We all do it: dream up all the things we’re going to do once the big race is over (in my case, go to the pub, do loads of walking, get out on the bikes, have lots and lots of rest), but once we’ve crossed that finish line all we want to do is get running again as soon as possible. So I knew what to expect, as it happens to me every time. What I didn’t expect was the grief-like emotions that disrupted every part of my day, so much so that I was a ghost for about a week, constantly running those trails in my head. For about five nights following the UT55 I ran in my dreams, waking up intermittently as I tripped over rocks to find my legs cramping or spasming as I lay there confused.
I had a sports massage two days after the race, which was probably the most painful thing I’ve ever endured, and certainly the most pain I’ve paid money to put myself through (and yes, I acknowledge that I also paid for the UT55: this statement still stands). Despite the agony, it worked wonders, but as she kneaded and pummeled the race out of my muscles I felt as if I were leaving it all behind, and grief began to set in as soon as we left Ambleside shortly afterwards. This was a new sort of post-race downer, and was potentially much more damaging than the general Eeyore-like state that I’m used to. I started putting myself down for running so badly, for taking so long, for not being prepared enough: I convinced myself that I was a terrible runner and that I’d achieved nothing. This was bad enough in itself, but it then led to the planning of the next challenge – I needed another opportunity to achieve something in order to make up for my failure at the UT55. So there it was; all of my effort both before and during the UT55 was worthless, my crossing the finish line was worthless (despite being so terrified that I wouldn’t make it at all at only 12 miles into the run); it meant nothing and I had to do something else, and better, if I wanted to be worth anything at all.
I’ve since identified these destructive thought patterns as perfectionism. The idea that, no matter what is achieved, it is never enough, and so the perfectionist carries on pursuing and pursuing and pursuing. More and more and more challenging goals are attempted in pursuit of, eventually, some sense of accomplishment. And I guess that accomplishment never comes. I never thought I could be a perfectionist; my life is too messy, too slap-dash, too…goal-driven and structured with strict discipline? Oh yes, perhaps I could be a perfectionist. Perhaps its a common trait of adventure-seekers, always looking for the next goal, the bigger distances, the higher climbs. And what a shame to waste all that effort and glory by simply by-passing it and planning to achieve something bigger and better next time.
It wasn’t until I found the words to tell the tale of my UT55 experience that I was really able to appreciate what I’d achieved. I was towards the back of the pack, as usual, but I was the 23rd senior lady: I was one of a very small number of young women to finish the race (only 36 of the 122 female finishers were seniors), and I’d learned and experienced more in that day than I ever have before. Reading comments from other runners, many of whom I’d run with at some point on the day, really hammered it home, and many of them left me feeling a bit tearful. But finally, these were happy tears, and finally I felt really really proud of the whole thing. And I still feel proud, three weeks later. I’m no longer desperately trying to find ways to ‘make up for’ my first attempt at ultra running, and realising that my thought processes were driven by perfectionism was helpful in forcing me to mediate those naughty negative ideas that killed the initial glory that I should have experienced when I was still in Ambleside and still hobbling around. That should have been proud hobbling!
So what have I been up to? Well, not running, mostly. I’ve only just started going out again for anything more than a 2-mile potter, as it took me two weeks to run half a mile without having to stop for a rest. I’ve been teaching myself how to listen more carefully, and how to be gentle; I hope I can move forwards with this new approach and avoid the illnesses that hit me as a result of over-training prior to the ultra (tip: if running suddenly becomes hard, take 3 days off; if it’s still hard, take another 3 days off – one week off does nobody any harm). Daniel and I have been going swimming once a week, which has been wonderful even though I absolutely hate swimming. We’ve also been enjoying lots and lots of walking, and spent a weekend gaining our bronze navigation skills award in the Yorkshire Dales.
We have also spent plenty of time in the pub, had some proper weekend lie-ins, and brunched and lunched our way through York. Life has a lot to offer, and training for a big race can distort that. I worry that, on the whole, we runners are too hard on ourselves, planning one big race after another after another after another. Always chasing times and goals as if they’re important. They’re not. We celebrate pushing through and often ignore the importance of stopping, pulling out where needed, acknowledging that we’ve done enough. For the average Joe, running marathon or ultra distances doesn’t benefit our health and fitness in any way (I would even say that it might have a pretty negative impact – opposing views welcome!), and when we start to obsess over needing to achieve something new as soon as we cross one finish line, well, maybe it’s time to reassess those thought processes.
This has been a really steep learning curve for me, for many reasons, not just the ones I discuss here. I can’t say that I’m not keen to do another marathon this year, but perhaps the challenge would actually be to not do another marathon. We’ll see. For now, the lie-ins and the pancake brunches are proving way too good to forego.
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Running, Naturally 