Running 102 miles just over two months ago, I had firmly decided to take a mandatory 102-day break, one day per mile covered, to safely and properly recover. Perhaps because I fulfilled a dream that took up much of my life for a couple of years, I felt a few days following an immense void in my life, which invited back longer and more powerfully than ever before many disturbing intrusive thoughts, one symptom of my obsessive-compulsive disorder. An innate suburbanite extrovert, I have been constantly forced to fight loneliness of a minute city of 33,000, exacerbated by the not-so-healthy work environment. “Maybe running has been working as my therapy and I just didn’t know it,” thought I, triggering me to jump back into running only a month after the ultramarathon in Texas. The resumption of habitual running brought back my desire to race, and I spontaneously registered for a half marathon at the 2017 Brownville Freedom Run, hosted in the historic Brownville, Nebraska, to celebrate the Fourth of July.
I love talking to people in races! Happy Fourth!
I hoped to embrace again the feeling of running with dedicated, disciplined, and humble strangers and befriend some of them. I simply wanted to have fun and did not care too much about my performance or finish time, as I understood my body still needs time to fully recover. Furthermore, I began experiencing stomach pain a week and diarrhea for two days prior to the event (because I unknowingly drank a brutal amount of laxative tea for days). I relied on prayers and medication and made sure to consume much of sports drinks to replenish electrolytes and water. The hours of fireworks outside my motel in Rock Port, Missouri, allowed me only two hours of sleep, but I trusted my body that could move without sleep for nearly 40 hours in my most recent race could manage 13.1 miles. Indeed and thankfully, I held up without any issues, although blistering heat and nearly 100% humidity did affect me both physically and mentally—along with most other participants—the final 3 miles of the concrete-gravel course. I do not recall sweating nearly as profusely as I did in any of my previous 23 races. All of these obstacles considered, I am semi-content with my 2:05:40. After all, I traveled 3.5 hours, the farthest I have driven for a half marathon, to merely have fun and feel free, which I did.
From April 21 to 23 of 2017, after two years of daily debating whether or not I should, I finally set out to turn my fantasy of running 100 miles into a reality at the Jackalope Jam 48-Hour, hosted by Trail Racing Over Texas in Cat Spring, Texas. I would be covering a single-mile trail loop, 0.5 mile out and 0.5 mile back, as many times as I can within the given time frame. With only two significantly shorter ultramarathons under my belt, I relied solely on my Father to control my pace and condition to radiate His presence through me. My objective of reaching the pinnacle of ultrarunning had recently shifted from a simple human desire to building a lasting testimony to His greatness, that in Him, I (we) can do all things; “This only means a lot to me if You do it with me. Allow me to use this journey as a testament to Your greatness for the rest of my life,” I prayed. The Holy Spirit had already repeatedly provided me with motivating verses in the Bible and sermons from my church for the race of my life, and, the day before the event, I was led to Deuteronomy 29:5-6: “Yet the Lord says, ‘During the forty years that I led you through the wilderness, your clothes did not wear out, nor did the sandals on your feet … I did this so that you might know that I am the Lord your God.’ ” I replied, “I know You are the Lord my God, but let others see that through my journey.” Thinking of what happened to Peter walking on water the second he doubted, I reminded myself to always keep the faith. I believed He had already delivered 100 miles into my hands; otherwise, He would not have sent me for this task.
The race commenced the following morning at 9:00 AM, and, within an hour, the unshaded sun welcomed the brutal heat of nearly 90 degrees and humidity and made numerous runners slow down and re-strategize. I, one of only two participants residing outside Texas, should have been impacted the most but felt unscathed and had no issue with hydration, thanks to Him. After reading thoroughly Scott Jurek’s Eat & Run, I understood the significance of calorie intake in ultrarunning and, even when not hungry or thirsty, consistently put down food, Spring energy gels, and fluid, as well as salt tablets, to avoid any unexpected shock. (Throughout training, He had taken away my craving for junk and unhealthy food and given me a sense of need for organic food; I felt the positive change in the way my body kept down calories in the race.)
I guess I AM always smiling. 😉
I began to include brief walks after nine miles of easy jogging, reminding myself I was attempting to run four consecutive marathons. Nonetheless, oftentimes when I started walking, I spotted photographers taking photos, prompting me to pick up running again. On mile 43, I sat down for ten minutes to conserve energy, as I was beginning to feel a sign of fatigue. When I resumed, I was pleasantly surprisingly rejuvenated and lightly ran the next two to three miles nonstop. One does not recover out of the blue like this past 40 miles, and I prayed, “Continue to add testimonies, God!”
One tough lady!
As I anticipated, the true trial set in after the first 50 miles; I tried doubling my personal-record distance that immobilized me for days just over a year previously. I took a 30-minute break, lying down with my feet up on a chair and shoes off. The sun had set and temperature had dropped, and my body shivered viciously, making me question for the first time in the event if I could recover sufficiently to carry on. When I tried standing up to resume, a couple of volunteers came to me for a second time since mile 46 to examine my multiple blisters that formed on both feet under mile ten and progressively intensified. A fellow participant rucking had checked my feet and asked, “How badly do you want this?” and I simply replied, “I’m not quitting.” The couple popped and taped over some of my blisters and brought me more calories to consume. One of the volunteers put on me Trail Toes and a new pair of tighter socks for friction so that my blisters would not rub against my socks as easily. My feet were swelling up, and, although the experts found me two pairs of larger sneakers, I remained adamant to stick with the Nike my mother bought me for my 28th birthday until the end. When the couple suggested I take ibuprofen, I refused because I wanted no potential feeling of guilt I cheated. (For this same reason, when a new lady working on my blisters the following morning tried to put a steroid cream on my foot, I stopped her after asking if that was indeed a steroid, to which she replied, “You know this is not like that.” Yes, I knew this was a topical, not an anabolic, steroid, but I still did not like that term, and she put the cream away.) I walked the majority of the following 12 miles, to 100K, and took another short break. From this point forward, each stop of ten minutes or more felt like a risk, as my muscles swiftly tightened, knees buckled, and body shook uncontrollably and I had to drag myself for three to five minutes to be semimobile. Captivated by the gorgeous stars, I repeated, “Lord, You created all of this with mere words. As long as You are willing, nothing is difficult for You. Please help me.”
Around mile 75, when the sun had risen again and 24-hour, 12-hour, and 6-hour competitors were added to the course, I hallucinated at the aid station, seeing on the table two groups of numerous dots merging to the center. The thought of unexpectedly passing out intimidated me the most, but I also reminded myself with Whom I was running, that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). (I understand contextually the Apostle Paul is not referring to physical strength here, but this verse still spoke to me.) “The greater the adversity, the greater the testimony,” thought I. 18 miles to the 100-mile buckle, delirium hit me again, and a Christian woman running in the 12-hour, unaware of my symptoms, told me to walk with her; God had already planned her entrance for me here. I could no longer run at this point, and I had been limping since mile 51. I asked her if ultrarunners commonly hallucinate, and she referred to a scientific study that proved the human brain becomes “fried” and reacts similarly to drunkenness after 68 miles. Around mile 87, Race Director Rob Goyen told me, “You are about to do something very special,” encouraging me to keep grinding through the pain. Runners passing me continued to comment, “You are amazing,” “You are an inspiration,” “You are still going!” and many more inspiring words, and their sincere longing for me to fulfill my dream, constantly asking me which mile I was on, warmed my heart. One Christian brother I shared the course with often toward the beginning even said about me, “I am more excited to see him finish his first 100 miles than for me to finish this race.” Both seeing and hearing numerous people become emotional for me, I cannot remember the last time I was surrounded by such a humble group of individuals so genuinely interested in other people’s success, in spite of how they themselves were doing. Ultrarunning humbles and builds character.
“Go, Nebraska!” PC: TROT
On mile 91, I took a twenty-minute break, which recovered me enough for the next mile to feel less straining than the previous ten. Another Christian man, not even running in the race, volunteered to “guarantee [I] receive that buckle” after checking with the race director by walking the rest of the 100 miles with me; again, God had planned his entrance then for my upcoming hardship. On mile 94, moving with him, I became delusional again and occasionally threw out arbitrary phrases. I even asked him, “Do I seem delirious?” to which he responded, “If you are asking that, that means you are.” On mile 95, I questioned myself, “Am I in a dream or is this really happening?” (On the bright side, while these symptoms lasted, the physical pain vastly escaped.) The gracious helper wanted me to complete mile 100 on my own so that I could reflect on this grueling journey, but at this point I was already out of my normal state of mind and had trouble comprehending I was on the verge of accomplishing a goal that felt like a fantasy for years. I envisioned breaking into tears receiving the buckle, but I did not even have the energy to cry at the buckle ceremony. (I was later told the race director stayed past his shift just so that he could present me with my buckle himself, which made me feel grateful beyond words.) Following, thanks to my perfectionism, just in case I made a mistake anywhere and to make certain I fulfilled at the very least 100 miles, I covered two additional miles chatting with a cordial volunteer who became a friend throughout the race, making my total mileage 102 in 39:25:44 and me actually appreciate insomnia for once in my life. Throughout these two mornings, afternoons, and evenings, I felt not even a hint of injury, another visible showing of His protection considering my history of knee injuries in long-distance running.
PC: Robert Goyen
I divide the victory of this seemingly unconquerable adventure into three stages. First, despite 99% of my close ones’ initial heavy opposition, I consistently prayed, believed God was leading me to 100 miles, and eventually registered for the Jackalope Jam. As my pastor said, “There is no failure in trying,” and, whether successful or not, my identity as a son of Christ does not change. Second, I had put my body through more than I ever have, cross-training between an hour and a half and three hours almost daily. Even running back-to-back Friday half marathons and training in the sauna to prepare for the inevitable Texas heat at one point, I frequently felt verging on injuries but toed the line healthy. Third, I finally earned that buckle. A tremendous amount of prayers and support have come my way, all of which I felt more powerfully and physically than ever, for my fantasy to materialize and I have countless people to thank, but I feel obligated to give one person, one of my faith mentors and mother’s best friends, in particular credit. The mentor told me to begin training half a year ago, that “If it is not meant to be, God will give [me] a sign.” Without this answer to my question, I would not have begun preparing for 100 miles and would still be thinking today, “What if?” Praying with her husband every day since, she even stayed up throughout my entire race of nearly 40 hours and fasted and prayed for me while tracking my performance on the live results page. Through my success, she and I, along with many others, have built a new powerful testimony to God’s greatness, that a person can overcome anything in Jesus and His will. On top of fulfilling my dream, I am truly thankful and honored to have met and befriended so many selfless and compassionate individuals, most of whom referred to me as “Nebraska(!),” lending me seats to relax, checking on my torn body, cheering me on, and overly crediting my simple smile. I will cherish this experience my Father coauthored with me for the rest of my life.
Presenting a webinar session internationally early in the morning, thanks to the time difference, I arrived at work at 5:50 AM and left around 3:00 PM on February 17, 2017. With a spring climate in forecast and ease of a virtual race, I, again, spontaneously decided to run a half marathon prior to my three-week business trip to Korea starting next Thursday. This time, I registered for Virtual Strides’ I Heart Running Half Marathon, partly because some of the registration fee is donated to the American Heart Association. Unlike for the Pizza Run 13.1M, I received an electronic bib upon signing up for the I Heart Running Half Marathon and thus color-printed and wore the number for the run, which likely confused many drivers and pedestrians I passed.
Because I explored west of Kearney the week before, I went the opposite route and ran around east, again landing in many locations I did not even know existed in the city. In two impetuous lone virtual races in one week, I covered all of Kearney in 26.76 miles. Normally, I take a mandatory week off after a long-distance race of half marathon or farther; nevertheless, after the Pizza Run 13.1M, I went straight back to training: swimming, cycling, and lifting to avoid any potential overuse injury common in running. I am eyeing a major race in late April; therefore, I do not have time to approach this training camp slowly or cautiously, especially with the upcoming business trip.
Traveling 13.47 miles in 2:09:40.5 on foot, I learned a tough lesson I should have realized last week. For the vast majority of competitive races commence in the morning, I had never had any issue running feeling even remotely undigested from previous meals; however, because I ran the two aforementioned half marathons only several hours after heavy Subway lunch, I felt nauseous for hours following each run. Nebraska will resume hosting large running events starting March, so, as much as I appreciated and enjoyed the flexibility and convenience of virtual races, I will return to standard competition.
With a potential 100-miler in the near future in mind and a lengthy business trip to Korea coming up, in spite of the brutal cold and wind standard to Nebraska in January, I picked up training again a month ago. Constantly wary of my right knee and possibly injuring myself before races, I cross-train rather than solely focusing on weekly mileage like most runners do. For weeks, I sought a half marathon in or near Nebraska and discovered the state over twice the size of South Korea holds hardly any running events in February due to the usual cold, making me envious of states where the temperature does not fluctuate as insanely and thus hosting running events all year round. Recently, I came across on the Internet the Pizza Run 13.1M that was taking place in multiple regions, including Omaha, simultaneously and wondered about the event’s backstory. The race is hosted by Runners 2 Life and a virtual race, where you sign up for a distance, run anywhere as long as you cover the distance, provide proof of your completion and finish time, and receive a finisher’s medal in the mail.
On February 10, 2017, Nebraska’s climate went berserk and the temperature reached 72 degrees from 30 degrees the day before. My boss decided to let the office out of work an hour early for us to enjoy the unusual blissful weather, and I, upon reading this email, without hesitation registered for the Pizza Run 13.1M. Within an hour of signing up, I took off, not to mention I had just devoured a six-inch Subway tuna sandwich, a bag of Sun Chips Veggie Harvest, a chocolate-chip cookie, and two cups of Diet Coke. I called this “the most spontaneous half marathon I have ever run.” Because I chose the course, to live up to the adjective, I moved about impulsively and became enamored of the sceneries and countless rolling hills I did not even know existed in Kearney for the past year and a half. My unplanned route included all concrete, gravel, trails, and steep hills, and I was pleasantly surprised by how efficiently my body adapted to such an inefficient decision. I covered 13.29 miles in 2:06:42.5, far from my potential but decent considering the lack of mental or physical preparation; as I often say, I believe running to be as mental as physical. Aside from my stomach feeling upset for a couple of hours following the solo competition, I felt as strong as ever. I still do not have much opinion on virtual races, but I do not question their legitimacy and thank Runners 2 Life for providing a convenient way for me to fulfill my goal of completing a half marathon prior to my business trip in under two weeks.
The morning of Thanksgiving 2016, I participated in the Wild Turkey Chase 13.1, hosted by Spearman Expeditions in Pickrell, 40 miles south of Lincoln even most Nebraskans have never heard of. Before Nebraska became unbearably cold for me to even consider running another race in the state until winter has passed, I felt a desire to squeeze in one more in spite of having completed a technical trail half marathon only a few weeks ago. The Wild Turkey Chase 13.1 took place on an entirely flat trail, boosting my confidence in no part of the race should I struggle; however, I did slightly worry I may have been recently overrunning for my legs’ liking. In light of Thanksgiving, I spent much of running in the wilderness reflecting on my privileged life and giving thanks to my Father. Due to the freezing and windy weather, my iPhone acted up and shut down toward the end of the course, forcing me to run the final 2.5 miles without music, which I am not accustomed to; nevertheless, I refused to complain but rather tried to maintain the grateful mindset. I finished in 2:02:48, not my best but irrelevant because I did not take part for the purpose of setting a new personal record.
Badlands National Park!
Early next morning, only hours following feasting on several rounds of turkey, stuffing, mashed and sweet potatoes, apple and chocolate pies, ice cream, apple cider, and sparkling water, I finally drove to South Dakota after repeatedly saying I would for an entire year. Each time I thought about going, I realized South Dakota to be quite a distance away for a neighboring state of where I work. In one day, I spent ten hours in the car from Kearney, driving to Badlands National Park, to Mount Rushmore, and then back toward Badlands to my hotel; I originally planned to divide visiting these two monumental tourist attractions into two days until I found out about the one-hour time difference between western South Dakota and Nebraska. I spontaneously climbed brutally steep trails at Badlands, which had me giggling internally as I had just run a half marathon and my body was probably saying to me, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Locate my shadow!
Mount Rushmore!
I had never imagined the drive up to South Dakota through western Nebraska to be so full of awe-inspiring nature and unending hills. Seeing hardly any cars or buildings on various lengthy routes, I felt bored at times, but watching more of the Lord’s beautiful creations only encouraged me to be thankful and pray passionately, my main motivation to visit South Dakota. In the past four days of driving close to 1,300 miles since leaving work for Thanksgiving break, I four times came verging on car accidents due to careless and reckless drivers on the road, which reinforced the God of angel armies always shields me. Perhaps I should not be surprised, but my body finally caught up and told me in a more direct way to rest by giving me a cold and severe right shoulder-ache the day I returned to Kearney. Regardless, I appreciate the nature-driven lone time I shared with my Father in Heaven and wish to maintain the thanksgiving mentality every day.
Still undecided if I will attempt a 100-miler in the near future, but in case I do, I continue to sign up for appealing long-distance races for motivation to consistently train. In the second week of October, noticing how rapidly colder Nebraska was becoming and I may not be able to participate in another race in the state until winter passes, I hastily and almost instinctively signed up for a trail half marathon at The Ranch Run, taking place on October 29, 2016, in Elkhorn, 15 miles west of Omaha. I even convinced a friend who had never run outdoors to run a 5K in the same event, assuming the trail to be flat. The race director stated that the course, with the exception of one immense hill in each of the two loops, would be relatively flat, which felt misleading.
Always smiles. 🙂 PC: Greater Omaha Area Trail-Runnerz
PC: Greater Omaha Area Trail-Runnerz
At the starting line, the director announced, “The course will probably be a little over 13.1 miles,” after which he shot the pistol to commence the race. I, along with fellow runners, immediately disappeared into the wilderness. I was caught off guard by the technicality of the course, as I hardly saw any set trail meant to be walked on. I had not imagined the vast majority of my running to be done on steep hills, untrimmed grass, uneven trails and gravel, and occasional mud. Kearney, where I currently reside and work, holds mostly flat concrete; I, the king of generalization, therefore supposed all of Nebraska to be flat, but I no longer think this after weirdly joyfully suffering physically at The Ranch Run. Due to the hilliness and difficulty of the path, I pounded my legs to the floor more powerfully than I had in any of my previous eighteen races in the past four and a half years. Temporarily losing my way around mile four did not help ease the pain that had kicked in early on, although, thankfully, drivers passing by and a runner behind me instantly led me to the correct path. Consequently, I only thought about covering the entire race without walking, even on the brutal uphill, and did not obsess myself over achieving a personal record or pushing my body to the brink of injury. I felt I was running on a mountain but continued to remind myself, “This is supposed to hurt,” and find reasons to suck up the torment.
Congratulations to my friend Jordan on his first 5K finish!
I sprinted to the finish line, with sufficient energy remaining to cheerfully pose to the photographer simultaneously, in 2:08:58. Taking a sip of Powerade that tasted like a drop of Heaven, I saw salt covering parts of my face and arms, reminding me of the 50-miler back in December 2015. I can confidently accept The Ranch Run as my hilliest and most technical race to date, and I thank God for protecting me once again.
For the past several months, I sought activities to even temporarily distract me from the stress of my current environment. With family and most of my friends thousands of miles away, I could only rely on my Father and running to keep me from going insane. Without any hesitation, I signed up for my third 26.2 miles at the Nebraska State Fair Marathon on August 27, 2016, in Grand Island, an hour east of where I work and reside.
PC: Nebraska State Fair Marathon
The race commenced at 6:30 AM in just over 60 degrees. The course, as advertised, remained primarily flat on concrete, and I felt confident I was running my most successful marathon yet. In spite of trying to maintain a slow pace, I hit 13.1 miles just over 2:02:00, barely slower than my personal record (PR) in the half marathon. I hoped to finish under 4:20:00 but worried I may have inadvertently overdone the first half, although I still felt fresh. On mile seventeen, whether from the sudden temperature increase from the sunrise or over-pushing too early, I abruptly hit the wall. Still on track to easily break my PR set at the 2015 Publix Georgia Marathon, an exponentially more technical course, I began to incorporate walking; I figured combining walking and running would conserve my energy and secure me a faster finish time than running the rest of the course in virtual walking speed. Furthermore, due to dehydration, I overconsumed water and Gatorade and could see my stomach bloated, making running more difficult. Nearly two miles remaining, no matter how hurt, I knew I had to pour everything I had left to break my personal best. My mother’s telling me the night before to compare the marathon to life, that “sometimes life is easy, sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes you want to give up, but in the end, joy awaits,” powerfully hit me. I crossed the finish line in 4:45:37, my marathon PR by seven seconds.
With the finisher’s medal around my neck, I sat on the ground, momentarily disappointed. I attempted to rationalize why I bonked so early on and even thought, “How on Earth was I able to run 51 miles?” Nevertheless, gratitude swiftly took over and I began thanking my successfully completing another marathon without any injuries, setting a third PR in my third race this year, not dealing with stomach cramps like I often do, and having the health to frequently pursue daunting adventures like this, all of which I consistently prayed for. One lady in the marathon relay shook my hand and offered me her congratulations, saying, “I tried so hard to pass you, but then I thought, ‘What am I thinking? I’m only running 6 miles and he’s been running for 26 [point 2] miles.’ I can never do what you did. You’re the professional.” Especially following her modest compliment, I could not possibly hold any regrets.
Two-time winner of the event
Following the award ceremony, I spoke with Kenyan Geofrey Terer, two-time champion and record holder in the event. He finished the race in 2:25:44, almost twice as fast as my time and beyond my comprehension. More than his athletic ability, however, I appreciated his humility and bright personality. I also twice ran into Kaci Lickteig, winner of the female division, 2016 Western States 100 champion, and one of my favorite ultrarunners. She humbly asked me how I did, and I replied, “It was a humbling experience,” to which she reminded me to be proud of simply finishing. I cannot think of a more pleasant way to cap off this experience than talking to these two humble and respectful champions.
Scheduled to visit my best friend at Penn State University from July 27 to August 1, 2016, I suggested we run a half marathon to recreate the memory of our first 13.1-miler together in Korea just over three years ago. Nonetheless, due to his busy academic schedule, he told me he had jogged only twice in the past year, so I instead registered for the shorter Boot Scootin’ 10K for me and the Country Kicker 5K for him at the second annual Run Country Style in Mercer, Pennsylvania, on July 30. Set on participating in the Nebraska State Fair Marathon on August 27, I reasoned running a short race in advance would prepare me both mentally and physically for the former. Furthermore, with my consistent speed progress in mind, I longed to test how fast I could run 6.2 miles specifically rather than relying on splits from longer races; as I am accustomed to conserving energy early on and covering far-longer distances, I wanted to pour every ounce of endurance in the tank from start to finish in the 10K. I told the friend the day before the event I would be content with sub-53:00 but, lacking details on the course, did not know what to expect.
The overwhelming rainstorm on our drive to the event location concerned me initially, but I trusted God would hold off this natural burden solely during the run and told the friend not to worry; the city rained significantly before and after but not during the race. Based on the results from the Run Country Style last year, I believed I had a shot at winning my age group of 25-29 but did not plan to turn the run into a bitter competition and add unnecessary pressure. I ran my own race at the pace I knew my body could manage and refused to be influenced by runners ahead of me to overpace and risk an injury. After all, my purpose of running has always been to challenge and compete with myself. At the beginning, fifteen or so runners stormed past me, to which I reacted in amusement, “Let’s see for how much longer they can keep up that pace”; many of them slowed down and even walked a few miles in, allowing me to pass. I was pleasantly surprised I could maintain my pace at a 7:00-per-mile range for the first several miles on a relatively hilly course. At times, I became distracted by adorable cows and donkeys and wanted to snap pictures but could not throw away what seemed to be an inevitable personal record in the 10K.
I gradually but barely slowed down as the race proceeded and crossed the finish line in 51:44.82, personal best and first place in my age group like I had quietly hoped and prayed. I had never cared for my time as long as I finished in long-distance events, but taking home this title encouraged me to consider focusing on enhancing time as well as distance.
Signed up for the Lincoln National Guard Half Marathon in Nebraska’s capital on May 1, 2016, I drove to the city the day before to pick up my bib and cruise through the Expo in the Lincoln Marriott Cornhusker Hotel. Surrounded by hundreds of dedicated runners and veterans, I was reminded of the joy of embarking on this journey with strangers who share the same passion and inspiring one another. As I prepared to leave the building before the one-hour free parking expired, I ran into Kaci Lickteig, 2012 Olympic Trials qualifier in the marathon, runner-up of 2015 Western States Endurance Run, and one of the top female ultrarunners in the world today, along with her Boston Marathoner mother and best-friend pacer. Months ago, I observed the track records of the University of Nebraska at Kearney and read Kaci’s name as the university’s second fastest 10K and eighth fastest 5K female runner of all time, discovering she graduated from the school for which I work. She was even familiar with the Brazos Bend 100 and humbly complimented me on my completing the 50-miler in the event. Talking to her had me encouraged and pumped for the following day.
PC: Lincoln Marathon
Waiting for my corral to start, I told myself to never underestimate 13.1 miles; the time I did so following a 50K resulted in one of my worst performances. With 13,800 participants anxiously waiting to take off, I predicted I would never be alone throughout the course and worried I may have to spend much energy passing slower runners ahead of me as I did in both the 2014 and 2015 Publix Georgia Marathons. Although many runners were not fond of the rainy 40-degree weather, I took this to be a blessing in disguise that would help me avoid dehydration. For the first mile, I could not wipe the smile off my face, as I thought, “It feels good to be back,” especially with the fervent crowd holding up motivating and hilarious signs to cheer the runners on. In an attempt to finally achieve a sub-two-hour half marathon, I ran significantly faster than I did in training and certainly did not take a conservative approach. I was pleasantly surprised I could maintain such a high pace without exhausting myself or running out of breath. I also tried not to look over my Garmin to see how many miles I had left in the race so that I would enjoy the moment rather than desperately hoping to cross the finish line.
All smiles after three PR’s!
On mile three, I caught progressing stomach cramps. Even though I initially decided not to drink at the first couple of aid stations, I knew based on experience I needed water to resolve the issue; the pain swiftly escaped after my first cup of water. I let my weight carry me over running downhill and did not back down running uphill. On a lengthy and moderate uphill around mile seven, likely due to overpacing, I pulled a muscle in my right knee; nevertheless, I blocked the hurt out of my mind and did not let the burden slow me down. Only a 5K to go, I was en route to breaking two hours for the first time. One mile remaining, with the 2:00:00 pacer still behind me by quite some distance, I thought I had barely accomplished my time goal. According to my Garmin, I hit 13.1 miles under two hours at an average of 9:08 per mile, but the course frustratingly concluded at 13.22 miles, and my official time read 2:00:43, still my personal best. I was disheartened I had missed my goal by merely 44 seconds but proud to set personal records in the 10K and 15K splits, 56:46 and 1:25:05, respectively.
At the Expo, I wrote on the banner, “Running keeps me active and determined” for the reason I am running the Lincoln National Guard Half Marathon. If I could, I would change my answer to, “Running keeps me humble.” Each time I participate in long-distance running, I realize how vulnerable the human body can be and, without God, I cannot do anything.
For months, I remained adamantly determined to attempt a 100-miler at the Brazos Bend 100, hosted by Trail Racing Over Texas in Needville, Texas, on December 12,2015, but instead eventually landed on a 50-miler in the same event after family, faith mentors, and friends almost unanimously opposed my initial deranged objective. Considering I had “only” completed up to a 50K previously, I convinced myself most likely finishing a 50-miler to be wiser and more rational than most likely DNF-ing a 100-miler. Though I had never been anywhere near the state, the flat course with a cool weather in December and low elevation compared to places where my body is accustomed to running felt ideal.
“Oh, crap,” I instantly reacted to the unexpected heat and humidity stepping out of the George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston, Texas, as my body had already been acclimated to one of the coldest and windiest states in America in Nebraska. Unlike sleepless nights prior to most of my races, I managed enough sleep of six hours for my second ultramarathon, just as I had begged God for months; nevertheless, I woke up with a minor headache due to the constant flying from Nebraska to Colorado and then to Texas and driving the day before. I arrived at the starting line at six in the morning for the 50-miler that started an hour following and chatted with numerous avid veterans, many of whom I ran into, talked to, and cheered for throughout this daunting journey.
Find me! PC: Myke Hermsmeyer
My clothes and hydration pack wasted no time getting soaked in my sweat in nearly 80-degree heat and 90-percent humidity; I could feel and see salt all over my hands and arms from dehydration and faced trouble inhaling all the way. I ceaselessly communicated with God, asking Him to never let go of my hand, declaring Psalm 23, and singing worship songs, which majorly contributed psychologically; “If the Creator of the universe has my back, what can’t I do?” thought I. On mile nine, I felt an unusual pain in my right ankle; a potential ankle injury had never even crossed my mind, so I panicked and desperately pleaded with my Father to relieve the hurt. After stretching at the nearest aid station while refueling, the pain swiftly escaped. I began incorporating temporary walks near the half marathon mark not because I was fatigued but to preserve energy for the latter stage. Still, I completed the first 16.74-mile loop of three in roughly three hours. The crowd’s screaming for me and commenting on my smiling toward the end of the first loop raised my adrenaline, and I felt elated for the next loop.
Look at that naive smile!
I mixed more walking with running in the second loop, again to ensure my body would have enough to finish the race. At this point, I understood God answered my and close ones’ prayers and protected my right knee from this adventure; I had specifically asked Him to numb any of my possibly existing injuries during the run, as if I have trouble finishing due to an injury, I would always believe I could run farther without the burden and challenge longer distances in a healthy physical state. I deliberately took a long route to use the bathroom after the completion of this loop, mainly to elongate the distance because my brand new Garmin watch showed a slightly shorter distance per loop than what the race website claimed.
My true adversity began in the third loop. Despite my stubbornness, I could not force my body to get used to these less-familiar running conditions; I trained on mostly even roads in the cold and powerful wind, whereas the course took place in brutal heat, humidity, mud, rocks, and rain. Several times, as I was walking, my head bounced to the left for a split second. I admitted without the prepared salt tablets and gels, I could have severely cramped up. About a half marathon to go, I was moving in sheer will. I tried to save energy to continue running, but the unforeseen vicious four-mile mud section from the heavy rain added four immense blisters to my feet and made my walking even more unpleasant than running on an even surface.
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I soon ran into a runner who was also walking in pain, and we agreed to chat and finish the race together. “I am so thankful to God for placing you here at this moment. I would’ve been so bored without you,” I told the friend. With nine miles to go, we were joined by another exhausted man. The sun had set, and we could barely see three feet forward with our headlamps and flashlights. The additional seven-mile round of mud turned my mouth into trash; I could not refrain from grunting, complaining, and cussing. When the finish line became visible, I the traitor abandoned the two runners, garnered every bit of strength I had left, and “sprinted.” When I crossed the finish line with the official time of 13:07:12, my Garmin showed a quarter of a mile short of 50 miles. USA Track & Field sanctions the Brazos Bend 100, implying the course underwent the most credible method of measuring distances; thus, I trust the race director’s 50.22 miles more than my Garmin, but, just in case, I told the volunteers to hold on to my finisher’s medal as I continued to run until my watch hit 50 miles. When I returned to receive my medal, the machine read 50.05 miles, to which a volunteer joked, “I think you ran 51 miles … we don’t have a medal for that, so you’ll just have to take this 50.”
My Garmin was quite off.
Unlike in typical running events, I enjoyed and embraced the process to the finish. I constantly encountered dedicated runners, most of whom older than I, with intriguing stories. One runner came all the way from Finland just to run this 100-miler. One runner ran the first half of a hundred miles dragging a tire. Some runners ran in sandals. Some runners ran barefoot. We had legendary runners from the Tarahumara tribe, featured in Christopher McDougall’s 2009 Born to Run, join the event. I even spotted an alligator and a snake. Closer to the end, God connected me to a lady who was solely running the 100-mile relay to liberate her mind from the toughest time of her life. I consoled her and patted her shoulder, to which she emotionally expressed, “Thank you. I feel better.”
Most ultramarathoners say, “Ultrarunning is all mental.” I was reminded of this when the second I told my mind, “The race is over,” I collapsed. My body brutally shivered in the windy high 70s like never before. My right knee could no longer straighten. My right ankle felt sprained. Parts of my body were bloodily chafed and had gained significant blisters. My head felt as if two monkeys were fighting over one banana. I could hardly finish half a ten-ounce steak after burning three days’ worth of calories. I had to be transported in a wheelchair from one side of the Denver International Airport to another the following morning. Nonetheless, the more painful I feel after a race, the prouder I become. My being the second youngest 50-mile finisher in the event adds a bit of pride.
Race results featured in the UltraRunning Magazine!
I sincerely appreciate my close ones passionately and consistently praying for me for months just so that I could materialize this ultracrazy dream. Moreover, if my former NCAA Division III runner-friend had not asked me if I were running the Publix Georgia Marathon earlier this year for the second time, I would not have considered running the marathon, which would have resulted in no succeeding ultramarathon goals; therefore, I thank her for playing a vital role in my becoming an ultrarunner. This race involved immeasurably more than just me.
