I'm going to run the Leadville Trail 100, and I'm going to do it because I can.I really don't know how to relax and enjoy myself. This is a problem I've either developed or just become aware of in the last few years, but it's not going away. I've learned that I must do something productive at all times, no matter what. Even now, I've finished all my obligations for the day, but still feel the compulsion to put my thoughts to paper so my readers (Hi Mom!) can understand why I am the dumb way I am. Sometimes my definition of 'productive' can be skewed, which creates the veneer of truancy. However, I'm always making measurable progress towards one of my personal goals. For example, it may LOOK like I'm playing Scrabble with my brother on my iPhone, but really, I'm effecting a strategy for complete psychological subjugation over him.
Simply put, I feel not doing anything is a waste. It's a waste of time, a waste of opportunities to contribute to my community, and a waste of potential. Living a life in line with the status quo is a banal existence and abhorrent thought to me. It's wasting a life. Taking on challenges that haven't been fully conquered yet is the essence of excitement and progress. It's exploration of the character. This is the path to achievement, and achievements are really the only thing that distinguishes one person from the next. I can't learn anything about myself by staying in place and doing what virtually every other person in my place has done before. That's the way to get lost in the masses and forget that it's OK to be different. I see two choices: my achievements can reflect 99% of the population, or I can apply myself to carve a truly unique path and one that may inspire others to do the same.
I'm lucky for several reasons. I'm alive; I'm healthy; I've never been wronged by a woman too badly; and I own the complete series of The Wire on DVD. With all that going for me, I'm free to push my perceived limits to find out where the real ones exist. Only when I know those boundaries will I be content to stop exploring and allow myself to relax a little bit. Maybe.
That's why I'm running the Leadville 100. It's a challenge in a stratosphere somewhere between the standard commercial aviation altitude and the orbit of Saturn. Taking on that challenge will show me what kind of character I have. If I get myself to the starting line, then one of two things will happen: I will crash and burn in a splendorous flame of poor judgment and dehydration, or I'll finish the damn thing. Whether the end of the race for me comes at mile 50, 75, or 100; I'll find comfort in that knowledge and be able to concretely answer the 'How far could I..." question. Only when I know my limits can I live within them comfortably.
The only thing more regrettable than trying and failing is failing to try.
I wrote this post about having the guts to run one of the toughest 100 mile races on the circuit in my debut at the distance, but fortunately, I procrastinated in publishing it. This turned out to be a very good thing.
Two events happened almost immediately after I wrote this post and felt so certain about running Leadville. First, I visited the Leadville website to register. Second, I went on a ski trip to Colorado. Each of these moves taught me something about myself and the decision I thought I'd made.
When I went online to register and become an official entrant in the 2011 contest, I felt this should just be a formality in the process of taking on the requisite burden and responsibility of a Leadville competitor. The hardest commitments would come in the form of piling on my mileage day after day, after day. Yet, this step did have tangible and symbolic significance in that it required immediate payment of a non-refundable $300 entry fee, and made official what I had previously only committed to with thoughts and "wouldn't it be great if I...." ambitions. However, when I went through the ostensibly insignificant process of actually submitting my regristration and signalling my intent to train and run the race with an actual transfer of wealth from my savings to the Leadville operating funds, I hit an obstacle that felt more insurmountable than the 12,000' peak of Hope Pass that I'd have to climb twice in the race. I couldn't make myself click the submit button to finish registration. With the addition of my name to the list of entrants and the rush of money out of my checking checking, I realized I was taking on a commitment that evoked more consternation than excitement. No matter how much I tried to focus on the positive, I could only think about the daily grind of training, followed by anxiety during taper and the final hours before the actual race. I was throwing myself headfirst into the ultimate of unknowns, and if I felt so much trepidation about the race 6 months before it actually happened, then how would I feel come June, July, and August? I sat motionless for what seemed like an hour (but in reality was probably only a few minutes) with my right index finger suspended over the left mouse button. The arrow hovered dangerously over "Submit". A deer in headlights would have more commitment and resolve than I had at that moment. In the end, I just couldn't make myself complete the registration process.
The second fortuitous and timely event was a previously planned ski trip to Colorado. The skiing was fun and the trip was great, but the only thing that really mattered from that trip was the experience I had trying to run at 8800' in elevation (which would be about the lowest point on the Leadville course). 5 miles was about my limit, and even then only at a conservative pace. I started feeling stronger as the trip wore on and I adjusted to the thin air, but the atmosphere had made its point to me: I had grossly underestimated the physical challenge of Leadville's signature attribute: altitude.
These two lessons gave me the evidence I needed to be comfortable with a disappointing admission: I am not ready physically or mentally for this race. Regardless of how much I want to be and how hard I prepare for it, my body and my mind haven't been through enough testing and adversity to build the requisite confidence to tackle the 100 miles and thousands of feet of climbing in Leadville. This was a tough pill to take, but my experiences over the past 2 weeks have given me the perspective to be able to finally chew it and swallow.
I'm not saying I will never run a 100 miler, and I'm not saying I don't still believe everything I wrote two weeks ago about wanting to run Leadville. I just realize that this year is not the right time; just like trying to run the race tomorrow would not be the right time either: it's too soon and I'm not ready.
Thus, I've decided to run the White River 50 on July 30 instead. Stay tuned and I'll keep you posted through this blog on how my preparations go.
Thanks for sticking with this post all the way through. Now, here's you're reward: a dog being confused by an iPhone.
-John
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