). We ran hard and full of fury, smiling. The beginning of the End. An end I wanted more than I could explain. WHY??
Because it's hard. Because it feels impossible, and when you have come this far, glory is in your site or a finish in your pocket, but it's not easy. It's not a gimmie. It's still not yours, until it is.
Gratitude. Humility. Pride. Happiness. And then what?? You chase it. You freakin' chase it.
So, Wasatch 2018; Ack the details are boring...But, let me try to summarize 35:33 in a paragraph.
I was injured before the start. 5 weeks "essentially " off. I had a hot but good 32 miles to big mountain. I saw my dear friends Cheryl and Jen with a mango juice and Mcdonalds. I handled BigMountain and Alexander well enough. At Lambs were my people for the Wasatch this year- Mark & Betsy. More Mcdonalds, head lamps, poles, & we out. I motored as fast i could which was fast enough to cover those 23 miles of mostly up in 8 hours. One of mt partners in crime, Betsy, scooped me up and out of Brighton, mile 67. I hit a wall leaving Brighton. And, in reflection, impatience and fatigue. Sun came up and although lovely, I was getting itchy about time. The heat sucked me dry on Friday and I gave all i had in the tank to get to Brighton in 8 hours. But, I pushed with a consistent whine that my dear friend let slide..cuz, she knows...Bonk fest at mile 84 when it all just got to me and the tears started to flow. Something we should all remember "You're not failing, Nat. You're bonking" The Gospel of Betsy, Blessed it be to GOD. I ate, I got stung by a hornet. 15 miles to go. I gave in...
After 30 hours, I gave in and accepted all of it and just moved.
Wasatch, will you ever come gently into the soft night? I doubt it.
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