Trail Running Doesn't Feel the Same - 2016 a Retrospective

I look around sometimes and notice that a lot of the people that used to be a huge part of the trail running community don't come around to the group runs anymore.  In fact, we hardly see any of them anymore.  When i ask I usually hear something like "it just doesn't feel the same anymore" and I wonder what they mean by that.

When I first came to trail running I immediately fell in love with the culture and community.  I was wowed by the fact that people cared more about me reaching my goals than measuring them against their own accomplishments.  People didn't ask my finish times.  At fatass events no one really cared who ran faster or further.  I couldn't believe how quick seasoned veterans were to lend a hand, some advice, crew or pace me, or just ask me to go on a run with them.  They genuinely welcomed me to the community and I felt like that really wanted me to succeed.

In those early days group runs were a place to make new friends, pass along the knowledge we learned and cultivate relationships.  Spending all day on the trial with people and you feel a sense of closeness.  You paced them overnight during their 100 miler.  You crewed them.  You saw them fail. You watched them triumph.

Maybe your life got busier or your priorities changed.  You started just doing group runs just with your close group of friends.  It was easier for this smaller group to just crew and pace each other. You focused on dominating your age group and getting into Western States while taking more intimate trips together.  You didn't have time to slow down and help.  You didn't reach out to the new trail runners.  People just didn't understand that you can't give an entire day to working an aid station.  You did your volunteer hours for the year already....other people can clean up the trails.

And then one day you came around and noticed how things had changed.  All the old people were gone.  It just didn't feel the same.

I think at some point we all come to discover that the trail and ultra "community" gives way more than it takes, but only to those that give back.  Think about it this way....running 100 miles alone with no crew or pacer on inadequate training is hard.  Compare that to having a great crew, inspirational pacer and knowing that you put in all the hard work... it makes it easier.  It also allows others to play a role, learn, build a relationship with you and share in your accomplishment.

Are you leaving the world of trail and ultra running better than it was when you found it?  Do you give more than you take?  Did you pace or crew a stranger this year? Did you extend your hand to a newcomer and make some of those first hard long runs easier for them by giving them company?  Did you work an aid station all day?  Did you help put on a fatass?  Volunteer for a local Race Director? Did you inspire a stranger by believing in them before they could believe in themself?

If you answered no to several of the above it might be time to look in the mirror and admit that it's not trail and ultra running, but you that's changed.  Let's make it a goal in 2017 to give more than we take.

You meet a lot of amazing people out on the trials.  One of them is you!

Running Friends

If you're like me you have two (or more) sets of friends.  Running friends and regular friends.

Most of your regular friends are people you made a decision to become close to for some reason or another.  Maybe they were your neighbor, or you worked together.  Maybe you have a common interest or even a friend in common.  Nonetheless, the common thread with all of these people is that for some reason you decided to create and form a friendship.  These friendships ebb and flow at times based on your common interests.  You switch jobs.  You give up stamp collecting.  You move.  These friends also tend to change.  There are people in my life that were critical connections a decade ago that now....well... I can't even think of their last name.

Flatlanders Dog Days of Summer 8 Hour Fatass 08-06-16

It might just be me, but running friends seem different.  Obviously there are people in your running group or club.  They might start out like the friends described above.  But if you run long enough (meaning a long period of time) or long enough (meaning a really long distance) you might make a different kind of friend.  What I call my "running friends.

I can't tell you some of my running friend's names or what they do for a living.  I might not know the names and ages of their kids.    Nonetheless, the bond that you will make with people on the trails or on really long runs will be, in many way, more intimate than all of the other relationships in your life.  You'll tell them about your chaffage and diarrhea.  You'll tell them all your secret stories from your life, the stuff you would be afraid to tell anyone else, simply because it gets your mind off of the fact that you are suffering and will be for many more hours.  Some of these friends you'll keep in touch with on Facebook or Strava.  Others you won't even think of until the next time you bump into them at a race, and they won't mind your lack of contact at all.  You'll pick up right where you left off. There's just something about running friends that's different.

Sure, there are more than a few narcissists and drama queens and serial assholes, just like in any other social group.  But I submit that running friends are the best friends you'll have.  They'll know just what you need and when you need it.  They'll say the right thing to change your mindset.  They'll believe in you, even when you don't believe in yourself.

So next time you are out on a 30 mile training run, or 3/4 of the way through a long race look to your left and look to your right.  You're next best friend might be right there, waiting for you to lean on them.

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I remember growing up as a kid in the 80's.  Playing video games, especially Pac-Man.  I remember the way the game changed once I mastered it, I became convinced that I needed to get to a certain level without "losing a guy" to have a chance of a good game.  If I suffered any early setbacks the rest of the game was useless.  If I was at home I'd just hit reset.  If I had no chance of getting my name on the board there was no point in playing. (Note: I was terrible at Pac-man and I don't know why I used it as an example).  (Note: I kicked ass at Crazy Climber).

I worked  at an aid station at miles 37 and 60 of the Hennepin Hundred this weekend.  For about 15 hours I met numerous runners trying to run fifty or one hundred miles, many for the very first time. If you have never been to an ultramarathon I highly recommend volunteering at one.  You see the human spirit pushed to its brink.  You see suffering on an unthinkable scale (well, it's thinkable, they paid for it, but you get what I mean).  You feel like you are a part of their race.  Your assistance is helping. A tiny part of their success becomes yours.  In summary, it is a VERY rewarding experience.

As I gain experience in these races I observe different things.  In this experience one of the key things I observed was the arbitrary emphasis we seem to put on numbers.  Maybe it is imposed by others. Maybe advertisements, running magazines, movies and books have gotten in our heads.  I don't know where it really comes from and why we care. But we seem to.

I remember (like it was yesterday) my first 5K, half marathon, marathon, 50K, 50 Mile and 100 Mile races.  I don't know why 3.1, 13.1, 26.2, 31, 50 or 100 mattered to me.  Those numbers have no independent value.  It's not like running that exact number of miles means anything other than on magnets, medals and t-shirts.  I don't recall anyone putting any focus on HOW i ran those distances.  I don't recall working on my form or speed.  My place wasn't really important.  I don't remember having a finishing time in mind.  I was convinced somehow that there was value to moving my body that distance.  Among the memories I have of those events, my finishing times and/or goals really don't play a big part in them.

At some point I read that "if you can't break four hours in a marathon you shouldn't even bother."  I then made that time my goal and chased the four hour marathon for years.  I never made it. Once I started focusing on it I stopped enjoying my marathons. I stopped having fun at any event where it became clear my goal wasn't possible. I then completely fell out of love with running and marathoning.  I took a long break and smoked cigarettes and got out of shape.

At some point in 2011/2012 I discovered trail and ultra running.  The crowd was extremely different.  I met characters.  We ate real food.  We talked about "time on our feet" and enjoyed spending hours and hours together on the trail sharing experiences.  I met a new family.  It changed the way I looked at running.  People seldom asked me what my time was.  We didn't talk about age group awards.  No one seemed to talk about "who beat who."  We might discuss who won and marvel at how fast they were, but I honestly felt like no one really put any stock in their time, place, etc.  It was more about the journey and shared experience.  the vibe was cool, laid back and fun.

Somewhere that vibe has been missing from some of the events I have been in lately.  This weekend I talked with many people that were considering quitting. They weren't in pain.  They weren't in danger of failing to finish.  Instead, they were going to drop because they weren't going to meet their goal of finishing in "under 24 hours."  The fact that that goal was unobtainable made them feel their experience was such a failure that they would be better off failing to finish altogether.  What a bunch of bullshit.  What a travesty.  All those miracles happening around them.  All that splendor and beauty.  All those people working tirelessly to help them - and they wanted to throw it away over a number.  It just seemed so arbitrary.  It was such a shame.

I'm not saying goals are bad.  I'm not shitting on accomplishment.  I certainly think people should do their best on the given day.  I also think that if you are injured (and by this I mean *really*injured, like, going to the doctor tomorrow, not the ole "knee acting up" followed by a ten mile run the next day) there's no reason to be a hero.  (I should also probably say I have never come close to running a 100 mile race in less than 24 hours. So feel free to chalk this post up to that if you must).  What I am saying is that we might be starting to make the amazing the enemy of the ideal.

I don't know of a single elite that reads this blog (sniffle).  So I feel pretty safe in saying this.  If you think you are better than someone or had a better race because you ran longer or faster than someone else, ranked higher, won an age group award or got a PR you're kidding yourself.  Stick around and watch the smiles on those finishing near the end of a 100 mile race.  Go see the shock of those finishing their first 5K.  See the "couch to marathon" crowd at mile 26.2 of their first marathon.  Tell me any of these people had a worse race than you.  Just try.

The next time you're considering dropping because you aren't going to make your arbitrary time goal. Try thinking of a reason to stay in the race, rather than a reason to quit.  You meet a lot of great people in the course of a race.  One of them might be you.