Sometimes Life Imitates Running

“You gave away the things you loved, and one of them was me.” ~Carly Simon

The tears flowed, but I swallowed them back, ran faster and harder. Crap. It was a hard day. I kept thinking about the how my work day had just ended. My boss had called me into her office. She said, “We don't have time to have a meeting...but, it looks like we just don't have a need for all the therapists we have on staff. I don't want to decide who should go, so I am just telling everyone.” She showed me a list of facilities within our area that had open positions. The list wasn't long and all the places were far away. McMinnville, East Portland, Oregon City...they may as well have been on Mars. All I saw was “BFE” in my head. My face was hot from the afternoon sun, but also from the anger in my mind. WTF, change jobs? I turned up my music and tried to forget about my burning face, tired legs, and that stinging feeling of my heart in my throat. Don't. Cry.

 

“Fuck it, fight it. It's all the same.” ~Sublime

At some point during that run, I came to terms with the fact that I would soon be leaving the job and place where I've worked for the last 10 years. Time to move on. Change is scary, new, different, uncomfortable, but at the same time I was excited about the prospect of being somewhere else.

It occurred to me that day that I needed to take action. Sit back and wait to see who she “picks” to leave? Nah. I'll go willingly. I realized that this “issue” at work was the catalyst but I that I was ready for something else.

I may have said this before, but I don't know what people who don't run do to sort out their problems. Running has always helped. As I reflected on the workplace challenges I was facing, I couldn't help but think about the 50K I ran this summer. It was called the SOB 50K. Nice name, huh? It's actually the Siskiyou-Out-and-Back, and it was really freaking hard. A real SOB.

I am not good a giving full “race recaps.” Mostly because I can't remember every minute detail of a race that was a month ago. Instead, we'll just reel the highlights. The race started at about 6200 feet at the Mt. Ashland Ski Area. Oh, right, I live and train at oh, 6000 feet lower than that. No problem, right? For the two days before the race, my family and I had driven up to the start area and ran around. I remember the pain in my diaphragm when I ran for 40 minutes around the mountain trails. My diaphragm hurts?? I tried not to freak out, but cripes, until that moment, I forgot I even had a diaphragm.

Enjoying the pre-race morning.

On race morning, it was a beautiful day. Sunny, cool, clear, slightly crisp. Lovely. Diaphragm felt fine, so I knew I was going make it. I smelled like a mix of bug spray, sunscreen, and peanut butter. I must have had PB on my hands before I rubbed in the sprays. Sexy. The race started on a road, but less than a mile into it we were on the single track trail of the Pacific Crest Trail. I felt trapped. Stuck. SLOW. I told myself it was a good way to start out by not going too fast. 31 miles is long way. Cruising down the awesome PCT about 6 or 7 miles into it, I thought “this downhill is going on forever. It's going to be a real bitch to climb back up at the end.” I'm so smart.

Out on the trail. I'm the girl in the picture. Copyright SOB50K.

I bypassed most of the early aid stations, since I had my hydration pack. I was carrying what felt like 10 pounds of water on my back, so why should I stop? The water was warm, and tasted like chlorine, but so what if I felt like I was drinking out of swimming pool, I didn't have to stop like those other suckers. I had a tough patch coming into the half-way point. My left hip and foot hurt. The trail was slightly slopped so my left leg had to work harder than my right. My left leg is my naughty leg. It's weaker and tighter, but I try not to say mean stuff about it directly in front of it. Anyway, I was looking forward to getting to the half-way point,. I just need to get there, then I will feel better I kept telling myself. I had big plans rest my legs while I enjoyed the comfort of the port-a-potty, grab my iPod from my drop bag, and scarf some plantain chips. Yes, I had so much to look forward to!

Except when I got there, I couldn't find my bag. WTH? Oh jeez, maybe they didn't bring it because I didn't write my name and number on it. Oh well. I didn't really NEED anything from it. I grabbed a few GU's from aid station, and a wonderful volunteer refreshed my electrolyte bottle. Oh, and there were ZERO Potties. That was a bust, but I left there feeling better. The course opened up a bit, and at that point, even though it was less shady, and hot, the course was pretty flat and the view of Mount Shasta was breathtaking. My left leg was instantly better, too.

Not too long after, I saw another pretty teal colored POTTY. But there was a line of people waiting to use it's wonderfulness. I didn't want to wait. Surely, there will be more at some point. The course got back onto the trail, and there were more climbs. I am pretty sure I saw the very top of Mount Ashland. The trail was rocky, some parts scattered with slippery pieces of shale. I had to concentrate really hard on not dying. Seriously. It wasn't hard to imagine catching my toe on a rock, and tumbling off the side. NOPE. Stay positive. Focus, Melissa.

Thumbs up!  Copyright SOB50K

Luckily, the trail changed back to the shady loveliness of the PCT. I had to stop to dump out the baby rocks that had found their ways into my shoes. Funny, they felt much bigger than they looked. That's when I realized I still had to pee. Um, my body wouldn't wait anymore. All the pool water I had consumed needed to exit. Fortunately, dense forests make for decent privacy, not that I cared at this point. I felt bad to have polluted the world with my liquid waste. Human are disgusting.

At the next Aid Station, I realized something important. Turns out, I had incorrectly remembered where they were leaving the drop bags for the 50K. The 50 MILE bags were at mile 15. Idiot. At mile 21, I saw my bag, but I was so mentally and physically tired, I didn't bother getting out my iPod. It's only 9 more miles. I don't need it. Besides after getting off that scary side of Mount Ashland alive, I only wanted to hug my family.

“I ain't wasting time no more, 'cause time goes by like a hurricane.” ~Allman Brother's Band

The last 9 miles were the longest 9 miles of the my life. I was now running UP that part I had so easily cruised down. Everyone was hiking up those exceedingly long hills. I ran when the trail flattened out, but I had to hike most of the steep hills. I could hear my pulse in my ears. I didn't bother trying to find my heart rate, but I knew instinctively that it was too high to try and run.

The last Aid Station was my favorite. A guy dressed as pirate squeezed ice cold water onto my back from a huge sponge. Oh my god, the feeling was almost as good as the ice water I drank from the cups. I felt like I was drinking from the fountain of youth. Instantly, I felt refreshed. Then I ate a handful of potato chips and went on my way. I had been on the trail for 5 hours, and just want to see my family. I knew my daughter , Maya, was going to run the last mile in with me. I couldn't wait to see her sweet face.

And before I knew it, there she was, along with my husband, son and our 12 year-old dog. As she ran along with me, I heard her say, “Good job, Mama, you're almost there.” I got a little choked up. There is something special about hearing your child give you encouragement. The course came back onto pavement. That asphalt was like an old friend, and I ran like I was finishing a 10K all the way to the finish line.

Maya taking me to the finish.

The SOB 50K was a totally different experience than my other (mostly paved) 50K or any of my marathons. I actually stopped at the Aid Stations, ate food and talked to people instead of just choking out a “thank you” and gulping down Gatorade. I walked during the race. I stopped to use the bathroom, and empty out my shoes. It was different, but it was still familiar. Running is running.

I have a feeling that my new job will be similar. Different but familiar. Oh, I should tell you that, yep, I start a new job on September 8^th. I will have the same job title and responsibilities, but at a new facility. All new co-workers, all new physical environment, but the same me. This 50K taught me not to be afraid to take my legs on a new course with a longer distance, and to run at a higher elevation through the mountains. Now, I'm using that strategy in my work-life, too. Don't think about it too much and don't be afraid because in the end you all you have to do is keep on running.

“Put a candle in the window 'cause I feel I've got to move. Though I'm going...going, I'll be coming home soon. Long as I can see the light.” ~Credence Clearwater Revival