Mao Mao Speaks

I finished.   This is something that shouldn't be taken lightly or overlooked.  Yet, I found myself taking that fact for granted in the few weeks leading up to the MMTR.  More about that in a minute, but first... For the uninitiated, the MMTR stands for Mountain Masochist Trail Run, 50 miler.  The MMTR is directed by Clark Zealand and has been run for the past 34 years.  It is a tough, rugged run. 50+ miles with 9,000 feet of technical gain.  And Clark does a wonderful job organizing this event.  He does so after organizing the Grindstone 100 miler.  So in many ways, he is the one with the most endurance of us all. Thanks Clark and thanks to all the wonderful volunteers who were there to make sure that all 16  of the aid stations were run so well! Now that a few days have went by and I have had time to process the events of Saturday, November 5th I feel like it is OK for me post on my blog about how I feel.   A few things that my friends and family who don't run want to kno

As a kid growing up in the hills of WV I used to dream.  During the summer months I would lay with my back on the cool grass and stare at the stars. Watching planes pass over head, I used to wonder where the people in those planes were going.  What adventures awaited them.  I would make up stories. It was great entertainment.  In my real life, I was too frightened to even consider that I could be the person on that plane someday.  For me adventures had to be close to home.   I grew up on what should have been a one way street.  Both literally and figuratively. My next door neighbor was one year older than me and she was just as bat shit crazy as me.  We would play Dukes of Hazzard with our big wheels and explore the woods behind our house for hours.  Our imaginations would run rampant as we dreamed up other worlds to be in, any worlds than the one we currently resided in.  As you made your way onto the main drag of our little neighborhood you would find the house Phil grew up in

The night before my first (and, for now, my only) 50k I was pretty nervous, excited, prepared, happy and honored.  Honored because I was hanging with some seriously hardcore and talented runners. These folks had become my best friends over the months training with them and having them mentor me.  I've written before about the bond you form with those you suffer with.  The ones that see you at your best and your worst, sometimes in the same day.  I have friends, great friends, outside of running but this night I was with these friends.  It was awesome.  Well not for Royce, he had to hear me snore all night but in general it was awesome.   For those new to my blog or want to remember who I am talking about feel free to visit  this  race report. The night before this race, I was in the same head space.  Mentally and spiritually.  However,  I wasn't hanging with them physically and I hadn't been running for about 2 weeks so my fitness wasn't the same either.  I hadn't

As I am making my journey to the 100  mile race goal, I get asked the same question.  I mean it comes in my forms but the core of the inquires are the same.  Why?  Why run that distance?   The answer always escapes me at the time.  But when I am out on the trails with my friends or eating donuts afterwards, the answer hangs there like a pregnant pause in a speech.  You can't put your finger on it.  Words can't define it.  But the answer is among those moments with them.  The moments with myself.  Racing. Training.  Those moments.  That is why.  And, yet...it is bigger than that. Suffering breeds a special type of hope.  Whether self induced or otherwise the growth from confronting pain head-on cannot be described or emulated.   I find myself inspired by those you have dug deep to face challenges they didn't know they were equipped for.  The strength, the hope, one has to have to go eyes open into a situation that seems larger than themselves is infectious.  Being around th

It is a feeling I have had before.  Many times, actually.  Yet I can't quite put my finger on what it is or what is causing it.  The feeling is something close to desperation mixed with a morose cloud that is overwhelming but still somewhat subtle.  Constant and buzzing in the background.  It starts in the pit of my stomach.  Washes over me in waves that ebb and flow during the day.  My head is clear but thoughts are jumbled.  It is sad.  It is maddening. It is depression. Recently these feelings have been building. There have been things that I have let get under my skin that have caused me to really be down on myself.  I have withdrawn from friends and family.  This is something I am just now becoming conscious of.  It is my way of giving the ones I care about a break from having to deal with me when I am in a mood like this.  It is selfish and I honestly don't know why I keep doing it.  I apologize. The first time I remember being truly sad was when I was 6.  My grandfat

The thought of it was the stickiest thought I had ever had.  It stuck in my brain like a cheap, sugary and chewed gum ball would get stuck in your hair.  Unshakable.  Completely wrapped into my thoughts from the moment the idea was first mentioned during another Bad Idea Club group run. I remember the first time it was brought up as clear as I can see me running in the race.  We were at a stop light waiting to cross Main Street and then head down into the Ellett Valley.  Brett turned to Trevor and said, "Bryce Canyon in 2017...Let's do it".  As easy as that.  Effortless.  Just simple words. Now I can't remember if I was invited or if I invited myself.  Can't quite seem to recall if I knew it was a 100 mile race either.  But, non-the-less, the mere mention of it struck my ears, rocketed into my synapses and traveled all the way down to my gut where it stayed for at least a week.  Like a loaf of sourdough,  that thought stayed with me.  Dreams both waking and othe

It is probably in my top 5 phrases I can't stand hearing.  In meetings.  On TV.  The news even.  "Low hanging fruit".  This  phrase conjures up so many less than ideal images.  Testicles being one of them. It is a phrase that is slung around any time someone refuses to admit they are being lazy.  It sounds  better than "we would have to work for anything else".  It ranks up there with "fast track" and "short cut".  A pseudo-intellectual way of saying....the other way is too hard. Now I have fallen victim to the low hanging fruit diet.  It happens. I mean the fruit is right there.  And if your hungry enough it can be the only way to survive.  The problem is it is also extremely addictive.  Low hanging fruit is much like any other drug or habit.  It feels good to eat the soggy flesh of low hanging fruit.  If your stomach is empty, if you are desperate, you may even believe that it saves your life.  But if you are not careful a diet rich in lo

This wasn't the post I planned on writing when I woke up yesterday.  Other than my run that morning, all I could think about was the post that isn't being posted.  I planned it out.  Every detail, every word.  It was going to be glorious.  You were supposed to weep.  Maybe laugh a little.  But instead you're stuck with this.   But, as in life, it's what happens while we're making other plans that weaves the complicated tapestry of our story.  It's in the beautiful mess we learn the lessons that should  make us stronger. It was crisp on this morning.   The weather was perfect and I felt great.  No pre-run poop but I wasn't going to let that worry me.  I mean Deb and I did eat at our favorite Mexican restaurant (El Gran Rodeo is where it is at) the night before so I was a little concerned.  Packing my stuff the night before was clutch as I woke up little late.  Here is the where the stack up of failures begin.  It wasn't life altering things but the litt

So guess what folks, I ran a 50k.  Not just any 50k.  Ooooh no.  This 50k was a 50k++.  Don't worry I didn't know what that meant when I signed up either.   The 50k denotes distance (kilometers) and those plus signs mean you gonna go ahead go further than 50k.  Which is nice.  You know, if you're into that sort of thing.  The thing where pain doesn't come easy or cheap.  A thing where soul crushing windchill hits them negative digits son!  The kind of THING you told countless family members you would never try.  You know, that kind of thing. All kidding aside (but just for a moment because I am kidder at heart) the 2016 Holiday Lake 50k++ was a special race for me and for countless others.  Holiday Lake enjoys the reputation of being the 50k you should start with when considering the Ultra lifestyle.  Mainly because the race director Dr. David Horton is not only an Ultra legend, he is a great story teller.  Whether you hear it through me or take the plunge yourself, y