rogue trail series: the belt 25k
someone once told me that comparison is the source of all sadness. in my brief amount of experience that i have, i have found that statement to have some degree of truth to it.
this statement, however, has always stopped short when it came to running races. what could possibly be a stronger operationalization of comparison than a footrace? standings, age groups, mano a mano... and yet great amounts of pleasure are derived from these events, win or lose.
the derivation of pleasure from running may just be an indication of my lunacy. however, today i ran a race that seemed to relieve the aforementioned double-standard.
25K trail run. start time: anywhere from 630 to 730am. a staggered start. everyone's time was individually tracked based upon personal start-to-finish time.
all of a sudden, the standard "run with the pack, see if you can hang" mentality was out the door, only to be replaced with the "run like the dickens, for although you're running alone, odds are that you're not running alone."
you are the horse and jockey. you carry the riding crop. and you make the race to be whatever you wish it to be.
and for those who can truly run, competition created by the mind should far outsurpass any competition that could be present in the flesh. man's greatest adversary is himself, no?
so i ran. alone, just like most everyone else. i ran like i had hell on my heels. i pounded hills like there was no end to them (and in two cases, that would have been true if i wouldn't have stopped and called out into the greenbelt valley for directional assistance). albeit i was the first runner out the gate (a deliberate move on my part in order to beat the rising sun as much as possible), i knew full well that i wasn't necessarily the first runner at any point and time. as is true with most other events, imagination was far worse than the reality--i was certain that there was someone behind me who started after me, and was looking to gain on me in their own relative racespace. in the end, these thoughts were not ones of comparison, but a manifestation of asking oneself "how much you got" without the confounding variable of the actual presence of others.
i finished strong, albeit my legs were rather rubbery for the last 5k. i felt as if i left it all out on the trail that morning, that if there was a metric for "greatest amount of self-imposed effort" that i would win hands down. however, the closest metric of that nature at a footrace is simply the clock--a clock that i would watch tick away as i wondered whether a runner would come in 10 minutes behind me in his race that he started 30 minutes after me.
sure enough, that's exactly what happened. he must have won his race as well.
[...]
barton creek greenbelt. 25K. two waist-high water crossings, and 6-12 hazardous trips up and down ill-footed, steeply-graded, technical rock trail. got lost twice... once for 50 yds on a open, uphill trail, once on a 150 yd bushwacking trip up a sheer facade of a hillside, plowing through bushes and trees, calves desperately hoping to see a trail flag, hoping that their climbing efforts were not in vain. miles 2-7 peppy fast; miles 9-13 i have little or no recollection of, aside from heat, rocks, ill-footing, and treacherous grades. felt great to race on what i would personally consider a "home court," having lived off of this trail for the better part of 2.5 years a few years back. admittedly a little bummed that i didn't take home the top prize, but after legs rested and conversation started, was in quite the good mood post-race. believed that the top finisher would have still came out faster without my two detours.
this statement, however, has always stopped short when it came to running races. what could possibly be a stronger operationalization of comparison than a footrace? standings, age groups, mano a mano... and yet great amounts of pleasure are derived from these events, win or lose.
the derivation of pleasure from running may just be an indication of my lunacy. however, today i ran a race that seemed to relieve the aforementioned double-standard.
25K trail run. start time: anywhere from 630 to 730am. a staggered start. everyone's time was individually tracked based upon personal start-to-finish time.
all of a sudden, the standard "run with the pack, see if you can hang" mentality was out the door, only to be replaced with the "run like the dickens, for although you're running alone, odds are that you're not running alone."
you are the horse and jockey. you carry the riding crop. and you make the race to be whatever you wish it to be.
and for those who can truly run, competition created by the mind should far outsurpass any competition that could be present in the flesh. man's greatest adversary is himself, no?
so i ran. alone, just like most everyone else. i ran like i had hell on my heels. i pounded hills like there was no end to them (and in two cases, that would have been true if i wouldn't have stopped and called out into the greenbelt valley for directional assistance). albeit i was the first runner out the gate (a deliberate move on my part in order to beat the rising sun as much as possible), i knew full well that i wasn't necessarily the first runner at any point and time. as is true with most other events, imagination was far worse than the reality--i was certain that there was someone behind me who started after me, and was looking to gain on me in their own relative racespace. in the end, these thoughts were not ones of comparison, but a manifestation of asking oneself "how much you got" without the confounding variable of the actual presence of others.
i finished strong, albeit my legs were rather rubbery for the last 5k. i felt as if i left it all out on the trail that morning, that if there was a metric for "greatest amount of self-imposed effort" that i would win hands down. however, the closest metric of that nature at a footrace is simply the clock--a clock that i would watch tick away as i wondered whether a runner would come in 10 minutes behind me in his race that he started 30 minutes after me.
sure enough, that's exactly what happened. he must have won his race as well.
[...]
barton creek greenbelt. 25K. two waist-high water crossings, and 6-12 hazardous trips up and down ill-footed, steeply-graded, technical rock trail. got lost twice... once for 50 yds on a open, uphill trail, once on a 150 yd bushwacking trip up a sheer facade of a hillside, plowing through bushes and trees, calves desperately hoping to see a trail flag, hoping that their climbing efforts were not in vain. miles 2-7 peppy fast; miles 9-13 i have little or no recollection of, aside from heat, rocks, ill-footing, and treacherous grades. felt great to race on what i would personally consider a "home court," having lived off of this trail for the better part of 2.5 years a few years back. admittedly a little bummed that i didn't take home the top prize, but after legs rested and conversation started, was in quite the good mood post-race. believed that the top finisher would have still came out faster without my two detours.
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