Leadville reflections and managing expectations

This past weekend, I was lucky enough to spend the day cheering on friends and other runners as they pushed their bodies up and down a massive mountain pass in the middle of the Leadville Trail 100. It was the fourth year I was involved with the race as a crew member, spectator, or pacer. If you've participated in any of those roles, you know you have a lot of time to sit around, talk with friends, and discuss past and hopeful future adventures. It was an incredible day and gave me time to think about my first date and ongoing relationship with this race. 

I first found Leadville in 2009 when a friend asked me to pace him in the middle of the night for 20 miles in the last third of his 100-mile race. Many call pacing "the gateway drug to running ultra marathons." In my case, it was true. I saw some brutal parts of the race that year, from someone taking IV fluids while shaking uncontrollably to my runner who could barely make it from aid station to aid station without vomiting and immediately seeking a warm sleeping bag every time he had a chance to rest. As unpleasant as his race was after the halfway point, he finished. As I drove away from Leadville the next day, I knew I had to give this one a go. Watching someone go to the well, search for what's there, and find a way to finish against all odds was life-changing. While it is just running, there are so many lessons I learned that year that I keep relearning. 

Three races with three different mindsets

In previous years, you could get into high-profile races without ambiguous random lotteries or challenging qualifier events. I entered the 2010 race before discovering I was pregnant with my first child and chose to defer my entry to 2011. Today, I look back and have no idea how I finished that year as a new mom to a 10-month-old baby, but I barely pulled it off with an under-the-wire finish. If you've seen me on race courses, I am a happy runner for the most part. I smile a lot, I talk to people when I can, and I have found myself encouraging others in the challenging segments when running turns into a death march. During this 2011 race, my under-training caught up with me when I started the tortuous 40-mile walk back to town. This race humbled me and reminded me that wanting a finish is often not enough. I had underestimated the training and thought that because I had run dozens of marathons and a handful of shorter ultra-distance races, I could breeze right in and finish it. While I got that belt buckle after completing the race, my experience was painful and horrendous, and I did not love who I became in my negative mindset. I am so grateful for my friends who put up with me and kept dragging me one step closer. In this situation, I went in without respect for what I was trying to do. I assumed I would finish and carried no expectations, or perhaps too little. Big things require a lot of effort from the mind and body. Lesson learned.

While I kept running marathons, I took about six years off the ultra-long distances, preferring to choose the ones I could complete in a handful of hours due to having my second child and coming to the end of a rocky marriage.  In 2017, while adjusting to life after divorce with two young children, I decided to go for Leadville again. I was re-creating my life and loving it. Money and free time were tight, but I was the happiest I had been in a long time. I was working with a running coach for the first time, trying to whittle down my marathon time, and he agreed to coach me for Leadville if I got into the lottery. I did not get in that year through the lottery and had to earn a spot by qualifying at a race in Texas that Spring, running around a humid and swampy course. This obstacle fueled the fire and reminded me that I would have to work for it to perform well. That summer was amazing with my renewed mindset and hope for the future as I trained hard with friends in new places and found my ultra legs. There was no pressure, just fun.

I knew that I wanted and had a stronger performance within me than when I was a brand-new mom. I started to feel disengaged from my coach as he sent condescending emails here and there when I asked for more challenging workouts or questioned whether I was doing enough. He told me repeatedly, "Christy, you are coming off a divorce and should not set very high expectations or goals for yourself right now. It is unrealistic to expect much from yourself at this time". Maybe he was trying to be supportive and realistic, yet it was only causing self-doubt. I later discovered that he did not give his male athletes condescending advice as they experienced significant life transitions. While I knew his guidance did not sit well, I remained with him since he was my first coach. Not only did he not believe in me, but how he communicated with me made me question the renewed confidence I was developing in all life areas. As fate had it, while stocking up for training gear in June of that year at my favorite local run shop, I met my now husband, who had just started working there (another story for another time). I learned briefly about his Leadville experiences and asked for his advice and opinions on my current training. If you know Mike, you know he dreams big with his athletes. He challenged the limits my coach had placed on me and expanded the possibilities for what I could do if I trained hard and believed hard.

After some conversations and trials with a new training approach, I changed coaching directions. With Mike's guidance and belief in my abilities, I learned to dream big while maintaining the primary goal of having fun.

I started the Leadville 100 expecting a fun day, to thoroughly soak it all in with my friends on a beautiful course, and to push hard and put my training to the test. I had a solid team of friends who seemed almost as excited as I was to see what was possible. We had some general finishing time goals, but they were flexible. I wanted to see what I could do physically and mentally with a team of incredible friends crewing and pacing me, coming off a summer of solid training and renewed hope for my new life direction. It was the dream day that does not come around often, and I was thrilled to finish as the third-place female and 16th overall runner. It was a day and night I will never forget. I learned a lot about expectations and how not to get swallowed by them yet have them hang out there as something to shoot for and accept that in ultra marathons, just like in life, things can go sideways.

I wish I had finished learning about setting healthy expectations while remaining flexible after the magical 2017 race. I didn't. Often, it takes many repeat experiences for me to understand. After a standout race the year before, I decided to go back in 2018 and aim even higher. I had some ambitious time and placement goals in mind and again trained harder than ever. Four days before the start, I got sick and required antibiotics. Naively, I didn't accept that my ambitious goals were likely no longer possible. I lined up anyway, and while I could run hard from the start, I could not eat. It became clear that as my body protested such an effort, my goals were no longer attainable. I got increasingly sicker along the way and chose to drop out at the halfway point. I had plenty of time to finish as I could walk back within the time limits provided, but the race I had trained for was out the window. Looking back, I don't regret dropping out of the race, as my health was at risk since I could not eat or regulate my body temperature. I regret that my high expectations shut down my mind and took away from the joy I am used to running with. The longer I run, and the older I get, I have found that (for me) flexibility is the key to having big goals but holding them lightly. When it all becomes too much and is no longer fun, I have to remind myself that running is not my job. It is something I choose to do. I enjoy pushing my body and mind to new places, and I love the community it provides me.

Sitting at the 40-mile time cutoff point of the Leadville 100 last weekend, I felt strong emotion watching people sprint down the hill to 'make it through one more segment' while others came in a little too late and met the cutoff volunteer and learned that their day on the course had come to an end. There is no predictability in this thing; you can train your butt off and do all the right things, and races/life can throw a fastball. I want to keep showing up with whatever goals I decide for the day and to be able to expect to meet them. And if I don't, I want to remain proud that I am brave enough to aim high and give my all, knowing that solid performances do not define me. It is just running, after all.