Returning to Ultras After Pregnancy - Page 2
The first three laps (60 miles) felt great. I was well on track to finish sub-24 hours. At one point, I tripped on some roots and pulled my groin. The fall hurt and I cursed like a sailor. But I got up, thinking of Amelia’s smile, which kept me pressing forward.
I kept up a strong pace until mile 92, but nutrient depletion eventually reared its ugly head. I got dizzy coming into DamNation aid station, then blacked out for a bit. I had to wait until my blood sugar rebounded.
An hour-and-a-half later, I finally headed back out of the aid station, and it felt like rigor mortis had set in. Everything in my body had stiffened. I cried. I had run so well for so long, had pumped five times and pushed through a pulled groin, lost unexpected time at the aid station and now this!
But I had not come 92 miles to not finish the race. I put my sights on the smile I would see on Amelia’s face at the finish line. I could sit down with her and just revel in the accomplishment. This inspiration kept me moving. Of course, so did others on trail. That is the beauty of ultrarunning; even in the darkest moments of despair, you are never alone.
After the race was over, the race director, Joe, presented me with a Rocky Raccoon 2013 award for “Most Miles Breastfeeding”—which now sits on my mantle at home. I had placed first in the “breastfeeding division!”
I still want to run Hardrock, of course. Hopefully the lottery will be good to me in years to come and I will get my chance to run that rugged course in the San Juans that I love so much. However, my finish at Rocky means more to me now than a Hardrock buckle. Amelia and I finished this race together.
Now, all you new mothers—go run and fear not; the mind will take you places you never imagined and the body will follow suit.