Sometimes you go far enough, to know you’ve gone far enough. 

The 2024 Superior 100 race and 10 years of ultra racing.

It was cold. It was dark. I sat in a chair quietly shaking and shivering at the Finland aid station 50 miles into The Superior 100 trail race. For one hour I tried to decide whether to return to the course or not.

“How do you let go of attachments to things? Don’t even try. Its impossible. Attachment to things drops away by itself when you no longer seek to find yourself in them. ” – Eckhart Tolle

In 2016, I ran my first 100 miler at Zumbro. I was having an amazing first race at that distance. On lap 5 the course and my world got blurrier and blurrier. By the time I reached the end of lap 5 it was incredibly difficult to see anything. I had covered 83 miles in just over 19 hours. I had a lifetime to finish the race. I just couldn’t see. ( This will sound oddly familiar if you keep reading ). I went to the rented camper knowing my race was over. I was new to trail racing, it was only my third trail race so I didn’t tell anyone I was done. I didn’t know I was suppose to. I didn’t think about the idea of a DNF, because I didn’t even know what those three letters meant or the emotional baggage attached to them. I quietly went to sleep thinking, I can’t see, I guess I’m not going to make the 100 mile distance. I was deeply grateful.

That full story is here if you are interested. –https://over50badasses.com/2018/03/17/losing-my-vision-helped-me-see-my-life-more-clearly/

Fortunately, in this moment, I could see for miles.

Somewhere after 33 miles into the 2024 superior 100 I noticed it was difficult to see the trail in low light. I thought the shift from hard sunlight into the darker part of the woods was messing with my eyes. But as time and trail went under foot, I could see the familiar cloudy vision I had experienced at Zumbro in 2016. I arrived at County Rd. 6 aid station and told my wife Pam I was having trouble seeing and we both knew what it was. Ultra eye again.

Systemic lactate levels can rise so high that even the aqueous humor becomes flooded, and corneal lactate cannot be pushed out against this uphill concentration gradient. Unable to flush its lactate, the endothelium struggles to pump, and the cornea begins to swell.

I left County Rd. 6 hoping it wouldn’t get any worse than it sounds. About halfway to Finland I went to headlamp and it was incredibly hard to see the details of the technical superior trail. The hard, rocky, rutty trail was a soft blur. It’s difficult enough to navigate it when you can see, it’s a bit unnerving when you are guessing where you’re placing your feet.

It is one of the most difficult things in the world to look at anything simply. -Jiddu Krishnamurti

In 2014, I didn’t choose ultra running. It found me. I was asked by a friend to sign up for the Tuscobia 35 mile run. I wasn’t really running and I have said many times “I’m not really a runner” and what I mean by that is, I see myself more as an athletic and spiritual expression. That can be through any lens. A 100 mile race, Spartan racing, a push-up challenge, pulling a tire 28 miles, deadlifting 2x your bodyweight. Who am I? What am I? What am I capable of has many ways to be answered? Running has never been about running for me. When Tuscobia was presented to me three people I knew were battling cancer and I saw how delicate life can be up close. So I wanted to cover 35 miles on foot, in the snow, to experience life. 35 miles in the snow did something for me, to me. At that time I wasn’t sure what it was, but something much bigger was happening. So intuitively I signed up for the Zumbro 50 that same year of 2015. I finished that race. At the finish line, in the moment I was feeling much joy and equally much suffering, I knew I was running the 100 in 2016. It wasn’t a decision that I was making. It was being made for me.

How odd I wore my Zumbro hat to Superior this year.

Pam and I talked in that cold, open field at Finland. She was encouraging me to return to the course. I love that about her amongst so many other things. It’s usually me that is refusing to leave a race. Me being a petulant child about it. Her worried about my safety. I saw things differently with my impaired vision. I have a rather long and loving relationship with being reckless and having disregard for ones self. From my early days as a skater to my long luxurious career as an alcoholic, to being able to finish Spartan ultras and trail races. Reckless and I get along okay. I was knocked out at the Spartan Killington Ultra. Got up. Did my burpees and carried on. Never gave it a thought. We all have thrown caution and common sense out the window to reach finish lines. I’m not special. It’s part of the journey. I’ve paid my dues just like anyone who’s finished a hard race. I’m not sure I say that with any pride or regret. It just is, what it is.

The length of my shorts are extremely reckless and are a blatant disregard for social decorum.

I’ve spent 10 years not caring about the consequence’s to finish races. If I’m being honest and I am. I was punishing myself for a lot of things I did prior to running ultras. I sat there realizing how much ultra running has given me. I truly and deeply cared about myself after a decade of not giving a shit. When I started this journey I did not. I have healed so many things through these races that I hadn’t healed over 50 years of life. I could feel that sitting there in the cold Northern Minnesota air. I realized how far I had come and it was not 50 miles. I was deeply grateful again.

How many times do we have to prove how tough we are for us to believe we are?

It was strange to care if something bad happened to me. If something did happen, how that would affect the people who love me. I had come full circle. I didn’t think about the idea of a DNF, because I didn’t care what those three letters meant or the emotional baggage attached to them.

When do we cross the line?

Not the start or finish. Where is that thin invisible line, between healthy pursuit and exploration of what we are capable of and unhealthy, obsessive, fear of peer judgement and physical self-destruction? Here’s the thing about that moment at Finland. What if I went back on the course with limited eyesight, or it got worse out there? What if I fell and got hurt or seriously hurt? I would be judged for making that choice. I would. I would be deserving of that judgement. I would be deeply sorry to the people I care about. What if it didn’t happen and I made the finish line ( I had 24 hours and 20 minute to go 50 miles. A lifetime again ). Is that risk worth a buckle? A red star? Compliments and some level or new level of badassery? That’s if anyone even knew or cared. I’m just going to say it, that invisible fine line out there between healthy challenge, grit and accomplishment and destructive unhealthy behavior was one thing I thought I could see. In that hour at Finland it wasn’t on the table for me. That it took me one hour to see something so obvious is just another example of hard that line is to see. It took me 10 years to see all of this.

My favorite picture and moment of this race.

I was still drinking during my training for my first 100 at Zumbro.

Less days. But at times just as much as I always had. January 1st, 2016 I decided to stop until I ran that race in April. Even today this is extremely hard to talk about or understand. I stopped drinking for a trail race in the woods and I hadn’t for so many, far more important reasons. I had DUI’s. Two. I stopped drinking and driving after the second one. I’m a real rocket scientist. It’s hard, sad and embarrassing to write that, but its the truth. I hurt all kinds of people when I was drinking. Especially those close to me. Honestly I not only caused problems drinking, I drank to deal with the problems I created. Which just created more. A ultra loop. But for some unexplainable reason a 100 mile trail race got me to stop for 4 months and that’s all I needed to stay sober. I walked away from Zumbro with a buckle, a first place grandmaster podium finish and a wood block. That all paled in comparison to what I really was handed that day. My freedom from alcohol and a new way of living my life.

I would have been smiling even wider if i knew 10 years later i would still be sober and found a path out of depression, anger and anxiety.

I sat bundled up and I let it out. I confessed to Pam I didn’t think I was going to ultra race any more. She asked, is this the way you want it to end? You sure you don’t want to go back out there? Your mind crushes down on you, squeezes you hard when you say things like that and get asked questions like that. I didn’t have a answer. I silently watched runners come in, and go back out there. It didn’t motivate me or make me feel bad.  We’re all on different journeys and in different places within them. That’s hard to recognize sometimes. This seed was planted long before this race and it was in full bloom as I sat there freezing in the dark. I wandered through 10 years of memories. How many times I carried on, got out of the chair, off the ground or the medical table and would grind it out. Sometimes stopping is exactly the right thing to do. Stopping something that’s not working requires self awareness and courage. Maybe the most badass decision is knowing when it’s time to stop. I saw that through ultra running with my drinking and I was learning it again through running.

“You are present when what you are doing is not primarily a means to an end ( money, prestige, winning) but fulfilling itself, when there is joy and aliveness in what you do” – Eckhardt Tolle

I’ve been watching the tv show ALONE. Humans are dropped into a remote area and have to survive in a last man standing format. Going months in solitude. Starving and suffering. Its ultra running on steroids. It’s insanely interesting. They have self-documented conversations with a camera in the absence of any human contact. They tap out for all kinds of reasons, rational, emotional, and physical. This one gentlemen was one of the last two. He didn’t know that, the show doesn’t tell them. He had a feeling it was down to the last few survivalist because of the time he had been out there. Months into his journey he made this amazing confession to the camera. Although the million dollar prize would help his family and change his life he was going to stop. He felt he could keep going. He was actually very clear and articulate about that. To camera he said with conviction he had reached a point where he had gone far enough, to know he had gone far enough and that was enough. He had learned everything he needed to to know about himself in that format and it was irrelevant what anyone thought. He had proved what he needed to himself and he didn’t need outside justification or acceptance.

It was eye watering beautiful.

Life is about evolving. Don’t stay in a situation thats not helping you grow mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.

I’ve removed myself from the Arizona Monster. I will not be attempting the 309 mile journey in April of next year. I don’t belong out there or in any ultra right now. I need time to figure out if I do. And if I do, why? Why is important to me.

if you are interested I have written about it. – https://over50badasses.com/2018/02/15/why-you-might-need-a-why/

I’m focusing my energy on strength training, mobility and stretching. I’m trying to recover from 10 years of hard training, running and racing on my body. I’m an addict. The puzzle of my drinking addiction was solved through running and running long races. I’m so deeply grateful to running for that gift. But ultra running has started to become for me what drinking was in some ways. A bit destructive, unhealthy and something I might be doing at my own detriment. Which oddly brings me to the serenity prayer which can help one find comfort, peace, relief in recovery. Not just from alcohol.

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Be brave enough to be bad at something new.

I couldn’t see the trail that night in superior. But I see my path. I have a whiteboard that is usually full of races, full of new goals. I wrote them down two days after I left Superior. I wasn’t looking backwards and I wasn’t looking for another race to fix anything or to be a fix. Addicts like their fixes. It’s a list of physical accomplishments that only matter to me. They’re varied and some do include running. I have a singular, focused priority on my long term health and longevity. This won’t be a popular comment, but running 100 or 100 plus miles isn’t the healthiest thing to do. Right now I desire waking up feeling good, strong, flexible and mobile. I have a very wise friend who says to me all the time. The point of doing all this hard work is too feel good you know. Such wisdom.

The ultimate ultra is getting as far into life as I can. As healthy as I can. And doing hard shit every step of the way. It may not be a 100, 200 or 300 mile race right now. It is 100, 200, 300 pushups every day to raise awareness for our veterans. Which has my “Why” extremely motivated.

The 2200 Pushup Challenge is a suicide awareness campaign that honors military service members and veterans. The challenge’s name comes from the fact that roughly 22 veterans die by suicide every day. 

I will share one of my new goals. Its to swim a mile in open water. I’ve had this idea for years. Its fueled by my love for the ocean, my extreme lack of swimming skills, and my complete and utter admiration for legendary 63-year-old swimmer Diana Nyad who swam from Cuba to Florida. The documentary The Other Shore is a must watch. This feels like the equivalent of my first trail race being a 500 miler. It feels utterly impossible. I love that. It gets my “Why” fired up.

Like I said before, I’m not really a runner, I’m definitely not a swimmer and I’m absolutely not a DNF.

Thank you for reading, I would understand if you had stopped. Namaste.