I have been an endurance athlete since 1999 and a coach since 2005. I
have spent 75% of my time over the last 18+ years focusing on the
physical side of training… how to eat, how many miles to put in during training,
how to prevent injuries, what shoes to wear, proper technique, you know… the “easy”
stuff. Sure, I can “suck it up” when
shit hits the fan but how long does that approach really work? At some point
mental breakdown sets in and even the strongest athletes are brought to their
knees. How are some people able to seemingly turn off the discomfort and
boredom of endurance sports to accomplish super human feats? Better yet, how
can I teach others to do this and how can we apply these skills to situations
that occur in everyday life? This is my theme of 2018, the mental side of
endurance sports and maybe in life in general.
My search for ultimate mental fortitude was inspired by the Sri
Chimney Self Transcendence race which I found out about five years ago. The
Self Transcendence race is a 3100 mile race that takes place around a city
block in New York City during the hottest part of the summer. Athletes at this
race are given 52 days to complete the distance and run from 6am to 12 pm everyday. How
are they able to get up every day and run or walk the same loop without going
crazy? Well for starters, many of them are followers of Sri Chinmoy, a larger
than life meditation teacher who lived in New York City and led thousands of
people down a path of ultimate mental peace through athletics. When listening to the interviews
of these runners one thing was certain, if they suffered, they knew how to turn
it off… but how do they do it? I am determined to find out.
My best form of research comes from throwing myself into the
fire so I thought of one of the most boring places I could think of to run
around, a high school track. If I could take away the mental stimulation of new
scenery, trails, aid stations, and mile markers, would I be forced to enter a
different part of my brain? To prepare my mind for this event and my ultimate
challenge in November, I started a meditation practice in the beginning of the
year. I am not very good at it but those who meditate know that I just broke a
rule of meditation, don’t judge your meditation! Leave it to me to be type A
even in my meditation practice.
The Cornbelt Running club of Iowa hosts a 24 hour track run
in a small town called Eldridge. They have hosted this run for 37 years and
every year athletes of all abilities come to run around this small circle for a
full day. I instantly knew I would LOVE the race when we pulled into the Happy
Joes on Friday night to pick-up my race packet. I was greeted by the race
director and one of the members of the Cornbelt running club, instantly I felt welcomed into this small eclectic group. We were given a long-sleeved shirt, number, and
participant list…there were 29 of us. 29 people willing to run around in
circles all day long. The oldest participant was 78, and only 4 of us were
under 40 years old.
The race started on Saturday morning at 7am to the sound of
a pistol that the race director could not get to work. The energy of the race
was relaxed as half of us took off in an easy run and the other half a walk. My
goal was to run 100k on Saturday, go back to the hotel and sleep and come back
on Sunday to finish up. We would run the first 4 hours in one direction, and
then switch directions every 3 hours after that. I would run 2 laps and walk 1 lap until I hit
50k, then run 1 lap and walk 1 until I hit 50 miles, then… there was no plan
after that.
There were no timing chips as we each had our own lap
counter, a person that literally called out, “Cassie 1, Cassie 2!” after each
lap. I HATE knowing where I am in a race so quickly asked my lap counter to not
tell me my laps. I think I was the only one who did this but it worked well for
me and we quickly developed a system of “nod and wave” as I went by to signal
that they caught my lap.
The first hour went by very slowly… I found myself saying, “what
the fuck did you get yourself into?” I tried not to focus on that and soon I
found myself having difficulty counting my two running laps. “Is it time to
walk?” That’s when I knew I was “there”. THERE is that place in running where
you really are not thinking about anything but placing one foot in front of the
other. Nothing hurts, you are not competing with anyone, and you could say you
are in a state of joy or peace. I found myself
trying to make each lap a new experience, to live in the present moment. I
focused on the green grass, the wind, the sky, and the energy around me. The simplicity
of the event made this surprising easy for a while. Then, shit hit the fan.
It was “hot”, or hot for someone that just came out of a
cold Wisconsin winter. Around hour 9 my stomach started to get funny and I
focused on that exclusively. Then like it typically happens, you focus on the
negative and then I noticed how tired my legs were. I pulled out my music but
that only helped for an hour. By hour 10 I was walking exclusively. I only had 3 more hours to go for my day one
goal, but that seemed like it would take an eternity. That’s when I took a step
back and looked at my mental state. “Stop the negative thoughts Cassie. You
just have to walk for 3 more hours, then you can rest. No big deal.” I kept
repeating this over and over until I had 1 hour to go. Greg showed up and
walked with me and just like that day one was done.
As I packed up my stuff you could see the questioning looks
on people’s faces. “If you stay out here you could win it for the women”, one
man said. True, but that was not my goal. I want to see what it feels like to leave and
come back on a new day with a new attitude.
I hardly slept, which in not new for me. I typically sleep
awful after an event but I was showered, fed and my feet were up for 5 hours.
It is easy when not sleeping to focus on the negative, but surprisingly that
did not happen. I was actually looking forward to going back out on the track
for the last 2 hours. I wanted to see the sunrise, I wanted to be out on the
track until the absolute end with this unique group of people.
The alarm rang at 3:30 and Greg and I packed up our room and
drove back to Eldridge. My original plan was to walk but after the first two
laps I noticed that I felt really good so I ran. It’s amazing what rest does
for a person. A few of the runners had
left for good but there was a strong group that had gone all night. Most were
walking but a few people were still managing a nice shuffle. The leader at that
point was set to get in almost 130 miles and the oldest competitor was inching
close to 90 miles. It’s funny how there is a secret code between ultrarunners.
The morning is quiet and even though everyone is tired and struggling there is
no complaining, just forward motion.
The final two hours flew by. It was as if I had never ran
that ¼ mile loop the day before. My mantra was simple, every lap is a new experience,
a new race. Before I knew it I had just under 3 minutes to go so Greg and I “sprinted”
to get that last lap in. Unofficially it was 70 miles, almost 8 miles over my
goal. Other than some blisters my body felt great. Better yet, I was not
mentally exhausted, which was the entire goal of the run.
After the race a few of the runners headed over to Happy
Joes for breakfast and to receive their awards. Plaques were given out to the
runners who had ran 100k or more and hour glasses were awarded to the top male
and female runners. The top male made out with 128 miles, the top female, 78.
When I told people I was going to do this run the most
common response that I received was a condescending “WHY?” “That sounds so
boring”. I know my WHY. I wanted to explore the depths
of my brain, but what about the others out there? Out of all of the places in
the world to run, why would anyone choose to run around this little track in
this small farming community in Iowa? It certainly was not for a shirt and a
plaque. I have thought a lot about this and my conclusion is this…it’s the movement.
Movement is life and it’s a gift no matter how slow or fast you are. When you
strip away the spectators, the mile markers, and the grand views it’s always
been about experience of moving one’s body through space and time. A track
takes away the expectation of hitting a certain distance, of worrying about
where one is, or if one might fall on their face because they tripped on a
rock. Each loop is a new experience, each loop is a chance to start all over again. What a beautiful metaphor for life.
