NIPMUCK TRAIL MARATHON

The stats 26.6 muddy single track miles covered in 6:36:22 hours. I was the 51st person to finish the marathon. Early in the year I saw this race and after learning about the Shenipsit Striders I was keen to sign up. I love trails and I love distance. For various reasons none of which were any good I delayed signing up. I hemmed and hawed and I watched the race slots filling up. Every day I woke up with the Shenipsit Striders logo staring me down from the cork board on my wall. Finally after seeing that the time cutoff was extended to 9.5 hours instead of the usual 8 because of a special 40 mile race that was taking place as well I signed up. I had no real idea if I could do it or not, but I figured if nothing else I could probably hike the 26 miles in 9.5 hours. I had two choices. I could tell myself I am not ready to run a marathon. I could justify that I didn’t train enough, my body isn’t healthy enough, it isn’t part of my overall training plan, I don’t need to do this, it's smarter to take it slow, I should just wait until next year. Or I could see this as possibly my only opportunity to run a marathon this year. A year I will never get to live again. A fourth year in a row without running a marathon. It became binary. Guarantee I do not run a marathon or give myself a chance. $40 later and I had a chance.

The doubts about my body remained strong until about 4 miles into the race. The two weeks between when I signed up and when I would toe the starting line I told myself all the ways I could prepare. I don’t think I did a single one. I went for a few bike rides and I did a little bit of yoga. I began to dampen my expectations. “It's just a hike.” “At least I’m trying and if I can’t finish that’s fine I learned my current limit.” “This is a mistake im destroying my long term training plan.” “My back will give out. My something will tear in my ankle or my knee.” “I’m going to fail to finish and my body will revert back to being so hurt that I can’t train at all and I’ll have to go back to the doctor for more shots, more therapy, more uncertainty.” Before I knew it I was jogging in a pack of people onto trails I had never hiked looking ahead to 26.6 miles of unknown. I had twice run 13.1 miles on roads this year and had no idea if I could go much farther. The first four miles I contented myself to run behind somebody else and let them lead the way and pace me. I had no idea If could do the distance at all and less of an idea of the pace but I told myself it was safe to go slow. I put it all on someone else. All I had to do was follow this person through the woods and eventually I would either quit or succeed. Most things in life fit that dichotomy. Quit or Succeed.

Between mile 2 and 3 an inner voice was getting agitated. “This is unacceptable! We can go faster than this! If we fail, let's fail because we tried, not because we ran this random person's race. Put it on me and I guarantee we will not quit. We might not finish but we need to run our own race.” I talked it down. I said it didn’t know how far we were going. That we need to stay slow and stay with people to keep our pace down. Everything I was saying made sense. It was composed, logical, and a solid strategy. It was bullshit and cowardice. By mile 4 I could no longer deny it. I wanted to run! I couldn’t run sitting on this person's heels. I didn’t care about finishing any more and yet I was more confident than ever that I would. I was finally running my own race. I felt free and I felt totally dialed into the moment. Skipping from rock to rock. Splashing through mud that repeatedly soaked my socks and chilled my feet. All the fears of my body breaking down or running out of gas dissipated. I knew I had a lot of work ahead of me with no guarantee, but for the rest of the day I ran my own race and loved every muddy step.

My next mile was almost two minutes faster. The one after that 20 seconds faster. The next mile 90 seconds faster. I had some slower miles and some faster miles as the terrain changed but I no longer had my pace set by somebody else. Every step was an accomplishment. Passing the 13.1 mile mark and still being just shy of halfway done I felt incredible. I was doing it! I hiked the hills and anything too steep for me to run down and I ran everything else. I repeatedly reminded myself to just chop it up with every step. Like felling a great tree. My steps were the ax head and the distance between me and the finish line was a redwood I knew would fall if I kept on swinging.

When I passed the final aid station with only a few miles to the finish line it dawned on me. I am going to finish a marathon. I'm going to do it faster than I thought I possibly could. The time didn’t matter much and if it took me all 9.5 hours I probably would have been even more thrilled that I stuck it out, but seeing that I was going to finish in under my goal of 7 hours I had to question myself. How much was I leaving on the table?

It was a long, beautiful day in the woods. All the participants and organizers were incredible. Nothing but positive words, smiles (sometimes pained), and high effort. What I take away from this experience is that something inside me wanted to take on a challenge that I kept telling myself I couldn’t do. All year I put it off and once I accepted the challenge my doubts grew louder. Come race day I was there and by being there and tuning into that voice I found more in myself than I believed I had. I don’t know if you can ever eliminate all those other voices that cast doubt, but I do know what that voice of belief sounds and feels like. I know it can be cultivated and I know how flimsy doubt is once the action is underway. I can already hear what it's calling for next…