Day 4,537—Reflecting on the Weekend—

 

I have started and stopped so many different versions of my write-up for this race, and I plan to finish those write-ups and post them soon, starting with my one for yesterday, and then I will get back to my write-up about the entire race. I have to go to work today, and I am running out of time to write. My headlamp battery died while I was running this morning, so I had to use my phone's flashlight. When I got back, I went to blow my nose and saw that my nose was bleeding.  

        I left Colorado at 7 p.m. on Saturday as soon as I got my drop bag. I drove without stopping until 3 the next morning, when I was starting to fall asleep, so I pulled over at a rest stop, slept for a few hours, and then continued. I drove the rest of the way home, stopping only to get gas. I got home a little after 4 p.m., which meant I had been traveling for 20 hours, counting the time change.

        I rehashed the story at home, brushed my teeth, and ate food. The more I thought about the race, the more unfair the circumstances felt. The runners who started 4 hours earlier also had 2 more hours to finish. Why couldn’t I drop down to the other division, and why were there different divisions in the first place? Normally, when races have different start times, they’re just deemed not competitive. They weren’t called “tortoises” or purposely excluded from parts of the race, but this run wasn’t like that. They deliberately discouraged runners from doing the Hare start and weren't interested in helping runners finish.

        None of the aid workers even knew the cut-off time until I missed it at Olympian Hall. The aid station I ran from told me I had just passed several people when I mentioned I was worried about time. No one told me to worry about the cutoff; instead, they encouraged me to take more time at the aid stations.

        When I finished the race and waited for my drop bag, the worker who told me I was cut didn’t want to tell me the cutoff time, and she wasn't interested in giving me practical information about what to expect about getting home and finding my drop bag.

        I was never exhausted, hurt, or sick. I never stopped running for an extended period, nor did I stop pushing myself in each section; for those reasons, I am happy with my performance, and I know that had I been allowed to continue, I likely would have finished under the 30-hour cutoff. However, this race wasn’t supportive like the other races I have done. They seemed more interested in being exclusive, which, in my mind, is the opposite of what ultra running is about. Part of me wants to go back to finish the race because I know that I can. At the same time, I didn’t like the vibe from the race. I expected a vibrant, kind, supportive community as I have found at so many other races. I met a lot of kind, supportive individuals, but the community felt more like the marathon community, where runners go until they are hurt or sick, rather than running smart.