Self-Doubt, Pain and Euphoria
Still feeling the euphoria (and a bit of the pain) of completing my latest challenge: the Transylvania 100km ultra trail race across the Bucegi Mountains in central Romania.
A gruelling 103km route with 6,444 meters of total elevation; a few steep ascents with up to 1,400 meters elevation in one stretch reaching an altitude of 2,500m as well as long 10Km+ steep descents.
Subzero temperatures with windchill in high altitude with hailstones, wind and snow blowing in my face, slush, and mud making every step more challenging.
In bear and wolf country, we delved into mystical forests of towering 30-meter pine trees, traversed prairies with yellowish short grass, crossed slippery patches of snow covering the trail, navigated rocky paths, and passed through green fields in the valleys; culminating in an incredible finish at the base of the famous Bran Castle ("Dracula’s Castle").
When pain rages and wrecks your mind.
It all started with a great plan: for every race, most runners like me would build a time table like this one with estimated timing at each checkpoint.
It helps to anticipate what’s coming but it’s ignoring many factors which usually we don’t know in advance: weather, terrain, my actual physical conditions on the day.
In the first hours of the race, I enjoy the fresh air going deep into my lungs, the smell of spring, the breathtaking views, the warmth of the sun on my skin.
My quadriceps are contracting, I am close to getting a cramp. Approaching a large patch of snow to climb, I sit down along the path to put on my snow spikes. Someone else comes down and does the same, accidentally pushing a large rock that rolls and hits my right leg hard. I scream a loud “f*ck”!
I think about the upcoming climb in the snow and how I will manage the cramps and the bruise. I take some paracetamol, hoping it will go away.
Up there a subzero temperature wind blows, hailstones hitting my bare legs like a thousand needles… I am freezing. I have to stop and put on rain pants over my shorts to stay warm.
My gloves are wet, and I can't feel my fingers. As I descend the mountain and it gets warmer, slippery snow becomes slush and mud, my blood starts flowing back into my fingers, causing terrible pain. With my fingers hurting, I stop thinking about my legs. Then, my right knee starts sending sharp pains throughout my body.
I feel really weak, and the pain is intense…Self-doubt. I'm not even halfway through, and I think about giving up. I am too slow, it's too cold, too technical, too painful. I should have trained more, rested more, slept more, eaten better... I march on until the 45km checkpoint, pretty convinced this is it.
Rebuilding myself back up.
I arrive at 45km checkpoint, I get some noodle soup, coffee, fruits, nuts … paracetamol, electrolytes, vitamin C… change socks,… a 40 min break.
I am thinking of the bitter taste of deception. The hours of training, the sacrifices, the time away from friends and the family, the diet, the travel costs (!)… I start thinking of all kinds of excuses I could tell others and myself later on.
The logic I would develop to explain to others and myself why I had to give up. I could have slipped, fallen, injured myself, hit my head, broken a leg or torn a ligament, caught a bad cold, or gotten frostbite... Becoming a victim of my own ambitious goal and self inflicted defeat.
I remind myself why I am doing this: I set this goal for myself. I am just racing against myself. I can learn a bit more about myself in the process, pushing my body and my mind beyond what they are used to.
I feel better. I decide I cannot give up. I only have to beat the clock to reach the next checkpoint before the cutoff time. I don’t care if I am the last one in the race, I just need to finish. I HAVE TO finish. I WILL finish.
Staying focused
At this point, I am committing my mind and body to one thing. I don’t let my mind question or wander anymore. One step after another, I just focus on the next checkpoint and give everything I have to reach it. Then the next one. Then the next one again. I erase from my mind any alternative scenario where I throw in the towel and explain to myself why I could not push a bit more. There is only one reality: when I will pass the finish line.
I see messages from my family and friends… I send them a brief update on where I am and how I feel: I forbid myself from really sharing my downs. Sharing a positive note helps me stay positive.
I did not tell them earlier that I wanted to quit; I just told them it was hard but that I was doing okay. I put on a good face because I didn’t want to spell out despair or defeat. Writing down something positive made me believe it. And that’s all I needed.
It's now completely dark. My headlamp illuminates the forest, creating different shades. I hear noises around me, only to realize, after I stop, that they come from my own clothes: the friction of the fabric and my water pipe hitting my vest.
I'm on a couple of kilometers of fairly flat terrain, an unpaved road deep in the forest. I haven't seen anyone for hours. I should be running, but I feel very sleepy, so I walk quickly using my poles to maintain the pace. The ticking sound of the poles hitting the ground goes left, right, left, right. My mind starts to wander, and I am losing my concentration. My eyes want to shut, and my body is begging for sleep. I keep going until, for a half second, I realize I am half asleep and not walking straight. I decide to take a pause for a power nap. Eight minutes later, I am back on my feet, feeling much better and rested.
The sun rises over the valley, revealing dense, green grass and a few cottages scattered along the mountain slopes: a postcard from Heidi's country in Switzerland!
Seeing the end, feeling invincible
When the finish line finally comes into reach, the last kilometres seem to stretch even further, and the clock seems to slow down. I get into a partial nervous breakdown as the tension slowly releases, accompanied by long sighs and tears of relief.
As I push into the final stretch, I emerge from the woods and see a road. I hear the noise and music and see the signs. The last 100 meters, I run faster. I see the finish line. I cross it. I receive my medal, and let out a big, long sigh. This is it. 29 hours and 10 minutes. I feel exhausted, happy, euphoric, … invincible!?
The Bottom Line
I learnt a great deal in this race. I had too many distractions in the months leading to the race and did not built enough mental and physical focus. But I also learnt that even when in profound self-doubt, when you think you can't make it, you still can, if you put your mind into it.
And you can rebuild your determination and focus with small victories first, "one step at a time", until you reach your final goal. Then you will feel invincible!
How about you? What's your finish line? How do you find and build up your motivation?