It's all in your head.

Maybe you've heard that I ran 50 miles on Saturday. If you haven't, then I'm surprised, because the braggart in me hasn't exactly been subtle about it. Why would anyone want to run 50 miles? Let's discuss.

You might expect the starting line of an ultra marathon to be filled with tall, lithe, Adonis-like figures, all in their 20's and 30's, blissfully in their athletic prime. You would be greatly mistaken. There is no age or body type that is best suited for ultra running. (The third overall finisher was a 51 year old woman. She finished almost two hours before I did.) But there is a mentality that is ideal. Many people have said that someone would have to be crazy to run 50 miles. I am not crazy. I am unafraid. Unafraid of pain, unafraid of the unknown, unafraid of the effort, unafraid of failure. I can tell you that I haven't always felt like this. While I've been running for a very long time, and I've never been one to shy away from a challenge, it wasn't until the birth of my daughter that I was truly "set free". After experiencing my body grow, birth, and feed another human being, I realized that it can do anything. Anything. The only limiting factor was my preconceived notions of what was normal and expected. My limitations were all in my head.

I'm not going to lie to you and say that I've managed to Jedi mind-trick myself into running this kind of mileage without pain or fatigue. I experienced plenty of lows in those 50 miles where I had to choose how I was going to deal with the Suck Factor. In my mind, there were three options: succumb to it, refuse to acknowledge it, or embrace it. Succumbing meant quitting, and that wasn't going to happen. So, I started early in the race by refusing the pain and mental fatigue. Mile after mile, I ignored their quiet whispers until they became screaming chants, eventually making their presence mandatory. Since ignoring them was no longer working, I challenged them to break me. Focusing intentionally on every sore muscle, the heat of the sun, the difficulty of the terrain, the weight of my Camelbak on my tired shoulders, I begged for more hurt. I knew that if I let myself experience all of the pain and I was still moving forward, then I had won. The only thing that could possibly stop me from finishing was self-doubt, and I didn't doubt my ability for a second. And had I, my resolve would have carried me through (it's always good to have a Plan B). Plan B was not necessary that day. At mile 34, I was soaring. I had transcended. I was invincible. The rush that I felt was indescribable, and three days later, I'm still on it. That high carried me the remaining 16 miles to the end. I crossed the finish line next to my husband and my friend (The Boys). As liquid emotion streamed from my eyes, the three of us claimed that moment as ours. We were victorious, not simply in the race, but over the past four months. Through the miles, the injuries, and the heartbreak, we had been there for each other,and we finished together. That moment was our reward, and it will be with us forever.

I have no plans of settling with 50 miles. What's next? An Ironman, 100k, 100 miler? Probably all of them. But first, I will take time to rest. Then maybe I'll try to improve my 50k time, wreak some havoc on the local triathlon scene, FINALLY get around to running a half-marathon. Whatever I decide to do, I'll attack it with the confidence that I will prevail. Most importantly, I'm going to enjoy every minute.