A Runners Story: Meet my DNFs and DNS
So often folks target the successes and easily omit and overlook the learning opportunities presented to all of us on our individual journey.
So it became a surprise to me when several folks were unaware of my DNFs and my recent DNS. I know I didn't talk about my DNS, but my DNFs? I'm sure I've written about a time or two. Right?
Does Facebook live or FB post count? No?
I feel as if I've unintentionally deceived the masses, and more importantly failed to chronicle important moments in my running life for me.
So let's revisit my 2 DNFs and my DNS. To get this conversation jumped off correctly, one must first know a couple of key things. DNF = Did Not Finish. You started, but you don't finish. DNS = Did Not Start. You signed up. You paid money. But yo' ass for one reason or another didn't even bother to either show up or cross the start line.
My latest love; DNS. The Flagstaff Sky Runner Series. Yup, a couple of months ago I was supposed to toe the line and participate in this epic run. I remember when I realized that it would be too much trouble to even toe the start line and dropped out. I was working in Indiana and I had just finished an emotional marathon, that I had put myself through mental and physical hell. My body was wrecked and the logistics of getting there seemed insurmountable. So I sent an email to the organizers to let them know that I would not be attending.
I felt a little defeated, but I also felt refreshed. I was doing what was best for my mind, my body, and my circumstances at the time. It was a decision that I stand by to this day. I'm proud I had the nerve to say "No".
It's a beautiful race, maybe some other time. Maybe never. But it wasn't to be this year. A growth moment none the less.
Meet Insomniac Nights: A night run series that I've played around with once before, albeit it was more like a quick one night stand. Despite being a shorter run during our first encounter, I got beat up pretty bad. So after my success of completing many marathons and the infamous 100K distance, I felt it was time to go back for a second romp with ol' Insomniac Nights and turn up the distance to make it more meaningful.
For those who are unfamiliar, this course has a crushing accent within the first few miles to demoralize you and taunt you. If you think that is bad, then after you descend to the back aid station, you're met with a gentle imperceptible climb back to the start. Nasty little bugger of a course. And if you're like me and like your trail runs rough, you bite off more than you can chew and go for not 1, not 2, but the 3 loop variety! Of course you tell yourself that you're not crazy and going for the 5 looper.
Each loop is roughly 6 miles and the first loop had it's way with me. I was still in it, but knew I was beat. But I went back out and struggled mightily. I pushed through some really horrible moments during that second loop. Really horrible. Worse than I've felt in a long time. Even fell at mile 12. I've never fully fallen before. My quads and calves where locking up, despite taking in plenty of fluids. My body was going through these weird waves. I knew if I continue, I would be putting my body at risk.
Mentally I was good. Physically, I was finished. As I came through the chute for loop two, I knew I was done. I went to the medical tent and had my legs worked on and called it a night. Insomniac Nights left me with some new lessons on the plate to know when the body has had enough despite knowing that I could push through with my mind alone.
Then we have Pass Mountain. Oh Pass mountain. You little deceitful little manipulator.
A couple of years ago I would have a run in with lil Pass Mountain. Coming off the high of my first 50K, I was shooting for my 2nd and I was in great shape. The weather was... Well what you expect in the desert. I had never frolicked through the trails of Usery Mountain Reserves out in the east valley of Phoenix.
The course spends the first 5 miles or so in the flats and the wash, with spectacular views of Pass Mountain. Before long, you're going to be in those mountains.
On this particular day, I was so off in wonderland within my head that I missed a critical turn while in the flats. When I revisited my mental, I remember the tour group that was crowding the area as I ran through. Not blaming them (but blaming them because they were standing in front of the course signs), it was still my responsibility to know the course.
I didn't realize I was off course until I heard, and quickly saw, the start just a quarter mile away. This couldn't be right. I shouldn't be here. There's no way I made it back around so quickly.
I realized my mistake quickly and began back tracking the trails to find the spot. That place where things went wrong. I had added quite a bit of mileage to my endeavor. Consumed quite a bit of my rations in the process. With quite the distance back to the aid station, my heart sank, but I remained positive until...
Pass Mountain.
Holy Shit! What a climb! What a view! But damned those extra miles became a crucial factor in what wold become my first DNF.
A solid hit to my growing ego. But a reality check that what we do can not be taken lightly. There are serious consequences when things go wrong. People die in the back country. Limbs are broken. Dehydration is real. Death is a constant pacer. And that's what makes ultra running what it is.
There's a bond between folks who've never met because of the dark dog we've all run with. The crossroads we've all faced. The decisions both good and bad. The addiction which consumes us but has saved us from something even more horrible. Ourselves.
We're all our worst enemies and it's those learning opportunities that break us down to stop beating ourselves up and learn to love ourselves through the pain and suffering. Through the ugliness at the bottom of our souls we find in the middle of the night at mile 42, we find solace. We find peace with who we are.
Our angels and demons can sit in harmony in the presence of our souls stripped bare.
Failure so often is defined as not succeeding at the task at hand. Such a misnomer. There are lessons to be learned true. But that isn't failure. Sometimes failure can be found at the finish line of the task at hand by pushing through and beyond wisdom into the world of stupidity and arrogance.
Success is the ability to continue another day having learned what went wrong today. Plus not everyday is meant to be marked with a course PR (Personal Record), PB (Personal Best), or even a finish.
While we love to relish in those "finishes", the true successes are all the moments we had the tenacity to start a run, the courage to toe a start line (so many don't), and the wisdom to know when to say when. Sometimes that "when" comes before the start, before the finish, or sometimes "when" comes after the race is done.
Whenever the when comes, we all have to learn to know when to DNS, DNF, or when to tough it out and grind through. In our sport, it often is a life or death choice.
So it became a surprise to me when several folks were unaware of my DNFs and my recent DNS. I know I didn't talk about my DNS, but my DNFs? I'm sure I've written about a time or two. Right?
Does Facebook live or FB post count? No?
I feel as if I've unintentionally deceived the masses, and more importantly failed to chronicle important moments in my running life for me.
So let's revisit my 2 DNFs and my DNS. To get this conversation jumped off correctly, one must first know a couple of key things. DNF = Did Not Finish. You started, but you don't finish. DNS = Did Not Start. You signed up. You paid money. But yo' ass for one reason or another didn't even bother to either show up or cross the start line.
My latest love; DNS. The Flagstaff Sky Runner Series. Yup, a couple of months ago I was supposed to toe the line and participate in this epic run. I remember when I realized that it would be too much trouble to even toe the start line and dropped out. I was working in Indiana and I had just finished an emotional marathon, that I had put myself through mental and physical hell. My body was wrecked and the logistics of getting there seemed insurmountable. So I sent an email to the organizers to let them know that I would not be attending.
I felt a little defeated, but I also felt refreshed. I was doing what was best for my mind, my body, and my circumstances at the time. It was a decision that I stand by to this day. I'm proud I had the nerve to say "No".
It's a beautiful race, maybe some other time. Maybe never. But it wasn't to be this year. A growth moment none the less.
Meet Insomniac Nights: A night run series that I've played around with once before, albeit it was more like a quick one night stand. Despite being a shorter run during our first encounter, I got beat up pretty bad. So after my success of completing many marathons and the infamous 100K distance, I felt it was time to go back for a second romp with ol' Insomniac Nights and turn up the distance to make it more meaningful.
For those who are unfamiliar, this course has a crushing accent within the first few miles to demoralize you and taunt you. If you think that is bad, then after you descend to the back aid station, you're met with a gentle imperceptible climb back to the start. Nasty little bugger of a course. And if you're like me and like your trail runs rough, you bite off more than you can chew and go for not 1, not 2, but the 3 loop variety! Of course you tell yourself that you're not crazy and going for the 5 looper.
Each loop is roughly 6 miles and the first loop had it's way with me. I was still in it, but knew I was beat. But I went back out and struggled mightily. I pushed through some really horrible moments during that second loop. Really horrible. Worse than I've felt in a long time. Even fell at mile 12. I've never fully fallen before. My quads and calves where locking up, despite taking in plenty of fluids. My body was going through these weird waves. I knew if I continue, I would be putting my body at risk.
Mentally I was good. Physically, I was finished. As I came through the chute for loop two, I knew I was done. I went to the medical tent and had my legs worked on and called it a night. Insomniac Nights left me with some new lessons on the plate to know when the body has had enough despite knowing that I could push through with my mind alone.
Then we have Pass Mountain. Oh Pass mountain. You little deceitful little manipulator.
A couple of years ago I would have a run in with lil Pass Mountain. Coming off the high of my first 50K, I was shooting for my 2nd and I was in great shape. The weather was... Well what you expect in the desert. I had never frolicked through the trails of Usery Mountain Reserves out in the east valley of Phoenix.
The course spends the first 5 miles or so in the flats and the wash, with spectacular views of Pass Mountain. Before long, you're going to be in those mountains.
On this particular day, I was so off in wonderland within my head that I missed a critical turn while in the flats. When I revisited my mental, I remember the tour group that was crowding the area as I ran through. Not blaming them (but blaming them because they were standing in front of the course signs), it was still my responsibility to know the course.
I didn't realize I was off course until I heard, and quickly saw, the start just a quarter mile away. This couldn't be right. I shouldn't be here. There's no way I made it back around so quickly.
I realized my mistake quickly and began back tracking the trails to find the spot. That place where things went wrong. I had added quite a bit of mileage to my endeavor. Consumed quite a bit of my rations in the process. With quite the distance back to the aid station, my heart sank, but I remained positive until...
Pass Mountain.
Holy Shit! What a climb! What a view! But damned those extra miles became a crucial factor in what wold become my first DNF.
A solid hit to my growing ego. But a reality check that what we do can not be taken lightly. There are serious consequences when things go wrong. People die in the back country. Limbs are broken. Dehydration is real. Death is a constant pacer. And that's what makes ultra running what it is.
There's a bond between folks who've never met because of the dark dog we've all run with. The crossroads we've all faced. The decisions both good and bad. The addiction which consumes us but has saved us from something even more horrible. Ourselves.
We're all our worst enemies and it's those learning opportunities that break us down to stop beating ourselves up and learn to love ourselves through the pain and suffering. Through the ugliness at the bottom of our souls we find in the middle of the night at mile 42, we find solace. We find peace with who we are.
Our angels and demons can sit in harmony in the presence of our souls stripped bare.
Failure so often is defined as not succeeding at the task at hand. Such a misnomer. There are lessons to be learned true. But that isn't failure. Sometimes failure can be found at the finish line of the task at hand by pushing through and beyond wisdom into the world of stupidity and arrogance.
Success is the ability to continue another day having learned what went wrong today. Plus not everyday is meant to be marked with a course PR (Personal Record), PB (Personal Best), or even a finish.
While we love to relish in those "finishes", the true successes are all the moments we had the tenacity to start a run, the courage to toe a start line (so many don't), and the wisdom to know when to say when. Sometimes that "when" comes before the start, before the finish, or sometimes "when" comes after the race is done.
Whenever the when comes, we all have to learn to know when to DNS, DNF, or when to tough it out and grind through. In our sport, it often is a life or death choice.
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