Straight to Ultra

The year 2020 was a wild one, wasn’t it? To be honest, the better majority of it remains a blur. It came and went in a snap. I’d imagine most would agree. Now removed from the strange events and tumultuous times that came as a result, I can confidently say that not all was bad during and as a result of this period.

A while back, I heard author Ryan Holiday make this statement:

“2020 is a test. Will it make you better or worse?”

I agree. It was, in many ways, a test. One that an overwhelming majority failed, in the worst way. How did you fare? Did you make the most of this time? Or, allow it to make the most of you?

Feeling Stuck

In March of 2020, I was approaching the homestretch of my junior year in college. As a student working to earn a degree in education, I had just begun my first in-person practicum experience — shadowing a classroom teacher at a local Jr. High School. While remaining a full-time student, I was also working anywhere from 30–60 hours per week in a warehouse loading up semi-trucks. At this time, I was roughly a year removed from the sport of wrestling — which meant a year removed from any real physical activity. I was stuck in a loop of monotony and quickly receding physical and mental health.

Busy is a fairly relative term, but I was busy. Perhaps busy with the wrong things.

As March and April pass by, COVID-related restrictions begin to set in. Lockdowns, curfews, masks — all of which began to weigh on my mind. The remainder of my school semester had gone 100% virtual, I couldn’t take my girlfriend (now wife) out for dinner, and even gyms were beginning to close their doors — the options by which to spend your days became incredibly limited.

I needed an outlet. Something to turn my life around, in a moment of mayhem. I needed something to commit to.

If you’re familiar with my story, great. This will come as no surprise. If you’re not — to say that I wasn’t, for the first 21 years of my life, intrinsically motivated, would be a drastic understatement. For the longest time, I would subconsciously seek out the easy way to do things. I was scared of what I could become if I did hard things.

In this season of my life, such a fear had to be thrown out the window. Fear was already at a dramatic surplus worldwide. Fear, already the enemy of all humans wishing to become something great, was now far more than just an enemy. It had become a brutal adversary with the means of ending your physical and mental well-being as you knew it. And so, what I came to realize was this: intrinsic motivation be damned. Motivation will come and go — that’s human nature. It was time to commit to something, full stop.

36.5

This number is significant to me and confusing to most. I have a sticker on my work computer that earns some puzzling looks and honest questions.

Typically, these stickers are seen in the standard race distances (5K, 10K, 13.1, 26.2, 50K, 100K, 100.) I’m sure that you’ve seen them in the form of a bumper sticker or on a rear windshield or two.

On occasion, I will feel someone staring at it from my peripherals, but not asking any questions — surely trying to figure it out on their own. In which case I explain the peculiar distance sticker as such: from June 1st, 2020 to June 1st, 2021, I ran every single day. A minimum of two miles per day. On the 365th day, I ran 36.5 miles.

Disclaimer: Due to 36.5 miles being a rather obscure number, there are no races (at least to my knowledge) at this exact distance. Therefore, I chose to run my first ultra on my own.

Achieving such a distance was a tremendous feat for me at the time. Just one calendar year prior, I was unable to run a full two miles without stopping to walk for a brief moment. This of course didn’t register until quite some time later — the magnitude of what I had accomplished in such a short period.

Perhaps most surprising — to those who choose to be inquisitive — is my skipping of the marathon distance. I often field the question: “How many marathons did you have to run before doing that?”

Zero.

Fairly early on in my running journey, I realized that a marathon just wasn’t all that intriguing to me. At least not the large city annual marathons with thousands of participants. There are a couple of reasons for this. One is a large number of other human bodies. A massive crowd of runners and fans isn’t exactly the type of solitude that I associate with the running that I’ve come to love. The second reason is speed. By speed, I simply mean that as my admiration for running has grown, it’s never been “How fast can I go?” but rather “How far can I go?”

The completion of a marathon (26.2 miles) was fascinating to me, as a younger kid. “Who on earth would pay to do such a thing?” I’d mumble myself more than just once, I’m sure. Said fascination, however, dissipated upon my discovering of these two things:

1. Running for a very long period is incredibly rewarding.

2. There is an entire community of people who live and operate at the distances beyond 26.2.

Count me in.

My mindset had become, “If I CAN go further, why would I NOT?” Why would I limit myself? Why would you?

My running of 36.5, in part, represented my newly developed “how far can I go” mindset. More than this, however, it represented a commitment that I had made. After all, it was a commitment that carried me through the miles. Commitment is what it took to cover, not just 36.5 miles, but the distance traveled by foot each of the 365 days prior. Throughout the year, motivation is sure to come and go. You’re sure to find yourself burned out a time or two. When you’ve fully bought into something, it becomes part of you — a piece of who you are and who you are yet to become.

This was precisely what running had become for me.

The work had been done. The correct choices had been made. And my first ultra marathon was to show for it. Onto the next.

100K

The day after completing the 36.5 Solos ultra marathon, I woke and went back to the job I was working at the time on a grading crew for a large residential construction company. My feet were sore, but not quite like I’d expected them to be. Not yet three days later, I was back to 100%. I was stunned at the time — by the ability of my body to recover so rapidly.

This, of course, caused my mind to begin exploring.

Was it that my body was remarkably strong in recouping from excess physical exertion? Or was it that I hadn’t pushed my body as far as I had at first thought? Ultimately, I believed and still do believe both to be true in some fashion. However, what my mind clung to was that I had more to give, more to achieve, more miles to cover.

Simply put, I decided that no distance was “too far.” There was no (and still is no) ceiling on what I aim to attempt.

Moving forward from my first ultra-distance run, I took some time to settle into “adult life.” I had just recently graduated college, working a summer job before beginning my career as an educator in the fall. As that summer faded, and my first school year as a teacher and wrestling coach was in full swing, I found myself falling. I was losing sight of my goals, putting on weight, and beginning to head down a path that I was all too familiar with. A path that I wanted no part of. In recognizing this, I did what every rational person would do — I registered for a 100-kilometer (62-mile) race. Why not?

Here we return to commitment. I had made the conscious recognition of my fleeting motivation — insert commitment. Relying on the motivation alone just wasn’t cutting it — and it never will.

Six months came and went — On September 3rd, 2022 at 5:00 am, I toed the Booneville Backroads Ultra starting line in Madison County, Iowa. I’d spend the next nearly fourteen hours traversing gravel and dirt roads, managing to trek over 63 total miles with just shy of 4,000 feet of vertical gain (if 4,000ft seems like a lot, it is — for Iowa). This experience was transformative. Rewarding. Not in the sense of tangible rewards. Not in the form of some medal or record time. But in the form of mental fortitude, clarity, and a sense of purpose.

This day served as a profound relic, not just of my physical abilities as a human, but more so in the power held within my mind alone. The power to remember why I took this path to begin with when my body is begging to turn around or give up entirely.

I had finished what I set out to do. I enjoyed what was left of that day, got some sleep, and awoke with one thing in mind: What’s next?

Go One More

Standing at the start line of my recent 100K race, my good friend and crew chief for that given day leaned over to me and posed the question “Do you have a specific mantra?” … I hadn’t given that much thought. With the many quotes and random thoughts of nothingness that circulate through my head at all times, I suppose I hadn’t narrowed one thing down. I looked up Nic, an experienced ultra runner and owner of Broken Anvil Backyard Ultra, and I couldn’t think of any mantra specifically. I went on to spend a solid chunk of that day pondering this question. What mantra do I subscribe to?

By day’s end, it still wasn’t narrowed down to just one. There were too many in my mind. Too many that I relate to and that hold value in my life. That being said, one mantra continues to frequent my head-space and conversation: Go One More.

This serves as a sturdy reminder of my infatuation with human potential and the roots of such admiration. It represents the reason behind opting to forgo running a traditional marathon. As stated previously — If I can go further, why would I not?

The mantra stands for more than just running. It holds in every facet of my life, and every piece of yours. It stands for the gas we have left in the tank, the effort we have left to give. It reminds us that not all is bad, even in the darkest of times. It acts as a guiding light when we feel like our feet can’t carry us any further.

What I’ve come to understand is that this is absolutely what draws me to ultra-distance running. The concept of breaking mental and physical barriers, overcoming insurmountable hardships, and discovering yourself through doing what others find to be foolish.

Isn’t that just an awesome parallel to life itself?

No matter the circumstances you face, the hurdles that lay in front of you, or the exhaustion that you feel deep within your core, we all have more to offer. There is always something left to give, you just have to be willing to find it.